Chapter 2
Gerard gazed at his boy, his precious, stupid, misguided boy. His lost sheep, his little lamb. He could only imagine what he would go through when he woke up. His Frankie had screamed all night, the gag had only muffled it so much. Gerard kind of liked it. He hated to see Frank in pain, but it was nice to hear him during the day. His house had gotten quiet since Mikey left, and Ray was busier than him most days. Maybe Gerard should have felt bad about only having two friends (Frank didn’t count, they were already so much more than that), but he liked living a small life. The silence just got to him sometimes.
When he was sure that Frank had passed out, he removed the gag from his mouth and sat on the bed next to him. His excitement hadn’t died at all. It was still buzzing pleasantly beneath his skin despite Frank’s actions the day before. He let himself indulge a little, cupped Frank’s face and truly got to look at him.
He had drawn the other man countless times, his sketchbook was full of Frank, but now he could get more detailed. He wasn’t watching from the other side of the street or through a window, he could watch the way Frank’s eyelids twitch, the cute way his nose scrunched, hear the soft noises he made in his sleep. Yes, that’s what Gerard loved the most about having his boy close to him, getting to hear him. He already knew how vocal Frank could be, but now he was longing to hear more of him, wanted to memorize every little sound his boy could make, categorize them, name them. Gerard fought to keep his breathing under control, but it was hard when he was in the presence of someone so beautiful. He wished he knew how to sculpt so he could carve Frank’s effigy in marble, let the love he had for his boy bring it to life like Pygmalion and Galatea.
He finally pulled himself away. Tomorrow would be better. His lost sheep was home at last.
*****
When Frank awoke, everything hurt. His mouth was a desert and his throat was raw from screaming and all his muscles hurt from fighting against the restraints keeping him trapped and tied to the bed. His eyes flicked up to the man from earlier, who had pulled a chair next to the bed and held a tray on his lap.
“Good morning, Frankie. I brought breakfast,” he said with a soft smile playing on his lips. On the tray was a plate of scrambled eggs and toast and a plastic cup of water. Frank’s stomach ached but he couldn’t imagine eating what the man had brought him. It was probably drugged. His last meal could be scrambled eggs in some psycho’s basement.
“I’m not hungry,” Frank murmured, looking up at his captor’s eyes. The light in the room was still dim, so his face was somewhat hard to make out, but he was pretty, Frank could tell. He could think the man was beautiful if they met under different circumstances, and he hated himself for thinking that, for the way the snakes in the pit of his stomach writhed at the thought that someone like him wanted someone like Frank. He had to look away.
“C’mon, don’t be like that.” His captor picked up a spoon, scooped a fluffy pile of eggs onto it, and brought it to Frank’s mouth. “Please, Frankie. You haven’t eaten in a day.”
Frank shook his head, thought he would rather die than let the man have more power over him.
“Don’t be a child.” The man pinched Frank’s nose with his other hand, waited until Frank began to jerk his head around, lungs working to breathe, until he was forced to open his mouth and pushed the spoon in. Frank immediately spit it out and suddenly felt his head get knocked to the side, hearing the slap the man gave him more than he felt it. “Why do you insist on fighting me? I tried to be nice to you.”
“Fuck off.”
“You would respond well to gentleness if you let it happen.”
“Shut up.”
“You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be, Frank. If you didn’t pull that stunt earlier, you’d be able to feed yourself, now open your goddamn mouth.”
Frank glared at him. The man sighed and repeated his actions, cutting off Frank’s air. He fought it longer, suffered through the burning, panicked feeling of his chest begging to rise and fall until he gave in and the man clasped his hand over his mouth after he fed him another spoonful. Frank thrashed in his cuffs, tried to jerk his head away. He couldn’t taste what was in his mouth, it could’ve been sawdust for all he cared. The burning in his chest worsened, and Frank feared being unconscious with the man next to him more than he feared what he was eating, so he gave in, chewing and swallowing until the man pulled his hand away and he could finally breathe again.
“You do this shit to yourself, Frankie. Stop fighting me,” the man frowned, watching his chest heave. “I know you don’t believe me yet, but I hate seeing you like this. He looked into Frank’s eyes, and for a second he swore he saw remorse, but he mentally kicked himself for it. If the man felt remorse, he wouldn’t have kidnapped him. He would be spending the morning at home looking through the want ads. He huffed out a sigh. The more he cooperates, the faster this guy might let him go. He just wants to ‘help’ Frank or whatever? Maybe when he gets what he wants, Frank will go home. So, he slowly opened his mouth and looked at the man imploringly.
His captor’s cheeks flushed but he quickly prepared another spoonful and pushed it into Frank’s mouth, his own opening slightly when he willingly swallowed the food. The man beamed at him. “Such a good boy, Frankie.”
He let his head dip then, he didn’t want his captor to see the way his own cheeks turned pink at his praise. Frank let the man continue to feed him, let him bring the cup of water to his lips, and listened to him giggle when some of it trailed down his chin and onto his shirt. When he was finished, his fingers trailed through Frank’s hair, and he belatedly realized that he was being pet like a dog. His head felt fuzzy, like he couldn’t think properly, and he swore that the food the man had given him was drugged because it shouldn’t feel good. Frank found his eyes fluttering shut. The man giggled again. “You just woke up, you can’t go back to sleep, silly. We have to get to know each other.”
