“Frankie baby, why don’t you try and write a song about it? It’ll help you get it all out, you know?” his mom had said at dinner.

The Secret Goldfish

littleblackghost

Summary:

“Frankie baby, why don’t you try and write a song about it? It’ll help you get it all out, you know?” his mom had said at dinner.

It seemed like a great idea at the time, but now, as he sat there staring at the notebook on his mattress, his brain just did not want to work.He sighed and lay back, twisting onto his side. He stared at the empty fish bowl on the dresser by his bed.

Notes:

This is a repost from early 2011. It was originally posted in chapters, but it's all together now. I also apologise for the shockingly bad grammar /o\

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

He threw his notepad down on the bed for the fourth time that night. This mental mind block was starting to annoy him.

“Frankie baby, why don’t you try and write a song about it? It’ll help you get it all out, you know?” his mom had said at dinner.

It seemed like a great idea at the time, but now, as he sat there staring at the notebook on his mattress, his brain just did not want to work.He sighed and lay back, twisting onto his side. He stared at the empty fish bowl on the dresser by his bed.

Smith, his goldfish had died a few weeks ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of the bowl. Every time he’d reached for it, he froze. It was too final. He wasn’t ready for it to be final.
And that’s why for the fourth time that night, he’d thrown his lyric book on his bed, frustration burning through his body, threatening to make it to his eyes.

~*~

TWELVE MONTHS EARLIER

Frank grabbed a bandana from his back pocket as he left the stage, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He lifted his guitar over his head as he made his way backstage. By backstage, it was a tiny room at the back of the dingy venue where his band, along with five others had piled their gear into. The room was empty when he got there, which he was pretty thankful for.
As much as he didn’t mind a little adoration, he preferred some time to wind down after playing.
He located his guitar case under a pile of jackets, and thanked God that the venue had provided amps for the show, saving him the hassle of packing his stuff up. He grabbed his cigarettes from his case and made his way out the back door.

He jumped back a step when he came face to face with a tall bespectacled kid in a parka jacket.

“FRANK IERO!” The boy boomed, throwing his arms around him.

“Mikeyway, dude, you scared the shit out of me!” Frank laughed, hugging him back.

“DUDE! DID I MISS YOUR SET?!” Mikey yelled.

“Mikes…why are you yelling?” Frank laughed at his intoxicated friend. “And yes, you did.”

“Aw man…I am so sorry…we must have lost track of the time…” Mikey garbled, pointing to someone behind him in the alleyway.

Frank looked over his shoulder, as a taller boy walked up behind Mikey.

“This is my brother Gerard,” Mikey smiled as Gerard wrapped one arm over his shoulder.

“Hey.” Gerard said, holding out his hand.

“Uh…hi…” Frank muttered, shaking his hand. He couldn’t help but stare at him.

For a punk show, this guy really stood out, with his long black hair, Madonna t-shirt and pink eye make up.

“Gerard this is that guy I told you about-”

“Uh-huh, yeah, ok Mikey!” Gerard cut his little brother off.

Frank lifted an eyebrow at the pair as Mikey giggled.

He pulled a cigarette out and put it to his lips, offering the two boys one from the pack.

“Nah man, I’m gonna head inside,” Mikey said, before pulling Frank into an awkward hug then stumbled back through the back door.

“Is he ok?” Frank asked, as Gerard took one of his cigarettes.

“Thanks,” He smiled, putting it to his lips, leaning in for Frank to light it. “And yeah, he’s fine - just not used to shots.”

“Ah,” Frank nodded, leaning back against the wall.

Gerard stood beside him, silent.

“So,” Frank said, breaking the silence, “I haven’t seen you around before…and that sounded like a lame chat up line didn’t it?”

Gerard laughed. “Nah…I’m at school in New York, I don’t really hang out here much…”

“What ya studying?”

“Art.”

“Nice…so you like, wanna be an artist or something?”

“Comic illustrator,” Gerard mumbled.

Frank stood up straight, “Seriously?”

Gerard nodded, taking a long drag on his cigarette.

