Why I love you

My obsession with FRERARD (MCR) now continues with fanfiction :)
Warning on explicit material.

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21. Love thy Father

Frank’s POV

It was dark outside and the lights were on in the house. I tried to remember how I had gotten home but failed. I had been in the park, lying on the ground sobbing my heart on, crying for Mikey and Gerard. I must have walked home, my cheeks still wet with tears. Right now, I just wanted my bed. I wanted to crawl up into my bed and just wither away. I couldn’t see Gee again, Mikey hated me and now life would be unbearable. Gerard, my reason for existing was gone. Not gone, just out of reach. It wasn’t Gee’s fault that I was too fucked up, too pathetic to reach out for him, to stand up for him. He was better off without me.

I was outside my house. There wasn’t a single star in the sky and I had to stumble up the path to the front door. The lights were on. Had I left the lights on? I didn’t think I had. Which meant … Maybe if I was really quiet I could get past him. Unless it wasn’t him? It could be burglars… Well, good luck to them. There was nothing valuable in my house, I had sold most of our stuff piece by piece for money much needed for food. Maybe it was Mum. Maybe she’d come back. She’d come back for me and I would go inside to find her waiting with all my suitcases already packed. I could leave Gerard and Mikey far behind and …

The front door opened suddenly, revealing a tall, dark figure in the doorway. The smell of alcohol was thick in the air surrounding him and the light inside the house cast a shadow across his angry face as he looked at me.

“Frank-ey… Get inside noooww, do you have any idea what time it is?!”

 He grabbed me by my t-shirt into the hallway. My feet scrapped along the floor as he lifted me up to meet his face with mine, breathing alcohol fumes into my nose and mouth making me choke violently. To this, he just smiled, his lips slightly lopsided from the drink and he started to laugh. He laughed so hard that his hands shook and he dropped me onto the ground, my arse hitting the carpet hard. I whimpered which made him laugh harder and when he eventually stopped, he turned on his heel and swaggered drunkenly into the kitchen, probably to get another beer.

I shot up from the floor and was already halfway up the stairs when I heard his voice echo loudly from the kitchen.

“Fran-keyy! Come herrree and give yourrrr dad a kissss….”

I paused, not wanting to go back but knowing if I didn’t he’d come and find me. I looked longingly at the door. But where would I go? The only place I knew was Gee’s and I couldn’t go there. I could go to Bob’s or Ray’s but … After how I’d treated Gee and now Mikey, I was stupid to think that the door wouldn’t be slammed in my pathetic face. I realized that I had moved to the door and had been standing with one hand on the handle when a large fist hit my neck from behind, causing me to fall.

“Gooinng somewwherrre niccce?!”

I didn’t turn around to greet the looming figure that I knew would be over me. This seemed to make him angrier and his hand grabbed me, pulling me to my feet until when he stooped, we were at eye level.

“Whhherre were youu? I’ve beennn waiting for youuu!”

I breathed hard, looking into the face on the man who used to be my father. His eyes were bloodshot from the day he had probably spent drinking and his face was unshaven. He looked old as he stared back at me, he’d gotten older since Mum left. I realized he was waiting for an answer and thought hard about what to say. I had always lied to my Dad but now I tried telling the truth, what harm could it do when he was gonna beat me anyway?

“I was visiting my friend in hospital.”

He seemed taken aback but only for a second.

“Who’sss thisss friend thenn…” he looked at me sideways, “It’sss a girrl, isssn’t it? I cann tell!”

He smirked at his clever thinking, stopping talking to take a swig from the bottle he held in his hand. I decided to carry on being truthful, I could remember the brutal hits as they came again and again, the bones hard against my face and body, what harm would a few more kicks do?

“Gerard’s a boy, Dad.”

He stared at me. His eyes bored into me and I realized I was blushing. Was it because I was talking about Gerard? I supposed it could be. But even in Dad’s drunken state, he would figure this one out for sure. Wow, I had really been that stupid. He downed his bottle and threw it at the wall, making me cringe as it smashed. He turned to me, his face trying to look composed and his voice suddenly without its drunken slur.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

He would now know if I lied so I stayed truthful, my voice shaky in anticipation of the beating that would follow my answer.

