Our Foundations from Decay

Frank POV 46

My tongue dug into the spaces between my teeth, feeling remnants of long-forgotten chocolate coating the sides of my mouth. It had the sweetest flavour -something dreamy and fulfilling- like a pleasant reminder of love and devotion.

Someone cared about me, and god it felt good.

Life continued as my comforting thoughts ran in circles, the stolen car rumbling down the desolate road like constant white noise. The morning sun warmed my hands through the windscreen, and I found myself glancing at Gerard-- smiling when my eyes met his.

"Can't stop, I can't breathe," My boyfriend's soft singing drifted through the car like a dream. He matched Billy Corgan's voice perfectly, tapping the top of his thigh to the beat; and I suddenly became thankful for bringing my guitar with us. We could live in a world of wandering mercenary musicians, performing for crowds of the lonely and lost. Hmmm, I don't think that'd be all too bad.

"In my heart is a spring, is a well if you need," Gerard continued, nodding his head a bit too aggressively for the calm song. Oh god, I really need to teach him how to headbang. "If you believe in, every little part of me is a part of you."

His passion was infectious-- and I began humming along.

"The boy, the boy's in love-" My boyfriend suddenly cut himself off as the radio buzzed, perminating the calm atmosphere with sharp static. Both our heads spun at the same time, tethered on the receiver strapped up front.

"Bzzt, bzzt." It continued to whirr with noise as I fought to keep my eyes on the road. "Come in, come in. Speeder on Highway 17, grey BMW." A gruff middle-aged man was speaking, strict and commanding in a way that screamed just one thing.

Shit.

"Cops." I growled, "I don't think they're after us, but try to act normal." The crease in my eyebrows only grew when I caught sight of the sweat coating Gerard's face.

Oh god, I forgot that he's the least-chill man in America.

"Dude, just breathe. We'll be fine." My hand that wasn't gripping the steering wheel moved to Gerard's leg, rubbing gentle circles into the surface of his skin. In all honesty, it was just an excuse to feel him up-- but nobodys completely innocent, right?

Blue and red lights lit up the road in front of us like deadly lazers. With a barrage of curse words, I finally noticed the scene we'd driven into; panic setting in like a flooded dam, washing over the both of us with insurmountable pressure.

Shit, shit, SHIT!

"Fuck, Frankie!" Gerard whined, sinking into the seats as our car inched closer and closer. Cops were swarming the road like ants, barricading our escape with cones and vehicles; a familiar sight of those scenes in thriller movies with police blockages and brutal murderers.

This time it was real, though. We were the criminals, and we had everything to lose.

I couldn't bring myself to speak as Gerard's hand quivered in my own, our stolen, unlicensed car drifting closer and closer to the check-up point.

"Ello' sir." A sudden tap scared the shit out of me, its dull thud reverberating around the enclosed space. Ah!

"Ugh," A grunt escaped me as I bit my tongue, nearly jolting out of my seat. "Good afternoon, officer."

"Roll down the window, sir." The cop's no-nonsense voice reminded me of my math teacher, and I had to restrain a gag when he kept on talking. "Right now."

"Sure thing." In one quick movement, my hands were winding away, forceful smile plastered on my face like a mask; an anxiety-ridden facade that likely held the fates of our future. "What's up?"