“That’s awesome,” Frank smiled, “I love comics.”

“Seriously?” Gerard cocked an eyebrow.

“Yeah man!”

Gerard smiled, staring at Frank. He eyed the smaller boys ripped Black Flag shirt, his faded blue jeans.

“I can’t wait to get out of school,” Frank said, sliding down the wall to a seated position.

“What year you in?” Gerard asked, joining him on the ground.

“Senior, but it’s just dragging in.” Frank whined.

“Yeah, I know that feeling…so you’re like, what? 18?”

“Next month. 31st.”

“All Hallows?”

Frank nodded.

“That’s an awesome date to be born on,” Gerard smiled.

“Thanks,” Frank smiled back.

They stared at each other for a few seconds before Gerard looked decided his sneakers seemed to be more interesting to stare at.

“So,” Gerard began, playing with the threads at the bottom of his jeans, “doing anything for your birthday?”

Frank nodded, staring at his own feet, “Yeah…Halloween party at my moms…the usual, really.”
Gerard nodded.

“You should come,” Frank said, nudging him, “Mikey’s coming, you should totally crash.”

Gerard looked up, “Seriously?”

“Yeah, it’ll be awesome. I’ll look well cool with a college dude at my party.” Frank laughed.

“An art fag college dude.” Gerard corrected.

“Hey, don’t use words like that dude,” Frank muttered, stretching his legs out.

“Huh?” Gerard looked confused.

“Fag. Don’t use words like that. It’s just…derogatory.”

Gerard cocked an eyebrow. “You’re…?” He made some gestures in the air.

“I’m me. That’s all.” Frank shrugged. “I like what I like. Guys, girls, whatever, it doesn’t matter…why label yourself?”

Gerard smiled, “I like that.”

Frank bit his lip ring, “Sorry…I didn’t mean to rant…it just bugs me how you always have to be something, you have to be stereotyped. Why can’t I just like someone for who they are, why does it have to come down to gender?”

“I totally agree. If only everyone thought that way.”

Frank sighed and nodded. “I dunno…I guess, like…my mom’s always told me to be myself, so I try my best.”

Gerard smiled and nudged the smaller boy, “Well, I think your moms right.”

~*~

The notebook was taunting him from the foot of his bed. He could swear it. Frank was sitting with his back against his headboard, staring at the book intensely. Yeah, it was definitely mocking him.

Since when did he ever get writers block? He could knock lyrics out like there was no tomorrow, anytime he wanted! But no. Not tonight. Tonight, when he NEEDED to write, he COULDN’T.
Stupid goldfish bowl.

~*~

NINE MONTHS EARLIER

“No way,” Frank said, trying to pull his wrist from Gerards grip.

The noise of the funfair was almost deafening, and Frank was pretty sure he was going to be puking candy floss for the next month.

“Aw, come on Frankie! It’ll be funny!” Gerard laughed, trying to pull Frank along the walkway towards what Frank could only describe as the most idiotic and ridiculous funfair challenge he knew.

The Test Your Strength challenge was one Frank did not like to spend any time around.
From where Gerard was harassing him, Frank could already see at least half his high schools football team standing around the game, jostling one another.As much as Frank didn’t really care what anyone thought of him and his new boyfriend, he really did not like the idea of taking part in such a stupid, macho game, whilst the school football team came up with a new round of names to call him on Monday.
Why on Earth had he even agreed to come to the funfair anyway?Oh that’s right - Gerard thought it would be fun.

And so far, it had been. They’d gone on the waltzers, the twisters, rode the rollercoaster and got lost in the hall of mirrors (Frank had found it very amusing when the attendant had found them making out in a storage closet in front of a mirror that made Frank look at least 300lbs heavier).

