Gerard threw the Playstation controller at the screen, enraged; the stupid level just refused to be beaten! Mikey gaped at him in awe, his eyes screaming, what the hell Gerard?! That's a brand new TV! Gerard shrugged in response and got up, looking at the rippling pattern of cracks in the TV screen; his parents would just get him a new one, and a new controller too. It wasn't a big deal—it never was to his parents. Mikey continued to glare at him, making him uneasy, so Gerard left the room. The door clicked shut behind the sixteen year old boy.
"I'm telling Mom and Dad you did it on purpose!" Mikey yelled after him.
"Yeah, whatever," Gerard mumbled.
Frank walked around the streets, looking up at the moon. A backpack was thrown over his shoulder, containing the very little he had to his name: a few extra articles of clothing, a jacket, a comb and a few other personal care products, and an insufficient amount of money. His guitar case strap crossed his chest as he trudged on through the streets of Belleville. He didn't have anywhere to go—he was just wandering around until he could find shelter and maybe a place to get something small and inexpensive to eat. He rubbed his eyes and jogged across the street.
It was getting late; the sun had long since disappeared from the sky. Frank knew he'd have to find somewhere to stay soon, but where? It's not like he had anywhere to go. His mother was gone and his father disowned him…going back was not an option at this point. But where could he go? He had no friends, no other family that would take him in (he'd tried so hard). He was stuck like this, no food or shelter, but it was better than living with his father, that was for sure.
"Is there no one good left in this world?" he wondered aloud, continuing his hopeless march.
"I'm going for a walk!" Gerard called the next day. It was Thanksgiving and his whole family was over, but he didn't care—he didn't want to be there with his brother scowling at him in disapproval, or his father glaring. He couldn't take it anymore.
"Be back before dinner dear!" his mother, the only un-hostile one to him at the moment, said in return. "And be safe!"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah."
Gerard walked out of the house and started down the street. He strolled along, people-watching as he went. He saw a few he could recognize, like his neighbors and classmates, but others were foreign to him—probably relatives of the neighborhood dwellers. He waved if waved to—always be polite was one of the things his mother told him; she didn't stand for being impolite—and said quiet greetings. Happy Thanksgivings were exchanged as well as handshakes from family friends he couldn't remember for the life of him. Oh well, Gerard thought, it's not like they'll be at my place.
Someone was running across the street, three other kids—the biggest jerks in Belleville High School, Gerard realized—chasing him. Biting his lip, he reached out and grabbed the fleeing kid's arm, pulling the kid toward him and shielding him from the assholes.
Frank ran from those assholes, trying not to trip and fall from the fatigue weighing him down. Ugh, why can't they just leave me alone? Frank thought. I didn't do anything to them! He continued to run, dashing across the street and near running into the guy standing there watching him. Oh God, he's another one! Don't hurt me, please don't hurt me… he thought, feeling rather pathetic. A hand grabbed him; it belonged to the boy waiting on the other side of the street. He pulled Frank behind him and blocked him from his tormentors.
"Get outta here!" the guy barked, surprising Frank.
"C'mon Way, we were just havin' some fun," one of them retorted.
"I said scram!" Way yelled, taking a menacing step toward the three who immediately turned and ran down the street from where they came.
The kid came out from behind Gerard, looking at him in awe. "You just…you saved me!" he cried out, a flustered look to his reddening face.
"Don't mind Billie Joe, Mike, and Tre. They're just royal assholes," Gerard responded, looking over this boy. "And I don't tolerate that bullying bullshit, so it's your lucky day."
The kid nodded, turning even redder. That's really cute, Gerard thought, amused by the frustration and confusion the boy was showing. He offered his hand for a handshake, the kid taking it hesitantly.
"I'm Gerard. And you are?" Gerard asked, trying to be polite.
"F-Fr-Frank," the kid said, a nervous tone to his voice.
Frank looked over Gerard; he was pretty good looking, but maybe that was just the gayest recesses of Frank's mind thinking for him. Gerard studied Frank with interest, from his lip-ring to his Converse. Not bad, not bad at all, Gerard thought. The two shook hands, and stared at one another for awhile. Neither really knew what to do—did they go their separate ways? Talk? Frank licked his lips in a nervous fashion and looked back up at the taller again.
"I could, er, walk you home so they don't come after you again," Gerard offered, remembering politeness was always the best thing in awkward situations such as this.
Frank shrugged. "What home?" he spat.
Gerard gave him a puzzled look. "What the hell does that even mean?"
"I don't have a home or anywhere to live."
