Chapter 8

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No. This wasn't normal. It might have been half an hour ago when Frank initially began waiting upon his boyfriend's arrival, but now his anxiety increased with each passing minute, and during each cold shiver he endured and every deep breath he sucked in that was supposed to relax him but did nothing. Frank groaned and rubbed his eyes. He told Gerard to stay hidden, but did he listen? No, he didn't. Why would he?

Approaching the front door of Gerard's house, he gazed up at the tall brickwork with a retro yet modern style. Frank knocked on the door and called, "Gerard, are you home?"

No answer. Not surprising.

He rested his hand on the door and planned on pressing his forehead onto it like those defeated characters in the movies, although upon applying the least bit of pressure onto the door, it swung open.

This was enough to confirm that Gerard had been kidnapped. Gerard's glasses lay on the floorboards, a long and deep crack in the right lens and the left lens completely shattered. Frank picked them up and inspected them with fear pulsing through his veins. Blood smudged onto the bottom of the frame. Frank felt his stomach twist itself into knots.

And then, Frank found Gerard's phone, with a thin crack spreading through the top half of the screen, lying defencelessly beside the front door. He ran to it and pressed the power button. Soon, the phone lit up, displaying the missed call messages from earlier.

Something didn't make sense, and Frank didn't need to be Columbo to figure it out. He never watched a film and the cinema, he'd been kidnapped, and someone else had been texting Frank. But who? And where is Gerard now? Frank nibbled on his lip and glanced around apprehensively. He didn't know if he could still refer to Gerard in the present tense.  

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