Sure, it had been a great night so far. In fact, Frank could hardly believe how well it was going. He’d never had a relationship like this. When Gerard had shown up at his birthday party, he’d been surprised to say the least. At the end of the night, when Frank could barely stand up straight from the over consumption of alcohol, and Gerard had held him over the toilet bowl, Frank thought he’d blown any chance he had with the older college boy. But what had surprised Frank the most, was when he awoke on November 1st, a pounding headache threatening to ruin the day, and finding a little piece of paper folded on his bedside table. As he’d opened it, one eye scrunched closed in an attempt to fight the impending migraine, he looked over the little pumpkin drawn on the inside, right above the scrawled writing, which read:

“You’re kinda cute when you puke - hey! That rhymes!
Call me xoxo g”

And Frank had called, and Gerard had answered. After that first awkward phone call of Frank repeatedly apologising for his previous drunken state, they’d seen each other every weekend. Whether it was Frank travelling to New York after classes ended on a Friday, or Gerard travelling back to Belleville and taking up residence in his parents basement, where he and Frank would spend hours watching Alfred Hitchcock movies and arguing over which was the best breakfast monster.

Mikey had been ecstatic about Frank dating his brother, and Frank had been pretty ecstatic about dating Mikeys brother, so it was win-win. Frank had found himself doing so well in school in order to avoid homework at the weekends, and he had the most amazing person to spend those weekends with.

His life was perfect.

And now, somehow, all that perfection was about to be destroyed by Gerards need to do some stupid macho fairground game in front of the jocks.

“Gee…” Frank whined, as Gerard pulled him closer towards the giant hammer and bell.

“Aw come on Frankie…” Gerard smirked back.

As they closed in on the small crowd around the game, Frank could feel all eyes turning on him.

“Is that your boyfriend Iero?” One of the jock sneered.

“Yeah, it is, got a problem?” Gerard spat back, making Franks heart jump.

Woah. He was a little taken aback by that.

Gerard handed the attendant the amount of tokens needed, and stepped forward to grab the giant hammer. Frank couldn’t believe he was actually doing this. He could hear whispers around them, mostly along the lines of ‘Dude, is Iero dating a college guy?’ and ‘DUDE! Iero is totally boning MikeyWays brother!’.

Frank couldn’t really give a crap about what people thought, but he hated being in this situation WITH Gerard. He could handle the taunts, the shoves, the bullying on his own. In school, it was fine. He didn’t care. But when he was with Gerard…well, the relationship was still so new, he really didn’t need a bunch of high school jocks and cheerleaders showing their immaturity in front of his boyfriend.

He was pulled from his daydream (or should that be day-mare?) when Gerard pulled him into chaste kiss, before pulling back to the sound of hushed gasps, giving Frank a dangerous smirk.
As he heaved the over sized mallet above his head, Frank bit his lip.

Gerard wasn’t exactly built of pure muscle, in his skinny jeans and worn leather jacket. So when the bell rang after the hammer came crashing down, Frank couldn’t help but give a little surprised jump and cheer.

Gerard turned to smirk as the jocks stared at him in dismay.

“Pick a prize!” the carnival attendant boomed, bringing Frank back to Earth.

Gerard grabbed Franks hand, pulling him forward.

“Well go on Frankie,” Gerard whispered, “Pick something.”

Frank blushed, as his high school tormentors looked on.

“But I already have you.”

Gerard grinned, and placed a kiss on his cheek, before stepping forward and choosing a little goldfish with black markings, and handing the little bag of water to Frank. As they walked away, hand in hand, Frank inspected the little fish in the bag.

“Can I call him Smith?” Frank asked.

“You can call him whatever you want babe,” Gerard replied, lifting their intertwined fingers to his mouth, so he could kiss Franks hand. “But why Smith?”

Frank pointed to Gerards shirt, “You’re wearing a Morrisey shirt…”

Gerard stared at him blankly.

Frank sighed, “The Smiths?”

“Oh! Right!” Gerard laughed, “that’s kinda cute.”

Every Sunday night, after Gerard drove back to New York, Frank would feed Smith, and tell him all about the weekend he’d spent in a darkened basement eating too much fast food and watching too many bad movies.

He loved that goldfish. Almost as much as he loved Gerard.