"Why not?" The wave of sympathy washing over Gerard stunned him; he knew there were homeless in Belleville, kids his age, but why him? Why Frank? He reached out and touched Frank's upper arm when Frank didn't respond for awhile. "You don't have to tell me, I'm just wondering…"
Frank shrugged again, a simple raise of the shoulders. "My mom died, and the rest of my family disowned me. So I left."
"That's a sin." Jesus, I sound like my mom, Gerard groaned to himself.
Another shrug of the shoulders. "That's life I guess."
"Well, you shouldn't be out here all on your own, especially not on Thanksgiving." Where the hell are you going with this Gerard?! "My mom wouldn't mind if I brought a friend home." Gerard, stop it damn you! "Would you like to come have a nice home-cooked meal with me and my family?" You're an imbecile, Gerard. A true imbecile.
Frank's eyes widened. "M-me, go h-home with you?"
Gerard nodded; he couldn't take the offer back now. Frank looked so overjoyed. "Yeah, you can come. My mom will be all over you."
Frank did the thing Gerard least expected: he lunged forward and hugged Gerard as tight as his scrawny arms could manage. "Thank you, Gerard. Thank you. No one's ever been nice to me before, not since my mom died." Gerard hugged him back, slightly stunned. "Thank you so much."
"You're welcome, Frankie…"
Gerard took Frank's hand and started back for his house. He offered to carry Frank's bags and guitar, but Frank only handed over the bag—he wouldn't even let Gerard near his beloved guitar. Gerard shrugged the insulting tone Frank used off and walked back to his house, dragging Frank along by the hand. Frank went with a sickening willingness, but Gerard couldn't blame him—the kid had it rougher than a lot of people.
Gerard opened the door and led Frank inside. He took him down to the basement, where Gerard's bedroom was; he pointed to the door on the far side of the room.
"That's the bathroom. Go use it. You need a goddamn shower," Gerard said.
Frank nodded, grabbed some clothes, and walked into the bathroom. The water ran for awhile, and Gerard walked in when it turned off to do his eyeliner. Frank stepped out and squeaked in alarm when Gerard was standing there—with no shirt on, to Frank's pleasant surprise—while Frank only had a towel secured loose around his waist. Gerard smudged his eyeliner the way he wanted it and looked over at Frank, smirking a bit; the guy was hot. And he had tattoos.
"Gerard, why're you in here?!" Frank exclaimed.
"My bathroom." Gerard shrugged.
Frank rolled his eyes and pulled his boxers on under his towel before using the towel to dry his hair. Gerard leaned on the counter, watching with interest. Without all the dirt and grime covering him, Frank was adorable. Frank clothed himself and looked with a longing expression at Gerard's eyeliner; Gerard offered it to him.
"Wanna use it?"
Frank nodded, "Yes please."
Gerard tossed it to him. Frank applied some and smiled at himself in the mirror. "Thanks Gee," he said, handing it back to Gerard.
Gee, Gerard thought, that's really cute… "You're welcome Frankie. Now c'mon…you look like you need some fattening up."
"Yeah…" Frank looked down at his jutting-out ribs and his jeans that kept sliding dangerously low on his hips—something Gerard noticed with bliss.
Gerard took Frank's hand again, but this time it was different; he slid his fingers into the spaces between Frank's and squeezed gently. Frank squeezed back and followed Gerard up to the kitchen where everyone was waiting on him (as usual) to begin eating.
"Gerard?" his mother said, standing. "Who's that?"
"Can we talk in the kitchen for a minute?" Gerard asked.
His mother sighed and nodded, going into the kitchen. "Yes Gerard?"
"He was kicked out of his house…and Billie and those guys were trying to hurt him…and I felt bad so I brought him here and offered for him to eat with us…he was so grateful, mom…"
"The poor soul…of course he can stay. I'm proud of you, Gerard."
Gerard smiled. "Thanks mom."
"Now go eat."
Gerard went back into the dining room and sat in a seat, patting the open one next to him for Frank. Frank sat, seeming timid and small. As always, Gerard's mother initiated dinner by going around the table and having everyone say what they were grateful for. Gerard listened, but his hearing got twenty times better when it got around to Frank.
"I'm grateful just for being alive. I'm grateful for my family too, even if they didn't even try to help me with the things I went through. But I'm really, really grateful for Gerard—he was the first person to be nice to me in seven months," Frank said, blushing. He leaned over and hugged Gerard, earning a few "aws" from around the table.
Gerard thought about how ungrateful he'd been with his things—how he just expected his parents to buy him new things and replace broken ones. Then he looked at Frank…he was grateful for things that weren't necessarily good. He was strong.
Gerard hugged Frank back, never feeling more happy than in that moment, knowing he'd helped someone who'd truly needed it.