Coffee Stains ( Frerard )

Question Twelve

The song in the description;  Burn Bright by My Chemical Romance

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Is it a normal old person trait to read the newspaper? Holding the edges of the pages close so it could almost touch your nose or is this his downfall into losing his sight. Using a knife, I cut into the diners pancakes drowned in maple syrup and diabetes. It wasn't the tension stopping me from talking, it was the consuming anxiety that my dad was a murderer.

"Frankie, you never used to be this quiet." He announces, his brown eyes darted over me almost looking for some familiarity of who I used to be. It wasn't a lie that he never visited, and if he did they were fleeting. The only reason he had actually bothered to stay overnight was me passing out.

It never got fully diagnosed, me getting painful flashbacks of that night. It feels like my head is splitting as my mind struggles to remember something it forgot. " I guess I changed," I mumble, stuffing another piece of pancake into my mouth.

"Your height didn't." He joked, his eyes scrunching as he laughed.

"You're short too." I point out, moving the plate away from me after I had demolished the food. It was only when I went out with Gerard I got proper food from the shitty school meals. "So why did you come here?"

Blinking, he doesn't take his eyes off me for a moment before letting out a sigh. "Business mainly, I heard you were getting worse too."

"I don't want to take the medication again." I burst out, and he just shakes his head. He doesn't understand what the medication does to me, how it makes me numb, I can't feel anything. I know he's trying to help I can see it in his eyes but he could also be a murderer.

It's like my family tradition to try and kill someone, the scar lacing my skin is from when my mom tried killing me. "You should," He suggests, placing the paper on the table. It's open on an article about a gang, one that got wiped out yesterday, their bodies found in the river. It's been all over the news, police investigations are ongoing but they don't care. Following my eyes, he turns the paper around allowing me to read it while clamping his hands together. "Looks brutal, I bet it was worse actually being there."

"Yeah,"

"You're mom's getting discharged from the hospital soon. The institution says she's gotten better mentally but the restraining order still stands."

"Okay,"

"No it's not okay Frankie, she tried killing you, if you see her call the police instantly." He warns, gripping the table his knuckles going white. It's funny that he used to love her, that was of course until that night but you could still sense sadness in him.

"What if she never was ill, what if she actually wanted to kill me. I did kill the neighbours kid, didn't I?" I question, tilting my head to make sure nobody could hear the conversation. It wasn't unknown that I killed him but it still frightened people.

"Frank, she is sick, don't blame yourself." He tried reassuring me but it was more of a command. Dad didn't want me digging around, it's obvious, he's trying to keep composure.

"Do you blame yourself?"

Slamming the coffee cup down on the table, I watch it shatter into millions of pieces. Coffee spilling over the table, creating oceans on the table top. His hands clench the table and he doesn't break eye contact. I should be afraid, I should be shaking, blocking my ears from the yelling about to come but I do nothing. "You're happy she got locked away aren't you?"

"Frank." He growls, reaching over to grab the collar of the Smashing Pumpkins shirt Gerard bought me. I move out of the way of his hand, the waiters are watching us, one lady terrified.