(One shot) Not as morbid as the title suggests. Just a very quick one shot based on the word prompt suicide, kind of a frerard.
He held the gun to his head just to see what it felt like. Decided it looked stupid as he glanced at his reflection in the mirror and promptly put it back down again. Nothing like the movies.
He hunted through his draws and pulled out a silk tie. Apparently silk didn’t leave a mark if you used it to strangle someone. He didn’t know if that was true. He made a noose with it and slung it round his neck, stood up on a chair and pretended he was attached to the ceiling. One kick and he’d be hung.
The tie dropped and the window shot open. He leaned out, looked down over the roof. If he jumped would it be far enough? Better not risk surviving.
The bathroom came next, the medicine cabinet emptied of every pill it housed. He went back into his bedroom, opened up every bottle, box and packet and tipped the array of medication onto the floor. He’d imagined a rainbow but mostly it was all the same, white or pale pink and a couple of gray. Disappointing.
Kitchen’s turn. This was his favourite. Lots of knives and razors and the trusty gas oven. He got to his knees and pulled out the different trays, stuck his head into the box left and touched his fingertips to the knobs as if he was going to turn it on. How long would it take before it knocked him out? His head resting on the bottom of the heating oven. He might have even been burnt by the time someone found his dead form.
The knives were interesting but too obvious. Sharp and shiny, he pressed his fingertips to a couple to see how sharp they really were. Where would he cut though? His wrists? His throat? Plunge it into his heart like Romeo?
Where now? He dashed through the house, hunting for anything else that could help him reach his demise. He studied the stairs, considered if he threw himself down them whether it would work. Probably not.
He fiddled with his lighter, wondered if he should burn the house down instead and make it look accidental. What about the bath tub? Fill it with water and drown himself in it like musicians often liked to fake in their music videos.
He wandered to the garage, looked at the car his parents had left behind when they had stormed out the house to “cool off”. The keys were hanging innocently in the kitchen. He could steal it, he knew how to drive. Head to the nearest highway and take out as many other cars as he could with him. Go out in a blaze of glory. Literally.
He practically skipped as he made his way back to his bedroom and picked up all the pills. He threw them into his wastepaper bin and then tapped his chin thoughtfully. So many options, so many possibilities. You can only kill yourself once, which one would be the best way to go?
He paused. A knock at the door alerted him to the fact someone was about to invade on his contemplation and he wandered to the landing window to try and spot who it was. If they were worth answering or ignoring.
A smile tugged at his lips and he flew down the stairs, pulling the door open and diving into his arms. He was encased in warmth as they hugged him tightly back, whispering softly that they’d come as soon as they’d got the text about another argument in the house and that they were sorry it had taken so long.
It had only been an hour since his parents had walked out, but it had felt so much shorter with all of his activity.
“Are you okay?” His face was worried, tilting his head up to get a good look at him. “I was so worried that you’d be sat here crying all by yourself.”
“I haven’t cried.” He smiled back, tiptoeing up to touch their lips for a second. “I was... thinking.”
“Nothing important.” His grin was genuine, his heart thudding erratically to be faced with the person he loved most and he melted into Gerard’s embrace when he hugged him tight again.
“So you’re... fine?” He clarified, Frank nodding and breathing in his boyfriends sweet scent.
“Mhmm... fantastic even, cos’ this means we have the house all to ourselves...” He winks, he grins, and Gerard smirks slowly as he gets dragged into Frank’s home to no doubt make love for the blissful private hours they have.
Frank wonders what room they should do it in. So many options. So many possibilities. But it’s not like suicide, because with Gerard in his life, death is never an option.