Gerard and Frank have loved eachother for some time now, but have so much to get through.
I had the pills to my right, a blade to the left. Which was a better way to go? I'd have a quieter, less dramatic death by overdosing. But with a knife, I could savour those last moments of pain, watch the blood remind me I was alive, leave this world in style. But which was more convenient for others? They're have to clean up my blood if I cut myself.... Frank. You're killing yourself, yet worrying about who will be able to clear up your mess when you're gone, I thought to myself.
Whatever, it could be a last act of revenge, then I wouldn't be an inconvenience anymore.
I picked up the knife and held it to my arm. There's been some good ones, hasn't there, Frank? Guess this is it. I thought as I dug the blade into my arm, and drew back the blade. I gasped as the blood got more and more, beautifully along that slash. But it wasn't enough to seriously inflict me. I put the blade to my arm again, ready to go deeper. Just as I started to press, my phone started to vibrate beside me.
Not now. I had to do it this time.
I tried not to, but my eyes slowly looked over to see who was calling. A lump rose in my throat and tears sprung to my eyes.
I slapped my hand, but I picked up anyway. What was I doing? I didn't want to. I couldn't speak to Gerard. He was the only person I could trust. My best friend. I had so much gratitude for him, and all these other feelings which I couldn't quite interpret.
"Hello?" I said tightly, through tears.
"Frankie! Hey! Guess what?! Mikey just had the coolest idea ever and I totally think we should work on it for this album and also," Tears were flowing silently down my face. I had to tell him. I spoke whilst he spoke.
"Gerard-" My voice was barely above a whisper.
"So what do you think?! Ray was kind of amazing but-"
"Gerard." I choked, much louder, tears drowning me. We both went silent as he heard my tone. I liked just saying his name.
"Gerard." I whispered, my voice nearly silenced by the crying. A few more moments of silence.
"What's wrong, Frank?" I hated how he sounded generally worried. He couldn't actually care about a faliure like me. I could almost hear him listening to my choked breaths. How was I going to say this? I could hear him breathing. He was alive, so was I. I had to do this. I could barely speak.
"I'm killing myself."
I barely even managed to say it. It was more of a moving of my lips in time with my breath, but it was enough. I heard him stop breathing.
"Frank," I struggled to breathe even more as he said my name. I heard him walk and close a door. "Please, no." It was two words, but I could feel the pain in his voice.
I was audibly crying now. Blood was still trickling down my arm from the first slash. I should've just done it all then, before Gerard could make me feel like this, whatever this was.
"Stay there, Frank. Don't do anything. Don't ring off." He said calmly. I could hear him moving, a few doors closing and a motor start. But most importantly I could hear his breath. He knew me so well. His breath was what was stopping me from picking up the knife again.
"Please don't cry." He whispered, I was pretty sure, through his own tears. I tried so hard just to concentrate on his breath, reframing myself from ending it. After a few minutes of torture, I heard my front door close. Only when he came into the room did he hang up.
I didn't even know what emotion I felt when I looked at him. His hair was a mess and there was some wet trails down his face and his eyes were red. I broke down crying uncontrollably. He said nothing, took the blade out of my limp hand and sat down next to me on my bed, and clutched me to him, his arms pinning me to his warm body. I cried into his chest. We were soon so soken I couldn't tell what tears were his or mine. I was with him. It was okay. He laid us back on my bed, he stroked my hair as I carried on crying.
"Gerard." Was all I could say. He put a finger to my lips. He was right. All I wanted to do was clutch him to me and cry.
About and hour passed before I was just sniffling. He must've thought I was pathetic. I was. I was utterly vulnerable.
Why did I let him see me like that?
"Frank," he finally said, still silently crying though composing his voice. "Please, never, ever, do that to me again," My head was rested on his chest, his arms still wrapped around me. "Why did you try to do it?" I sniffed.
"Because I'm an inconvenience. A fuck up."
"Ridiculous," he said softly. "You're amazing." I snorted softly. "I'm serious, Frank."
"Please don't leave me."
"Frank, look at me." I couldn't. I was starting to realise what these unfamiliar feelings for Gerard were. Sure, I knew he was the most important person in my life, but all these moments, the lump in my throat whenever we held eachother's gaze. I liked him more than a friend. Much more. I just tried to shut the feelings out, but, my god, were they there.
"Look at me." He repeated. I wasn't sure whether my question was even about that moment. Just ever. I never wanted him out of my life. I finally looked up, into his piercing hazel eyes.
"You mean a whole shitload to millions of people. Mikey, Ray, Bob, Mike, all of those guys, your family, thousands of fans. There are people out there who would kill themselves if you did. And in particular, me. I'm not going to leave you." I felt my stomach flipping. He picked up my arm and put his lips next to my ear, I could feel his lips moving as he spoke, his breath tickling.
"Please don't do this." He nuzzled my ear affectionately. His breath carried on tickling my ear as he traced where I'd cut with his finger lightly.
"I'm not strong enough, Gerard." I said into his neck.
"You are." I could still feel his lips resting on my ear. A second later he was nibbling gently on my earlobe. It suddenly struck me what he was doing. He kissed along my jawline, sucking slightly. I felt weird. Amazing, I must admit, but it wasn't like anything I'd experienced before. It slowly struck me further. This wasn't what bestfriends did... he felt the same way. That sensational connection between us, more than just friends. He drew away slightly when he realised I wasn't reacting.
"If you don't want to Frank, just say. You don't have to." He said firmly. Oh Goddamn I wanted to, but it was more, should I? I wanted him. Really wanted him. I turned my head. Our lips lingered on eachothers. As I spoke, my lips brushed his and I felt him sahke with pleasure, anticipation and desire.
"I want to." As soon as I confirmed this, he pressed his lips to mine.