Battling the loss you live for (Frerard)

Part four - sick sick sick

Chapter four - sick sick sick

(Why say love? It just fades away. I won't be holding your hand in the ambulance.)

Someone hug me. I feel lonely and kind of torn up inside.

I'm doing okay right now, I guess, but I think I'm trying to give up too many addictions at once. Today, the moment I was alone, I just kind of broke down and cried. A lot. I don't know why I'm telling you guys this. I don't know. You make me feel less alone cos you're all here, all the time.

Sorry.

Okay, on with the story.

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Tomorrow came, and Frank was still not happy.

He forced himself to go out that evening anyway, not expecting anything to come of it (though he secretly hoped that he’d spontaneously meet the guy of his dreams). And of course, because it was just the way the world worked, he got completely wasted after everyone he tried to talk to dismissed him, then puked all over himself and passed out in the bathroom covered in sick.

He woke up about four hours later to the janitor smashing the lock off the door with a sledgehammer.

Frank screamed. “Jesus fuck!” His head felt like it had been hammered in even more than the door but he suspected that that was just the hangover.

The janitor stopped bashing the door in. “Hello?”

“There’s someone in here,” Frank squeaked.

“Yeah, I know,” the janitor replied. “You’ve been in here all morning.”

“Well, if you just let me I can open the door!”

“We couldn’t wake you up. It’s been hours.”

“Huh? What time is it?” Frank suddenly felt panic rising in his chest. He was supposed to go over to Skye’s again that evening. He needed time to clean up and somehow un-hangover himself.

“Around nine AM.”

“Oh, thank god,” Frank breathed. He still had the rest of the day to clean himself up. He scrambled to get up and unlock the door but it was stuck. “Shit.”

“What?”

“The door’s stuck. You bashed the lock in.”

“Oh. Uh, sorry. I guess you could climb over.”

Frank sighed. This was humiliating. This was definitely the worst night he’d had in a while. His head was pounding, he had a crick in his neck, he was drenched in sick and he was about to climb over a toilet door.

Going out to socialise was the stupidest idea he’d had in years. Never again. Jesus Christ.

Oh well. It was worth it for Rosie.

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Well, maybe the night out was worth it for a bit more than just Rosie.

It turned out that the janitor was actually adorable and actually not a janitor but just a guy who had been playing a show in the morning and needed the bathroom. Unfortunately, the cubicle Frank was in was the only one and the door had a giant hole in it from where it had been bashed in by a guitar.

Yep. Not a sledgehammer. A bass guitar.

The dude was bass in Kill Hannah and had needed the bathroom all morning but Frank had been in there. He felt kind of bad, really. Depriving this cute guy of a bathroom.