~*~

Frank was lying on the floor by his bed now, staring up at the empty fish bowl on the bedside dresser. He felt his stomach knot up as he thought about poor Smith. His mom had thought it a little odd how cut up he’d been when his goldfish passed away. Sure, he always cared about animals a little more than most teenagers, but he hadn’t left his bed for three days when Smith had died. It was only a goldfish, after all.

But that was what Franks mom couldn’t understand.

It WASN’T just a goldfish.

~*~

THREE MONTHS EARLIER

Frank had started notice Gerard had been acting a little distant. At first it was just cancelling a few weekends together. Frank had accepted his explanations of doing work for extra credit, or having reports to write up without any debate. He’d never even think about coming between Gerard and his art, even if it meant he got to see him less. Plus, when Gerard did come through to Jersey, all the lost time was made up for.

Gerard would take him to punk shows in places he never even knew existed in their town. They’d go to midnight showings of JAWS and Dawn of the Dead, before stumbling down the stairs into Gerards basement bedroom, a tangle of denim pants and band shirts.

The first time they had sex was in Gerards basement. Slow and easy, Frank couldn’t have asked for a better first time. When he told Gerard he was a virgin, he hadn’t laughed, he hadn’t teased. He’d thanked him.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” Gerard had whispered, as they panted against each others mouths.

That was the first time they had said ‘I love you’, lying naked together, bodies pressed together in Gerard bed, the smell of paint and sex in the air.

So when Gerard called one Thursday evening to tell Frank he wouldn’t be coming through to Jersey that week, Frank had just sighed and accepted that he’d be spending the weekend on his sofa, eating Cheetos and watching Scooby-Doo reruns with his History homework.

On the Saturday, Frank had decided to take some time out from his ‘busy schedule’, as he’d put it, and visit Mikey. Although he spent so much time in the Way household, it seemed like he hadn’t seen much of his best friend lately. So as Frank stood on the welcome mat of Mikeys parents house, the last person he’d expected to answer the door was his boyfriend. His boyfriend who was supposed to be in New York. His boyfriend who was supposed to be busy working on a term paper in New York.

“F-Frank?” Gerard stuttered.

“Gee? What the-” before Frank could finish, he heard loud noises coming from the inside of the house.

“Gerard…are you…do you have people over?” Frank asked, a slight lump in his throat.

Gerard stepped forward, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Not gonna make it home this weekend, huh?” Frank asked, crossing his arms and standing back.
Gerard ran a hand through his greasy jet black hair.

“Yeah…I’m sorry Frank…” He sighed.

“Ok…but, why lie to me?”

“It’s some college friends…”

Frank stared at him blankly. What kind of explanation was that?

“College friends…so?”

Gerard sighed again. “It’s just some college friends over…I didn’t think it’d be your…scene.”

Frank stared at his boyfriend, his mouth agape. “You…you’re embarrassed I’m in school, aren’t you?”

“Don’t be so stupid Frankie,” Gerard said in an annoyed tone.

“Well, what is it then?”

Gerard shrugged, “I don’t know…I just…”

“Gerard, if you wanted a weekend with your friends, you could have just told me. You didn’t need to lie to me. You could have just told me you wanted to spend some down time with your friends, and that way I could have actually planned to do something this weekend, rather than show up looking for Mikey and see my absent boyfriend throwing a party without me!”

Gerard stepped forward, pulling Franks hands into his own.

“I know, I know…I’m sorry babe…I just…I don’t know. I don’t know what got into me.”

He looked down into Franks eyes, “Forgive me?” he pouted.

Frank bit his lipring for a second, before nodding and planting a small kiss on his lips.

That was only the beginning of the things that just ‘got into’ Gerard.

For three weeks in a row, Gerard cancelled on Frank, having to work on some painting or another. Then there was Monster Movie Marathon at the local indie cinema, that Gerard had promised to go to with him and Mikey, but called the morning of and told him he had a paper due that afternoon. Then came the return of the funfair, that Frank was actually looking forward to, but of course he couldn’t make that either. (Frank later found out he’d been at a class mates keg party)

It came to a head when called Frank the night before his moms birthday party, leaving Frank a voicemail.

