Chapter 7
“Just one last thing,” Gerard began to speak in between forkfuls of scrambled eggs. Frank looked up from his own breakfast. He had been “rewarded” with unfrosted PopTarts. He didn’t realize how much he missed them. He usually didn’t eat breakfast before Gerard. It was weird sitting in the kitchen with its eclectic furniture, worn wooden chairs, mismatched dishes, even one of those grinning cat clocks was hanging on the wall. Gerard spoke again, voice suddenly serious, “stay away from my office. The door doesn’t lock from the outside, so I’ll just have to trust you.”
Nodding sheepishly, Frank couldn’t meet Gerard’s piercing gaze. Eyes softening, his expression changed as if a switch was flipped. “Thanks, Frankie. This is a big change for both of us.”
Frank nodded again and continued to eat. For once, his hands were free for something other than a bath, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
*****
Frank found himself sinking into a new routine easily.
Every morning, he woke up with Gerard plastered against his back. Sometimes the other man nuzzled against the back of his neck, pressed teasing kisses along it, and even bit him where he was sensitive, seemingly uncaring of whether Frank was awake when he did. Gerard wasn’t as talkative in the morning as he used to be. Frank soon discovered that being with Gerard when he first woke up meant that he hadn’t had coffee yet. Gerard was a different person when he was exhausted. Some mornings he woke up slowly and held Frank tightly against his chest before pushing him away and getting out of bed, not saying a word.
Frank would follow him downstairs into the kitchen and sit down while he made breakfast. Sometimes Gerard would unlock his hands to feed him, sometimes he would still insist on feeding Frank himself. It brought the snakes in the pit of Frank’s stomach to life when that happened. Gerard didn’t feed him because Frank couldn’t do it himself. He did it because he wanted to. He got something out of it. The younger man wasn’t sure how to feel.
On days where he had more energy, he wouldn’t shut up. Gerard often spoke about comic books, or his brother, or his friend Ray. Frank was surprised to hear that the guy had friends, well he never mentioned anyone other than Ray. Or he bitched about the people he worked with. Frank still didn’t know what he did for work.
He could hear Gerard’s long phone calls through the door to his office, where he often disappeared for hours out of the day. When this happened, he turned on the TV in the bedroom and sat Frank in front of it like he was a petulant child.
Gerard always fed him a relatively early dinner. This didn’t change when he was moved upstairs. He sat in the kitchen while the man cooked like he would in the mornings. Gerard didn’t order takeout. He had a few times when Frank lived in the basement. He guessed he had become too much of a liability.
He was bathed at night instead of in the morning. Part of Frank had grown to enjoy being caressed. Gerard touched him like he was fragile. He recalled that Gerard had called him a star and a diamond. The older man really did treat him like he was something precious sometimes. But sometimes he beat the shit out of Frank. And when he remembered that, he forced himself to stop leaning into his gentle touch and start counting the seconds until the bath was over.
Nights were spent curled up in bed with Gerard’s arms around his waist and an old sitcom on the TV. Gerard often provided commentary in the form of obscure facts that Frank always doubted. The younger man usually stayed quiet. He didn’t talk to Gerard unless they were fighting or if Gerard asked him a question directly. He usually tuned out whatever was said to him and tried to think about his situation.
Frank’s life had gotten very simple. Some parts of that were appealing. He didn’t think about bills, rent, asshole customers, his asshole boss, his neighbors. Frank really didn’t have to think about anything except Gerard, what Gerard wanted, why Gerard kept him, how to get away from him. The last thought made his skin crawl with anxiety.
Getting away from Gerard would seem easy compared to what would come after. His bank account wasn’t empty but there was no way he could afford a new apartment or even a hotel room while he looked for a new job. Frank shivered and Gerard pulled him closer, assuming it was because he was cold. The November chill had been steadily creeping into the house, so he wasn’t entirely wrong. Gerard was usually dressing him in fleece lined sweatpants and well-worn sweatshirts anyway. Frank tried to quiet the part of his brain that preened at how thoughtful Gerard was, the part of him that fed off the love he was given even though it was from his captor, an undeniably deranged man who saw him as more of a house-pet than a person. That part of him wondered what would be so bad if he let Gerard continue to treat him like that. The rest of him wanted to gag.
