Some people are good at hiding cracks. Frank opens up to Gerard and Gerard makes a discovery.
When we got back to the house my mother still wasn’t home. Gerard had payed the taxi again, despite my protests. He held my hand in it, and I nestled my head onto his chest. I felt like I belonged there, and I’m so glad he wants me there.
Now though, I’m not feeling sappy. Quite the opposite. I want to kiss him again and again until my lips are swollen. My fingers are clumsy as I try to fit the keys in the door, distracted by his hands on my hips, his thumbs rubbing them through my jeans and sending shudders up my spine.
“Alright Frankie?” he says, amused but sexy and gravelly.
“I-i can’t get t-the door,” I say, stuttering because he’s REALLY distracting me now. He chuckles and takes the key, opens the door and ushers me into my own home. I am pathetic.
When I get in the door he closes it and gives me my keys. I head to the kitchen, knowing he’s behind me and smiling despite feeling pathetic.
I put the keys on the window sill and turn to nearly walk into him, he’s that close.
“I meant what I said. I had a wonderful time.” He purrs. I am like a doe caught in a headlight, my eyes are wide with want. Kiss me you fucker!
“Unhnf mmm me too! I really liked you kissing me.” I blurt. Smooth Frank. Why am I acting like this? Why!?
He chuckles again and leans in really close.
“I really liked it too.” Omigod. I’m dead. He’s really close and I want to... squee. Is that a thing?
He presses closer to me and kisses me softly. I kind of maybe sorta press harder against his lips. He nipped my lower lip, causing me to open my mouth, but not unwillingly. He slips his tongue into my mouth and it mingles with mine, sending jolts of pleasure up my spine.
Suddenly we are interrupted by someone crashing in the door, just as we are really getting into things. As in his tongue in my mouth. My head whips round; my mother is standing in the doorway, a bottle of whiskey in one hand, a naggin of vodka in the other. Oh god, she doesn’t know I’m gay… the silence is tangible.
“Oh… is this your secret boyfriend? Why didn’t you tell me Frankie? You don’t ever tell me anything now…” she slurs, then giggles and walks out the door, throwing a “carry on. And be safe, I don’t want grandkids yet.” Behind her. I wonder does she know what she said at all, or is she being funny.
“Omigod sorry!” I say, mortified, but I see he’s laughing.
“She seems lovely! Hahaha. She’ll be embarrassed in the morning though.” He giggles at her, and I can’t help it, and I’m giggling too.
“So, I believe we were going to kiss your ribs better?” he purrs at me. I glance up quickly at the roof, where I can hear my mother crashing and stomping.
“Not here, she’ll walk in. In my room?” It’s a rhetorical question, and I lead him to my bedroom, where I lock the door. He takes in the amp still resting on the shards of mirror and raises his eyebrows.
“Umm that was after the hospital. I get angry.” I say sheepishly. He grins at me.
“You’re so cute.” I roll my eyes. I dyed my hair and pierced myself and even tattooed myself and still I’m described as cute.
“Come here,” he says patting the bed beside him, “I want to ravish you.” I smile foolishly and walk to where he is sitting.
Wrapping his arms around me again he kisses me. His tongue is exploring my mouth, and he occasionally tugs my lip ring with his lips. God, he doesn’t know how good this is for me! I moan into his mouth, to which he responds by putting his hand up my top. He gasps and breaks away. I look into his eyes, and I see horror. I wait for the comments on my weight. I know I’m not perfect but it doesn’t hurt any less.
“Frankie…” I bow my head. His voice is full of horror.
“I know. I know I need to lose weight. I can’t help being fat!” I snap.
“No! No you don’t! Can’t you see there’s nothing for you to lose?” He says. I roll my eyes.
“Sure. Don’t lie, I know I’m fat. My dad used to tell me so.”
“Frank! He was wrong! You’re not, and you need to eat,” realisation dawns on his face. “Your ribs weren’t hurting earlier, you’re starving yourself!”
