Chapter Text
It was the middle of a hot summer's day. Frank remembers that the mood of the day was surprisingly bright and happy feeling, considering the circumstances. It felt as if he was supposed to get over it, and spend summer like he usually would.
But Gerard had died. And it was his fault.
The funeral was miserable. It was swelteringly hot and awfully humid, everyone was either sobbing or just waiting to leave. In fact, some people just walked out. They were of no importance, simple acquaintances, the high school friends that you forget about as you age - but it still stung for Frank. How could anyone walk out of a funeral? Someone died, and they just brush it off as another inconvenience in their ignorant, dull lives?
He hadn't stopped crying since the day. He cried every night up to the funeral. And even after the funeral, he still has the occasional breakdown.
When he walked up to say some words about Gerard, his eyes couldn't help but dart to the coffin. Gerard's cheeks were shallow, and he was strikingly pale - but he looked peaceful. As if he was just asleep and he'd wake up and it'd all be okay soon.
Somehow, even in death, he was so beautiful. He would never stop being beautiful.
Tears pricked at the corners of Frank's eyes. Swallowing down a sob, he clears his throat and starts talking.
"Gerard was the most creative and genuine person that I have ever met," he begins, looking out into the small crowd in front of him. "And to be honest, I think I'm still in denial of the fact that he ever died. I don't want to think about it."
He scans the crowd, making eye contact with Mikey, who shoots Frank a guilty look. Sitting next to Mikey is Ray, who nods him on.
"I know it's probably stupid. And I know, most of you don't care about Gee. Honestly, that's pretty fucking obvious, and-"
Ray glares at Frank, the sort of look that you'd get from your mom when you're getting on her nerves. Frank glares back, and continues, his grip on his flashcards tightening.
"You know what? Fuck this. You're all shitty people for not taking this as serious as you should. He was my favorite person in the whole fucking world and I- I don't- I can't-"
Frank's voice gets snagged on his esophagus, letting only a choked sob out. Hot tears stream down his cheeks and he holds his head in his hands. He feels someone patting his back and gripping his shoulder.
"Frankie, I think it's time to go."
Frank looks up to be met with Ray's kindhearted face, but instead of cooperating, he tugs his arms away. "No. I can't leave, Ray, you- you know that."
"Frank," Ray sighs, crossing his arms, "it's time to leave. Now."
Frank looks at Mikey as a plea for help, but all he does is shrug, as if to say, 'You know how he gets'.
And everything after that was a blur. Frank doesn't remember the drive home. The three of them didn't talk for the rest of the day. Why bother remembering anything around that time anyway? It was one of the most traumatic events in Frank's life. No one would want to remember that.
"Now I'm here," Frank mumbles.
"Alright. We'll have to work more on this next week, as our time is almost up," the woman in front of him says, fixing her notes.
They make quick eye contact, but even when Frank looks away, he can still feel Ms. Nestor's eyes burning into him.
"If you could remind me, how long ago did this happen?" Ms. Nestor asks.
"Around three years ago, now," Frank responds, rubbing his neck. "Can't believe it's been that long already."
"Three years is a long time for that amount of trauma to fester, Frank," Ms. Nestor says. "Why hadn't you visited a therapist sooner?"
There's a pause in their conversation as Frank hesitates to answer. He doesn't really know himself, exactly. He'd never really thought about it.
"I guess I was afraid. Afraid of being judged, afraid of being mocked or- or maybe," Frank pauses, taking a moment to think, "maybe I was embarrassed. Like, maybe I'm just overreacting. I mean, hell, the guys got over this so easily and- and he was literally Mikey's brother! I-"
"Frank," Ms. Nestor interrupts, once again making eye contact with the fragile man in front of her. "You were his partner. That bond is so much different than being a brother. I'm sure they were close, but losing the one you love, truly, with all your heart? It's gonna take some time to heal from that."
Another pause. The silence is awkward and weird and Frank feels stupid. So stupid.
"Okay," Ms. Nestor starts again, snapping Frank from his thoughts. "See you next Thursday?"
Frank responds with a nod, lifting himself up from his seat. "Thanks, Ms. Nestor."
"You can call me Jamia, silly," Jamia laughs, flipping a pen around in her hands. "I'm not your teacher - unless you want me to be. Is that weird? I think that's weird."
Frank giggles nervously, his cheeks getting warmer by the second. "Yeah, a little. Thanks, Jamia."
"Of course, Mr. Iero," Jamia nods, in a professional sort of manner, but her expression quickly turns to a grin.
Frank grins back, making his way to the exit of the bland room the both of them were in, "I'll see you later."