Our Foundations from Decay

Frank POV

Tick. Tick. Tick.

What have I done.

Tick.

He hates me. He totally hates me.

Tick. Tick.

Is he okay? Why isn't he back yet?

Tick. Tick. Tick.

My dream. What if...

The blaring sound of my phone's alarm had me jolting like a schizo, my head whacking into the slanted ceiling above me. "Ow!" I cried out, rubbing my hand over my forehead. I paced the room, my feet dragging on off-white carpet as I threw out my leg, kicking the side of the bed. The wooden beam hit me right in the shin, making me shout at the inanimate object. 

"Dumbass bed!" I kicked it again, this time feeling sort of stupid. "Ouch!?" I fell to the ground, landing in a curled up heap on the floor. God, maybe I'm the dumbass.

The pain of hitting my leg snapped me out of my depressed trance, yet I felt the tightness in my throat clenching down onto my windpipe, leaving me breathless and dissociated. I should have known he wouldn't like me. I felt like throwing up as I pushed myself off the ground, stumbling towards the bedroom door, my sore leg dragging behind me.

Gerard's rejection seemed so unreal, yet so obvious. I should have known from the look on his face as I kissed him, his eyes blown wide in betrayal, a kind of hurt comparable to that of losing a friend. I should find him and apologise. I touched a finger to my mouth, pulling my bottom lip down and staring at myself in the small mirror on the wall. My red eyes stared back at me, rubbed raw from hurt and frustration.

Get a grip. You have to apologise. I pushed aside my fractured heart, wiping away the tracks left from my tears. I took a breath, my chest rising and falling at the rate of an asthmatic.

Shoving open the door, I marched down to the living room, spotting the herds of moths fluttering from outside, their papery bodies ripping and tearing as they continuously rammed themselves into the lightbulbs. Like lambs to the slaughter, the creatures tore themselves limb from limb, a self-sacrificial flight of suicide. All for the light, all for the thing they loved most.

Moths are bloody disgusting, yet they're pretty loyal, huh?

I swatted one away with my hand, moving past it and towards the open door, pulling my jacket closer to my body as the nighttime chill seeped into my skin. Just as I was about to step out the doorframe, I turned my head to the left and spotted the silhouette of a slumped over man, his shoulders drooped in a way nearly as pitiful as the sagged cigarette in his downturned mouth.

"Mr. Way? Are you alright?" Even as he sat, the man's tall frame nearly reached my entire height. He used to be so intimidating, yet now he just looks....

"I'm alright, mate. Gerard went down the street." Mr. Way lifted his bony finger and pointed towards the dimly lit roads, his face rising to meet mine. His wrinkles seemed to stand out even more than usual, the sunken nature of his cheeks becoming apparent in the kitchen's light.

I bowed slightly to him, sharply turning and throwing on my shoes. "Thank you, I'll bring him back, I swear."

Mr. Way bounced his foot up and down, taking a long drag of smoke before blowing it out, sending sharp clouds of nicotine into the quiet room.

"He's pretty mad. Just know that it's not your fault." The man suddenly stood, ushering me off the deck. "Now go out there and get my boy back."

I gave him a sincere nod, and stepped out into the treacherous night.