Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > And I'll End This Direst: a Frerard story
Frank's POV
Damn it, I chose the wrong day to turn down the wrong street! Rain was pouring down from the dark clouds, and I thought I could beat the storm by taking a shortcut. Turns out I took the wrong street, was now soaking wet, and was still five minutes away from Gerard's house. Damn it. I put my hood up again; it had fallen off while I was running to escape the rain. It was no use, though; my hood and hair were already soaked through, just like the rest of me. I looked around, realizing I rarely went into this part of the neighborhood. I thought I recognized some of the scenery, but I wasn't quite sure through all the rain. I kept walking, hoping I would continue to see something I recognized, like Gerard's street or a neighbor's yard or something.
Yep, I knew where I was. There was the back of the baseball diamond near Gerard's house. If I were to cut through, I'd end up at the top of his street. I smiled and congratulated myself on being the innovator that I was, and walked toward the chain-link fence. I was just about to climb over it when I heard something that stopped me in my tracks. Was someone here? Were they coughing? They better get out of the rain before they catch a cold. I didn't hear it again, so I told myself it was the rain. Thunder confirmed my suspicion, and I tried not to slip as I threw myself over the top of the fence. I hated being short.
Looking around the diamond, I remembered that I had never been here before. The place seemed to have an eerie feeling to it, like something had once happened here or someone was watching. It was starting to creep me out, so I walked the perimeter of the chain-link to the back corner of the visitor's dugout, where I could open the gate and cross the field to get home. It was then that I heard the noise again; this time it wasn't thunder. It sounded like someone sobbing, or breathing heavily from far away. Getting the eerie feeling again, I looked to the home team's dugout on the opposite side of the field I was on. What I saw made my blood freeze over, and it wasn't because of the rain:
Gerard was sitting there, in the far corner of the dugout, cutting his arm with a knife. I wanted to scream, I wanted to ask him what he was doing. I wanted to go and slap the shit out of him and make him explain what the hell he was thinking, but instead, my body slowly and quietly made its way out of the visiting team's dugout and halfway across the field, staying close to the chain-link fence. Something told me I shouldn't be making loud, sudden noises when Gerard had a knife so close to himself.
I knew I couldn't stay hidden when I saw his next move. He raised his knife towards himself, paused, and I freaked. He was about to stab himself! What the hell was he thinking? I couldn't sit around and watch this; I had to do something. I tried to scream his name, but no words came out. Damn it, of all the times for my voice not to work, this was when I needed it most. Not thinking, I watched my body quickly stoop down, pick up a forgotten baseball, and throw it as hard as I could in the direction of Gerard's head. Hopefully I could knock him out before he stabbed himself in the gut; I felt bad for doing this, but it was the only thing I could think of to do on-the-spot. I would rather knock him out for a few minutes with a baseball then have him knock himself out for the rest of my life with a knife.
I found my voice after I had thrown the ball. I called out to him just milliseconds before the ball came in contact with his head, and, just as I had hoped, the knife fell from his hands.
Gerard's POV
I blinked my eyes open painfully; bright lights added a throbbing sensation to my already pounding forehead, and I felt like I had a bruise. Well, I already knew I had a hangover, but I didn't know where I would have gotten a bruise. My eyes adjusting to the light, I looked around to see that I was lying in my room under about a thousand blankets. I was comfortable, except for the headache. I rubbed my temples, trying to remember what happened. A noise at the door told me someone was coming in, and I looked up to see Frankie's face. He gave me a warm half-smile, and I tried to smile back.
Wait a minute. Frank's face? I wasn't supposed to be here! What happened yesterday? What happened to the knife? Why was my arm bandaged? I was supposed to be gone by now, not here lying comfortably in my bed! I closed my eyes and cursed myself for still being alive. I can't even kill myself right.
"Hey," Frank said deeply. He quietly stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. I was ashamed to look at him; obviously he had to have known what I was trying to do.
I simply whispered, "Frank," in response, not wanting to hear what he was undoubtedly going to say. I was waiting for him to tell me he hated me; that he no longer wanted anything to do with me. I almost would have preferred that to what he really did say.
"Gee, I'm disappointed in you." He finally met my eyes when he said this, and I suddenly felt exposed, like he could see all of me. "I can't believe it. I thought I knew you better than that." He didn't sound angry; just soft and sad, which made me want to shrink until I was no bigger than a dust particle. I didn't know what to say, so I tried the first thing that I could think of.
"Frank, I'm sorry," I nearly whispered, lowering my eyes. I felt bad for what I'd nearly done; ashamed to be in Frankie's presence. "I wasn't thinking, and I was scared, and I--" I was cut off by his lips on mine, and when he pulled away, I saw tears in his eyes.