*****
“I’m going to the grocery store.” Gerard said, pulling Frank from his thoughts. He had been spacing out while trashy reality TV played in the background, sprawled across the bed. “This is another test for you, okay? You’re doing better than I expected so I want to reward you with a little more freedom.” He approached Frank and undid the lock on one of his handcuffs, letting it hang from his left hand where it was still attached. “You know the rules, just stay up here and watch TV. I’ll be back before you know it.” He said with a wink.
Frank nodded and the other man left the bedroom. Not long after he heard the front door shut.
He sat still for a minute and tried to focus on the TV. He shifted on the bed and tried to get comfortable, but Gerard’s absence kept gnawing at the back of his head. Frank knew he couldn’t leave. His collar would still go off. He could try to rip it off, but it was probably too strong for that, and there was a padlock at the back of it that prevented him from taking it off the normal way.
Maybe Gerard had a spare.
Frank was off the bed and inside Gerard’s office before he realized that he had broken one of his captor’s rules. But he was fine. His collar didn’t go off, so he guessed it was only meant to hurt him if he got too close to the house’s perimeter. Frank had thought about opening one of the windows and shouting at passersby but the road Gerard lived on was rarely traversed. Frank didn’t think he had heard or seen a single car that wasn’t Gerard’s since he was taken.
The office wasn’t anything special, there was a large desk littered with various papers with a desk chair in front of it and an easel pushed into the corner of the room. Canvases sat on the floor, some of them housing unfinished paintings, others empty. Frank approached the desk and tore open one of the drawers. It was full of art supplies, pens, pencils, brushes. He opened another drawer and saw that there was only a small book inside of it with a black cover. He tried to open the last drawers and groaned when he was met with resistance. Both of them were locked. And most likely holding the spare keys, if there were spares.
Frank knew he could just shut the drawers and leave the room. He could go back to watching Jerry Springer or whatever the fuck was on TV and pretend that nothing happened when Gerard got back, but he couldn’t snuff out the anger that was quickly growing inside of him.
He ripped one of the drawers out and tipped its contents onto the floor. He grabbed a pencil and plunged it into the canvas closest to him, tearing it open until the painted fabric sagged around the wound he gave it. He ripped all of them, until he was staring back at himself, painted in oil, looking hazily into his eyes, head tipped back as if he was resting on the viewer’s chest. And then he saw red.
He tore the painting to shreds, not stopping until the wood that held it together was snapped into pieces as well, and then he turned back to the desk. At its papers covered in detailed sketches and notes and whatever the fuck else. Frank couldn’t bring himself to care as he tore them apart, ripping them into confetti until his chest was heaving.
“What did you do?” Gerard asked him from the doorway. The office was trashed but Gerard’s eyes kept flitting between the paper on the floor and Frank’s face. The older man ran his fingers through his hair and huffed out a nervous laugh. “What the fuck did you do, Frank?”
“I didn’t—”
“You didn’t what? Tear up all my hard work after I gave you the easiest instructions. Even a dog could follow them, Frank! And a dog wouldn’t try to lie to me after I watched him trash everything I had been working on for the past two years!”
Frank didn’t know what was so important to Gerard. The drawings he tore up didn’t seem significant to him, but he guessed it was connected to Gerard’s job. “Come the fuck on. You don’t get to be so touchy when you wanted this. You wanted me in your home.”
“I’ve been too fucking nice to you. I was being so easy on you.” Gerard scoffed. He grabbed Frank by the neck and tried to drag him out of the office, but Frank struggled to shake him off. “Stop fucking moving.” He said, slamming Frank into the wall to disorient him. Gerard managed to drag Frank back downstairs and locked his wrist to the bed frame. He dug around the room until he found another set of restraints and approached Frank's feet but the younger man kicked him away.
“Fuck off!”
Gerard rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket. Frank’s neck lit up in pain, and Gerard used it as an opportunity to restrain him.
The older man glanced at Frank coldly before leaving the room. When he returned, Frank’s blood ran cold. Gerard was holding a large hammer. His face was impassive as he approached the bed.
“Gerard, what are you doing?” Frank’s voice was shaking and he was breathing in shallow pants.