“He’s my ex.”

A silence fell between us for a second and his hand found my face for a second. He grasped a clump of my hair and seemed to play with it between his fingers. For a second, his eyes fell on mine and he smiled. For a second, I saw my dad. For a second, I dared to hope. His hand joined the other in my hair and he pulled me up so my feet came away from the floor. The pain was excruciating and I could feel some of my hair fall away from his hands in clumps. I was dragged through to the living room which was now a mess, the sofa tipped over and cans and bottles lying broken on the floor. He dropped me in a pile of them, the glass breaking under me and digging into me. I looked up towards the shape that now stood in front of the lamp, clouding my view on the rest of the room.

“No soonn of minnne is goinng to be sommmee faggg!”

Tears sprung to my eyes at the word and I tried to blink them away before he saw but it was too late. He grabbed me by the chin and pulled me towards him. He spat into my face, reminding me of Mikey, before dropping me to the ground again. I hit the corner of the sofa with my head, causing the room to spin and my vision to blur. I heard the sharp sound of metal on metal and realized he was taking his belt off. I tried to focus on making the room stay still. He was going to belt me? I could almost feel the sharp metal catch my skin and my blood drip onto the leather. The room was still and I looked up at my Dad who stood with his belt off and his trousers and pants by his ankles.

“Come here son…”

He whispered it, beckoning towards me. Stupidly I did as he said just wanting this nightmare to be over faster. When I was crouched at his feet, I could now see what he intended me to do. Because his pants were down I could see his wrinkled penis as it stared at me in the face, a semi hard on. He looked down at me, a smile painted on his lips. He had never done this before but then he hadn’t known I was gay before. More tears came to my eyes and this time there were too many to wipe away. I sobbed harder as his hand snaked down to my neck and pushed me towards him. Why couldn’t he just hit me? Why this… I could feel his warmth in my face as the hand at my neck gone tighter. He gripped my throat until I was gasping for breath. As my mouth opened for air, he shoved himself inside me. He now lay on top of me, squashing me into the glass and metal of the empty cans and bottles. I gasped for breath again but only received the hard skin pushed down further into my throat. I could hear him laugh as he twitched on top of me, hear his deep breathing as he shoved his hips in and out. I daren’t open my eyes because I knew what I would see there. Just when I thought I would die from lack of oxygen he came in my mouth. I could feel it on my tongue and I spat out as much as I could on the carpet, having to swallow the rest in an effort to breath. He still lay on top of me but at least now I could turn my head to the side and breath in some sweet lifesaving air.

Tears of regret and disgust at what I had just done burned my eyes and my throat hurt from being forced wide. A liquid which I assumed to be blood ran down my face and back, the glass still stuck inside me. I tried not to move because I knew movement would cause sound and I couldn’t face being noticed by Dad. Once again stupid and pathetic that I am, I dare to hope. He crawled off me and stood up, leaning on the wall, causing it to creak. He pulled up his trousers, still not looking at me. He left and I heard him throw open the fridge looking for more beers. The swearing and slam of the door told me that finally he had drunk the house dry. I knew what was next. I dared to risk turning my head towards the living room door but I hadn’t anticipated the pain which would come from the glass catching on the carpet and pulling at my skin, forcing more blood to pour from it. I screamed out in pain, more tears blurring my vision but not enough for me not to see my Dad reenter the room. The first kick I hardly felt, I was numb to it. The second was aimed at my ribcage and the third my stomach, which winded me and caused me to roll onto my side. Now the punches came, him stooped over me and catching my face with his rings again and again. Once he thought enough damage had been done, he got to his feet again and raised his foot high, turning me over and stamping on my back and pushing the glass deeper into my flesh. At this I wailed, the pain making my body spasm and I coughed loudly, causing blood to come from my lips. Now the world was getting dark and my vision was blurry again. Somewhere far off into the distance I saw my Dad’s foot raise high and saw it hit me square in the face. Then the world turned black.

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