Ghosts In Snow (1/?)
Title: Ghosts In Snow (1/?)
Author: 0haii
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: NC-17 (overall)
Warnings: Implied/mentions of minor character deaths, sexual scenes, language, violence
Disclaimer: I'm just kidding
NEW! Summary: Frank loses some loved ones whilst he's eighteen and he becomes distant. When a friend suggests he moves to England for a fresh start and a better college, his mood seems to lighten up.
A/N: Sorry for the summary change, but the other one sucked and this one seemed to fit the storyline a lot better. Also, I promise that in either chapter two or three Gerard will make an entrance and be mentioned.
Prologue
Lost
It had been a month since the loss of Frank's parents. He took the tragedy pretty harsh, letting the realisation of not having them there for him anymore cut right through his skin and bruise the bone. Only did he notice that he was lost without them was when he arrived back into the house they shared a week after the funeral. Frank had stayed at his cousin's house to try and avoid the problem even longer, only to be slapped in the face with it harder.
When he walked through the door there wasn't a pleasant greeting, or a fatherly nod, or any sort of contact what so ever. He obviously looked around, taking in Linda and Anthony's belongings that no one had took with them when they had the chance. Frank couldn't believe it, but one of his Aunts had held one of those weird events where other family members come and take what they think his parents would have gave to them. Save the furniture, of course.
The house didn't look bare, but everything looked out of place. The ornaments and photo frames had been stripped from the living room, bedsheets, pillow cases, bedside lamp shades, jewellery and even the rug from his parents room had been took away. Everyone must of forgotten there was another person that had to live in there after they had finished stealing like magpies.
Frank couldn't even go into his parents room after that one trip he made, he couldn't look at it. There was too many memories, even though the room had been tore apart and bit and pieces had been took away. He remembered all the Christmas' with them, how he'd bounce on the bed to wake them and throw poorly wrapped presents around until they caught them. He remembered all the 'chats' they had wanted with him, once he came out the them, they were all held in that room.
He mostly remembered the nightmares he'd have, the ones of seeing his parents leave him, the ones of seeing himself leave them. Frank would walk into that room and ask if he could talk, or hug, or just any sort of comfort to get rid of the worse nightmares in his head. His mother would do most of the work to calm him down. His father however, would grunt, tell him to be a man and ignore stuff that would never happen. Frank wouldn't take any notice of him though because he knew one day, deep down in his heart that his parents would be gone.
If his mother pointed the gun, but his father pulled the trigger, was it murder or suicide?
Frank would avoid his parents room like it was the plague, dodging it slightly when he walked past the door. He left all the stuff in there how it was, sort of like a shrine towards his parents, their left over belongs sitting and collecting dust. When friends came over to play video games or study for a college thing, he would tell them not to go inside his parents room. It was trespassing to him, and everyone seemed to pay respect and obey him.
Soon Frank's life became back to normal after around a month and a half, but he wouldn't go out anywhere. Though he wasn't highly religious, he still thought his parents where there, watching over him. He felt the responsibly of showing his parents that he could look after himself in the house before he took a bigger step and actually left it.
Week after week Frank would run around and clean everything (not his parents room though), wash the dishes and even clear his room out of junk he didn't need. His parents' death was quite a shock, like a snowball to the face, so he tried his best to handle it without turning to pills, booze or any other depressing thoughts and ideas. He was eighteen, for God's sake, the most he could do was live his life upset and clean other than happy and in medical or emotional danger.
***
Frank had been cleaning around the kitchen, wiping every surface spotless, even if it wasn't dirty before, when his phone rang. Lately people had stopped calling him twenty-four-seven with apologies and the typical 'I'm sorry for you loss' line. He was grateful for the concerns, but he's pretty damn sure everyone holds pity for him. Frank sighed and fished through his back pocket for his phone.
"Hello?" He absentmindedly answered, not really putting any interest into the conversation or his voice.
"Hey!" Two voices called out at the same time, followed by a set of giggles and a small grunt-giggle. "Dude, we're at the beach!" Ray, his best friend's, voice exclaimed over the waves. "You have to come down here," Bob, the other best friend, said through the phone, sounding quite distant.
"Oh, hey guys. I don't know, the beach isn't my scene, I like my house." Frank rambled, trying to stall a little. It was true, he liked his house. For an odd reason, paranoia and self-consciousness came along with his parents disappearance too, so going to a beach with these problems wouldn't help Frank out at all.
"But we're surfing!" Ray half sang.
"Not my thing," Frank muttered back, placing the phone on the counter and hitting speaker. He resumed cleaning, waiting for a reply from one of the two boys.
