Turn Off The Dark (Frerard)

Part Twelve

-Gerard's POV-

Well, tonight was the night. Frank was going to be in my apartment.

(You stupid fuck. I'm gonna make sure you bleed for this.)

I attempted to ignore my incensed mind as I scurried around, straightening things. Organizing art. Hiding blades and scrubbing bloodstains from various bathroom surfaces. Throwing bloodied clothes at the bottom of a pile. Making my bed.

Making my bed? Where was my mind?

I suppose it's semi-important to know that I did, unfortunately, find Frank attractive. Not that it mattered, hence the misfortune- no way was he into men, and with a face like that, no way was he without a girlfriend.

I sang along to soft Evanescence as I swiped innumerable medication bottles into a garbage bag.

"Hello, hello, remember me, I'm everything you can't control." I was finishing putting dishes away when there was a knock at the door. My heart jumped a bit.

I traipsed to the door. "Password?"

When did I start playing coy?

I could practically hear him roll his eyes.

"Very funny, Gerard. Lemme in." There wasn't much else to say, so I did.

As soon as I opened the door I could feel my heart ache at the sight of his killer smile.

"Hey man." he stepped in and the door clicked shut behind him.

"Hi. So um, all my stuff's over on my drafting table" I offered, getting right to the point. I'm sure there was something else I was probably supposed to do, but I handy exactly brushed up on the finer points of hospitality in quite a few years.

"Sounds great. Man, I should've brought some of- holy fuck, what the hell HAPPENED to you?!"

I was startled at his wide eyes and expression of concerned fright.

"What?"

It hit me. I was wearing a t-shirt.

My arms. My fucking arms.

As quickly as I could, I pulled my arms behind my back and laced up my fingers.

"It's nothing."

"Oh my God. Please don't tell me you did that to yourself." he looked like he was in pain. I couldn't for the life of me understand why.

"Gerard."

"What?"

He paused, then tentatively reached forward and took my left arm by the wrist. I allowed it. Too late to protest. He already knew.

He gently traced my scars with one finger, the newer cuts made me wince a bit upon contact.

"Why? What could be so bad that you have to mutilate your own skin beyond recognition?" Frank asked softly.

I remained silent.

Slowly, experimentally, he brought my wrist up, bent his head a little, gave me a lovely view of his luscious dark locks.

Brought his lips to my wrist, just let them lay there for a long moment.

"Frank-" my voice was choked up.

"Shh."

It just continued like that, little kisses on my wrist.

I can honestly say I have never felt more alive than when Frank tried to heal my wish to die.