The Dystopian Perception

6

"Shh, shh, it's okay, it's okay," Frank whispers, gently rubbing Gerard's back.

Gerard is shaking and his face is wet. He infers from these variables that he's been crying. Oh, God. In front of Frank? For heaven's sake.

He can't feel the truck manoeuvring beneath him. This must mean that Frank has pulled over because of him. Oh, God again. What if more of them come for them and Frank's still focused on him? Oh, please please no.

"It was just a dream, it's okay," Frank comforts again.

Gerard untenses all of the muscles in his body, and focuses on the sensation of Frank's hand upon his back. It's tenderness alone begins to soothe Gerard, and gradually, his brain gets quieter. Gerard can think rationally, although he's shuddering and quavering still; his chin jittering. He must try to pull himself together. He's pathetic right now. He can't let Frank see him like this any more.

"Shh, shh. You were just dreaming. You're safe."

Gerard mentally disagrees, but physically says nothing. He isn't safe. No, he's not safe. That felt so real. He can't and couldn't decipher what it was that had happened, but it definitely felt real and he hates it. And he's not safe regardless. The world is quite literally transforming into a growing legion of the undead, for crying out loud! He's not safe. Nobody is safe. As much as he'd like to think he can protect Frank - even though in his experience, it's only ever been the other way around - he cannot realistically, can he? He can't ensure Frank's safety. Nobody can ensure their safety. He. Is. Not. Safe.

It's all his fault.

Screw what Gerard thought about calming down. He can't. He wants for Frank's soft touch to be enough, and it should be, but his mind simply will not stop working.

"It's all gonna be okay," Frank persists, "I won't let anything hurt you, I promise."

Gerard is being selfish. Screw screwing what Gerard had thought about calming down. He must, for Frank's sake. Frank is trying his hardest, and Gerard isn't. That isn't fair. Frank is too good for him. He's defying Gerard's every belief again and he is far too good for him.

Promptly, Gerard attempts steadying breath, and in turn, his crying. His chest hurts, like a hole has been punched right through it. His airway feels as though it is irreversibly closing, but Gerard knows to ignore this. He knows that is not reasonable, and he knows that he must be reasonable. He focuses on Frank's hand again - consistent and unthreatening. Then he clutches at his jacket, the jacket he regrets to say he almost forgot about; he had Frank now to make him feel at ease. Yet it's still there for him, and so he holds to it tightly. Gerard likes constant things.

"Tell me what happened...?" Frank hesitates for a moment.

Gerard sits himself up and faces the front window of the truck, his back no longer to Frank. He hangs his head in shame despite his seeming gesture of growing confidence. Gerard is sorry.

"Gee...?"

Gee. Gee! Frank has a nickname for him? A pet name? Whatever he may call it, he has one and this makes Gerard smile, even if it is only for a decimated second. He likes the way it sounds when Frank says it. He wills for him to say it again.

"I care about you, Gee."

That statement by itself starts to fill the hole in his chest created by guilt and degradation, and befriended by despair. Gerard sniffles, before attempting to respond.

"I-I-I... I-I... I... I-I-I-I-I..." Gerard crumples his face up again, in exasperation. Why can't he just speak? This is even worse than when they met at the gas station those couple days ago. "I-I-I-I... Ugh... I-"

"Hey, it's okay," Frank smiles, "Get your words out, it's okay. You're doing great."

Gerard inhales, and then exhales. Frank believes in him, so Gerard must believe in Frank.

"I was r-runni-ing... Everything was loud and I c-couldn't breathe. I-..." Gerard trails off, his voice cracking as he does.

"It's okay - you don't have to tell me anything else if you don't want," Frank sympathetically half-smiles. He uses the hand he's been rubbing Gerard back with to move Gerard's hair atop his hanging head from his eyes. Gerard winces and closes them swiftly. Frank is seeing him in a state now, but Gerard doesn't want to see Frank seeing him like that. He wills for this all to go away, but then takes the thought back as soon as it enters his head. "Nothing is going to hurt you, though." Frank repeats.

Now, Gerard is willing himself to believe Frank's words. Perhaps they would be okay. Perhaps he would be okay. Perhaps, and only perhaps, if he just wills hard enough...

"I'm sorry..." Gerard barely even whispers. Frank makes out what he's saying though.

"You were scared, and I don't want you to be sorry," Frank reassures, "But we're scared together, remember?"

Gerard smiles. He sniffles, as his shaking halts and so does his chin jittering. He rubs at his eyes and peers at his reflection in the wing mirror of the truck. The glass is broken and dirtied, Gerard notes, but he can just about see himself. His complexion is red and his cheeks are puffy. His black hair is tangled and his eyes are bloodshot. Gerard hides his face with his hands and looks down to his feet.

"Th... Thank you, Frank."

"You're welcome," he beams back at Gerard.

Gerard expects for Frank to start the engine up again, but he doesn't. This confuses him a little, as he previously conjectured that Frank had pulled over for his poignantly com-miserable sake, and he feels his eyebrow raising of its own accord - a natural reaction to such events. He decides upon surveying his surroundings, and he spies that they're within a small neighbourhood.

This makes Gerard anxious. He knows that they'll have been here, or rather that they are. He knows this is risky. Those country roads - those isolate highways - over the past days, have been all Gerard has seen, and even then, there has been that incident where he and Frank came into contact with some of them. He then recalls what Frank said the night they met; that he had to go pick up his friend Ray and that his house wasn't far, which was a blatant lie, as has become clear, although Gerard isn't resentful about that. It's always possible that Frank said that in order to make him feel better, as this is the case with many things he says. He is glad of the extra time he has had with Frank. This is going to end now though, Gerard realises. Bittersweet indeed, Gerard is felicitous of the knowledge of other survivors. Maybe this is symbolic of Frank's words being true, he concludes. They might be okay.

Gerard looks to Frank now, and sees Frank has produced a walkie talkie from somewhere in the vehicle. He presses a button on the device, before speaking into it.

"Ray? This is Frank - we- I'm here now," Frank says, correcting himself. Gerard finds this feat incredibly amusing.

There's no answer. Frank holds his breath.

"Do something? Say something so I know you're there?"

The seconds that follow are painful. Gerard recalls the metaphor his mother always used when gossiping to her friends - "you could cut the air with a knife." His mother. A pang in his chest. Gerard decides this is highly applicable to this situation, and envisions the atmosphere itself being sliced by a knife.

Frank jumps in his seat when he gets a reaction. It's both muffled and incoherent, but that one second response is a big deal to him, as it is likewise to Gerard. No words can be deciphered from it, but it's a response, and it's a legitimate one.

"Okay Ray, I'm coming," Frank speaks into the walkie talkie again, before sliding it into his pocket and being cautious as to open the vehicle's door quietly. Frank motions for Gerard to copy, and so he does.

Then Gerard smiles. As careful as they're going to have to be, they've found someone else alive. Gerard thinks this is proof of resilience. Proof that humanity can survive. Proof they can. Proof he can. They'll have to fight, but it'll be worth it.

And so Gerard follows Frank to Ray's front door, and holds back his contrition-filled sniffles whilst it opens.