Bad Idea! ✐ FRERARD

✩ "ROOMMATES" ✩

★ not edited!! feel free to point out any mistakes! ★

EVERYTHING HAD BEEN quiet ever since Frank pulled that trigger on himself.

Hurley had suspended him from work again until he passed a psych evaluation. Which he obviously hadn't taken because he knew he wasn't really ready to be back yet. That didn't mean he would spend another two months wallowing alone, it simply meant he needed a couple of weeks to get a grip on himself.

It was like Frank was stood on the brink of something he couldn't describe. The weight of everything seemed to press down on his shoulders and he struggled to take even a single step forward. It was too much. All of it. And it took all of him to somehow keep moving. But every step cost him more. The darkness grew darker; the pain grew sharper; all of it seemed to only grow in intensity and Frank honestly began to wonder if things would ever get better.

Frank knew depression had a floor, a rock bottom- and finding it he supposed, was a curse. Because once you did inevitably hit it, it felt as if you should stay down unless you somehow find a reason to get up.

And it wasn't as if Frank really had a reason at the moment so he was living simply off of fucking assumption.

And it wasn't as if it was really working in his favour. Everyone was being more than weird with him. Bob, Ray, and even Gerard. They all treated him like fragile glass that would shatter at any moment and have a breakdown, and if Frank was being honest; it kind of hurt.

He had a moment but... he was still Frank.

Though in all fairness all Frank did nowadays was sleep. He had become completely numb to his nightmares so it wasn't too much of a problem anymore. After having experienced one in real life they didn't really have their same effect. And since Frank still had a quite heavy phobia of guns, by now everyone from work knew to leave their guns at home when they came to visit him.

Frank wasn't actually too keen on company anyway though, so in the last two weeks he had only seen them a couple of times.

Lindsey had started calling him everyday again, but after Frank became void and snappy with her she stopped. Now she called every three days.

Frank had also put on some shitty version of suicide-watch, where Bob apparently had to check in on him every three hours. Frank hated it, to say the least, but he went along with it.

There was a gentle knock on Frank's door, making his neck strain from where he had been lying down, pillow to his chest.

"Frank?" He heard Bob's voice, Frank responding only with a soft grunt.

"Frank, I... I have some news." Bob said quietly as he walked closer to him.

"My um, my Uncle passed away last night." Bob said softly, clearing his throat to clear it of emotion.

Frank slowly sat up, looking at him expectantly with the same blank stare he always wore.

"And his funeral's in Chicago," Bob said, picking at the cuticles around his nails, "So... I'm going to be with my family for the next week."

Frank nodded softly, not saying anything.

"But I don't want you to be alone for that time," Bob said as he glanced at Frank, "Um, Ellie offered to stay here while I'm—"

"No." Frank whispered immediately, because now he most definitely needed to speak, or else this movement would be passed and he would rather go to fucking Therapy than have Ellie of all people watch him like a hawk for a week.