The weather in Newark, New Jersey was pretty much typical for the time of year; heavy snow, a spot of rain here and there. The air was thin and laced with ice, as it always was in late December, but the usual festive cheer that always came with it, was barely visible to the naked eye. Christmas trees and fairy lights could only be seen through the odd few living room windows, if you cared to look, evidence of parents trying to give their children that one last day of happiness, ensuring them that in a couple of days there'd be all sorts of presents under that tree. Everyone knew that Christmas wasn't coming this year, but to the young children, Santa was still coming.
The streets of Newark were bustling of people, people that were going from house to house, visiting loved ones, saying goodbye. The roads were overflowing with traffic, and horns were constantly honking until another drunken idiot turned his car into a pretzel around a street lamp. All the shops that had been once-familiar, were now boarded up, the Wal-Mart in the centre of town causing uproar as people tried to pay for their last few meals but found that prices had shot through the roof. You could see in the face of every person, two emotions; despair, and panic.
The world was going to end in little over twenty-four hours, and no one seemed to know how to think, or what to do with themselves. But optimism was a rare oddity now.
However, on this day, in the midst of the crowds, the traffic, the noise, something magical happened. Only a few saw what started it, but couldn't care enough, and carried on walking past. And even if they knew what had ended up happening afterwards, it's a doubt that they would have cared then.
Frank Iero lay curled tight against the sidewalk, his back pressed to the slick, grimy brick wall of what once was a grocery store. His small frame was huddled up in a grubby, motheaten green blanket, the garment itself becoming somewhat soggy in the snow. The small man's body was shaking violently from the cold, his frostbitten fingers turning blue beneath the threadbare gloves he wore.
Frank was one of the many homeless people that sat hopelessly on the streets, begging for money to get probably what would be their last meal, even though they knew well that everyone was too ignorant to pay them any mind. But Frank, he was a little different. Instead of holding his hands up to strangers in hope of receiving a quarter or two, he decided to give away the mere seven bucks that he had saved up for months, to the other unfortunates that lined that same street.
Frank, with no more than the clothes on his back and a blanket to his name, had given up all hope. As he lay there on the sidewalk, freezing, he silently prayed for death to take him, swallow him whole. He knew that in no less than day he would be dead, but he didn't want to wait. He wanted out. He was worthless to himself, had no point in living. 'God, kill me,' he chanted over and over in his head. 'Please kill me.'
Frank's eyes were open, near lifeless hazel orbs staring into nothingness as the floods of people passed by. Every few seconds his body would convulse horribly, his teeth chattering so hard that they could break. Everything stung with frostbite, everything ached so terribly he couldn't bear to move.
As he continued to stare, Frank saw two paratrooper boot-clad feet invade his vision. He didn't assume that the person standing there was looking at him, and so he closed his eyes for a few moments, waiting for them to go away. But when said person was still stood there after Frank opened his eyes, he decided to speak up and ask them what they were doing just standing there.
But he was surprised to find, when he looked up, that the mystery man was looking at him after all. Frank took a moment to halt his words, letting them get stuck in his throat as he swallowed them back down. Frank had always been homosexual, despite having any kind of intimate contact with another man, and as he looked up at the young man above him, he couldn't deny the fact that he was stunningly beautiful.
He could only have been a few years older than Frank. His hair was short, black, flecked with snow, dampened slightly as if he'd been outside for a while. His bright hazel eyes were fringed with long, coal black eyelashes, and one thick brow was arched as he looked at Frank, thin rose petal lips curling into a half smile, almost as if he pitied the small man at his feet.
But he said nothing. He looked down for another moment or two, before reaching into his black, high-collared Sherlock Holmes coat and pulling a twenty dollar bill. Frank began to protest but his shivers got the best of him, his lips trembling with cold and preventing him from making a coherent sound. The man knelt down to hand the note to Frank, and when he didn't take it he reached for his hand and placed the note in the smaller man's palm. He then stood up and, with a soft smile, began to walk away.
'I don't need your fucking charity!' Frank screamed all of a sudden, the strength in his voice surprising himself and startling the passers-by, including the mystery man who whipped his head round to look at Frank in confusion. He slowly made his way back over to Frank, frowning deeply. He knelt down again as Frank sat up properly, body shuddering violently. The mystery man smiled sadly, patting Frank's knee gingerly. Frank flinched.
