I want my life back.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my words and psychotic ideas.
. . .
Don't Let The Bedbugs Bite
. . .
Frank's eyelids fluttered but remained shut.
"It's time to wake up, Frankie..."
Cool fingers brushed against Frank's forehead, checking his temperature. Gerard was worried about him; he'd just passed out at the table. Surely that wasn't a good sign. The raven haired man prayed to anybody who was listening that there wasn't anything wrong with his sweet little Frankie.
Frank groaned and rolled over, the bed he was on giving a familiar yet not so comforting squeak. His hazel eyes slowly cracked open and he came face to face with Gerard. Frank yelped in surprise and fell off the side of the tiny bed, a painful crunch sounding from his back. Groaning again, he looked up to see Gerard leaning over the side of the bed, his face twisted in concern.
"Well that didn't sound very good," he mused. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, only to bend over and scoop the small boy on the floor into his arms. Frank, surprised by the older man's strength, tried to wrench the slender arms from around him, but Gerard held tight.
He kicked open the bedroom door and continued down the hallway, turning into a room that looked to be the master bathroom, setting Frank down on the closed toilet.
"Stay," Gerard said firmly, turning and walking out again. This gave Frank a chance to look around.
The bathroom was clean and bright. The floor was tiled with tiny white squares which went halfway up the walls before turning into light blue paint. A strip of wallpaper with roosters on it ran along the tops of the walls like a border. The sink was made of porcelain which sparkled under the lights. A bottle of lavender scented soap sat on the counter top next to a blue toothbrush and tube of mint toothpaste.
Gerard entered the bathroom again, this time carrying a mound of clothes. "I took these from your room when I brought you here. I hope you don't mind."
Of course Frank minded.
"Why are we in the bathroom?" He asked. He knew the answer but part of him hoped Gerard would say different.
"You need a shower." He set Frank's clothes down on the floor and ripped back the sunflower-print shower curtain, twisting the knobs until water poured from the shower head. Steam began to drift around the room.
"You're not taking one with me, right?" Frank cringed, waiting for the answer.
"No. I think you're old enough to take one on your own," Gerard giggled. "Get dressed when you're done." He started to walk out the open door before turning back. "Oh, and don't try anything stupid. I'll be right outside the door," He said, slamming the bathroom door shut behind him.
Frank began to undress, pulling his shirt over his head and his pants and boxers down before kicking them off. He was just about to step into the inviting flow of hot water when his reflection in the mirror caught his eye. Backing up, Frank stood in front of the mirror again, taking in his pale face and purple bags under his eyes. His dark hair was stringy with grease. He turned around to see his back, which now sported a large, angry purple bruise across the middle from his recent encounter with the floor. Frank reached a hand around to touch it, wincing in pain as he did. 'Oh yeah,' he thought. 'That's gonna be there for a while.'
Turning back to the shower, Frank slowly ducked into the steady stream of water, the temperature hot enough to relax his muscles but not to burn him. Closing his eyes, he breathed in a sigh of content; nothing could hurt him here.
Just as he thought that. a heavy bottle of shampoo fell on Frank's toe, breaking him out of his fog. "Sonuvabitch!" He shrieked, picking up the culprit of his now injured toe- a bottle of his shampoo from his house.
He grabbed a bottle of conditioner. His too.
Despite the steaming water, Frank was now trembling. His eyes were wide and terrified as he heard the bathroom door open.
"Everything alright?" Gerard asked.
'No, you lunatic. You broke into my house, kidnapped me, and stole my shit.'
"Yeah, everything's fine!" Frank answered back, his voice echoing off the shower walls.
"Sure!" The door closed again.
. . .
It would've taken Frank all of five minutes to shower and wash his hair, but due to his hands trembling so bad, it took him about fifteen.
Turning off the water, Frank stepped out of the tub and into the steam filled bathroom. The mirror was now covered in fog and Frank sighed in relief of not having to see his own reflection again.
Toweling his hair dry, Frank pulled on the black boxers and black skinny jeans Gerard had brought him, along with a black t-shirt and brown cardigan. Frank looked in the mirror, deciding on just letting his hair go the way it was; it's not like he was seeing anyone besides Gerard all day.
Frank opened the door and Gerard turned to see him, letting out a small purr when he saw the way Frank's jeans hugged the younger's thighs.
"Frankie, I have a little treat in store for you today," the older man smiled, practically bouncing with excitement.
