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Frank stumbled through the front door of his new foster home. The first day of school was always exhausting, but it was so much worse when flashbacks had been creeping up on him all day. His new home was very.. unwelcoming. The parents were never home. Frank was always left with his new "brother" that loved nothing more than tormenting him. He immediately knew he couldnt go to the basement where he would be met with an infuriating smirk and venomous words. Frank trudged to the bathroom as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders (which it really felt like he was) and locked the door behind him. He fell to his knees. The boy was drowning in his memories. It was suffocating. The whirlpool of emotions sat heavy in his stomach, permanently engraved into his brain. Frank felt nauseous. He went to the one thing he knew. Pain. With a trembling hand, the boy picked up a small little blade. He had crushed a pencil sharpener with the heel of his foot not long before walking home. He needed this. The guilt already messed with his gut, pressing tears to the back of his eyelids. But there was nothing more he could do. Frank needed the sting. He longed for the sparks of pain that ran up his arms and numbed the stabbing memories, even if it was just for a few moments. Even if it was temporary, followed by an ocean of guilt. He could deal with guilt. He couldnt deal with this. Frank swallowed thickly, hot tears already making his eyelids heavy and face puffy as he pressed the blade to the scarred underside of his wrist. With every drag, every bead of salty red blood, came a relief that was all to familiar. All too needed. For frank, this was routine. Sticky blood ran down franks arm at a slow pace. The sting made his heart slow, his shoulders slump, the tears calm down. The relief was beautiful. The relief was so worth the guilt. Nasty red cuts ran down franks shaking arm. He stared at it and felt nothing. The boy sighed out of his nose. Frank shoved the stained blade back into his ratty backpack, scrambling to bandage his arm. He had to improvise with toilet paper. Frank learned how to bandage limbs during a course he took at a school with an expensive family. The boy never forgot. He kept the bandaging firm around his arm, curling up against the wall, letting the numb calm spill over and under his tormented brain. As soon as he felt the first tickles of guilt, the boy slowly pushed himself to his feet. Frank tugged on his torn backpack and stumbled to the basement. He was met with the familiar sound of obnoxious music at the top of the stairs. Franks calm was disturbed. Gerard. The boy sighed and quietly made his way down the stairs. He stopped at the doorway, studying gerard. Franks stomach filled with anger and hate for the boy. It wasnt fair. Gerard got to live in constant ignorant bliss while frank was tormented by unwanted memories everyday. The jealously made his palms sweat. Frank huffed and quickly made his way to his bunk, curling up, back to the room. "Frankie?" The boy froze. Gerards tone was anything but nice. He heard the bunk creek and felt a presence behind him. "Oh, the little sissy is back. And look.. what are those.. bandages?" Frank curled up tighter, nerves making his heart pick up and his hands shake. "Little boy got bullied again? How pathetic. Didnt defend yourself... Fucking pussy."
Shaking hands covered the boys ears. All of gerards words blurred together. He should be used to this. This shouldnt affect him as much as it is. But frank was crying, hot tears rolling down his face, breathing rapid. Strong hands rolled him over and pulled him into a hug. For a moment frank thought that maybe, just maybe, for once in his life comfort was welcoming him. But of course the boy is stupid. A sneering voice whispered right in his ear. Frank didn't even process the words, too caught in his emotions. He shoved his face into the boys shoulder. Frank was so pathetic. So desperate for any piece of comfort his weak hands could hold onto. Frank believed he was simply too weak for this world. Everything got to him. He felt everything deep to his core. Emotions were so heavy. For the boy, empathy was only a curse. He was practically wailing into gerards shoulder. The strong hands around him had grown gentle. Franks knees gave out and he felt himself being lowered to the ground, into a welcoming lap. Suddenly the sneering voice in the boys ear melted into gentle words. Soft hands ran through franks scruffy hair. He felt his tears slow, his breathing calm down. And when a soft kiss pressed to franks head he decided that maybe, just maybe, he would be alright.