Reunion (Frerard)

1) 2004 email game strong

Frank hated checking his email, he didn't think he needed to know how to 'loose weight in 5 shorts weeks' or how to 'stop male pattern baldness'.

What he did need to know is how on earth the companies offering such ridiculous products got his email in the first place.

It's not like frankieromustdie@gmail.com
is the most common email address.

He shifted through the spam, determined to clear his inbox, because the red notification on the app really bothered him.

He came across an email that made him want to crawl into a hole and die. Just die.

From: XxpetewentzxX@gmail.com

To: frankieromustdie@gmail.com, mikeyway@gmail.com, gerardarthurway@gmail.com (and 15 more)

Hey Gang!
You might not remember me (depends how many antidepressants you were put on!) but I'm Pete Wentz and I went to Belleville Group Therapy when I was a teenager and just wanted to see how some of my old friends were holding up.

If you'd like I've booked the gym at Belleville High from 12:00-5:00 next Wednesday, for a reunion of sorts.

See u there!
Pete.

Frank sighed, he did remember Pete Wentz and remembered that for someone who wanted to take his life he had a lot of energy.

Frank wasn't sure if he wanted to go to this reunion, he was it a much better place than his 16 year old self and didn't want any old wounds to open up.

But he was 20 now, and needed to get out of his apartment.

So he replied,

From: frankieromustdie@gmail.com

To: XxpetewentzxX@gmail.com

Thanks Pete,
I'll be there!
xofrnk

Frank sighed, he was way too proud of responding to an email and offering to go out and see people at his own accord.

Frank continued to scroll through his emails, nothing else as interesting as Pete Wentz and most of the emails chain-mail threatening him with a dead girl killing him unless he forwarded it to 6 other people.

Frank almost wanted to forward it on, just for being an assh*le, because he wore dark clothes and looked like he ate small children for fun, and really needed to act on that aesthetic, but he didn't, because he, unlike everyone else who emailed him didn't just know the emails of random people.

So he logged of his computer and set his mind to anything that wasn't whatever Wednesday was going to be.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

Frank was restless Tuesday  night. He regretted his enthusiasm in his email to Pete Wentz, who might expect him to actually socialise with the misfits he spent the majority of his teen years 'expressing his feelings' to.

These weren't the best company Frank could have chosen. Most, if not all of them had severe depression as teenagers.

Frank included.

He was your typical 16 year old, moody and had questionable ideas about how to solve issues amongst politicians- like beheading them all.

But unlike the average 16 year old he attended a weekly counselling session and took several kinds of pulls, the kind that help and the kind that don't.

Frank had buried those memories, he was a new man. He had a job and an apartment, admittedly the job was at the local music shop and the apartment was only a few blocks away from his childhood home.

They were other thing Frank just chose to overlook as he attempted to get a reasonable amount of sleep, even though they're was no doubt that the eye bags he was bound to develop further would hinder his child-eating aesthetic.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

When he was finally dressed Frank headed out to the high school he was meant to attend a reunion at.

Frank was really wondering why on earth he agreed to go back to his old high school, a place of trauma to meet up with even more traumatic individuals.

But he went out nonetheless.

He hadn't been to the school in 2 years, decent time because in the years before his graduation Frank was barely at school, his attendance always a rough subject between himself and his parents.

Even with his lacking knowledge of the school's interior he made it to the gym with the help of the handmade posters, with glittery arrows.

Pete's work assumably.

Pete's art skills mightn't have gotten better but Frank had enough good will to hope Pete's mental health did.

When he stepped into the gym he was almost strangled.

"Frank!" The man with his arms around his neck screamed, unknowingly sending his high pitch directly into Frank's ear.

"Hi Pete. It's great to see you." Frank lied, he hadn't seen Pete and so far hearing Pete wasn't great.

"A few others are here, come say hello."
Pete pushed Frank in the direction of 3 other people,

"This is my boyfriend-" Pete said, and Frank was shocked at Pete's sexuality, though the use of glitter could have hinted that he was a stereotypical gay guy "-Mikey. Say hi Mikes..."

"Hey. I'm Mikey Way, nice to meet you."

They shook hands and Pete moved on,
"This is one of our old friends, Bob." Pete turned to whisper to Frank, "he's a bit sour, I'd advise you to give him some space."

Bob didn't even give so much as a grunt in reference to Frank's existence, and Frank felt bad for the guy. He was in and out of therapy as a teen and now was a grumpy middle aged man, if Frank ever mustered up the courage to speak to him he'd recommend that Bob got himself a dog.

Pete ushered towards the next person, who seemed less interested in his surroundings than Bob did, but wasn't staring murderously as his feet but gazing off into the distance and humming softly.

"This is Mikey's brother-" Pete nudged the man, who blinked out of his trance. "This is Gerard. Gerard, this is Frank."

Gerard took Frank's hand, and Frank was genuinely alarmed by how much faster his heart was beating, and shook it.

"Hello Frankie, It's nice to meet you."

And Frank had an odd suspicion that the hummingbird boy, Gerard Way was going to seriously f*ck up his life.

The deed has been done.
Another fic has began.
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