"Come and try it out?" Bob suggested, sounding even more distant then ever. He was probably bored, Frank thought, seems Bob's not the type to surf or hang at the beach.
"You guys know I don't-"
"Come on, Frank! You don't know how fun surf boarding is until you try, man!" Ray hollered rudely down the other line of his phone, the waves making small crashing noises as a background tune.
"I'm sorry, but I'm not that into doing stuff right now, you know? You understand right?" Frank pleaded, hoping Ray would still have sympathy for him. Even though a month and a half had gone by, all Frank's friends had understood when he said he wasn't coming to the mall, or that he didn't want to eat that day. They've been there for him and Frank appreciated it a whole lot.
Ray for instants had recently been trying out random things, trying to get Frank involved with them also. Basically, trying to cheer Frank the fuck up. It wasn't that Ray was sick of seeing Frank so unhappy, because his parents had just passed and who wouldn't be? He just didn't like the look on his face, the girlish giggle locked in his throat instead of coming out, or the lost look in his best friend's eyes.
"Totally understand, but please just come and try it out?" Ray suggested, only to make a whining noise when the phone was ragged out of his hand and hauled next to Bob's ear.
"Dude, there's no sharks in there and I promise on that hot lifeguard's life that if a shark comes, I'll throw all the fat kids in front of you," Bob tried to convince Frank, only to help him crack a small smile.
"That's real, uh, thoughtful of you Bobert, but I don't surf." Frank attempted, but felt the walls he had built slowly back down when Bob spoke up again.
"Well then learn! Its easy, just please? Oh please, oh please, oh please?" The fake pout could be practically heard through Bob's words. Frank couldn't help but nod a little, not knowing what he was doing and clearly oblivious to the fact that nor Bob or Ray could see him nod either.
There was a two minute pause before Frank sighed, thinking to himself that a little letting go wouldn't hurt. He could still have fun, even if that meant leaving his house for a couple of hours. He was eighteen now, and had no parents, he was free, right? Surely he shouldn't be missing his protective mother asking pointless questions as he searched around for beach wear, but he did. Somehow he could still hear her voice asking where he was going and what he was doing, but he pushed it away.
Frank Iero no longer has parents, he could let go, take any road or journey to anywhere he wanted... but why did he feel so lost?
Author: 0haii
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: NC-17 (overall)
Warnings: Implied/mentions of minor character deaths, sexual scenes, language, violence
Disclaimer: I'm just kidding
NEW! Summary: Frank loses some loved ones whilst he's eighteen and he becomes distant. When a friend suggests he moves to England for a fresh start and a better college, his mood seems to lighten up.
A/N: Sorry for the summary change, but the other one sucked and this one seemed to fit the storyline a lot better. Also, I promise that in either chapter two or three Gerard will make an entrance and be mentioned.
Prologue
Lost
It had been a month since the loss of Frank's parents. He took the tragedy pretty harsh, letting the realisation of not having them there for him anymore cut right through his skin and bruise the bone. Only did he notice that he was lost without them was when he arrived back into the house they shared a week after the funeral. Frank had stayed at his cousin's house to try and avoid the problem even longer, only to be slapped in the face with it harder.
When he walked through the door there wasn't a pleasant greeting, or a fatherly nod, or any sort of contact what so ever. He obviously looked around, taking in Linda and Anthony's belongings that no one had took with them when they had the chance. Frank couldn't believe it, but one of his Aunts had held one of those weird events where other family members come and take what they think his parents would have gave to them. Save the furniture, of course.
The house didn't look bare, but everything looked out of place. The ornaments and photo frames had been stripped from the living room, bedsheets, pillow cases, bedside lamp shades, jewellery and even the rug from his parents room had been took away. Everyone must of forgotten there was another person that had to live in there after they had finished stealing like magpies.
Frank couldn't even go into his parents room after that one trip he made, he couldn't look at it. There was too many memories, even though the room had been tore apart and bit and pieces had been took away. He remembered all the Christmas' with them, how he'd bounce on the bed to wake them and throw poorly wrapped presents around until they caught them. He remembered all the 'chats' they had wanted with him, once he came out the them, they were all held in that room.
He mostly remembered the nightmares he'd have, the ones of seeing his parents leave him, the ones of seeing himself leave them. Frank would walk into that room and ask if he could talk, or hug, or just any sort of comfort to get rid of the worse nightmares in his head. His mother would do most of the work to calm him down. His father however, would grunt, tell him to be a man and ignore stuff that would never happen. Frank wouldn't take any notice of him though because he knew one day, deep down in his heart that his parents would be gone.
