Destruction Used To Be Fun (Frerard)

In Between Forget and Cherish

The first part is restricted so make sure to read it first. :)

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Frank’s sitting on his couch a little over two months later, twirling and twisting an old and creased receipt between his fingers. The words of inspiration still standing out in contrast to the faded print on the other side as he reads over it again and then again. By now, he has the words memorized by heart and the number saved not only in his phone but forever in his mind. He folds it up and goes to set it down before he sighs and unfolds it one more time, the ancient-looking paper brushing softly between his fingers.

He picks up his phone from where it was resting beside him and starts dialing the number as he’s done many times before. He has so many things to say to Gerard, the man who helped him exactly two months a week ago, but the minute he goes to actually call his mind freezes up and he realizes that he really doesn’t have anything to say.

Today is no different and he ends up setting the phone down beside him, the number still staring back at him, waiting for him to press the call button and tell the beautiful stranger just how much he’s done for Frank.

Frank’s finger hovers over the call button before he checks the time and decides it’s too late to call even though it’s only midday. He knows it’s just another excuse to make himself feel better, but it’s enough to keep him from feeling bad for not calling for at least one more day.

He’s about to clear the screen and wallow in self pity in the form of watching mind numbing TV shows when he out of habit accidentally presses the call button. His heart freezes, his eyes widen, and his hand stills over the screen. He feels his palms start to sweat and then he hears the phone pick up and start ringing. By now, it’s too late to hang up because it’s already connected with the other person, so he slowly brings the phone up to his ear, biting his lip so hard that it threatens to swell up and bleed.

He’s pressing the phone too tightly to his ear and it hurts, but his whole arm is tight and rigid. The phone only seems to ring for a short amount of time before it stops, the calls connecting, and Frank’s heart freezes in his chest at the voice coming through the speaker, “Hello?”

Frank opens his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. He opens and closes his mouth several times as if he were pretending to be a fish before he squeaks out an apology and hangs up, throwing the phone down on the couch beside him as if it had contracted the plague.

He rubs his hands on his pants, feeling the black fabric stick to his hands. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths before he jumps when his phone starts ringing loudly beside him. He glances down and freaks out when it’s Gerard calling him back. He hurriedly presses the ignore button and then shuts his phone off, shoving it between the couch cushions, vowing to not touch it or turn it on again for a while.

Suddenly, the silence seems deafening. To calm himself down and take his mind off it, he turns the TV on for background noise and flips through the channels. He stops at a show he usually watches around this time and gets frustrated when he can’t focus. His mind keeps wandering to other places and by the time he’s halfway through the show, he can barely sit still. The actor’s voices are annoying him and the drama they try to induce just grates on his nerves in a way it never has before.

Then, the house feels like it’s suffocating him. He feels disappointed all of a sudden, like he’d let his hopes get too high and now they were crashing down on top of him, crushing his lungs and weighing down his heart. He knows he needs to get out of the house before he goes insane or does something he knows is wrong. He gets up quickly from the couch, grabbing his keys and wallet off the coffee table, and leaves.