No room in this hell | Frerard | Limited Story

Drowning Lessons

Franks p.o.v

~Friday night~

Over the last week I've been working for my dad at the auto shop in the morning and swimming bars and clubs trying to promote the band in the evenings. Every dive bar I found myself in this side of New Jersey I bumped into Gerard, a glass glued to his hand. I watched from a distance as he hopped from bar to bar with a different guy every night. I can sense his vulnerability and as much as I don't want him leave with them, I'm not exactly in the position to tell all these seedy  guys to back off of him.
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The first night we were formally introduced I can tell he was truly embarrassed by his behaviour and I can't find it in me to give him a hard time about it, even though he rolled up to band practice two hours late on Wednesday with the mother of all hangovers. I don't think he's ever without a cigarette or a beer in his hand. Although he avoided me completely, always staying in the other side of the room there is something so incredibly magnetising about the whole tortured artist thing he has going on but it's doing absolutely nothing for this gut wrenching fear I have of this sweet gig crashing and burning before we've even made a dent.
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That was until I saw him talking to Jeremy. The jealousy begins to rise as I slam my whiskey sour on the table in front of me, I finish passing out the rest of the demos to the promoters, said my goodbyes at the bar and slipped out the back. The cold air hit me like a truck. The icy breeze gnawing at my nape, I turned my collar up and pulled the cigarette from behind my ear. I spark it, huddling into the flame to revive my fingers.

Bitter smoke scratches my throat as I shove my hand into my pocket. My knuckles scraping past the cold, sharp zipper to check if I have any missed calls on my cell when I hear a commotion around the corner. I lean in closer to hear what's happening when I hear a familiar voice say "Dude, slow down...you're being too rough". I keep my back against the wall for a second, my heart beating fast.

Please don't let it be Gerard. Please.

I hear muffled groans and sloppy kisses as rubber soles grapple and scrape against the gravel. "Mhmm fuck! Stop! That's not part of the deal" I hear the voice again. I flick my cigarette and turn the corner to find Gerard being pinned against the wall.
His shirt is ripped and soaked in blood. Claw and bite marks litter his neck and chest, his nose is bloody and his lip is swollen.

I completely lost it. I seethe with white hot anger, even now this guy is taking whatever he wants.

"I'm pretty fucking sure he told you to stop" I spit, gritting my teeth as I edge closer to them in a blind rage. "Frankie! You're just in time! Did you want to have a go too?" Jeremy smirks in a poisonous tone, his arm still pinning Gerard in place. Gerard looks at me with panic in his eyes, I catch his gaze and all the anger I could muster bubbles to the surface as I draw back and punch Jeremy's jaw, his grip loosens on Gerard and I strike again, knocking him into a dumpster. Leaving Gerard crashing to the ground in a heap. "Frank, get the fuck out of here" Gerard wheezed.

I try to filter him out for a second, stepping over his legs, lunging at Jeremy once again. "I'll kill you!" I yell as I pin him to the dumpster. "All this for that little twink? Where the fuck was this fire when we were dating?" His smug voice rang in my ears as he spits blood in my face, his smirk fell from his face as I grip his collar and shove him against the metal. "You don't date people, you just take whatever you want and leave in the middle of the night! You pretend we don't exist!" I spit "but this time, this time you get nothing" I knee him hard in the junk, winding him as he doubles over, his knees hitting the asphalt.

The adrenaline surges through my veins and I begin to lose my breath. I hold one hand to the dumpster to try and get a grip of myself when I hear a small voice call out my name. I spin on my heels  and crouch down in front of him, extending my hand. "How do you know him?" He hesitated, gripping my sweaty hand tightly as I attempted to pull him to his feet. I'm met with resistance and my hand slips from his. He brings his knees to his chest, I notice his jeans are undone and hanging around his hips, his shirt had ridden up and his bare back rested against the wall.