POISON

part two

It was close to five o'clock in the morning. Frank certainly hadn't been expecting anyone at this hour, especially since he'd only just gotten in from work barely two hours ago. That, and he'd only just gotten to the point where he could relax into sleep. However, the doorbell had gone off, practically making him jump out of his skin. It had been peaceful.

Outside, it was pitch black. The streetlamps weren't too near his windows, so all he got was a dull yellow glow to light his way through the house. He would have switched the overhead lights on, but he'd already adjusted to the darkness.

Now, he wasn't necessarily a paranoid person, but he'd watched enough horror movies to know that having someone ring the doorbell in the middle of the night was never a good thing. Fortunately, it wasn't anything along those lines. When he opened the door, keeping his foot behind it to stop the person on the other side from easily shoving it open, Frank came face to face with Gerard.

"Hey," he offered a smile, but it didn't look right. "Sorry it's s'late."

Beyond worried, Frank asked, "Are you okay–?"

"Can I crash on your couch?"

Heavy-lidded, his eyes couldn't seem to focus on any one thing, red lipstick had been smeared from his lips across the corner of his mouth, and there were faint streaks of eyeliner from where he'd wiped tears away to hide the fact he'd been crying. He was wearing a black leather jacket, one side slipping off his shoulder, and a tight red dress, paired with black ankle boots. The skirt of the dress had been hitched up on one side, a small rip at the seams. His pink handbag was at his feet.

The effort Gerard had been making to stay awake slipped, and he stumbled forwards, putting a hand on the wall to steady himself, however Frank was by his side in seconds. He draped Gerard's arm over his shoulders to help him into the corridor, where he made sure he could manage by himself as Gerard leaned back against the wall before fetching his bag inside.

"There's a taxi outside, the driver's waitin' f'his money." Gerard slurred, fetching his wallet from his coat pocket, holding it out towards him with shaking hands. He would have counted it out and handed it over, but his vision had blurred. "Would y'get it f'me?"

Without hesitation, Frank did just that. He quickly pulled on a pair of old shoes and a jacket, then ventured out to the taxi parked on the curb.

By the time he'd gotten back inside and locked the door, Gerard had somehow disappeared, prompting Frank to wonder if he'd been dreaming this whole thing. Though, Gerard's dazzling pink handbag was hard to miss.

"Poison?!" He called.

Upstairs, Gerard was in the bathroom, hunched over to the sink as he threw up the little contents of his stomach – mostly alcohol. Through the haziness in his mind, he heard Frank's voice.

"Up here–!" He answered, thrown into a coughing shortly afterwards. He kept one hand gripping the edge of the sink to maintain his balance, the other tucking his hair behind his ears as he leaned down to drink from the tap, washing his mouth out.

When he noticed Frank stood in the doorway, he shook his head, forcing a weak laugh, "This ain't pretty, sugar, don't look at me."

"I'm not worried about what's pretty right now." Frank said softly.

"I am." Gerard spit the last of the bile into the sink, washing it down the drain as he ran his hand under the tap to splash his face with cold water. He felt too hot, too restrained by his own panic that he couldn't quite manage to breathe.

It was only when he felt Frank's arms wrap around his waist that he realised he'd started to fall. His touch was incredibly gentle compared to the night he'd had so far, and he cherished it. Slowly, Frank guided him to sit on the floor, leaning back against the wall.