I present to you...
Gerard watches the way Frank’s eyes flutter in the throes of a dream, or more likely, a nightmare, the soft skin between his eyebrows furrowing as the spidery lashes fall still once more, their plight against his cheeks lost or forgotten once again as his small frame falls still against the black sheets.
His fingers run across the inked skin, wondrous of the flawless shift between skin and ink and back again, the pictures etching themselves against the back of his eyelids for future reference, his fingers tracing across each line, color, detail; mesmerized in the wake of the complex beauty.
Scorpion. Swallows. Stars. Hearts. Guns. Words.
It’s perhaps the words he’s thinking more about when his fingers trace against the soft skin of the others neck, his brow furrowed in confusion and sadness and slight anger.
Keep the Faith crawling beneath his thumb as it unconsciously rubs against the ink, conceivably wishing it would smudge into Frank’s canvas skin.
“Why?” His voice is barely above a whisper but it seems like a crescendo of noise against the silence that’s been enveloping them for the innumerable hours, minutes since Gerard found him, since the moans and whimpers and cries were ripping their way through the little angels throat.
“Why would someone do this to you Frankie?” It’s the second time the older man has asked a silent question knowing no answers will be forthcoming from the boy shrouded in darkness and sleep and nightmares, whose skin is like silk and fire, alight beneath his fingers as he strokes through it’s splendor.
He’s still rubbing at the words, staring so intently, trying to read through the pages of Frank, a book he can’t seem to comprehend, squinting against the headache that’s formed between the furrows of his brow, winding itself down his spine.
“I’m so sorry.” Gerard knows it’s hardly enough to erase anything but he doesn’t have words enough for what he’d like to say, not sure he could utter the words even if he could imagine them, despite the fact that they’d be lost to the sleeping boy. His arms have a better idea than his head though because without his permission they’re wrapping themselves around the waist of the smaller boy, pulling him close, pressing chest to chest, his chin resting on the soft brown hair, inhaling before he can stop himself; senses and limbs betraying his brain before it can discern the relentless mutiny and then two thin arms are coiling themselves over his shoulders, Frank’s warm body pressing itself closer to the hard body offering him the first honest sensation of salvation he can ever remember.
The sigh of two boys slumbering beneath waterfall skies lulls both to sleep.
Gerard’s contemplating simply remaining exactly where he is, eyes closed, Frank’s little head perched on his chest, thin arms wrapped around his waist, and ignoring the incessant pounding of a fist against his front door, until the fist finds it’s voice.
“Gerard Arthur Way! Open the fucking door!” There’s a inadequate growl in the back of his throat, opening his eyes to the sunlight struggling through his blinds at the sound of his brothers demand. Looking down at the small body still softly sleeping, limbs entangled with his own, he again has the urge to ignore Mikey’s cry and pretend he’s perhaps not home.
The fist pounds again.
“Gerard!!” Conceding defeat, Gerard begins his attempt to untangle the angels limbs from his own, carefully lifting each appendage to not disturb his sleep and somehow, through Mikey’s screams and threats, Gerard rearranging his sleeping form, and the pounding on the door, Frank sleeps. Gerard snorts once at the sight of the angel snuggling into his pillow before exiting the bedroom, his feet escorting him down the hallway, before pulling open the door to a red faced brother.
“Where the hell have you been? Did you not hear me beating your door, screaming your name for the past ten minutes?” Gerard knows Mikey, knows that the best way to deal with whatever he’s in trouble for is to let him vent, give him a cup of coffee and apologize. All will be forgiven. So he nods, utters a quick ‘sorry’ and ushers his younger brother into the apartment.
Mikey’s scowling, dropping himself into the too worn sofa, then jumping up again, pacing around the living room, brows drawn across his forehead. Gerard watches.
“Were you ignoring me?” Gerard takes a moment to contemplate this question, considering his options as he pulls two mugs from the cabinet.
“When?” Gerard decides it best to simply play dumb, knowing that this could lead to one of two reactions out of his brother and hoping for the second.
“When?! This morning you asshole! What the fuck did you think I was talking about? What, are you drunk?” This question seems to trigger another thought, because Mikey is off again, pacing through the small space between the living room and the kitchen, back and forth, back and forth, muttering and ranting, arms flying like some sort of deranged bird, glasses barely hanging onto the brink of his nose.
Gerard’s known the kid his whole life, knows that in about five to seven minutes he’ll calm down, at which point Gerard will kindly offer him the cup of coffee as apology for whatever it is that he did wrong, and they can go about their days once again. In the mean time, Gerard’s thoughts are occupied by the little angel-boy sleeping in the room down the hall, wondering idly if angels dream.
“Are you even listening to me?” The sheepish smile tells Mikey all he needs to know, the offered coffee accepted despite it. “I just don’t get it Gerard…I worry about you.” The younger man’s admission is muted, fingers massaging the bridge of his nose as if to exemplify the truth of his statement and Gerard can’t stop the bubbling of guilt.