"Gee, don't ever do that again," he said, wiping his face with the back of his hand. I noticed he was wearing his skeleton hobo gloves again; something he hadn't done in a long time. I reached out and laced my fingers in between his. "Elena and I were worried sick," he continued, sitting down next to me on the bed. "We didn't know where you were. Don't ever leave me like that without telling us. Don't ever leave me." he whispered the last sentence almost pleadingly. Now I really felt guilty for what I'd done. I pulled him closer so that he was lying down beside me.
"I'm so sorry, Frankie," I said, feeling the tears slide down my cheek. "I had no idea."
"You had no idea how much you mean to me, you mean," he finished. "You have no idea how much I need you. Promise me you'll never pull anything like that again. Promise me."
Without hesitation, I promised.
Frank's POV
Just lying there with Gerard; taking in his scent, his shape, his warmth; made up for the scare of Elena and I not knowing where he was yesterday. I let myself take in his form another few minutes before going to tell Elena that he was awake and okay. You should have seen the look on her face when I told her; she had the same mixed look of I'm-Going-To-Kick-His-Ass-Until-He-Realizes-We-Love-Him, and Oh-Thank-God-I-Haven't-Yet-Because-It-Will-Give-Me-Something-To-Do-Later-After-I'm-Done-Fussing-Over-Him as I'm sure I was wearing when I went to check on him.
After rechecking the bandage around his wrist and making sure he didn't have a fever from being out in the rain, Elena left to go to the grocery store, since all the food she could throw into last night's stew was accidentally burned, due to lack of attention. I understood; her grandson was lost, for God's sake. Not even Elena can think about making food during desperate times.
Now that me and Gerard were alone in the house, I decided to try to talk to him about it. We eventually got up from his bed and moved to the couch, where we put in a DVD for no apparent reason.
"Gerard?" I asked before the previews. He grunted a response as he sat down next to me with a giant bowl of popcorn. "May I ask why you felt the need to kill yourself?" He made a choking sound, then pressed pause on the movie, which was just beginning to start. "Gee? You gonna answer me?" I pressed on.
He made another inaudible noise, but still didn't seem to want to respond. Finally, after realizing I wasn't going to let it go, he looked defeated and guilty. "You," was what I thought I heard escape his lips.
My eyes widened. "Me?" I squeaked. He nodded sadly, and I felt horrible as to why I would make Gerard want to kill himself. Was I really that bad of a person that people would rather die than be around me?
"You're too perfect," he answered my question unknowingly. "You don't need people like me in your life; you deserve better. I don't want to hold you back from what you can be, because I love you too much. I also didn't want to have to let you go, because I'm selfish, and the only way I could let you go without going insane was... Listen, I left school early because of some assholes who threatened to do horrible things to you if I stayed. I figured the only way to keep you alive was to take my own life. Like I said, they only want me dead."
"That's a lie, and you know it," I cut in. "And you know that I wouldn't be where I am today if it weren't for you. I can defend myself now, thanks to you. You taught me how to fight back and be myself." He didn't look convinced, but interested in what I had to say. "In fact, I defended both of us just yesterday, when Elena and I were looking for you." I didn't mention I had also gotten a glass bottle slammed into the side of my arm, but some things he just didn't need to know just yet. "I stood up for myself, because you taught me how."
"No, you already knew how. I was just re-teaching until you could help yourself. You've always had fight in you; you've never needed me. I kept telling you that you didn't deserve me, but you never listened. So this time, I thought I'd make you listen by killing myself."
He thought I never needed him? Bullshit. If he thought he could make me listen, I knew I could make him realize the same thing, on the contrary.
Gerard's POV
He paused for a second, then slowly wrapped his arms around me in a hug, then pulled away and got off the couch within seconds. I watched him, puzzled and a little hurt that he had left me so quickly. "You know what, Gee?" he asked, standing directly in front of me as I remained on the couch.
"Y-yeah?" I asked, worried about what he would say next. No doubt that he thought I was stupid, or that he would rather me die, or that he was, indeed, better off without me. Just like my seventh-grade boyfriend, my old family, Bert, and everyone else I once loved, he would leave me too.
"Do you need proof that I need you?" he asked quietly. "I can show you what you've done to me, if it'll convince you to stay with me." I nodded. I almost didn't need convincing; I loved Frankie too much already. It should have been me trying to convince him to stay with me, not the other way around. But that would have been selfish of me.
I then watched as he silently sighed and took his shirt off. I gawped at a bandage on one arm that I'd never seen before now, but the rest of me continued to stare at bare-chested Frankie in front of me in confusion. After another long pause, he asked, "Notice anything?" Honestly, the only thing I saw was his pale, defined figure in front of me.
"No," I said quietly, not sure as to what I was supposed to be looking for.
