AN: Alright, you caught me. I posted twice in one day. I couldn't help it! I just love this chapter so much!... Is that wrong?
:::::::::: Demolition Lovers ::::::::::
Pain everywhere. Burning. Throbbing. Sickening. Rain was freezing. Helped, but not much. Gonna pass out. Sleep for a while.
Footsteps. Running? Paramedics? Doubt it. Police? Probably. Voice. Yelling. Am I okay? Don't think so. Someone rolling me over. Don't touch me! Need to wake up. Need to fight back!
Eyes are heavy, but they open.
Another person. Eyes are staring at me. Dark green or hazel? Pale face. Long black hair. Beautiful.
Oh God, I'm dead.
Gerard sprinted out of his apartment and into the rain, dashing across the street in his socks. In the few seconds it took him to reach the prostitute, he was soaked to the bone and probably facing hypothermia.
'Dammit, kid, you better be dying!' he thought bitterly. Immediately, he regretted it.
As he neared the unconcious boy, Gerard noticed that he couldn't be much younger than himself, but he wasn't sure; the boy's face was pressed into the pavement.
"Hey," he said loudly, trying to rouse the prostitute. "Are you okay?"
Fearing the worst, Gerard reached out a hand and gently rolled the boy onto his back. The prostitute's face was deathly white, with dark hair that flopped onto his forehead and a silver lip ring.
Gerard pressed a hand to the boy's think neck, searching for a pulse. After a few seconds, he found one. As soon as he located it, Gerard was shocked to feel the boy's heartbeat pick up. He quickly looked back to the boy's face, only to find himself staring into a very startled pair of green eyes.
The boy's lips moved. Relieved but still worried, Gerard leaned closer. "What?"
"Beautiful," the boy breathed weakly. "Am I dead?"
Gerard laughed slightly. "That's what I'm trying to figure out. What's your name?" he asked. He didn't want to call him 'prostitute' for much longer.
"Frank," wheezed the boy. Gerard noticed that his lip was starting to swell. "And yours?"
"Gerard Way." Gerard studied Frank carefully. Frank was short for his age, but he was skinny. Large bruises were starting to form on the pale skin of his throat. Frank's green eyes were watching him warily.
"Come on," said Gerard, pushing a hand under Frank's back to prop him up. "We need to get you to a hospital.
At once, Frank began to struggle. "No! No hospitals, please!" he begged.
Gerard looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "No hospitals? Are you fucking kidding?!" he exclaimed. "You just passed out! You've got bruises all over you, and you just called me beautiful!" The last part slipped out of Gerard's mouth before he could stop it.
Frank was still protesting. "I can't afford a hospital!"
Gerard was getting frustrated. "Well I'm not going to let you just walk away like that!" A sudden inspiration struck him. "If you won't go to a hospital, come with me so I can fix you up. I live across the street."
The younger man opened his mouth to argue and snapped it shut. Gerard could see him arguing with himself. After a while, Frank nodded.
"Alright," said Gerard. "Can you walk?"
Frank glared up at him. His eyes were almost venemous. "What do you think, Beautiful?"
Gerard stared at him. Anger, hostility, sarcasm, and an endearing nickname, all in the same sentence. This kid was good.
Frank seemed to realize what he said, because he exhaled deeply before looping his arms around Gerard's neck. Gerard, catching on, put his other arm under Frank's knees and lifted him up. Trying to make sure Frank wasn't jostled, Gerard carried the smaller man bridal-style across the street. He then climbed two flights of stairs and unlocked his apartment door the same way.
Neither of them spoke.
Gerard set Frank gently down on the couch, tucking a pillow underneath his dark hair. As he searched for his first aid kit, Gerard noticed that the rain was coming to a drizzle.
Gerard was rifling through his medicine cabinet when he heard a small noise behind him. He swung the mirror shut to see Frank standing directly behind him.
"Jesus Christ, man!" Gerard cried, whirling around. "Are you trying to give me a fucking heart-attack?!"
Frank smirked; a tiny upward curve in the corner of one mouth. "Found your first aid kit," he said, sounding hoarse. He lifted the little white case for Gerard to see. "Don't freak out."
Gerard glared at his houseguest. "I thought you couldn't walk," he accused, eyes narrowed.
Frank's smirk got wider. "Guess I can."
Snorting lightly, Gerard took the kit and led Frank back to the couch. "Sit," he commanded.
Gerard sat down next to him, feeling the couch sink as he did so. He hesitated. "You're gonna need to take off your shirt."
Frank's discomfort was extremely noticeable. Very slowly, he peeled of his soaked tee, revealing a slender torso that was as pale as the rest of him. Purple bruises shaped like fingers went up and down his sides, disappearing beneath the waist of his jeans. There were numerous hickeys on his chest and back. Gerard gasped.
Frank's smile was cold. "The beauty of being a prostitute," he muttered.
Gerard was stunned. Frank was so tiny and cute; how could anyone hurt him like that? "Are these all from that guy?" he demanded, remembering the angry blonde man.
Frank lowered his head, hiding his eyes behind his thick black bangs. "Some of them," came the answer. "He was unnecessarily rough," Frank continued. "Probably hated his life, so he decided to beat the shit out of someone who couldn't fight back."
"D-does that happen very often?" Gerard asked softly.
