The Fine Line Between Thrill And Fear ☆ FRERARD

Chapter 6

Frank's mind swam in his skull as a train of thoughts collided with his conscience. He couldn't keep track of them as they were all so different from the last and more so not relevant to his current situation. Speaking of which, where was he? He would've loved to know exactly what was going on but any words he could've spoken seemed to have clogged his throat, making it difficult to merely breathe. And in relation to his eyes? He was convinced it was impossible to even crack them open a millimetre. He needed something—anything that could tell him what was going on. But what could give it to him? Certainly not his own senses that he'd come to rely on all his life.

"Frank."

There was no doubt that Frank heard someone whisper his name, but he could barely recognise the voice, or even hear it clearly.

"Frankie."

There it was again. Each time this person spoke his name, the syllables would pierce his mind like a sharp knife.

A sigh.

Frank took a deep breath and turned his body slightly, but found himself to be tied to a chair.

"Frank!" the same voice whispered, this time enthusiastically.

"Hm?" Frank finally responded.

"How did they find you?" The voice, which he soon recognised to be Gerard's, susurrated slowly.

"How did who find me? What?" Frank mumbled, his eyes finally cracking open.

Gerard didn't verbally respond, instead, he gave a quivering sigh.

Frank turned his head left to right, searching for Gerard but finding no one. All he saw were the cold grey walls of the dark and empty room he was stuck in, tied to a chair with thick ropes. "Oh, God..." he mumbled, feeling panic take over his mind. Not another one of those terrifying hallucinations. First the gun incident, and now this? Had he really lost his marbles?

"I'm here. I'm behind you," Gerard clarified, turning his wrists a little in the rope, nudging against Frank's knuckles.

Frank leaned his head back and found himself lying on Gerard's shoulder. He looked at his face and saw tears stained on his cheeks and lifeless despair in his eyes. Gerard nibbled at the inside of his lip and looked at Frank briefly.

"Where are we?" Frank asked distantly.

Gerard rested his head on Frank's and sobbed. "I think this is it, Frank."

"Wait, wait, wait, don't say that," Frank blurted desperately. "Surely there's a way out of here. How about through that window?"

"We're tied up. We can't move," Gerard reminded, struggling in the ropes to reinforce his point. "It's over, Frank."

"It's not over," Frank insisted, now clenching his teeth in frustration. He pulled and pushed his legs in an attempt to free himself from the ropes, but only ended up making it dig harder into his skin. "I'm sorry, Gerard."

"Why?" Gerard asked quietly.

"For everything. You wouldn't be stuck in this mess if I didn't run into your salon." Frank felt salty tears burn his eyes. "I'm so fucking sorry! You don't deserve this."

"And neither do you."

"What is there left to do now?" Frank asked, leaning his head back against Gerard's and staring at the ceiling of the dark and empty room longingly.

"I..." Gerard paused, letting his singular vowel ring out and echo throughout the empty room. "I...don't know."

"Oh, God..." Frank moaned.