“Sorry babe, I just can’t get through. I have two papers and a portrait due on Friday, there’s no way I’ll make it through. I’m sorry, and I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Tell Linda I said Happy Birthday.”

That was when Frank felt something in his chest break. Not only was he cancelling on his mom, but he hadn’t even said ‘I love you’ at the end of the message, like he always did.

The day after his moms party, Frank borrowed the car and drove through to SVA, parking in the student lot, before making his way through the dormitories towards Gerards room. He rapped on the door, before pulling out the key Gerard had gave him months ago and letting himself in. He found Gerard fast asleep in his bed, fully clothed, an empty bottle of beer slightly clutched in one hand.

Papers and blank canvas’ littered the room, but Frank could see no evidence of all the work Gerard had been allegedly working on.

Frank pulled the empty bottle from Gerards hand before throwing it into the waste bin, loud enough to wake Gerard from his drunken sleep.

“NREGH!…uh…huh? Frankie?” Gerard asked, squinting at Franks small figure, leaning against the opposite wall.

“What are you…how did…huh?” Gerard swung himself round to sit on the edge of the bed, cradling his head.

“Hangover?” Frank said, trying to stop his voice from wavering.

“Huh?” Gerard looked up at him. “No…no…just not…uh, not feeling…so good…”

“Yeah?” Frank could feel his blood beginning to boil. “So how do you explain the empty bottles? Or the fact you’re still dressed? Or the fact you are absolutely stinking of whiskey?”

Gerard shook his head, “What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?”

Frank let out an exasperated laugh, “Gerard, why did you lie to me? Again? You keep doing this…you keep cancelling on me, telling me you’re doing one thing, then I find out you’re doing something completely different!”

“Stop yelling at me!” Gerard grunted.

“Oh, well excuse me for being a bit pissed that yet again my boyfriend lied to me.”

Gerard shook his head, and made his way over to the mini-fridge in the corner of the room, pulling a bottle of water out, before hunting through the chaos that was his desk for his aspirin.
Frank continued his rant, not really caring about the volume of his voice.

“Oh, please do forgive me for being upset that my fucking boyfriend can’t tell me the fucking truth! Gerard, it was my mom you let down this time, not me. For fucks sake, even YOUR mom was there, and she had no idea where you were!”

Gerard spun to face him, “What do you want me to say Frank, huh? What do you want from me?”

“I want the fucking truth!”

“IT’S OVER FRANK, IT’S OVER!”

Both boys fell silent. Frank could feel his breath catching in his chest. He took a step back, almost tripping over the waste basket.

Gerard rubbed his hands over his face. “I’m sorry Frank…I’m sorry…I just…I…”

“Why?” Frank whispered, concentrating on a dirty patch on the carpet by his feet. Coffee, probably. Gerard was always spilling his coffee.

Gerard took a step forward, causing Frank to jump back another step.

“Just tell me why, and I’ll go.” Frank said in a small voice.

“This is…I just…this won’t work, Frankie.”

“Frank.”

Frank looked up, meeting Gerards eyes. “My name is Frank.”

Gerard took a deep breath. “Frank. I’m sorry…I never wanted to hurt you.”

“What, so you just thought you’d string me along?”

“No, no…no Frank…” Gerard moved to sit on his bed once again, running a hand through his hair. “Frank…I just can’t do this anymore…it’s too much. I can’t be…I can’t…”

“You can’t be tied down.” Frank finished for him.

Frank allowed his eyes to meet his former lovers, before turning to leave.

“Frank,” Gerard said quietly, “I really did, you know.”

Frank paused. “You did what?”

“I did love you.”

Frank turned his head as he opened the door. “But you don’t anymore.”

He could see tears begin to sparkle in Gerards eyes as he shook his head.

When Frank threw himself down on his bed, he ignored his mother calling through his bedroom door, asking if he was ok. Instead he turned his Famous Monsters CD up as loud as his ghetto blaster would allow him, wishing he could feel something.

