I'm sorry that this chapter took so long, and this is probably the worst thing I've ever written, I'm so sorry! D:
In other news...
A big thank you to everyone who has been reading/reviewing this so far, especially Purifying Flame for basically keeping me sane! if you haven't already, you should go check out her work, she's amazing! :D
Frank's dreams are hazy and disconnected, much like his day had been. They are little snippets of memories- trips to the beach as a child, the scent of fresh linen, vomiting into the gutter after his first experience of alcohol, a variety far too strong for his unaccustomed stomach- all disorganized and jumbled, like the pieces of a jigsaw sprawled across a room, waiting on someone to collect them, to piece them all together, to make it fit.
His dreams scare him. He dreams of being alone, forgotten. He dreams of wandering round the streets, lost and stranded. He dreams of Gerard gauging out his eyes out with a set of metal sewing scissors till his face is merely than a bloody lump of skin and bone.
It's the sound of clashing plates that wakes him from his slumber- a loud shatter of porcelain and glass clattering through his bones.
"Mother fucker! Stupid fucking… Oh Frank, you're awake!"
Gerard balances on a chair in the kitchen area, body teetering and wobbling as he catches himself on a cabinet, surrounded by a sea of ceramic shards. Grinning violently, he clambers of the insecure platform, a single non-broken plate in hand, dodging round the splinters adorning the floor like crystals, glinting in the light, bouncing beams of golden yellow around the room like starlight.
"I… I was trying to get plates, y'know, for breakfast, but I dropped them…"
Gerard blushes, a pink sheen frosting his otherwise insipid face. He really was rather strange, Frank thought to himself- he walked about in public in a dress and suspenders free and unaffected, yet he was mortified when he dropped a plate.
"D'you want me to help you clear it up?"
Gerard shakes his head automatically, mouth pulled into a tight grimace.
"No! Of course not! You sit down!"
Frank does as he's told, sitting at the remaining chair at the table, watching as Gerard gets down to his knees, a dustpan and shovel in hand, beginning to sweep up the remainders of the dishes. Frank acknowledges his outfit change- today his outfit is much simpler. He wears jeans and a t-shirt, not unlike any other person would, yet somehow it appears far more extravagant on him. The denim clings to him like a second skin; the t-shirt drapes off him, swirling with his every movement; hair falls over his face, eyes piercing through, shining brighter than the glass scattered across the floor. He really looks like he's from a fucking fairy tale- sparkling and glowing in the light-people like him just aren't real.
And then Frank catches a glimpse of himself. It's not much- jut a fragmented reflection in a shard of glass- but it's enough to remind him of what he really is. He is nothing. Everything about him is so mediocre, non- descript. Everything from his not-quite-long-but-not-quite-short hair to his skin tone that seems to fall on the border between pale and tan. He's just lukewarm. That's it, that's the word. Lukewarm. He feels like nothing, and Gerard is everything.
All of a sudden he looks up, catching the gaze of Frank who sits, silently, observing the strange man.
"So, what are we going to do about you?"
Frank stays silent, prays that he will just blend away, or that the ground will swallow him whole. He feels small, delicate, brittle, in the presence of the confident stranger, and he feel like he crumbles under the weight of every word that spills from his lungs. He is like a butterfly- one touch will kill.
"I don't want to go home."
Gerard's face suddenly changes. It's like someone has flicked a switch, as sudden as a pin drop, setting him from carefree to serious mode and it scares Frank a little.
"Frank, I know, but you know you can't just run away from home. It's not as simple as that. It's not safe."
Frank can feel the panic start to churn in him- the buzzing sensation of fear beginning to pulsate through his veins like venom, crawl under his skin and itch at his nerves. It's like some sort of indescribable force, pushing him away, urging him to run. All he wants to do is follow through with it.
"But… I can't…"
Gerard's face begins to falter- a slight twitching. A tremble. Like he was losing hope. He looks at Frank with something, something almost like pity.
"Frank. Stop it. Don't be ridiculous. You need to go home. I know it sounds amazing, running away from home, so romantic and idealistic, but it's not. It's not like in the movies, and you're stupid to think it is…"
"I can't go home though!" Frank interrupts, tears beginning to brim at the corner of his eyes, stinging and threatening to bulge over the edge, "I really just can't!"
Gerard chews on to his lip, swipes his hair out of his eyes, pushing it over his head, out of his vision. The light glimmers down on him, the light bouncing off the broken glass, creating a halo around him.
"Tell me why you ran away Frank."
Frank didn't want to tell him- his reasons were vague, inducing the fear that he may appear childish to his elder- yet at the same time he needed to get it out, blurting it all out in a messy exclaim of pain and fear, as that was possibly the only way to stop him from losing his only escape.
So that's what he did. He burst. He popped. He let every single trapped feeling escape his delicate little frame with the force of a steam roller, each word smashing its way through his chest, nothing held back. For the first time in his life, he let himself be unafraid of his own feelings. For the first time ever, he allowed the little boy inside his slowly decaying body to cry and scream and make a fuss, for he goddamn deserved it! All his life he had been quiet, sinking into the background, always the introvert, but today he wasn't being that shy little child anymore. He had progressed onto something more fabulous, simply because he had a pair of ears to listen to him and a set of eyes to watch him.