“Mmf.” Frank’s eyes opened again. “Did you drug me?”
“No, Frankie.”
“What d’you want from me? Why me?” Frank shifted, finding it hard to concentrate and hard to be mad at the man while he was caressing him. Frank hated himself for thinking about how soft his fingers were.
Frank couldn’t remember the last time he had been touched like that. He’s always been a tactile person, but when Pencey broke up, Frank stopped going out, started staying home and drinking himself to sleep and dragging himself out of bed for work. He missed the extra money that gigs brought him, so going to overpriced bars and taking girls on dates wasn’t a possibility. He couldn’t remember the last time he really had a girlfriend. Maybe that was why some stupid part of him wanted to lean into his touch instead of away from it. Frank shuddered at the thought. He needed to get laid after this.
“You still don’t remember how we met, huh? It doesn’t matter. It’s because you’re a star, Frankie, you’re like a diamond, you’re too precious to not be looked after, but you’ve been failed by everyone in your life. Except for me. I’m going to give you what you need because it would be a crime not to. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”
Frank’s brow furrowed and the man mirrored his expression. “‘m really not everything you say I am. I’m just me. You’re gonna be disappointed when you realize that.”
The man sighed, pulling his hand away and Frank found himself choking back a whine that threatened to creep up his throat. “You just don’t see yourself the way I do. You will.” He grabbed the tray, stood up from the chair, and he left the room.
Frank shivered at the man’s sudden absence. The basement was still dark, the windows barely letting any light in even though it had to be midday. When the man returned, he was holding a small black box. “You were so good for me that I have a reward for you, ‘kay?”
“What is it?”
“‘s a surprise, Frankie.” The man held the contents of the box behind his back and fastened it around Frank’s neck too quickly for him to see what it was, and then he leaned over Frank to begin to undo his restraints. Frank could smell him now, his scent was like coffee and books and old sweat and Frank wasn’t sure why he didn’t hate it. When he was completely untied, the man held both his hands and pulled him off the bed, and then moved to grasp his shoulders when Frank’s knees buckled, his legs weak from disuse. The man led him to the door on the other side of the room and revealed a normal looking en suite. When he flicked on the light, Frank caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked like shit, to be honest. His hair was fucked, hadn’t been washed in nearly three days. The rings under his eyes had gotten darker and his cheeks were red and tear stained. The worst part, though, was his surprise: a light pink shock collar around his neck, the kind you’d get for a dog. Frank tilted up his chin and grasped the silver tag dangling from it between his fingers, holding it until the light caught it the right way for him to read the engraving, ‘Property of G. Way.’
Frank’s hands clenched into fists. This is how that bastard saw him, more of a dog than a person. That’s why he thought it was okay to lock him down here like some stray he picked up off the street.
In the mirror, the man was beaming again, and Frank hated him, wanted to punch his nose until changed shape, needed to get away from him.
“What d’you think?”
Frank couldn’t bring himself to answer, he wanted to be good so he could get out, but he couldn’t stop himself from wringing his hands around the man’s throat. He squeezed even as the man clawed at his hands until he broke skin. He only stopped when the man shoved him back, sending his head against the wall. Frank lunged at him but was stopped by a searing pain in his neck that shot through the rest of his body. He felt like he was burning even when it was over.
“Fucking hell, Frank.”
“I’m not a fucking dog, you creep,” he spat.
“You’re an ungrateful bitch, Frank. I think you know what that makes you.” He nudged Frank’s body with the toe of his shoe and the other man could only curl in on himself in response. “I was going to show you around the rest of the house today, that was your surprise. You did it again.”
“I know.”
“You don’t think. That’s why you end up in situations like this. You end up working a shitty job with a shitty boss and living alone in a shitty apartment, Frank. When was the last time your friends called you?”
“I don’t—” Frank couldn’t think past the throbbing in his neck.
“You cared about Pencey more than they did. You put so much of yourself into it because you don’t think before you act. I love how passionate you are, but the rest of the world doesn’t. It doesn’t know you like I do. It just wants to use you and throw you away when you’re not useful anymore. I won’t do that, Frank. That’s why I punish you. No one else cares enough, no one loves you enough to do it. They just leave you instead.”
“Shut up.” Frank wasn’t sure why he was fighting back tears. If the man asked, it was because of the collar.
“Let me get you back in bed. I can’t leave you on the floor.”
“Because you care so much?” He asked sardonically.
The man didn’t answer him, he just walked over to Frank and picked him up off the tiled floor, like he weighed nothing. He gently set him back on top of the bed and redid his restraints. Frank was once again surrounded by the scent of coffee and books and some stupid part of him wanted to drown in it, let it embrace him, but he turned his head away.
Before the man left, he pried Frank’s mouth open once again and gagged him, and spared him one last glance before he left the room, leaving Frank alone in the dark.