4:30 AM. Knocking at the door and crying out his name; Frank was battered and bruised. Gerard's always there to help, of course. [One-shot. Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse]
But help me heal these wounds,
They've been open for way too long,
Help me fill this soul
Even though this is not your fault
That I'm open,
And I'm bleeding;
All over your brand new rug
And I need someone to help me
Knock. Knock. Knock. One after the other, tap tapping echoing throughout the silent apartment. It continued on and on, until a half asleep Gerard stirred in bed.
Groggily, he sat up, rubbing his crusty eyes and willing them open. Sighing, he tucked loose strands of raven hair behind his ears and checked the clock on his bedside table.
Groaning quietly, he swung pajama clad legs off the side of his bed and stood up, yawning and scratching his side as another knock echoed throughout his home, although this time, it was accompanied with a choked cry of his name.
"Here we go again." Gerard mumbled gruffly, his voice slightly hoarse from sleeping. Rubbing his temples, he made his way out of his cluttered bedroom, stopping to put on some slippers before continuing on.
Another knock, louder this time; much more persistent. Gerard paused, waiting for the inevitable broken cry of his name once more. After all, this was a weekly occurrence, and always at times during which most people would be in deep slumber. But not Gerard; he'd always be here for Frank. No matter what was wrong.
"Gerard! Open the fucking door!" Frank cried out, slamming his fists on the oak door, pounding on it with such force Gerard was worried he'd cause it to crack. Picking up his pace, he walked to the door and peered through the peep hole.
Frank was standing there, shivering and crying in the cold. Gerard could tell that he'd been crying for a while now, his usually beautiful hazel-green eyes were blood shot and swollen. Eyeliner was smudged around his eyes, and he was nibbling on his lip ring the way he always did when he was upset. There was no way he could leave him out there like that.
Sighing once more, he stood back and unlocked his door, opening it and greeting his best friend. Instantly, Frank flung himself onto Gerard, hugging him tightly and crying into his plain black t-shirt. The taller man hugged him back, cooing soothing words into the others ear and rubbing his back.
After a few moments of nothing but whispered words of comfort and choked sobs, Frank composed himself enough to finally be able to speak. Looking up and his best friend, he bit his lip and whispered, "He did it again, Gee. He hurt me."
Gerard's eyes flared with anger. Again. Frank came to his doorstep, sobbing and frightened, because his so-called loving boyfriend hit him again. He didn't understand how his friend handled it, being battered and abused like this. It was a rare occurrence when Frank did not have a bruise somewhere on his body. And honestly, Gerard was becoming sick and tired of this. If Frank were his, he'd never treat him like this. Frank was too precious and beautiful to harm, but apparently that Baker guy Frank has been dating for the past six months just couldn't see that.
"Oh Frankie, c'mere. Show me where he hit you." He pulled him close and held his chin up, inspecting every inch of his beautiful face, wiping away any stray tears finding their way down his tear-stained cheeks. But he couldn't find any signs of bruising or swelling, his brows furrowed in concentration.
"He-Zack didn't hit me in the face..." Frank choked out, looking down in shame. "He choked me...and while I was passed out, he kinda bruised me along the ribs." Pulling away from Gerard, Frank removed his sweatshirt and then his grey tee, exposing his chest and stomach to him.
His neck was marked with fingerprints, a mixture of deep purples and ugly shades of blue. Gerard winced as he inspected them closer and making note to get some ice for the marks and swelling. As he focused his gaze lower, he found more ugly bruises forming along his sides and where his ribs were. Prodding them lightly, he apologized as Frank sucked in a sharp breath and let out a slew of pained curses. "These are really bad, you should go lay on the couch while I get an ice pack." Frank nodded and limped his way to the living room.
Gerard inwardly insulted Frank's boyfriend for doing such a thing as he rummaged for the ice-pack. Once he found it, he went into his cupboard and prepared some instant hot chocolate for Frank, something he always made for his friend when he came over at times like these.
Making his way back into the living room, he smiled softly as he saw Frank nestled comfortably on the couch, wrapped up in a stray blanket he left there earlier. Deciding it would be best to let him sleep and tend to his bruises when he awoke, Gerard placed the hot chocolate and ice pack down on the coffee table and made his way to the faux leather couch. He removed his slippers and arranged himself so that he too was enveloped in the warmth of the blanket and wrapped his arms around Frank, holding him close.
"I love you, Frankie. That asshole Zack doesn't deserve you; you're too good for him. Don't let yourself be convinced to think otherwise." He whispered into his ear, nestling his head into the crook of his friend's neck, being careful to not awaken or hurt him. "In fact, I'm praying for the day you leave him. Then maybe you'd see that I've been here for you through everything. Not just because you're my best friend. I love you as more than just that. You're beautiful, and just perfect, so perfect that even when you're covered in undeserved bruises, you're still the most stunning thing I've ever seen."
His eyes fluttering closed; Gerard mumbled a few more words of love and praise, unaware that Frank heard every word. He was almost asleep when Gerard nestled up to him and began his proclamation of love; but he was glad he heard that. Immensely glad.
He made sure Gerard was truly asleep before he spoke.
"I love you too, Gee. Don't worry, I'll leave that asshole." He yawned quietly, "Especially now that I'm sure I have you. Tomorrow, I'll be yours. And I'll stop bleeding all over your brand new rug."
A/N: Thoughts?:D This was inspired by the lyrics in the beginning, from the song "Wounded" by Good Charlotte. And virtual cookies to whoever knows who Zack Baker is. I'm glad to be back, by the way. I've just recently been hit with tons of plot bunnies that I hope to get written. Be on the look out for more by me. Possibly more angsty shit, though. Also, I aplogize for the shortness of the story, I still have to get used to writing more than a thousand.