For the first time, someone cared.
Gerard nodded to every word intently, nodding occasionally, really paying attention to what he was saying. It wasn't at all like when his parents 'listened' to him- with them it was like a task, just another trivial little part of parenthood that they had to complete- but with Gerard it was almost like he wanted to listen. He hung on to Frank's every word, grasping them and tearing them apart in his mind, really getting to know the problem deep down in its core, not just skimming over the surface. He would ask questions occasionally, but even when he was silent there was a look of deep concern tattooed into his face.
And then it was over. In little more than a flash of vibrant emotion, Frank was breathing deep, slumped down on the floor beside Gerard, tear stitched eyes and every single drop of him poured out into pools on the floor.
They sat like that for several minutes, just thinking, creating conclusions, gathering their thoughts and tying them up, stopping them from wandering away. It was Frank who eventually broke the silence.
"Please don't make me go home. I can't stand it there. Please don't phone the cops.
Gerard let his eyes drop to his hand, placed in his laps, holding glass, his eye lashes ghosting his cheeks, creating spidery shadows against his translucent skin. His face appeared to radiate, glistening in the light, catching the refracted rays from the glass. The white light was split, creating a faint glow of rainbow against his skin.
"It's not safe for you to be alone", he began, words prosaic, straight to the point, "But I could never make you go home. I couldn't do that to you, because I am very aware of how miserable you are there…" he drops the shard of glass into his lap, tilts his head back to eye at the ceiling. His eyes trace the nauseating yellow stain of damp from where it begins in the corner to where it meets the light in the centre. His teeth grip his lip, biting hard, thinking harder.
"I'll make you a deal", he continues, breathe ropey, hands twitching in nerves, or maybe even fear, "I won't make you go home as long… As long as you live here with me…"
His words cut through like a knife, stabbing Frank, filling him with the stinging pain of shock. His request was ludicrous, yet the way Gerard gaped, eyes filled with hope, made it seem perfectly rational. Perfectly, perfectly rational.
"I know it sounds… ridiculous, Frank, me being who I am and all of that…"
Frank stares blankly at the man in front of him, confused by is words.
"I'm a prostitute Frank, don't act stupid. I know you're not."
Frank goes to speak, yet his words come empty. His mouth drops in protest, yet no action is made. Gerard has a way with his words- his confidence- that simply silences him.
"I know it sounds crazy, probably dangerous, but trust me, you'll be safer here than out there. And I don't think I could let you out there on your own. Not with what I know."
It was like Gerard knew Frank. The way he looked at him, let his eyes settle on his, it was almost like he was him. It was like he was looking into a mirror, studying every little detail of himself, trying to find out who he really was. Or maybe it was something else. Maybe it was like he was looking into the past, through a photo album, tracing his eyes across a picture of what he used to be, of the juvenile days of adolescence.
"But, I can't stay here", Frank glances around the room- it is far from well kept, and he can't imagine that it takes much income to stay at that state. He knows it for a fact. Gerard is poor and he is struggling as it is to stay alive. Without a job, Frank would only be a further burden. "I don't have a job or anything, and you would have to pay for me as well as yourself…"
Gerard bites at his lips again, ripping a tiny chunk of the skin away, letting a tiny drop of blood pool to the surface, licking it off and sucking on the tiny wound, the skin stinging as it heals.
"That's something I'm sure I can get around. I just want to see that you're safe. Happy."
Now that confused Frank. Gerard was a complete stranger- Gerard was nothing to Frank and Frank was nothing to Gerard- yet Gerard had already taken on the role of Frank's protector. He was caring for him, looking after and bloody well desperate to get him to stay with him. It scared him a little. Was that not the perfect set up for some sort of horror movie?
"I don't know, Gerard. I don't know you. I don't know you at all…"
Gerard sighs. It's a sigh of genuine disappointment, genuine heart break. He fails to make eye contact after this, admitting to defeat.
"You don't have to. Of course you don't. I understand… It's up to you… It was a stupid idea anyway."
But that's the thing. Frank isn't sure if he wants it to be up to him. Part of him doesn't want to take the invitation- is scared stiff of what could end up being his demise- yet another little segment of him does- it wants to run to the safety of Gerard and snuggle up, forget about everything in the dingy flat with the man in stilettoes.
But of course, he couldn't agree to that. It would be ridiculous, irresponsible, idiotic, practically choosing to be kidnapped and raped and murdered.
He kind of wished Gerard would take the choice away from him, because when it all boiled down to it, he had no idea how to survive in the real world on his own, and there was no way in hell he was going home.
"If you want I can go like pack you a bag or something, if you want, that is… I can go get you some money or something… I can't let you leave here without at least something…"
"No."
Gerard's eyes shoot up from where they were comfortably absorbed into the floor, his face snapping into shock, melting into relief then staining with confusion.
"I mean… What I mean is I will stay with you. For just now, anyway…"
A blink-and-you'll miss-it grin flickers across Gerard's face like the flash of a traffic light- brief, parting, but bright enough to shine through everything else. And just like it had never happened, Gerard's face is serious again.
"Okay, that's only if you want to, I'm not forcing you into anything…"
Frank just smiles to this. That's all.
This is either the best or worst decision he ever made.