Frank met Gerard's gaze and held it. A heavy sadness had settled on his face. "It happens often enough."
There was a moment's silence, and Gerard got up to get some ice from the freezer. Coming back, he put the ice inside the ice pouch and handed it to Frank.
"Here," he said, whispering for an unknown reason. "Rub it where it hurts."
"Gonna need a bigger ice-pack," said Frank, equally quiet.
There was more silence, during which Frank rubbed the ice-pack over his chest, stomach, and back. Gerard looked at his watch, shocked to see that it was 6:32. The rain had stopped completely.
Frank noticed the time too. "Thanks for the ice," he said, trying to give the pack back to Gerard.
"Keep it," Gerard insisted. The twenty-year-old stood and stretched. "You know," he said, looking down at Frank. "You're welcome to stay for a while. Get some food and clothes that actually fit," he added, looking at Frank's too-tight jeans.
Frank paused for a while. "Yeah," he said finally. "Yeah, I'd like to do that."
"Great!" said Gerard, genuinely excited to have a guest. His younger brother, Mikey, hardly ever came to visit. "I'll find you some pyjamas."
He disappeared into his bedroom and came back with a large Black Flag tee and a pair of faded-blue plaid cotton pajama pants. "Here," Gerard said, tossing them at Frank. "You can change in the bathroom. I'll get some dinner going."
As soon as Frank had wandered down the hall, Gerard produced two boxes of spiral kraft dinner for supper. He was boiling the water when Frank came back, looking much better than he had before.
"Thanks, man," said Frank, running a hand over the back of his head. "It's been a while since my clothes haven't pinched in all the wrong places."
Gerard pulled a face. "There's a thought I could've lived without." He added the noodles to the pot and stirred.
Frank chuckled. "I'm serious. I haven't had kraft dinner in a while either," he added, eyeing the pot hungrily.
Gerard grinned hugely. "Special birthday dinner."
Frank's eyes widened. "It's your birthday?" he asked, looking like a five-year-old being told that Christmas was coming early. "Why didn't you say something?!"
Gerard raised a dark eyebrow and drained the water from the pot. "Gee, I dunno, maybe it has something to do with the midget passing out across the street?" he said sarcastically, adding cheese, milk, and butter.
Frank narrowed his eyes. "I am not short." Before Gerard could argue, Frank asked another question. "How old are you?"
"Twenty," answered Gerard proudly. "What about you?" He grabbed two plates from the cupboard and set them on the table. "Grab a fork," he instructed, pointing to a drawer under the microwave.
Frank did as he was told. "I'll be twenty on October 31," he said, answering Gerard's question.
Gerard froze, a forkful of cheesy spirals halfway to his mouth. "You were born on Halloween?" he demanded. "No lie?"
Frank grinned, sliding into the chair opposite from Gerard. "No lie."
"That is too awesome," said Gerard.
"Isn't it though?" Frank took a bite of kraft dinner. "What school do you go to?"
Gerard told him.
Frank nodded. "I used to go there," he said after swallowing his food. "I got busted for having pot in the hallway. I don't even do drugs!" he said angrily.
Gerard felt his eyes widening. "No. Fucking. Way." he said, disbelieving. "That was you?" When Frank nodded, Gerard busted up. "Holy shit, dude!" he said between fits of laughter.
Frank rolled his eyes. "I don't do drugs," he repeated. Suddenly, his eyes were huge again. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "We almost forgot!" Frank stood from his chair and cleared his throat, an expression worthy of a presidential speech on his face. "Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Geraaaaaard! Happy birthday to yooooooooooou!" he sang loudly.
Gerard laughed again.
After a while, they finished eating and decided to watch T.V. Gerard was delighted to find that Frank liked most of the same television shows he did.
"Unfair!" Frank cried. The were watching Criminal Minds, and JJ had just told the team that she was leaving.
"I know!" said Gerard, also angry. "I know she comes back, but this is just insane!"
The argued about wether or not JJ would stay with Will in the new season (Gerard said she would, Frank disagreed), and soon it was 11:00.
Frank yawned, and Gerard noticed. "I'll take the couch, you take my bed," he said.
Frank shook his head. "It's your bed, man!" he argued.
Gerard stood up, and Frank did too. They were standing nose-to-nose, each one as stubborn as the other.
"I mean it, Frank," Gerard threatened. He knew he'd won when Frank winced.
"Alright," said the younger man. "But I'll be out of your hair tomorrow." He padded past Gerard toward the bedroom. Halfway there, he stopped. "Hey, Gee?" Frank asked quietly.
Frank turned to face him, green eyes huge. "Would you maybe, uh, sleep next to me?"
Gerard remembered a time when he'd gotten beaten at school. He'd been well past thirteen, but he still got Mikey to sleep next to him for a week. Frank's situation was much worse.
"Of course," said Gerard. "Just let me change." He went to his room, grabbed a black wife-beater and some gray sweatpants, changed in the bathroom, and went to his bed.
"I'll take the left," said Frank, snuggling into the red comforter. "Goodnight, Gee."
Gerard slid into the right side of the bed. Looking over, it was hard to imagine what Frank must've been through. He was such a tiny form in a sea of red blanket, and yet he'd suffered so much today. Gerard sighed.
AN: Next time I'll be more patient.
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