The Fine Line Between Thrill And Fear ☆ FRERARD

Chapter 5

Frank shivered in the cold, turning up the collar of his shirt to act as a shield from the wind. It didn't work, though. The warmest place he'd managed to find was a park bench, although the fact that it was facing the water didn't help in warming him up.

He clenched his teeth together and pressed his eyelids shut. His blood boiled at the sheer thought of Gerard. After everything, he still believed that he killed Ray Toro. Frank felt tears sting his eyes. He really couldn't trust anyone in New York.

He lay on his back and rested his interlocked fingers on his slowly rising and falling chest, attempting to calm himself down. When all else fails—meditation.

Okay, now he regretted leaving Gerard in the early hours of the morning. Hypothermia didn't seem like an option to him earlier as his mind was in a haze.

Would it be utterly pathetic if he came crawling back to him? Usually, Frank had at least some sense of dignity, but now he seemed to have nothing.

Before he'd decided on what to do, he drifted off to sleep.

An hour later, Frank stirred awake from his slumber. He knew that park benches were highly uncomfortable to sleep on, but he didn't think they were this terrible.

With the sun lingering on the brink of the horizon, glowing a beautiful orange and yellow hue, Frank felt humbled. After all, Gerard did take good care of him during the time they spent together, and his hair felt incredibly healthy and soft.

Now, he felt guilty.

Guilt can make a person do anything.

Like going back to Gerard.

With an eye roll, Frank arose from the bench and headed back to Gerard's house. Damn feelings.

When he got back there, he rested his hand on the front door and it swung open slowly. Crinkling his nose, he wondered if Gerard had forgotten to close the door behind Frank or if he just didn't care about being robbed.

"Hey, Gee, it's me. Can I come in?" Frank called sheepishly, his voice sounding like it didn't belong to him.

He could've been either sleeping or in a part of the house where he couldn't hear him. Both options seemed to allude to the fact that he didn't want to be bothered.

Sealing his eyes shut in embarrassment and guilt, Frank stepped into Gerard's house and shut the door behind him. Now that the cyclone-like wind wasn't hammering against his skull and smothering his ears, he felt peace of mind. Instead of the tense and eerie silence that lingered in the hallway, he would've preferred to hear Gerard's footsteps or a word or two that indicated that he wasn't mad at him.

"Gee, I'm sorry about my outburst. I really am. Do you forgive me?" Frank felt utterly pathetic but there wasn't much else he could do.

He didn't receive a response, instead, he felt a hand press to his eyes and mouth and pull him from the house.