+Bad Catholics+ Frank Iero

+25+

I awoke in a daze, not a single thought pausing before rushing in. It was nearly light now, not that it was easy to tell from the minimal light source in the room. The only hint I had that it was morning was the stale, leftover smoke from last night being visible when passing through tired streams of light from the window. I could hear soft inhales and exhales coming from somewhere in the room if I listened hard enough, but the energy I needed to sit up and see where Frank was escaped me terribly. My body felt void of life.

The fear was still present, just dull and constant. The same old contingencies ran through my head as they always did, each one sounding worse than the last. Run away from Belleville, far away, and change my name. It could never work- they could still find me. I don't have enough money to survive. Go to the police, give them all of the evidence I have- they could find me quicker. All of the city would know. White-knuckle this in hopes it will all pass. It's not going to pass.

Part of me couldn't believe things had gotten this bad, but the other part knew it was a long time coming. One of the worst parts is that I wasn't fully certain on why- My father is, and has been dead for a few years. What could I have that someone who didn't like him would need from me?

I sighed and finally rolled over on the couch, sick of staring at the ceiling. I looked around the room, now dim and gray without the overflow of candle light. A movement caught my eye and I peered over the edge of the couch, where Frank lay sleeping on the ground next to it.

I brought my fingers to my lips and rested them there, thinking about the kiss.

Every time the image of his finger tips on the edge of my skin flashed into my mind it felt like ice running through my veins, so much so that the memory of what came after we parted had disappeared completely. The only thing I could recall was that I feared going to sleep, knowing I would have to wake up and wonder what it all meant. I knew that I would never have the guts to ask.

It wasn't that I hadn't wondered if Frank felt that way about me- it was that I never wondered how he felt about me in any way at all. All I knew is that when I was somewhere, he always seemed to be there too, and that just became less troublesome with time. I had become so socially inept throughout life that it took me until then to even understand we could be considered friends, and not just some rabid dog nipping at a girl's heels without any plan or purpose. At times I thought that it may be purely out of his own boredom.

It didn't appear to be that way any longer. I felt foolish. I was never supposed to get attached to anyone- I didn't think it was possible. Maybe I just didn't want to accept that when he was near me, I felt more like an actual human being.

Begrudgingly I sat up on the couch and looked around for some indication of time, noticing an analog clock near Frank's bed that read 5:32 AM. I had a little over an hour to get to school, with all of my belongings at home. I didn't want to wake up Frank for several reasons- mostly because I didn't know how to face him after what happened the night before. Not only did I have to answer to the state he had found me in by the bridge, but to what happened between us as well. I started to hate that I was the kind of person that ran away from everything, but I never learned how to do anything else.

I double-checked to ensure Frank was still fast asleep before climbing over the arm of the couch and around the back of it to gather my clothes. They were still more than damp and I looked down at what I was wearing, sighing once I accepted that my walk home would be spent in a shirt, sweatpants, and socks that were just a little well-worn and a lot too big. Guilt crept over me as it always had, knowing I would be leaving again without a sound. As frightened of returning to the house as I was, I knew that if there was any chance to go back and get a few things, it would be in the morning.