You're five years old, and you've already decided that your dad’s boyfriend is not your favorite person. You don’t really know why just that something about him bothers you. Maybe it’s his face, or his voice, or the way he’s always there, like he’s trying to steal Gerard’s attention. Frank is sitting on the couch, with that half–silly, half–nervous smile of his. There’s a guitar resting on his lap, and when he sees you walk into the room, he says:

—Hey, kid... wanna hear a song?

You look at him without saying a word. You cross your arms. Narrow your eyes. “No.”

From the kitchen, Gerard sighs so loudly even the cat hears it. —sweetheart... be nice to Frank, okay?

But you don’t. You don’t feel like being nice. Frank tries to get closer, still smiling, and when he reaches out to hug you, you step back so fast you almost trip on the rug.

—Don’t hug me. you growl, your voice trembling a little but still firm. You’re ugly.

Frank blinks, surprised, then lets out a low, awkward laugh. —Ugly? Wow... that’s new.