"What?" Frank asked cautiously.
"We're going-wait for it-shopping!"
Frank stared at Gerard.
"Shopping!" Gerard repeated in the same highly exaggerated voice. "And we can go out for lunch!"
Frank just kept staring.
Gerard's face fell. "Frankie," he said, a hint of warning in his tone. "Frank, talk to me."
"I don't want to go shopping." Frank's voice was emotionless.
"Oh," Gerard started, slightly taken aback. "Well, we can go another day. Is there anywhere you do want to go?"
The older man's expression darkened, and Frank could see the flames in his eyes. "I already told you, Frank. You are not going home. You live here now with me."
"But I don't want to live here," Frank protested. "I want to go back to my family, to my friends." He took a breath. "To my life."
"What if they all died? Then would you want to go back?" Gerard's voice took on a deep, menacing tone.
Frank's eyes widened and his mouth formed an 'o' before being pulled into a scowl. "What the fuck is your problem?" Frank asked incredulously. "You think I wanna live with a fucking lunatic like you?"
Gerard walked straight up to Frank, grabbing the younger's collar and slamming him against the wall, Frank wincing as his head was cracked against it.
"Take that back. Take that back right now!" Gerard all but screamed into Frank's face.
"No! It's fucking true and you know it! You're a psycho that thinks it's okay to go around kidnapping people and keeping them at their house! You need help!"
"After all I've fucking done for you!"
Frank laughed a cruel, heartless laugh. "You've never done anything for me! You kidnapped me, poisoned me, and threatened me for fuck's sake!"
Gerard's eyes went from hazel to black, and his face morphed into an expression of pure rage. "You little bitch! I'll fucking kill you!" He boomed, wrapping his slender fingers around Frank's delicate throat. Frank's eyes bugged and he gasped, trying with all his strength to pry Gerard's fingers off of him to no avail. Deciding he had no choice, Frank brought his foot back and swung it up, nailing Gerard right between the legs. The rage left his face, replaced with a pained look as the man bent over, grabbing himself and moaning in agony.
Frank shot off, but not before Gerard could compose himself and throw his body on top of Frank's smaller one, tackling the poor boy to the floor. Frank groaned and tried to throw Gerard off of him, but the latter rolled the boy over, sitting firmly on his hips.
Frank's eyes widened as Gerard's fist connected with his cheek. Blow upon blow rained down on his face until it was almost completely purple on one side. Gerard stood, grabbing Frank by the neck and keeping hold of him as they made their way back into the bathroom.
Gerard sat Frank down on the toilet, silently sorting through the cabinet above the sink. Bringing out a bottle of disinfectant, Gerard opened a drawer, pulling out a washcloth and putting it under the faucet.
He knelt between Frank's legs, taking the now dripping washcloth and dabbing Frank's bleeding lip with it. Frank whimpered in fear as he did this, afraid of what Gerard might do next. The older man wiped away blood from a cut under Frank's blackening eye, his face giving no hints to his intentions. Taking out the disinfectant, Gerard rubbed at the cuts with a cotton ball, Frank wincing at the sting.
"You know Frankie," he started, breaking the silence. "I was really beginning to think I could trust you."
"Please, Gerard," Frank whispered, closing his eyes. "Please, I'm sorry."
Gerard hummed and closed the bottle of disinfectant, signaling he was finished taking care of Frank's wounds. "Too late for apologies, hun. The damage is done."
Gerard took Frank by the wrist, half walking-half dragging the whimpering teen down the hallway. Turning into Frank's room, Gerard threw the boy down on the bed. Frank would've ran but he was too scared to even breathe at the moment.
Gerard opened the drawer in the nightstand next to the bed, digging through until he found what he was looking for. He held the object up for Frank to see, said boy's eyes widening in terror at the crude things.
A pair of handcuffs.
Gerard attached one cuff around the iron headboard of the bed, clicking the other around Frank's right wrist, causing him to be able to move but not be able to leave the bed. Frank whimpered as Gerard made his way towards the door.
"No, Gerard please! I'm sorry! Please don't leave me in here! I'll do anything!" Frank pleaded the man.
Gerard shook his head. "Too late for apologies," he said again. "Goodnight, sugar. Don't let the bedbugs bite." He chuckled and winked at the now trembling boy handcuffed to the bed, turning off the lights and slamming the door shut behind him.