A Bullet Through A Flock Of Doves

Sixteen - Take All The Pain Away From Me

Gerard could count on one hand the number of times he'd felt truly guilty.

This was one of those times.

It had began last night when he'd seen Frank break beneath him, muscles relaxing with defeat and chest dripping with blood. It hadn't given him the sense of satisfaction that he'd thought it would. Frank wouldn't have killed him, Gerard had said so himself, and he knew Frank agreed. So why had he punished him so violently? Because he wanted to? Because he could?

Gerard had not honestly expected the outcome that he got. He had expected it to turn into sex, for Frank to get pleasure out of it as well as learn a lesson, but that hadn't happened.

And then the guilt had intensified when he'd picked the lock to the bathroom and looked at Frank, curled up in misery in the tub, shaking and shivering with pain and chills from the coldness of the room. He'd tiptoed back with a blanket, relieved when Frank did not wake. There was red staining his towel, too, but he was the one to cause that bleeding.

And now, finally, his guilt just blossomed and grew to maturity when he walked into the bathroom and saw Frank with the bottle of pills. His pills. And Frank looked as though he was going to take them all, that is, before he'd dropped them on the floor, trembling as Gerard asked him what he was doing.

Gerard swallowed. He'd taken those pills, from that very bottle. There used to be more of them, but Gerard had taken them, and overdosed. That had been...a while ago, when he was still very young, but he could remember the flashing lights, his brother's panicked voice, the terrible darkness, and then the drip, drip, drip of the IV, the antiseptic smell of the hospital.

It came at him in a wave, and it was too fast, too sudden, for him to compose himself. He staggered, moving towards Frank, eyes wide. Frank was trying to do the same thing he'd attempted, and failed. Frank was trying to kill himself - because of Gerard.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Frank," Gerard whispered, because Frank still wasn't replying, wasn't saying anything, wasn't even looking at him.

Frank just stood there, naked and bloody and cowed, and then Gerard was holding him, kissing his hair, and Frank was stiff and completely in shock, and Gerard didn't blame him.

"Does it hurt?" Gerard asked, smoothing his hands over Frank's back, still embracing him in a way that he'd never have done normally, as if Frank was some delicate doll that might break at the slightest touch.

"A little," Frank lied, and Gerard pulled away, staring at the bright marks across his skin. He'd gotten a bit out of control on the side of Frank's lower belly, where the deepest of the wounds was, and Gerard crouched down on his knees, splaying his hand softly across the gouge and hearing Frank's quiet gasp.

"Does that hurt?"

Frank nodded wordlessly, still tense and wary.

"Oh, Frank," Gerard murmured, standing up again and cupping Frank's face. Gerard had caused definite scarring, and Frank would be in pain for awhile. There was punishment, and then there was recklessness. Gerard had been too damn reckless. "We need to get you cleaned up."

"But I-"

Gerard looked at him sharply. "Unless you want to be in a lot more pain?" Frank had a stubborn set to his shoulders. Gerard narrowed his eyes. Frank was trying to tough it out, trying not to appear weak. But Gerard had had enough. "Frank, listen to me. You were right. I treated you like shit, and...well, I shouldn't have. But just because I did doesn't mean you should treat yourself like that."

Frank kept his head down, and Gerard tipped his head up, only to see that he was crying. "Frank," he tried, disapproving, but Frank yanked out of his grasp, shaking his head and sobbing, though his expression was angry. Gerard sighed and turned to the bath, turning on the water and setting it so that it was a shower. He looked behind him, and saw Frank disappearing, running from the bathroom. Gerard frowned and slipped out after him, managing to catch Frank around the waist just before he got into the bedroom. "Come here," Gerard said, frustrated, trying not to touch any of the worse cuts while dragging Frank backwards. He was kicking and fighting him still, and tears streaked his face, but Gerard was on a mission. He was stronger, anyway.