If his mother pointed the gun, but his father pulled the trigger, was it murder or suicide?
Frank would avoid his parents room like it was the plague, dodging it slightly when he walked past the door. He left all the stuff in there how it was, sort of like a shrine towards his parents, their left over belongs sitting and collecting dust. When friends came over to play video games or study for a college thing, he would tell them not to go inside his parents room. It was trespassing to him, and everyone seemed to pay respect and obey him.
Soon Frank's life became back to normal after around a month and a half, but he wouldn't go out anywhere. Though he wasn't highly religious, he still thought his parents where there, watching over him. He felt the responsibly of showing his parents that he could look after himself in the house before he took a bigger step and actually left it.
Week after week Frank would run around and clean everything (not his parents room though), wash the dishes and even clear his room out of junk he didn't need. His parents' death was quite a shock, like a snowball to the face, so he tried his best to handle it without turning to pills, booze or any other depressing thoughts and ideas. He was eighteen, for God's sake, the most he could do was live his life upset and clean other than happy and in medical or emotional danger.
***
Frank had been cleaning around the kitchen, wiping every surface spotless, even if it wasn't dirty before, when his phone rang. Lately people had stopped calling him twenty-four-seven with apologies and the typical 'I'm sorry for you loss' line. He was grateful for the concerns, but he's pretty damn sure everyone holds pity for him. Frank sighed and fished through his back pocket for his phone.
"Hello?" He absentmindedly answered, not really putting any interest into the conversation or his voice.
"Hey!" Two voices called out at the same time, followed by a set of giggles and a small grunt-giggle. "Dude, we're at the beach!" Ray, his best friend's, voice exclaimed over the waves. "You have to come down here," Bob, the other best friend, said through the phone, sounding quite distant.
"Oh, hey guys. I don't know, the beach isn't my scene, I like my house." Frank rambled, trying to stall a little. It was true, he liked his house. For an odd reason, paranoia and self-consciousness came along with his parents disappearance too, so going to a beach with these problems wouldn't help Frank out at all.
"But we're surfing!" Ray half sang.
"Not my thing," Frank muttered back, placing the phone on the counter and hitting speaker. He resumed cleaning, waiting for a reply from one of the two boys.
"Come and try it out?" Bob suggested, sounding even more distant then ever. He was probably bored, Frank thought, seems Bob's not the type to surf or hang at the beach.
"You guys know I don't-"
"Come on, Frank! You don't know how fun surf boarding is until you try, man!" Ray hollered rudely down the other line of his phone, the waves making small crashing noises as a background tune.
"I'm sorry, but I'm not that into doing stuff right now, you know? You understand right?" Frank pleaded, hoping Ray would still have sympathy for him. Even though a month and a half had gone by, all Frank's friends had understood when he said he wasn't coming to the mall, or that he didn't want to eat that day. They've been there for him and Frank appreciated it a whole lot.
Ray for instants had recently been trying out random things, trying to get Frank involved with them also. Basically, trying to cheer Frank the fuck up. It wasn't that Ray was sick of seeing Frank so unhappy, because his parents had just passed and who wouldn't be? He just didn't like the look on his face, the girlish giggle locked in his throat instead of coming out, or the lost look in his best friend's eyes.
"Totally understand, but please just come and try it out?" Ray suggested, only to make a whining noise when the phone was ragged out of his hand and hauled next to Bob's ear.
"Dude, there's no sharks in there and I promise on that hot lifeguard's life that if a shark comes, I'll throw all the fat kids in front of you," Bob tried to convince Frank, only to help him crack a small smile.
"That's real, uh, thoughtful of you Bobert, but I don't surf." Frank attempted, but felt the walls he had built slowly back down when Bob spoke up again.
"Well then learn! Its easy, just please? Oh please, oh please, oh please?" The fake pout could be practically heard through Bob's words. Frank couldn't help but nod a little, not knowing what he was doing and clearly oblivious to the fact that nor Bob or Ray could see him nod either.
There was a two minute pause before Frank sighed, thinking to himself that a little letting go wouldn't hurt. He could still have fun, even if that meant leaving his house for a couple of hours. He was eighteen now, and had no parents, he was free, right? Surely he shouldn't be missing his protective mother asking pointless questions as he searched around for beach wear, but he did. Somehow he could still hear her voice asking where he was going and what he was doing, but he pushed it away.
Frank Iero no longer has parents, he could let go, take any road or journey to anywhere he wanted... but why did he feel so lost?