Frerard. Oneshot. Just how much bleeding will it take for Gerard to know he's loved? Or is it already too late?
“Leave me alonee.”
He pushed his way past Frank, stumbling a little, trying to get away as fast as he could.
“Gerard, don’t. Don’t you fucking play this game with me, you’re killing me.”
Gerard turned around, and sneered at the guitar player.
“Why would you care? Howw c-could anythin’ I do matter to youu anymore? ‘ou don’t love me. ‘ou never did.”
Frank just looked at the singer, with tears in his eyes. His lips pulled back over his teeth in a sort of pained grimace, as he realised what this meant. Gerard turned back and began to walk away, but Frank caught up with him.
“Stop fucking around. I love you. I always have, I always will. Why are you doing this to me?”
Gerard laughed; a sick, twisted thing that seemed to pierce Frank’s heart. He actually stepped back a few feet.
“You think ‘ou can help me? Do ‘ou thingk aneeone caan? I’m fuckin’ insanee Frank, it’s not something ‘ou can just c-cure.”
Frank stared at Gerard’s eyes, looking at the pinpricks in horror. So he was loaded up on god knows what drug, and in one of his moods. Again. Why was this oh so fucking familiar?
“Gerard. What the fuck has gotten into you? Nothing’s happened. You’re throwing some sort of pointless hissy fit for absolutely no reason.”
“F……….I……Fuck ‘ou Fronk!”
Gerard burst into tears, uncontrollably. Before the singer could protest, Frank had wrapped his arms around him. Gerard pushed and struggled against Frank, until he finally went still. Frank stroked Gerard’s hair, whispering reassurances in his ear.
“So fugged up Frankiee.”
“No you’re not. You’re beautiful.”
The mood swings. The tears. Anyone else would think he was a pregnant man, but Frank knew it all came back to the drugs. They were fucking with Gerard’s head. Gerard managed to escape Frank, before falling flat on his face. The singer curled into a ball on the floor. Then he puked all over his chest.
“LEAVE ME!” The singer shouted hoarsely, spitting out mucus and lying in a puddle of his own sick. Frank noticed his best friend was shaking, tremors running up his body.
“You….you promised you would stop.”
“Yeah, well, I say a lot of thin’s eye don’t meeen. Like ‘I love ‘ou Fronk’.”
Frank winced. He knew Gerard was just saying this as a pathetic attempt to make him leave, but it hurt.
“NO! I DON’T AF’ TO DO THIS! NO ONE SAID THE BAAND WAS FOREVER. NO ONE SAID I WAS FOREVER!”
He jumped up off the floor in an instant and dragged Frank close to him. He held his blade close to Frank’s neck, staring at him with a manic desperation.
“One moar fuggin word Frankiiee, an’ I shwear, I’ll slice ‘ou like mincemeat! Don’ think I won’t!”
Frank didn’t believe him for one second. It was all a charade.
“I just want to-”
Gerard dragged the razor across Frankie’s throat, marvelling at the sea of scarlet that immediately gushed from his lover’s neck.
Gerard watched as his boyfriend fell to the floor. He touched the blood splattered on his own face, looking at the red smudges it left on his fingertips. Frank clutched at his throat, the red liquid pouring through the gaps in his interlocked fingers as he squirmed. He rasped something out, drowning in his own blood.
“I….Only wanted…to help…you………..i l-love……”
Frank went still, his gaze unfocused. Nothing but his starless eyes remained. Gerard hesitantly touched Frank’s cheek. He was still warm.
Words were lost on him. Silently, he lay down next to his lover, and took the man’s hand. They both rested in a pool of blood. Gerard could already feel it soaking through his shirt. The thought of facing his troubles, and the world alone, crippled anything left inside of the singer. Realisation dawned over him.
“I’m nothin’ except whaa you made me.”
With deadly calm, he brought the blade to his own neck, and slit his throat. A burning flash enveloped his jugular, and Gerard’s world went red. His breath was cut short as liquid filled his lungs, and spilled out around his torso. Almost immediately he felt a rushing sensation in his neck, the flesh around the wound quickly becoming dull and unresponsive as his life spilled out onto the ground.
Gerard laid next to his lover, choking and drowning in all of his ink. His hand twitched twice, before lying still. His posture slipped from tensed, to lose and empty.
The singer’s blood mingled with Frank’s, and caught the light of the moon. Everything became still.
And as we're falling down
And in this pool of blood
I see your eyes
And in the pool of blood
I'll meet your eyes
I mean this.