Unholyverse

~Part 17~

Frank liked the window seat in his room. It reminded him of his old apartment, of sitting there with Mikey, especially when it rained. It was raining now, hard, lashing against the window pane. Frank was curled up in the corner holding his rosary in his hands; counting the beads, one, two, three, five, ten. He'd lost count of the repetitions when there was a knock on his door. He didn't feel like speaking to any of the guys, didn't want to listen to them telling him how they were doing the right thing or that it was going to be okay, so he ignored it.

Then he heard Gerard's voice, low. "Frankie?"

Frank went to the door immediately, pulling it open to find Gerard on the other side. He was wearing a white T-shirt and blue-striped pajama bottoms. The mark on his neck where Frank had hurt him stood out lividly, black and red with ugly purple veins spidering out like arms. His hair was damp and he was swaying a little.

Frank gaped at him. "Are you drunk?"

Gerard laughed, kind of, pushing his hands through his hair so it lay smoothly against his head. "Not exactly," he said, looking around him like he didn't really know where he was. He smoothed his T-shirt down with both hands. "Can I come in?"

What was Frank going to say, no? He stood back and let Gerard pass, closing the door behind him. Gerard moved slowly around the room, his hands moving like he didn't know what to do with them. He turned around and looked at Frank for a while, a little blurrily, then abruptly asked him, "Why don't you believe in God?"

Frank blinked. "What?"

"God," Gerard repeated, sitting down on the end of Frank's bed. His eyes were a little red. "Why don't you believe in Him?"

Frank considered the past year. "I'm not sure I'm in a position to say I don't anymore."

"But you didn't," Gerard insisted. "You never have since I met you, you - look, kids are predisposed to believe in God, and you were raised in a Catholic family, so I, I just want to know why."

"Because..." Frank had never really thought about why. He just didn't. "It's not like I used to and then I had some grand epiphany, or anything. I just...I just don't."

"But why?"

"Because!" Frank threw his hands up, frustrated. "Because where is he, man? Where is he?"

Gerard seemed to accept that, or something - he went quiet, looking down at his hands, twisting in his lap. His shoulders were hunched and his voice was small when he said, "I think you're right."

Frank stared at him. "What?"

"He wasn't there," Gerard went on in the same small, dull voice. "When I - when I died. There was nothing. He wasn't there."

"But you didn't die," Frank stalled, his heart skipping in his chest. He was scared of the thought. "You said you didn't."

Gerard shrugged. "I did. And He wasn't there."

"Gee," Frank went over and sat next to him, risking an arm around him. It seemed like the right move; Gerard pressed in close and Frank rubbed his shoulder. "Come on, you don't believe that."

"He wasn't there," Gerard snapped, agitated and tearful. "And I just - what's the point of any of this, Frankie? I give up any chance I ever had of a normal life, I put the people I love through Hell, I get - I get fucking possessed by a fucking whatever the fuck it is that's inside me, I don't even have control over my own body anymore, and for what?" Gerard got up suddenly and paced around, his voice shaking and getting louder with every word. "I've spent the last decade under the impression that whatever I went through was okay because God was there, and I was doing His work, and He loved me, and He would take care of me if anything really terrible ever happened, and guess what, motherfucker, it did happen and you weren't there!"