Summertime (Frerard)

6: I'm Not Okay (I Promise)

Sitting absent mindedly in the back of an English lesson, I found myself tracing scars and bruises. Memorising the discolouration; the blue purple they adorned upon my skin. I'd grown to accept them, possibility even like them in times of insanity, but of course I could never change just how much I loathed the one who'd inflicted them. He was dead to me; a father I could never love, not anymore. I'd almost forgotten what love was, what it was like to feel happy, what it was like to care about someone, what it was like for someone to care. The whole painful endeavour had nearly vanished completely from my mind, but then Gerard Way decided to apologise; Gerard Way decided to care; Gerard Way decided to carry me across town; Gerard Way decided to say the words that could never leave my mind, the sound that could never leave my ears.

You can run away with me, anytime you want.

What is that even supposed to mean anyway? Was he planning some sort of elaborate kidnap with that 'gang' of his that I still wasn't completely sure of. Everything was blurry and unclear when it came to Gerard Way; he seemed to rewrite the time that flew past him or maybe it was just that psychopathic smile that gave him a dominant demeanour and the rest was left to my stupid imagination.

I knew barely anything about the guy. I never saw him outside of the woods and our meetings were never planned. I knew nothing about what he did in his spare time, but from the incident, I guessed it wasn't all that constructive. The only contact into his personal life was Mikey Way and we weren't exactly on good terms, well to put it lightly that is.

It confused me how Mikey never spoke about him. Mikey barely even acknowledged the fact he had a brother, but I didn't exactly blame him: Gerard was an asshole at the best of times. Mikey wasn't the most civil either, so I imagined they were at one another's throats on a day to day basis. Maybe Gerard went to the woods to get away like me; not from an abusive father, but from an ignorant brother. Gerard had barely acknowledged Mikey either; it was as if the two of them preferred to live with forgetting the fact that the other existed. It must be very strange entirely.

Maybe they even ate in separate rooms, avoided one another to the point one would go out just to avoid being within a mile of the other. Maybe they never even spoke. It must be hell for their parents. Then again, I knew nothing about their parents and with two children both in such a mental state, there was a good chance they weren't exactly a poster family. He wouldn't have it as bad as me, though. I hoped he didn't; both for his sake and mine. It was bittersweet, but it felt like the only thing that made me even slightly important, stand out as a human being; these cuts and bruises were as much a part of me as my beating heart.

Then it occurred to me - Gerard didn't go to school. Never once had I seen a flash of his bright red hair in the school hallways. To be honest, that thing would be pretty hard to miss. I didn't even know how old he was - he could be an adult, he could be in college, he could even have a job. I knew nothing and despite how hateable he was, I wanted to know more.

-

The bell rang out through the classroom and I breathed a sigh of relief, finally glad to be getting out of this hellhole. Maybe I wouldn't even go home; he'd hardly notice for starters. I'd go straight to the woods and I'd find Gerard with that smug smile leaning against a tree, he'd take the cigarette out from between his lips and maybe he'd even try to be civil with me or just rage up another argument. In all honesty, I didn't particularly mind: seeing that stupidly obnoxious hair of his and those hazel eyes was that mattered. I sound like a lovesick fourth grader, but I just need to see him, remind myself that he's real maybe; it's been a long time since I've had anyone that close to a friend.

I stumbled out behind the rest of the students, taking advantage of the fact that The Killers would want to be out of hell as soon as possible seeing as there was some football thing on or something; I didn't exactly know what it was - I paid about as much attention to sport as this teacher did to English. And speak of the devil! Miss Craw's hand snatched out and grabbed my arm, pulling my broken frame towards her.

She looked out at me from behind her glasses. "I'd like a word, Frank." What have I done now? She was going to move me away from my window seat at the back of the classroom and probably sit me down next to Mikey Way himself- Maybe I'd just have to skive her class; she wouldn't exactly mind, seeing as even Joey Essex would be a better English teacher than her. "Is that okay, Frank?" I forced out a nodded. She used my name too much; she probably didn't even know it and was just using it to make sure she was right.

As everyone had filtered out of the room, the door banged shut, leaving me stood like a deer in the headlights under her disapproving gaze. She tucked a strand of bleached hair behind her glasses and smiled unreassuringly at me. "You haven't done anything wrong, don't worry." I had to suppress a snort, knowing far too well that these were the exact words teachers used when you had done something wrong. They called it 'gaining trust in students', but really, it was just lying.

She looked at me as if she was expecting some sort of response, but I really wasn't in the mood so I hoped she just got on with it, however knowing the fact that if we weren't on the 50th tangent by at least fifteen minutes into the 'lesson' she'd been kidnapped and we were being 'taught' by someone wearing her skin, didn't exactly make things out too good.

"I'd like you to tell me the truth, Frank, but are you okay?" What a vague question, thank you. You know what, maybe I'm not okay, but maybe I'd be okay if you'd just have let me get out of this hellhole instead of keeping me behind for what looks like a full on police questioning. I wouldn't even get into the woods before it was dark at this rate. Gerard would've gone by then and that mattered, I didn't like that it did, but I was stuck with it.

She seemed to take notice of my continued silence, "you can trust me." Yeah, for shit I can. I'm sure you won't carry on an exact quote to the school nurse and then consequently onto to social services, because really, take a look at my life and jump off a cliff if you think I'm okay. "Frank-"

"I'm okay." My words only served to shut her up, not wanting to sit through another 'inspirational speech' or whatever other bull crap she had up her sleeve. I didn't even get what she was fishing for her, but she was certainly going to return empty handed.

"Frank, I don't think that's true." I shrugged it off, hiding the fact that I utterly agreed with her for once. Maybe the bitch wasn't that stupid after all and maybe I should be peeling the skin suit off to find an axe murderer. I don't know if an axe murderer or the real Miss Craw would be more preferable. Maybe I'd opt for the former, considering the fact that they wouldn't have the tenancy to ramble on and would just finish me off quickly.

She pointed to my arm, "I've seen your arm, Frank." I just nodded; not a clue how to play this. We were far past the stage of 'I fell down the stairs' or 'my cat did it.' I hated cats and until recently had lived in a bungalow. "Where did you get cuts and bruises like that?"

"I fell down the stairs and got mauled by my cat." I didn't exactly mean for that to be said aloud, but I didn't mind as long as she didn't press the matter. I was not expecting what she did next though - she laughed. She fucking laughed.

"Frank, we both know what these are from." I nodded, this was going to have to go somewhere, maybe I could just convince her that it was self-inflicted; from the look of some of those scars, maybe she'd believe it. "I need you to tell me who did this to you."

And now to be taken to a mental asylum, "I did this to myself."

Her eyes widened and I think she believed it. "All of this?" I nodded. "Frank..." She pulled me into an unwanted and rather suffocating hug. Help.

Eventually she let me go, looking down at me from behind her glasses, "you need to see someone about this and I'll need to inform-"

"Please don't ring home." She sighed.

"You have to promise me you'll go to counselling."

Fuck. "Okay, I promise."

Goodbye hellhole, hello mental asylum.

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