So Little Time (Frerard) *New Version*

2: Sometimes Death Seems Better Than The Migraine In My Head

Frank lay on his bed with his eyes squeezed tightly shut, wishing that when he opened them, all of his problems would have magically disappeared, and he would be back with Gerard, with no hateful father hanging in between them, and everything would be perfect.

But even without his vision, Frank could still feel every ache and pain that was caused by his father's beating once he had allowed himself to be led home on reluctant feet. Frank had wanted to stay with Gerard, but he became paralyzed when he was faced with his angry father, and standing up to him only made it worse.

Frank knew the best thing to do was to just keep his mouth shut and take whatever his father was going to deal out to him that day, and Gerard had learned that lesson the hard way when he had attempted to fight back. Frank's heart clenched when he remembered the way his father had hit his boyfriend; it was even worse than receiving the punch himself, and he wished Gerard would just let him deal with this on his own.

He loved Gerard's protective nature though; he just hated the fact that it had gotten him hurt in the process. Frank was worried about his boyfriend, that blow had been brutal, and he had hit his head on the coffee table pretty hard, but at least he had been conscious when Frank left. He might have a concussion though, and Frank felt so guilty that Gerard had suffered because of Frank's disobedience.

Frank wanted to go check on him; his father had barricade the door so he couldn't get out that way, "just in case he was tempted to run back to his faggot boyfriend" to use his father's words, but he hadn't even considered blocking the window. Frank's aching head was keeping him immobile for the time being though, and he didn't think he could move just yet, even if the room caught on fire.

Leaving the house right now was out of the question with this migraine, but Frank still needed to text Gerard to let him know he was all right. He would become frantic if Frank didn't message him soon, Frank knew that from experience.

But when Frank attempted to sit up to retrieve his phone, his temples felt as if they were splitting open, and the pain was so intense, Frank became paralyzed. Maybe if he stopped moving, the agony would cease long enough for him to retrieve the device.

Frank had no idea why he was suffering so much; his father hadn't even hit him in the head, but this ache was absolute torture, worse than any wound his father had ever dealt out to him multiplied by a thousand.

He had been having numerous migraines lately, and he knew he should be concerned about their frequency, not to mention the intense levels of pain he was experiencing, but he had bigger problems on his mind right now, and his next doctor's appointment wasn't until August for his yearly physical - maybe he would mention it to his physician then.

Lying back down on the bed carefully, Frank tried to take deep even breaths, but his discomfort only increased as time passed. Tears began to form behind Frank's closed eyelids, and he wasn't sure how much longer he was going to be able to stand this.

Fuck - it hurt so badly; he needed this torture to end, but his migraine medicine was stored away in the bathroom, which meant he would have to beg his father to let him out of his room to get it. If his mother was home, he could probably convince her to retrieve it for him, but she was working late tonight.

Frank wished his mother was here right now - he needed her, or Gerard preferably, but neither of them were available to him at the moment. Frank didn't feel the same bitter hatred toward his mother as he did his father; she wasn't really a bad parent besides her perchance to turn a blind eye to Frank's father's abusive nature, and he truly did love her - which he couldn't say anymore about his father, the one-time affection Frank had carried for the man had been knocked out of him a long time ago.