'Go get yourself a couple more blankets,' he said gently in a soft New Jersey accent. 'You need to get yourself warm.'
'Let m-me die in p-pe-peace,' Frank hissed, batting the man's hand away feebly, only to cause a light, musical chuckle to leave the taller man's lips.
'You don't meant that,' he said almost nonchalantly. 'I know you don't want to die.'
'You don't know shit,' Frank spat, flicking the twenty onto the sidewalk. He grit his teeth, silently willing the man to go away.
'Look,' the black haired man said softly. 'You're right, I don't know what you're going through, but I'd feel guilty to just walk away after seeing you in this position. I've given you money, go get warm.'
'All the stores are closed, oh good samaritan,' Frank sneered, the sarcasm heavy in his voice. 'I couldn't get my ass warm if I wanted. Couldn't eat if I wanted.' The expression of the taller man grew solemn with realisation, and he nodded, picking up the discarded twenty and tucking it safely back inside his coat.
'Alright.' He nodded and then met Frank's eyes, a sliver of determination shimmering in his hazel irises. 'Come with me.' It was more of a question than a statement. Frank snorted.
'Fuck off,' he almost laughed, sneezing afterwards and then shuddering as he pulled his blanket tighter around his tiny frame. 'Like I'd go anywhere with you!'
'I can give you a room,' the black haired man said almost a little too hopefully. 'I can give you food. Warmth. A shower if y'want.' It was wildly tempting for Frank. Tempting to accept the offer. Despite his heavy depression, a shower and food and not shivering the whole night through sounded like a brilliant idea. But he knew that he couldn't just go home with a stranger and that's why he refused.
'I'll survive,' Frank responded after a moment or two, shaking his head slowly and almost regrettably. But not a second after he'd spoken, he felt the snow starting to fall heavier and it was beginning to cloak the ground. He was positive that the temperature would most likely drop another few degrees, and the mystery man seemed to know this too.
'You're gonna freeze to death out here,' he murmured, his warm hand resting over Frank's frostbitten one, causing him to flinch a little. 'Please, just come with me. You'll feel a lot better once you're in the warm and you've gotten something to eat.' Hope still shone in the black haired man's eyes, and Frank could only sigh in despair, unsure of what to do. This guy could be a rapist, for all he knew. And right now, that and the possibility of murder were his only qualms with going home with the stranger. He'd been raped before, he knew what to expect. But it wasn't pleasant and he imagined murder wasn't either.
'I know, but I'll be fine, r-really,' Frank stammered, still shivering as he could feel the temperature dropping and the wind beginning to pick up. He knew the mystery man was right- he would definitely freeze to death tonight. But he had to stick to his guns on this.
'Come on. For the sake of making a friend on your last day.' Those words got to Frank. They struck him right in the heart. Because he knew, that in all his life, he'd never had a true friend, only aqquaintances. And the opportunity to perhaps have a friend, for the last day of his life, well he wanted that a lot. He didn't even know why. And he figured, as he opened his mouth to reply, that this guy sounded genuine, he did want to help, and that if all he wanted was a quick fuck and to dump Frank in an alleyway somewhere for dead, then so be it. He was going to meet his maker in the morning either way.
'Okay,' Frank said, nodding. 'I'll come with you.'
It took a few moments for Frank to get to his feet, the black haired man holding him in case he couldn't stand. Frank couldn't feel his legs, thanks to the cold, and so he agreed to hold onto the taller man's waist as they walked, so that he didn't fall down. The black haired man, who then introduced himself as Gerard, shrugged out of his coat and helped Frank into it, making the midget man look a tiny bit ridiculous but to them both the humour of it was non-existent. Gerard was intent on keeping Frank warm, helping him to feel comfortable in his presence. He knew why the smaller man had been hesitant to come with him, and he wanted to make sure that he also knew that he wasn't like that.
They walked in silence as Gerard led Frank to his apartment, no conversation being held between them mostly because of Frank's excessive shivers and teeth-chatters. And the fact that they didn't know each other. But surprisingly, the situation didn't feel as awkward as it should have.