Broken Dreams

In the whole entire world, Frank's favourite thing to do was dream. Dreams meant calmness, they meant no pain or suffering or torment. They meant make-believe, fairytale and adventure. New worlds to explore, new people to meet. Everyday Frank would await the moment his head could hit the pillow and unconsciousness would envelope him because in that state of sleep, Frank saw him. He spoke with him; he was existing with him. It went on for years, talk of this boy, of this other being that Frank had created. His parents had, at first, just passed it off as a normal thing for an eight year old to do. But as the years progressed, so did the talk of the other boy. Sometimes Frank would mention him at breakfast, or briefly while they were at a friend's house. Other days it was the only thing he would talk about. Gerard.

On Frank's eighteenth birthday his parents packed their child's belongings, and told him he was going to stay at his grandmother's for a while. When they didn't turn left at the traffic lights, Frank knew something was wrong. But it wasn't until they had already pulled up to the sterile looking building that Frank knew where he was. The door opened, and the confused boy was met by two strong pairs of hands.

"Greenwood Institute for the Mentally Unfit"

At first it was daunting, but it turned out to be frustrating more than anything. His dreams were so frequently interrupted in the institute that most nights he could barely say goodbye to Gerard. That was the thing that upset Frank the most. Not the fact that his parents had dumped him, nor that he was residing in a mental hospital. It was because his time with Gerard was so limited. He had been supportive when Frank told him the news.
"My parents left me here."
"It's okay, Frankie. You still have me." That was what Frank loved about his friend- that he would never, ever leave him. In retrospect to the loss of time with Gerard, Frank didn't think the place was too bad. They fed him frequently, they let him watch television when he pleased, and he'd even made a few friends. But what Frank hated at Greenwood was the group sessions, because that meant arguing with the doctor over Gerard. Why they couldn't just accept that fact that Gerard was real, Frank couldn't figure it out. They only made Frank angry, and he hated Gerard seeing him in that state.

Then one day, completely out of the blue, Gerard showed up. While Frank was awake. He wasn't as talkative as when Frank saw him in his dreams, but he was with Frank while he wasn't sleeping, and this made him immensely happy. He knew the doctor couldn't argue with him now. So they went to the group sessions together, sitting beside one another on the plastic chairs, waiting for the half hour therapy to begin. The doctor walked in, picking up the chair that Gerard was sitting in, and moving it to the other side of the circle.
"Hey!" Frank and Gerard said in unison. The doctor turned around.
"Is something wrong, Frank?"
"Gerard was sitting there." A murmur passed through the other patients.
"Frank, Gerard isn't here," the doctor said. "He doesn't exist." Frank was appalled at how the man could be so rude.
"He's standing right there," he exclaimed, pointing beside him to where Gerard was now standing, an annoyed look on his face.
"Frank, you are pointing to thin air. Gerard does not exist. He is not real." Frank stood up, knocking his chair over backwards in the process. He grabbed his friend's arm and tugged him out of the room.
"Frank!" the doctor called after him. "Frank, where do you think you're going?" His voice grew distant as Frank and Gerard walked through the building, leaving everyone else behind.

Frank took Gerard to the balcony, which overlooked a garden full of flowers and trees; green and purple and yellow. Frank placed a hand up to the glass, a thin barrier between them and the world.
"They keep telling me you're not real." Frank turned toward Gerard. "They want to take me away from you. That's why I'm here, isn't it? Because of you?" He downcast his eyes, staring at the wooden flooring. "Are you real?"
"Yes," Gerard nodded in reply.
"Am... I real?" Frank looked up and met with a pair of reluctant eyes. Gerard sighed, and merely took Frank's hand in his. He squeezed.

It wasn't until a few years later that Frank found the answer to his question. He was still at Greenwood. Gerard came and went as he pleased, but usually only showed up while Frank was alone during the day. It wasn't like Frank to get into fights easily, but he'd do anything for Gerard. This became apparent when Frank overheard Andy talking to Ben about him. Calling him a freak, referring to Gerard as his "imaginary boyfriend." Frank didn't know Andy that well, so he didn't know that he was in Greenwood for extremely violent behaviour. Frank threw the first punch, which was responded by a finger-crunching blow to the temple, and Frank's head being slammed into the floor. The doctors were holding Andy back when Frank regained consciousness. Everything was blurry, except for a familiar figure standing at the back of the room. Frank's eyes closed again.

When Frank woke up he wasn't in the infirmary like he thought he would be. He wasn't back in his room, either. In fact, as Frank looked around, he wasn't even at Greenwood anymore. Something warm and secure wrapped around his hand. It was Gerard.
"Am I dreaming?" Frank asked.
"No, " Gerard replied, smiling. "better." Frank looked around, at the green grass he was laying, and the blue sky around him, and the white clouds shaped into odd creatures. Something was different, but he couldn't put his finger on it. And as Frank's eyes settled on Gerard's once more, his friend spoke:
"You're alive."