Chapter 8
Frank studied Gerard’s features. He finally took the time to notice the dark circles and bags under his eyes and his disheveled hair, hanging limply in front of his face which was red with tear stains. He looked as exhausted as Frank felt. He tried to choke out another apology but Gerard shushed him.
“I know you’re sorry, Frankie,” he cooed as he wrapped the younger man in his arms. Frank clutched the back of his hoodie tightly with his uninjured hand. Sobs continued to wrack his body. He wished Gerard was still mad at him. He could deal with anger. It was easy to match his anger with someone else’s, to egg them on until they lashed out and took it out on him, and then it would be over. Disappointment is hard. It gnawed at Frank’s insides. He couldn’t look Gerard in the eyes.
“Please don’t give up on me.” He tightened his grip on Gerard’s hoodie. “I know you want,” he swallowed, “to help me. Because I’m stupid, and you’re right.” Frank sniffed, he was probably ruining Gerard’s clothes by crying all over them.
“You’re not stupid, I’m sorry that I ever called you that. You’re so fucking smart, Frank.”
“But I keep fucking everything up!” A new wave of tears left Frank’s eyes. The past year of his life had been rough, a series of failures that he couldn’t help but blame himself for. Maybe Gerard was right and Frank can’t rely on his own judgement to make decisions. He destroyed his home life, he destroyed his band, he fucked up his future. Frank wasn’t sure what he would be without Gerard, homeless, jobless, alone. It was November, so he would surely freeze to death soon without him.
But outside of that, who was he? He was a miserable fuck who lived in a shitty apartment, worked a dead-end job, got into fights he couldn’t win, and drank himself to sleep every night. Frank wanted to scream. He needed to hell until his lungs gave out, until he ripped his vocal cords to shreds. He used to be cool. Hell, who cares about being cool. He used to be a person. He used to be alive. He used to run towards the things he cared about. He cared about things. Even before Gerard, Frank had been apathetically drifting through life, going through the motions of work, and drinking, and fighting, and sleeping. And nothing changed. Maybe he got yelled at by another asshole at work. Maybe his neighbors got into a new argument. He could get a new bruise on his ribs, but nothing really changed. Nothing made him feel anything anymore. Frank didn’t like feeling hollow, but feeling that way for so long made it hard to do anything to change it.
Frank clutched Gerard so tightly that it had to hurt. “I think I’d be dead without you.
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. I would’ve killed myself, I know it. I was already dying, Gerard, I would just be speeding up the processing. Saving everyone the time of watching me fade away.” Frank could see it, his prone body on the dirty floor of his apartment, takeout wrappers on shooter bottles littering the floor. He could imagine someone complaining about the smell. Or maybe no one would care enough to complain. His landlord would get fed up about his missing rent, and then he’d be found. Frank remembered how scared he was when Gerard left him in the basement. He was horrified of dying hurt and alone, but that would’ve happened without Gerard in his life. If he didn’t die alone in his apartment, he would’ve let some asshole outside of a bar kill him. He’d egg him on until he was blinded by rage and punched Frank a little too hard and a little too much until he was bleeding out on the filthy asphalt. And then Frank would be a headline in the paper for a day, and then everyone would forget about him again.
At least Gerard would mourn him. Frank was so lucky.
Gerard sniffed above him, and when Frank looked up to see that he was crying, his heart sank. He had never made Gerard cry before. Sure sometimes the other man got disappointed at him and looked close to tears but now he was trying not to sob like Frank had been. “No no no no, please don’t cry, Gerard.” Frank scrambled to dry the other man’s tears. Frank could deal with anger, but he couldn’t do this. “Please stop crying.” Frank was at a loss. Gerard was finally done with him. He was going to kick him out and leave him on his own. He was reminded of a recurring nightmare he had. One where he escapes Gerard somehow and ends up back at his childhood home in Kearny, and his parents answer the door just to glare at him the same way they did the day they cut him off, with his mother’s hardened gaze cutting through him like shards of glass while his father shows reluctant disappointment. Not entirely wanting Frank to leave, but unwilling to defend him.
Frank can do nothing but plead with them, beg them to let him stay because it wasn’t his fault that he lost his apartment, that everything was entirely out of his control. But their expressions never faltered, and when Frank was done, crouching at their doorstep, gasping for air through his tears, they shut the door without a word.
“Frankie,” he felt a cold hand caress his cheek, “you need to calm down or you’ll pass out.”
Frank struggled to slow his breathing. Tears were pouring down his face, and he was helpless to stop them. All he needed was for Gerard to be okay. “‘m sorry,” he choked.
“It’s okay,” Gerard cooed, guiding Frank to look him in the eyes. “It’s okay, Frankie, I’m not mad at you anymore.”
“I know. Now, you’re going to leave me. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“I know you didn’t. It just hurts me to hear you talk like that.”
Frank didn’t know what to say.
“I just can’t imagine a life without you. Before I had you, I was so scared that one day you wouldn’t show up to work or that I’d find you bleeding out in an alley somewhere.” Gerard pulled Frank close to his chest. Frank also held on tightly, ignoring how his wrist lit up with pain.
Gerard pulled away, and Frank tried in vain to clutch tighter, but the older man cupped his chin and kissed him. Eyes fluttering shut, Frank lost himself in the kiss, all he could think about was how Gerard still wanted him, how Gerard cried because of how much he needed him not because he hated him. In Frank’s entire life, that was the first time anyone truly needed him. He tilted his head so he could deepen the kiss, licking into Gerard’s mouth, both their faces wet with tears.