“Teaching you a lesson that will stick with you.” He said before grabbing Frank’s free hand, he tried to pull away, but the hammer was swinging down on his wrist once. And then twice. The bone crunched sickeningly beneath it.
Frank howled in pain, and brought it against his chest. He couldn’t bear to look at it, feared he would see the bones poking under his skin at odd angles. A wave of pain shot through him and he fought the urge to vomit. He could feel his tears rolling down his face and soaking the pillow under his head as he struggled to catch his breath.
When he caught his breath, Gerard was gone.
Frank let himself pass out.
When he woke up his limbs were free, but his wrist still radiated with pain. He gagged when he looked at it and it was just as bad as he feared. Gerard knew how bad it was, so why was he still in the basement? He needs a hospital, he needs something. He tried to move his fingers, but he cried out in pain as it sent shocks through the rest of his injured arm. He stumbled off the bed and down the hallway. The door at the top of the stairs was locked when he tried the handle. “Gerard? Gerard, I’m sorry. Let me out!” He pounded at the door with his uninjured hand. “Gerard, please! It hurts, I need you to take me to the hospital! I won’t tell them anything, I promise!” He cried. Frank knew he wasn’t lying. He would stay with Gerard forever if he could have something to lessen the pain, something that made his arm look less like something from a Cronenberg movie. “Gerard?” Frank had started sobbing, his mind was racing. Gerard had obviously come down earlier to free him, but what if he was gone. What if he was finally done with Frank. No one knew where he was. No one cared that he was missing. Gerard could let him starve to death in the basement and bury him and no one would know. He would die cold and alone and in pain. Frank shook with the force of his sobs. “Gerard! I need you! Please come back, I’m sorry!” He choked on his tears as he sunk down to the floor. “I’m so fucking sorry, I need you, please! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m…” he chanted into the closed door.
Frank was always at the door or at the bottom of the stairs. He couldn’t help but wait for Gerard. He needed him. And not just to fix his wrist. Everything was so cold without Gerard. He needed him. He needed him.
*****
The next time Frank woke up, Gerard was standing in front of him, looking down with sad eyes. Frank choked out a sob as he started crying again, and Gerard crouched down and pulled the younger man into his arms, mindful of his wrist. “I’m here, Frankie.”
Gerard scooped Frank into his arms and the younger man buried his face in his chest, soaking his shirt with tears. He carried Frank into the bathroom and sat him on the counter. “This is going to hurt a little bit, okay?”
Frank sniffed. Everything hurt, he just needed Gerard to make it stop. The older man opened up a first-aid kit and pulled out a wrist brace. He grabbed Frank’s injured wrist and asked him to take a deep breath before he pushed the misaligned bones back into place. Frank screamed and slammed his other hand into the counter, but soon the brace was around his wrist and he could feel the splints keeping everything in place.
“I’m sorry,” Gerard said as he pushed Frank’s sweaty bangs out of his face. “I haven’t told you what I do for work. I’m a comic book writer, well, I’m trying to be one. I’m writing my first comic now. I have a big meeting coming up with the publishing company and the artist I’m working with and you tore up everything. All my notes on the characters and their designs, and the story, fuck I had the first couple issues storyboarded already. I had been working on all that stuff for the past two years, Frank. And you ruined all of it.” Frank looked away sheepishly.
“I haven’t slept in days, Frank. Not just because I’ve been working to redo everything, but because I could hear you. I’m sorry I left you down there,” he sighed, caressing Frank’s face. “But you understand why I did it, right? Outside of you and Mikey, my comic is the most important thing to me.”
Frank wanted to lean into his touch, but he didn’t deserve it. Gerard had been soft on him. He knew from the other man’s ramblings that he was passionate about comics. Gerard was the only person left in Frank’s life who still cared about him, and if the way he showed it was by hurting him when he fucked up, maybe it was all he deserved. He deserved to be left in the basement for as long as Gerard wanted. If Gerard wanted to break his other wrist, Frank deserved that too. His eyes were welling up with tears again. “I’m sorry, please don’t leave me,” he sobbed.
Gerard pulled him close as Frank pleaded into his chest. “So fucking sorry, don’t leave me again.”