I look away, shamed and disgusted in myself. I’m not starving myself! My head tells me that, but my heart is niggling. ‘You are. You know you are.’ It says. And I am. After my father’s eyes dismissing me like a worthless piece of shit, I’ve been slowly eating less and less. And my mother? Do you think she’d notice? No. why would she? The only thing she notices is if she runs out of alcohol.
I look up from under my eyelashes at Gerard, his face full of concern.
“I-I just… I just want to be thin. To be wanted.” I whisper brokenly, for I am broken as the mirror in the corner, as a smashed window, as a china doll ran over with a truck. And I hate it.
He pulls me onto his lap awkwardly and says “You are wanted. I want you. Your mother, she wants you under all the alcohol, she’s just too sick right now, like I was. Never say you’re unwanted.” He says. I start to cry, sobs wracking my body. I feel unwanted, and useless, like my father used to tell me I was when I couldn’t satisfy him. Thinking of him brings back painful memories and dark days. I shudder and continue sobbing. I eventually succumb to sleep, exhausted from all the tears.
I am horrified. I knew he was thin, but when I put my hand up his shirt I didn’t expect to feel his ribs that weren’t bandaged jutting out, protruding like great ridges. His hips too. I hadn’t noticed earlier outside the front door. He’s asleep now and looking worn out. I can’t believe it. I met him less than a week ago and already I’ve been on a date with him, kissed him and comforted him. I know the next thing I have to do. Help him.
I notice he’s stirring. He’s been asleep for nearly four hours, and it’s dark out now. His eyes open and widen when they see the rapidly fading sunlight.
“You’re still here! You should go, your mom and your brother-“
“Are okay. I text mom, I said I was staying at yours. That okay? I can go If you-“
“No! Don’t go, please!” he says, his browny green eyes wide with panic and fear.
“I won’t go, don’t worry. I would never leave you.” I soothe him. He must have abandonment
issues. I know I do. I don’t want him to ever leave me now.
“I feel like a paedophile.” I say suddenly without thinking. He is two years younger than me after all.
A hysterical giggle escapes his mouth, but it turns to sobs that assault his body again and
again. I feel helpless, I really don’t know what to do or say, but I settle for hugging him close and shushing him repeatedly, which calms him.
“I’m sorry. It’s just been so long since someone cared, and I’ve been avoiding these thoughts.” He whispers.
“I understand. I felt the same. Hey, do you have a pair of pyjamas I can borrow? I didn’t pack those and its getting a bit late.”
“Uh, yeah. I’ll get changed too.” He says. He goes to a drawer and pulls out pants, red for me, black for him. Then he gets two band tees.
“These should fit you.” He says. I nod and change; keeping my eyes on his body even though he has turned from me. His shoulder blades are clearly visible. His spine is like a mountain range, and there are bruises and scars littering his body, down the back of his non-existent thighs and miniscule calves. When we are both changed he motions to the bed.
“We’ll have to share.”
“That’s okay. I want to.” I say.
We climb into the single bed. He is so small beside me that I can fit easily. He lies with his back to my chest, and I wrap my arms around him, tucking my head beside his.
“Yeah Gerard?” he says, his voice full of sadness.
“This changes nothing. I still… I love you.” I know it has only been three days, but it’s true. This fourteen year old has done something to my heart, a heart that I thought was dead, and a twisted black lump in my chest.
I lie awake for ages, until I finally hear his breathing slow and I know he is asleep. In school you would never know he was hurting so bad. This Frank isn’t the cheeky happy Frank I met two days ago in art, or the sarcastic frank I saw in music when he got snippy at the teacher, or even the angry Frank I met when I pushed him too hard about his past. This is a sad Frank, one that needs lots of love and care to fix the cracks, like I did. I’m an expert at cracks.
And I know too well how good some people are at hiding them.
A/N: I thought I was good at happy stories… guess not… This chapter sucks, but it is 23.36 and I am tired and I need to pee. TMI? Don’t care. Rate and review and whatnot. Next chapter…. We’ll see what happens. Any guesses? Cos I don’t know xD