*****
Frank woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and Gerard’s arms wrapped tightly around him. Turning around to face him, Frank caressed the side of his face. Both his hands were free, which was uncommon, and he thought for a moment about how he would have used it as an opportunity to escape a month ago. Maybe even a week ago Frank would’ve tried attacking Gerard if it meant leaving.
Frank pressed a kiss to the tip of Gerard’s nose. He looked younger in his sleep, relaxed, yet Frank could still see the signs of exhaustion left behind. He felt a pang of guilt. Last night, the two had kissed until they stopped crying and went to bed, sleep overtaking them both quickly. Frank felt like years had passed in the span of only a few days. He wasn’t sure when exactly it had happened, but Frank no longer saw the other man as his captor. He wasn’t sure what Gerard was. Even after everything that had happened, he was having a hard time believing that the other man truly cared for him enough to keep him around.
Frank wasn’t sure what Gerard got out of their situation. Frank was a freeloader, he destroyed his hard work, and fought with him most days. If Gerard wanted him for sex, it would be cheaper—and less emotionally draining—to hire a prostitute.
With light fingers, he pressed Gerard’s short hair away from his forehead. He recalled the time Gerard called him a star and wondered if that was it, if there was some shimmering thing lying dormant inside of him that only Gerard could see. He pressed his face into the crook of the other man’s neck and held him as close as possible. Frank hated himself. He hated himself more everyday. He hated how much faith he put in himself, in the people who “loved” him. He hated his short temper and how he always felt like he was full to bursting with something , some beast inside of him that needed to wreck everything around him, a constant nagging at the back of his head that urged him to blow up his life. He hated that he listened to it. He hated that he couldn’t stop himself from lashing out at Gerard at some days, that he couldn’t stop himself from destroying his office, that he had a fucked up wrist as a reminder.
But Gerard loved him.
And that was hard to grapple with.
Frank wished he could walk around his head and find out why Gerard needed him. He wanted to see whatever star was burning inside of him that he saw instead of the ugly, needy beast Frank knew lived there instead.
“You’re sweet today,” Gerard murmured.
“‘m too tired to be mean,” Frank said with his lips pressed against his skin.
Gerard giggled, “I’m okay with that, but we need to get up. I have to go to work today.”
Frank found himself holding Gerard tighter and he giggled again. It was this high pitched, dorky thing that bubbled out of his throat, and Frank found himself wanting to hear it again.
“Call out.”
“I can’t. It’s the meeting I told you about.”
“Oh,” The guilt that had been lapping at his heels for days finally washed over Frank, threatening to drown him.
Gerard cupped his cheek. “Don’t feel bad, okay? You’ve been punished enough for it, you don’t need to punish yourself, Frankie. It’ll be okay.”
Frank sniffed, but he refused to let more tears leave his eyes. At this point, his tear marks were probably permanent, two angry lines running down his face. He huffed at the thought.
“Okay.”
Gerard beamed. Frank was glad that he was in a good mood even without his first cup of coffee.
The rest of the morning was nothing atypical, but it was as if something in the air had shifted. Since Frank had begun living with Gerard, the other man insisted on bathing him. At first it had been a nauseating experience, Frank was constantly embarrassed from being so exposed in front of a fully clothed Gerard and uncomfortable from his forced vulnerability.
As the days went on, it became sort of an annoyance before it morphed into an inevitability. And Frank was indifferent to it. But, that morning, Frank had been unable to ignore Gerard’s gentle touch, the reverent way he massaged soap into his skin. Frank gasped as the other man cupped his chest and bit back a moan as the pad of his thumb circled his nipple. He squirmed, wanting to grip at him and leave wet handprints on his shirt. Gerard shushed him in response and moved to tease his other nipple before tugging lightly at it, and Frank couldn’t keep himself from moaning.
“Gerard,” Frank whined.
“We’re almost done,” he said, pressing a kiss to Frank’s forehead before moving from the side of the tub so he could more easily reach the top of his head. As he washed Frank’s hair, he dragged his short fingernails against his scalp, sending sparks of pleasure throughout the rest of his body. Gerard tugged absent-mindedly at Frank’s hair and seemingly ignored how it made his toes curl beneath the water and paid no attention to how Frank’s breath was coming in short pants.
When he finally got out of the bathroom, Frank was half hard and his face was flushed from embarrassment, but Gerard didn’t seem to mind. He toweled Frank off, paying special attention to his hair which was getting long enough to start curling at the ends.
Gerard led him back into the bedroom and continued their usual morning ritual, kneeling at Frank’s feet and pressing a kiss to the inside of his knee before helping him step into a pair of black satin panties.
When he was fully dressed, he sat on the bed and watched Gerard dress himself in a dress shirt, waistcoat, and black jeans before leading Frank downstairs.
“I don’t have enough time to eat breakfast with you this morning,” he said so mournfully that Frank found himself feeling disappointed. He reached into the cupboard and handed Frank a box of PopTarts. Frank sat down at the small table in the kitchen while Gerard went back upstairs and came back holding a messenger bag and a portfolio. He put on a coat and a scarf before kissing Frank on the forehead. “Bye, Frankie,” he said with a smile before leaving through the front door.
Frank looked down at the box in his hands, but he couldn’t bring himself to open it.
He didn’t feel hungry, just strangely empty.
He rested his head on folded arms and watched the door, waiting for Gerard to come back.