Frank was lying curled up next to Gerard, head leaning on Gerard's chest. He had told Gerard exactly what had happened, stuttering and spilling tears everywhere. Gerard had given him a navy blue sweatshirt because he was shivering, but not from the cold, and it was still damp as he laid there hours later, tears silently dripping from his eyes. He was unsure of the time for Gerard had no clocks in his room or anything that indicated the passing of time.
It surely must have been at least five hours or more since Frank had left his apartment shortly after midnight. After checking on his mother before going to bed, he found her lying motionless, peaceful on the sofa. Her eyes closed, as if in a serene sleep. Instantly he knew she was gone. He was alone.
He had no one.
He didn't cry. Throughout the whole ten minutes he stayed in the apartment trying to fathom what would happen from then on, he was in a state of shock, unable of reasonable thought. His head was spinning, his thoughts running marathons through his mind. He was lost. Alone.
Something snapped inside him. Suddenly he felt he should have been stronger, a better son to his mother and father. Then they would still be here, be with him. Angrily he had punched the wall, destroying the skin on his knuckles.
"FUCK YOU," he yelled at the concrete, cradling his fist, "FUCK."
He kicked the kitchen table leg, and cursed at himself. How could he have let his mother down? It was all his fault and he would never forgive himself. He had to take care of her and now she was gone. It was his job.
"It's my fault," he groaned, leaning against the wall and sagging to the floor. His knees were weak. Every part of his body either hurt or was numb.
He loathed himself.
He sat against the wall for a few minutes, regaining his breath, trying to get a grip. Realizing the only thing stopping him from ending his own life, was Gerard. It was strange to him how he had become so close to him in a matter of days.
The past weeks he'd thought of nothing but the young man in the art store, and since the day he plucked up the courage to finally speak to him, he was at last making a friend. The prospect of a friend appealed to him more than ever. At the moment he had no one but Gerard but he was scared that even he wouldn't want him. What was Frank to him anyway?
A million and one thoughts raced through his head, but only one stuck out. He had to find Gerard. He had to be with him now for he needed him to hold him, to tell him it was okay, to tell him that he'd be there for him. Abandoning his stay-inside-forever mentality, he stood up, grabbed his windbreaker that hung over one of the dining chairs and shut the apartment door behind him, not looking back.
Frank slowly moved his head, trying not to wake Gerard with any sudden movements. For a few minutes all he had thought about and felt was the heat radiating from Gerard's body and all he wanted was for this night, this feeling to stay. No pain. No hurt. Just him and Gerard and the protective force field of Spider Man to keep him safe.
He knew it would have to end at some point, but for now, he cherished every moment of warmth he shared with Gerard. He knew that he'd be required to return to the apartment, to his mother. Suddenly, like he'd swallowed a huge chunk of ice, he filled with dread. There would be a funeral. There would be lawyers. They would take him away to a foster home. Or worse, an orphanage. Did they even exist anymore? He'd only ever read about them in books and they were said to be horrible. The thought of being taken away from Gerard and Spider Man made him tremble, made his blood curdle. Never in a million years would he let them take him. Ever.
Realizing he was shivering, he cuddled up in Gerard's (possibly XXL) sweater and exhaled deeply. He hunched his shoulders, relaxed them again and gently laid his head back on Gerard's chest.
Right now all he did was hope things would be all right one day. He knew that chance was minimal for he had no one. No father. No mother. No friends but Gerard. Holding on to the chance that their small friendship would develop into something beautiful, something worth getting out of bed for in the morning, he dozed off again with no clue what time it was. Time was irrelevant. All that was, was him and Gerard and their chance at happiness.
The trek down the grey concrete stairwell was unpleasant, even more so because apparently there was a fresh pile of vomit in the corner of the second floor. Great. It also turned out the owner of the vomit hadn't quite made it up the staircase properly, Frank saw. He regarded a dark figure splayed over the concrete. That couldn't be comfortable, Frank thought, half-wanting to kick him to see if he moved. He didn't.
Traipsing through copious amounts of black, shiny, overflowing garbage bags, trying not to step on anything suspicious, he made his way out of the apartment block and away from the stinking neighbourhood. He was fucking sick of it, he hated living there. Somewhere in his mind, he hoped he could stay with Gerard and live with him. But that was ridiculous, so he crushed that thought into dust in his mind. Or at least he tried to.
The wind threw his hair around his face and pressured his lungs. Despite feeling as if a million tiny soldiers were pricking needles in every part of his body, he turned a corner and marched across the street to face the art store. When he saw the pots of glitter in the window, he felt a rush of warm familiarity, thinking back to the day he met Gerard.
He remembered what Gerard asked him that day. Yes, he loved comics and yes, he would love to read them with him. That afternoon was printed firmly in his mind as a light at the end of a long, black tunnel that was his life. He knew that sounded melodramatic, but whatever, he though. Gerard would help him, he was sure of it. Gerard had helped him stay strong the past few weeks, even when he wasn't around. Frank didn't really know why he felt so suddenly attracted to him, or interested in him.
But what he did know, was that he wanted to get out of the biting wind. He'd forgotten a scarf and the dark October nights were becoming increasingly colder. Wrapping his arms around himself, he walked briskly on, studying the cracks in the pavement with close precision. Move out of this fucking shithole as soon as possible, Frank noted to himself.
"Hey, Frankie, wake up," Gerard whispered, receiving no reply for a good few minutes. He had woken up finding Frank lying on top of him, confident both his legs were now incapacitated. I'm going to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair thanks to a scrawny little boy, he thought endearingly.
Surprised at finding he could move both his legs, yet with a slight case of pins and needles, he nudged Frank again.
"Gerroffme," he grumbled jokingly, when he noticed Frank's beautiful hazel eyes opening. Without thinking, he leaned down and kissed Frank on the forehead. Pulling back shocked, he saw Frank smiling weakly up at him. That was when Gerard promised himself, that whatever happened, he would stay with Frank and help him through everything. He promised himself. He promised Frank.
"C'mon, Frankie, gerroff," Gerard repeated, chuckling, feeling a wave of endearment for the boy wash over him. He threw Frank gently off himself and chucked a cushion with a Batman print at him. A pillow fight ensued, with both of them giggling uncontrollably and infectiously.