Toxic- frerard

Twenty Six

Gerard Way was extremely worried about the well being of his boyfriend. Sure, it hurt like a bitch when a loved one is lost but Frank had gone into complete shut down mode.

He hadn't showered, hadn't shaved, hadn't changed out of his pajamas, hell- he wouldn't eat unless Gerard forced him to.

Frank had realised it was pretty hard to run a business, or do anything for that matter when you were absorbed by depression. Even the simplest of act like using the bathroom seemed far too strenuous.

The tattooed man thought it was pathetic, really. He would lie in his bed and stare at his en-suite bathroom, thinking about the fact it was only ten feet away. In hindsight, ten feet wasn't much for a person to walk. But then Frank would realise that ten foot was 120 inches, which was 304.8 centimetres, which was also 3048 millimetres. And that just seemed way too far.

It's not like he wet the bed or anything. He just didn't use the bathroom, which after a couple days turns into a nasty kidney infection that just added to Franks pain.

Gerard was patient however. He'd clean up Franks room for him, make him food, tell him stories when he couldn't sleep at night and even helped him take his medication. And although Frank appreciated it, he couldn't verbally tell his boyfriend that.

Because he was still speechless. So hopelessly lost for any word in the English language to describe how he felt. He thought sad seemed too light and distraught was too dramatic. He thought maybe he was defeated but that felt too weak.

It had been five days since the funeral and six days since Andy Biersack saved his life. Sometimes, Frank would wish Andy never did what he did. Sometimes, Frank would deeply wish that Andy didn't dive in front of that bullet and that he was the one in a wooden box, six feet underground.

The truth is, Andy was a lot stronger than Frank. Obviously he'd be heart broken if the tattooed man had died but Andy would soldier on. He'd help Pete continue the business and make it the best he could. Which Frank couldn't do.

He'd left all the work to Pete Wentz. Even Mikey and Gerard would help out in attempt to keep things running smoothly but it was becoming increasingly difficult without Franks leadership.

Frank had honestly forgot that Pete was mourning too. But then again, he didn't really care. Sure, it was selfish but Frank didn't have time to think about anyone else at the minute. His thoughts were consumed by a continual loop of the events that took place six days ago.

The bedroom door slowly creaked open, allowing some light to enter the completely blacked out room that Frank lay in.

"Frankie?" Gerards soft voice asked, hoping for a reply. But of course, one never came.

Frank faced the opposite direction, staring out of the window and watching the world go by. Go by, without Andy Biersack.

Gerard sighed sadly before laying next to his boyfriend in the bed. He draped a protective arm around Frank, kissing the back of his neck reassuringly.

"Come back to me, Frankie. I miss you." Gerard pleaded. He missed the pointless conversations he and Frank shared and the dumb flirting that still was going as strong as when they first were together.

Frank didn't reply again and Gerard was honestly beginning to believe that his boyfriend didn't even know he was there.

He wished he could be in Franks head at that moment. The redhead just wanted to know what Frank was thinking and what he could do to console his boyfriend. Gerard just wanted to make it all better for Frank but he just didn't know how.

The couple spent the next hour in complete silence. Gerard didn't beg for Frank to talk to him, he just waited for it to happen. He lay behind his boyfriend and clung on to him like some sort of backpack.