~*~

As Frank cradled the empty fish bowl in his hands, he thought about the life of a goldfish. Swimming about in circles, eating when fed, being watched all day. As he considered this, a conversation popped into his head.

~*~

TWO MONTHS EARLIER

Frank hadn’t heard from Gerard at all since he’d left New York. He’d barely even seen Mikey, which sucked. He couldn’t help but feel Mikey didn’t want to be around him right now. He spent all his time doing his homework or thrashing about him bedroom with his guitar. He played small shows in peoples basements at high school parties, got drunk with his band mates, and one time, threw up in some girls bed just as she tried to unzip his pants. (He secretly thought that was a lucky save.)

He tried to get back to the life he lead before Gerard came and shook him up. He played video games with Bob, went skateboarding with James, and helped his mom do the weekly shop. He thought he was doing pretty good, actually.

Then Smith died.

He’d been at his dads house for the weekend, feeling that he’d neglected him during the 9 months he’d spent with Gerard. He’d came home in a good enough mood, his dads old beat up acoustic guitar under one arm (after finally convincing him to hand it over to his wonderful son), calling to his mom as he walked through the front door.

He felt his heart drop when he saw his mothers sad expression.

Somehow he knew what had happened. He dropped his back pack and the guitar before racing up the stairs to his bedroom, his mother at his heels.As he threw open the door, he felt his stomach begin to knot at the sight of a dish towel covering Smiths bowl.

“I…uh…” his mother cleared her throat behind him, putting on hand on her sons back.

“I didn’t want to…I wanted to wait until you were home…I’m sorry sweetie…”

Frank nodded and walked forward, pulling the towel off the bowl. He had anticipated the feeling that would erupt in his chest at the sight of the little gold and black fish, floating at the top of the bowl.

He made his way to the bathroom, his mother holding onto the back of his shirt, as if she was afraid he would disappear at any second.

He got down on his knees in front of the toilet, taking a few deep breaths.

He slowly tipped the contents of the fish bowl into the toilet before standing up. He felt his mother tighten her grip on him as he whispered, “Goodbye Smith”.

As he flushed the toilet, he thanked God for his mothers intuitions, before he fell to his knees once more, sobbing and shaking into his mothers arms.

For weeks after the death of his poor goldfish, Frank didn’t do much of anything. At his graduation he didn’t smile for photos. He didn’t go to Mikeys graduation party, preferring to sit at home and watch Lilo and Stitch with his mother for the umpteenth time. Mikey had promised Gerard wouldn’t be there, but Frank didn’t want to risk it. He’d been an emotional wreck since poor Smiths demise, and he didn’t want to be sat in the centre of his ex-boyfriends parents house, drunk, and crying about his poor, poor fish. If he wasn’t so broken hearted, he would have laughed at himself. 18 years old, and crying for his pet fish.

It was then that his mother prompted an odd conversation.

“You’re my goldfish.” She’d said as a bad Elvis cover poured from the television as the credits to their Disney movie and she pulled herself up from the arm chair she’d been resting in.
Frank had stared at her in disbelief, before answering, “No, I’m your son.”

His mom had laughed as she pulled the disk from the DVD player.

“But you’re so much like my goldfish.”

“How so?” Frank asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“I feel like…all I do is watch you.”

“You watch me.”

His mom nodded, moving to sit by him on the sofa.

“Baby, I love you, and I mean no disrespect, but you’re just like a little goldfish.”

Frank stared at his mother. Great, he thought. She’s finally lost her marbles.

“I mean,” she continued, “since…since Smith passed away, you just float about. You don’t do anything. You spend all your time in your room, doing nothing. You haven’t played a single show since…and you don’t sleep.”

Frank opened his mouth to protest but his mother hushed him.

“Frank, I know you don’t sleep. You just lie awake at night, staring into space. Don’t think I haven’t seen you. I’ve seen you, every time you go to take that fish bowl, you freeze up.”

Frank bit his lip, hugging his knees close to his chest, “I don’t know why it affected me so much.”

“I do.”

He looked up at her, meeting those eyes he’d inherited.

“This isn’t about Smith, Frankie. You know it isn’t.”