“I’m sorry Mikes…” It’s all he can offer, both brothers know it and for the present it will have to suffice because he’s got nothing else, but he’s considering a truth; not the one that Mikey came for or is expecting, but a truth nonetheless. So he’s guiding him to the couch, practically pushing his shoulder down into it before he’s sitting across, fingers wringing as he contemplates how best to make such an announcement. And then he’s jumping out of his seat, rushing down the hallway and back into his bedroom.
And Frank’s just there. Sitting quietly on the bed, his eyes bright and awed and staring and those lips part immediately at the sight of Gerard before he’s pounced off the bed, those same lips pressing themselves to his throat when Gerard lifts his head away from the angel-boy who seems completely unfazed by the aversion. Gerard can’t help the small smile tugging, can’t help the fire blazing in his cheeks.
Grabbing Frank’s hands, he tries to explain Mikey and the situation and what he wants and the boy just smiles so Gerard hopes that means that he understands but since he doesn’t speak he has no real way of knowing, so he’s just hoping. He’s still holding onto one hand as he pulls Frank, topless, down the hallway towards his brother.
“What the fuck?” Mikey’s jumping up from the his seat, eyes wide as he looks at the battered boy clinging to his brothers hand, shock and anger and confusion boiling in his veins and his eyes and his heart and he feels sudden sickness rising in his throat. “No, no, no…please Gerard, please tell me you didn’t do this.” Gerard’s eyes are drawn along the lines of his brother’s vision, the bruises blossoming on Frank’s skin like a curse as realization slaps Gerard across the face.
“No, I course I didn’t!” His fingers tighten unconsciously around the smaller ones grasping his own. “I, uh, found him last night…I’m not entirely sure what happened actually…” Teeth are pulling on too chapped lips, anxiety clear and piercing in his eyes as he touches the boys shoulders, wordlessly asking him to turn and Mikey’s gasp is resonating through the quiet apartment.
“No…oh fuck…” Gerard offers a nod of confirmation before Mikey is weakly dropping his body into the couch once again, eyes wide and staring at the fallen angel-boy before him. “He’s an angel Gee…”
“I’m not sure…I mean, he definitely used to be, he sort of told me as much, but I’m not sure if he is anymore…it seems like maybe he was kicked out or something…” Mikey’s nodding now, watching the angel – Frank – walk around the apartment, taking in the view for the first time himself, skeletal fingers touching everything he comes across; wide eyes and pursed lips and curious fingers. Gerard finds himself once again following his brother’s eyes, his lips pulling up in the corners as he watches the beautiful boy, cursing his distraction when the boy disappears into the kitchen, his focus once again on his younger brother.
“What are you going to do with him? I mean, are you planning on keeping him?” Mikey keeps his voice quiet, unsure if the strange ex-angel boy can hear them or not. Gerard furrows his brows at his brother, annoyance edging his tone when he answers.
“He’s not a pet Mikes.” And Mikey’s own frown appears almost simultaneously, looking over Gerard’s shoulder for the boy who is still investigating the kitchen and out of sight.
“I know that!” His shoulders slump as he contemplates the situation his brother’s found himself in. “I think you have to keep him for now…he doesn’t seem to have anywhere else to go, right?” Gerard’s looking towards the kitchen, concern dragging his eyes to the almost silent kitchen, and Mikey’s continuing without his brothers’ full attention. “If someone’s out there intent on hurting him, he’s probably safer here anyways.”
The crash of pots and clattering that follows pulls both brothers from their seats, rushing into the kitchen to investigate.
Frank’s sitting on the linoleum floor, surrounded by what Gerard thinks is every pot, pan, dish and piece of cutlery he owns, smiling and giggling slightly as he bangs them against one another again, the harsh crack causing yet another giggle to escape his lips before he’s looking up at Gerard and Mikey, eyes wide and delighted and Gerard can’t help the sigh that escapes his throat before shrugging at the boy. Turning back to his brother he can’t help mimicking the smile before joining Frank on the floor, his own hands attempting to begin cleaning up some of the smaller pieces of aluminum that the boy doesn’t seem to be using.
Mikey’s still standing in the doorway of the kitchen as he peeks at his watch before announcing that he needs to get going, lest he be late for work, and Gerard gets up from the floor, leaving Frank to his musical practice, following his brother to the door.
“Thanks Mikes…just, uh, call me later.” And he’s pushing his brothers’ shoulder out the door, thankful to whoever saw fit to send him such an amazing kid sibling. Closing the door, he rests his forehead against it for a moment, the wood cool against his skin. The resonating clatter brings him rushing back to the kitchen to make sure the angel-boy is still alive.
I'm not really sure how I feel about this...mostly it's just filler...
Sorry it took so long to post - I'm moving on Saturday so I'm frantically packing up my apartment!!
Please rate and review - It motivates me to update!! ;)