Runaway Scars - Frerard

Chapter 8

Gerard pulled away, staring cautiously into Frank's eyes and breathing heavily. Frank stood expressionless, sharing him breath and waiting for something to happen. Gerard cleared his throat and hesitated, but spoke.

    "Do you mean it this time?" he asked quietly.

    Frank put his head down shamefully. How could he have been so close minded and stubborn before to push Gerard away like that? How could he have just decided that his own misery—his own unwillingness to trust someone—was more important to maintain than the honesty and respect Gerard deserved?

    Finally, Frank nodded. "I always meant it."

    "So if I ask you how you feel about me tomorrow—"

    "I'll say that I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone, and that even though I barely know you and am possibly setting myself up for disaster, I love you." Frank answered, speaking quickly as his heart raced faster.

    Gerard smiled and slowly took ahold of Frank's hand. "C'mon," Gerard ordered, pulling him lightly to make him walk, "I wanna show you something."

    Suddenly, he was whisking him away and they were running from Frank's little campsite. They left the bridge completely and ran into a fence. Frank, who was full of energy he needed to release, started to climb. Gerard laughed and yanked his hand down as he pulled the corner of the wire fence back. He slipped through with ease, which meant smaller Frank would have no trouble.

    Frank found himself now in the middle of some kind of junkyard. Still, though, Gerard wasn't slowing down. He gripped Frank's hand tighter as he headed towards a long row of cars. Frank studied the cars, knowing almost every single one, but absolutely falling in love with a certain one. It was rusty, run down, full of parts from other cars, painted four different colors, but a 1987 Pontiac Trans Am. God he loved those cars. His uncle used to have one before he passed, and after that it went to his younger cousin who moved to California. Spoiled brat...

    Gerard slowly released Frank's grip and started walking across Frank's beloved dream car. Frank almost yelled out in frustration until Gerard, now stepping onto the very top of the car, looked back with a wide grin and a hand out.

    "You coming?" Gerard asked.

    Frank shook his head, slowly making his way to the car again. "Yeah, but...I hate to use such a badass car as a stepping stone!"

    Gerard giggled and pulled Frank up to where he was, then guided him down to the ground again behind the cars. But nope, they weren't at the mysterious location yet. Gerard looked a bit winded, but kept going. Now they stood before a line of cargo containers, stacked high, three at most, stretched at least half a mile down.

    "I've seen this before," Frank stated, "You can see it from the highway, but I almost assumed it was just left here to be graffitied some more until they needed them again."

    "it is!" Gerard explained as he raced in front of Frank to get a better look at it. "It's just art space now. We all kind of have little sections for us to use."

    "We?" Frank questioned, "Are you in a gang?"

    Gerard laughed, walking slowly down the row and admiring some of the work. "Eh...I like to think of it as...a community."

    "You're vandalizing half a mile of train containers with a bunch of guys; You're in a gang, Gerard." Replied Frank.

    Gerard shook his head in frustration and pointed to one of the pieces; it seemed to be sort of an abstract galaxy design with the outline of a coffin in the middle of it. Frank was in love with the colors, all blending together perfectly, and the whole thing looking like an explosion of some sort.