He felt his breath catch.

“Frankie…when Gerard…when you broke up, you didn’t grieve. You didn’t shed a single tear. But when your goldfish died, it near enough broke you. A goldfish he won for you.”

Frank could feel that familiar burn behind his eyelids, and bit down on his lip.

“You’re my little goldfish Frankie.” His mother smiled sadly, getting to her feet and running a hand through his hair. “I watch you, just like you watched Smith. You don’t close your eyes, just like that little fish.”

She bent down and pressed a small kiss to her sons forehead before making her way towards the hall.

“Mom?” Frank spoke up, twisting to look at her.

“Yes baby?”

“Does it last forever?” He asked in a hushed voice.

His mom smiled that sad smile once more. “No baby, it doesn’t.”

Frank nodded, and turned to face the blank TV screen again.

“And Frankie?”

He turned once more.

“I love you, my little secret goldfish.”

~*~

Frank set the fish bowl back on his bedside dresser and picked up his notepad. He took one last glance at the empty glass bowl, before scribbling away in his little pad of words.

~*~

ONE MONTH LATER

Frank could feel his stomach knotting up as the band took to the stage. His band mates had been ecstatic when he’d showed up a month before, ready to play again, new material at hand. Hambone had practically cried with happiness when Frank had handed him his lyric pad, already muttering about gigs they’d been offered.

And now, one month on, Frank was feeling like maybe he’d made a mistake. Here he was, in a seedy little underground club, somewhere in New York, and Frank was feeling antsy. He didn’t feel comfortable being in New York. He knew there was very little chance that…he pushed the thought out of his mind, and played through the first few songs of their set, receiving a decent enough reaction from the crowd.

As he stepped back to his amp, he lifted the little glass fish bowl he had sitting behind it, and set it on top. He looked at it, before turning to face the crowd again. His eyes immediately caught sight of a tall dark haired boy, just a few feet from the stage. He’d recognise those eyes, and messy hair anywhere.

As he stared, Gerard gave him a small smile, waving slightly.

Before he could react, he felt Hambone tap him out of his trance, motioning to the microphone.

“Uh,” Frank began, trying to compose himself. “We just…we just wanna say thanks for coming, thanks for listening, and thanks for not booing us off!”

There was a round of cheers from the crowd before he continued.

“This is our last song, it’s a new one…”

As Shaun’s notes from his keyboard began to fill the air, Frank took a deep breath and closed his eyes, before opening his mouth to sing.

“I can't close my eyes.
I can't shut my eyes to you.
I can't close my eyes.
I won't shed a tear for you this time.

No matter how hard I try.
I break all the ties.
But heartbreak is forever.

Land of the lost,
I found myself in nothing.
This time, promises broken find me,
Clutching to you for something,
Something that you're not.
Believing in what you say
It makes me lie awake at night.
The truth, the truth is not what scares me;
It's why you have to lie
All the time.

I can't close my eyes.
I can't shut my eyes to you.
I can't close my eyes.
I won't shed a tear for you.
I can't close my eyes.
I can't shut my eyes to you.
I can't close my eyes.
I won't shed a tear.

Heartbreak is forever.
I found myself with nothing to believe in.
This time, promises broken find me.
Clutching to you for something all the time.

I can't close my eyes.
I can't shut my eyes to you.
I can't close my eyes.
I won't shed a tear for you.
I can't close my eyes.
I can't shut my eyes to you.
I can't close my eyes.
I won't shed a tear.

Not this time.
Cause heartbreak is forever (not this time),
heartbreak is forever,
heartbreak is forever (not this time),
heartbreak is forever,
and heartbreak is forever.
Nothing lasts forever.”

“That was The Secret Goldfish, and we’ve been Pencey Prep, goodnight!”

As Frank made his way off stage, he could see Gerard making his way to the side of the stage, before freezing. Frank looked towards his former boyfriend, before following his gaze to the empty fish bowl Frank had lifted from the amp.

As they’re eyes met, Frank gave his ex a small smile, before turning his back, helping his band mates pack up.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04