Escalators {Frerard}[COMPLETED]

➳razbliuto

HELLO FRIENDS THE PROCRASTINATING LOSER IS BACK.

I CAN UPDATE AGAIN BC EXAMS ARE FINISHED AYY.

THIS ONE IS A BIT SHORT (as in pathetically short) BECAUSE I WANTED TO UPDATE IT QUITE QUICK AND WHEN YOU READ IT YOU'LL SEE WHY IT'S SHORT.

THANKYOU ALL FOR READING AND STUFF.

I'M GONNA STOP TYPING IN VIOLENT CAPITALS NOW.

❝Razbliuto- the sentimental feeling you have about someone you once loved, but no longer love any more.❞

I went to bed feeling elated, and the feeling carried on into the following morning. True, it took me a while to get to sleep and technically I was still awake the following morning, but I had a lot to process.

When I was younger, about fifteen or sixteen, I'd tried to think about the best way to do it, to get that first time over with so I'd be able to feel more on par with everyone else. Obviously I'd never actually worked up the guts to do it, but I was glad of that now.

I couldn't think of anyone better than Gerard, and not just for that reason. Because he'd walked into my life, (although maybe 'ran in with the force of a bullet train' was more accurate) and seemed to complete me within a month or two. Ever since I was a kid I'd known that I was missing something, someone in my life, but I'd never have expected to actually find someone to fill the person-shaped hole as perfectly as Gerard did. I hadn't known him for that long, but that didn't matter. He'd been there for me when it did. I was finally, for the first time since I could remember, I wasn't alone.

I think Gerard fell asleep before I did, hair blacker than the sky outside against the bleached hotel pillows. If he was awake, though, he didn't respond when I laced my fingers through his, and turned over to my side to fall asleep.

-

We were woken up by the ringing of Gerard's phone. How the battery had managed to survive all night despite the fact that he had no charger was beyond me, mine was lying, deadened, on the bedside table. There was really no point of me even having a phone really, when I spent the majority of it talking to either my mother or Gerard. I was with Gerard and my mother still hadn't bothered to contact me. We were nearing a whole week until I'd walked out. There had always been the sneaking suspicion that there was something not right about my mother, and as I'd gotten older, I'd become more and more sure. This had almost cinched it.

For all she knew, I could be dead.

Initially I'd been beyond annoyed at her, and I didn't want her to text me or call me. As the days wore on, though, I started to see that I'd maybe been a bit hasty in my decision, and was more hurt than angry. Obviously I was still angry, but the fact that my own mother didn't give a shit about her own son was definitely taking its toll on my emotions.

When Gerard answered the phone, he was speaking through that sleep-veil that I found simultaneously adorable and unbearably attractive. I could just make out the sound of his dad talking on the other end of the phone. From what I could tell, he sounded rather het up about it, at least until Gerard had told him about ten times that he was eighteen, and could honestly look after himself easily enough. Plus, we were still in bed.

It made me wonder what it would be like to have a dad at all, let alone one who actually rang you to see how you were. It seemed really shit that I'd got two useless parents, and Gerard had a whole family that were not only great, but at least normal. 

Although, I suppose what with Gerard had told me with the accident and everything, that was likely to have brought them closer together. I tried to stop thinking about it, because whilst he'd never hidden anything from me, nor had he told me explicitly, and I didn't want to assume things in case I was wrong.

Gerard's dad had gotten back from Ohio at some point last night. He was early, but it wasn't a problem. Seeing as we didn't have any money left whatsoever, he was going to pick us up. I could see it being a bit awkward, seeing as I'd never actually met Gerard's dad before (he worked away, apparently, and didn't tend to hang around the neighborhood much) and I was currently living in his house, but if he was anything like the rest of the Way family, then he wasn't going to really mind.

We got dressed quite quickly; Gerard had told me that his dad was on his way, so he'd turn up in about twenty minutes or so, and meet us by the train station. Apparently his mom didn't know we'd spent the night in a hotel, so we couldn't say anything around her, or risk getting his dad in some serious trouble.

Once we were sorted, we walked downstairs into the lobby, hands lazily entwined. We'd payed for the room last night, but there wasn't anyone here anyway, so we left without seeing another person.

It was quite cold outside, the summer beginning to fade. I had a hoody on, and zipped it up grudgingly, as Gerard folded his arms, but did nothing else in order to combat the cold. He couldn't show any weakness. Not even to the weather- typical Gerard behavior.

I could have done with something to eat, but there was literally no money left in either of us' pockets. I bore the hunger, standing next to Gerard and fighting not to shiver.

True to his word, Gerard's dad appeared twenty minutes later. He was driving a large black car, and it was right up until he actually stepped out of it that I regarded it with nothing more than curiosity.

As soon as I saw him, though, my stomach froze. The sensation only intensified dramatically the closer he came, until he stopped, about three foot from where Gerard and I were standing. I felt the colour drain out of my face, and his dad had paled rather too, though Gerard seemed blissfully unaware that I was trying very hard not to be sick.

"Dad, this is Frank," Gerard said cheerfully, gesturing between us, "Frank, this is my dad."

There were no typical, friendly nods like there would have been in any other introduction. My eyes met the man's who was standing in front of me, swallowing hard, enough so I could see the Adam's apple bobbing nervously in his throat. His eyes were the same colour as Gerard's, that tiny fact shooting me in the stomach. I don't know if my hands were shaking, but his were, skin like pastry as he looked at me, eyes full of what could only be described as fear. He didn't speak at all, Gerard looking between us in clear bewilderment.

A few moments passed, in silence, until I could stand it no more. I swallowed back the lump in my throat, and spoke, although my voice shook incredibly.

"That's not your dad, Gerard," I said, my voice almost a whisper against the unseasonable wind.

"That's mine."