"Look closely," he instructed patiently. I shrugged a few minutes later; I recognized that something was, indeed, different about Frankie from the last time I had seen him shirtless, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
"I give up," I said, my eyes trailing up to his face for the answer. He laughed softly and said,
"The bruises. They're all gone." Sure enough, not one hint of his mother's abusive states were to be found on Frankie; now he was flawless. A smile spread across my face before I could stop it, and Frankie smiled back and rejoined me on the couch. "Now do you see," he whispered, nuzzling into my neck. "That I don't just need you; I want you. You complete me, Gee. Being with you heals me. Do you see that?"
I saw that, and I couldn't have been happier. "I love you, Frankie. More than you know."
"I love you too, Gee. More than you know."
Damn it, I chose the wrong day to turn down the wrong street! Rain was pouring down from the dark clouds, and I thought I could beat the storm by taking a shortcut. Turns out I took the wrong street, was now soaking wet, and was still five minutes away from Gerard's house. Damn it. I put my hood up again; it had fallen off while I was running to escape the rain. It was no use, though; my hood and hair were already soaked through, just like the rest of me. I looked around, realizing I rarely went into this part of the neighborhood. I thought I recognized some of the scenery, but I wasn't quite sure through all the rain. I kept walking, hoping I would continue to see something I recognized, like Gerard's street or a neighbor's yard or something.
Yep, I knew where I was. There was the back of the baseball diamond near Gerard's house. If I were to cut through, I'd end up at the top of his street. I smiled and congratulated myself on being the innovator that I was, and walked toward the chain-link fence. I was just about to climb over it when I heard something that stopped me in my tracks. Was someone here? Were they coughing? They better get out of the rain before they catch a cold. I didn't hear it again, so I told myself it was the rain. Thunder confirmed my suspicion, and I tried not to slip as I threw myself over the top of the fence. I hated being short.
Looking around the diamond, I remembered that I had never been here before. The place seemed to have an eerie feeling to it, like something had once happened here or someone was watching. It was starting to creep me out, so I walked the perimeter of the chain-link to the back corner of the visitor's dugout, where I could open the gate and cross the field to get home. It was then that I heard the noise again; this time it wasn't thunder. It sounded like someone sobbing, or breathing heavily from far away. Getting the eerie feeling again, I looked to the home team's dugout on the opposite side of the field I was on. What I saw made my blood freeze over, and it wasn't because of the rain:
Gerard was sitting there, in the far corner of the dugout, cutting his arm with a knife. I wanted to scream, I wanted to ask him what he was doing. I wanted to go and slap the shit out of him and make him explain what the hell he was thinking, but instead, my body slowly and quietly made its way out of the visiting team's dugout and halfway across the field, staying close to the chain-link fence. Something told me I shouldn't be making loud, sudden noises when Gerard had a knife so close to himself.
I knew I couldn't stay hidden when I saw his next move. He raised his knife towards himself, paused, and I freaked. He was about to stab himself! What the hell was he thinking? I couldn't sit around and watch this; I had to do something. I tried to scream his name, but no words came out. Damn it, of all the times for my voice not to work, this was when I needed it most. Not thinking, I watched my body quickly stoop down, pick up a forgotten baseball, and throw it as hard as I could in the direction of Gerard's head. Hopefully I could knock him out before he stabbed himself in the gut; I felt bad for doing this, but it was the only thing I could think of to do on-the-spot. I would rather knock him out for a few minutes with a baseball then have him knock himself out for the rest of my life with a knife.
I found my voice after I had thrown the ball. I called out to him just milliseconds before the ball came in contact with his head, and, just as I had hoped, the knife fell from his hands.
Gerard's POV
I blinked my eyes open painfully; bright lights added a throbbing sensation to my already pounding forehead, and I felt like I had a bruise. Well, I already knew I had a hangover, but I didn't know where I would have gotten a bruise. My eyes adjusting to the light, I looked around to see that I was lying in my room under about a thousand blankets. I was comfortable, except for the headache. I rubbed my temples, trying to remember what happened. A noise at the door told me someone was coming in, and I looked up to see Frankie's face. He gave me a warm half-smile, and I tried to smile back.
Wait a minute. Frank's face? I wasn't supposed to be here! What happened yesterday? What happened to the knife? Why was my arm bandaged? I was supposed to be gone by now, not here lying comfortably in my bed! I closed my eyes and cursed myself for still being alive. I can't even kill myself right.
"Hey," Frank said deeply. He quietly stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. I was ashamed to look at him; obviously he had to have known what I was trying to do.
I simply whispered, "Frank," in response, not wanting to hear what he was undoubtedly going to say. I was waiting for him to tell me he hated me; that he no longer wanted anything to do with me. I almost would have preferred that to what he really did say.
"Gee, I'm disappointed in you." He finally met my eyes when he said this, and I suddenly felt exposed, like he could see all of me. "I can't believe it. I thought I knew you better than that." He didn't sound angry; just soft and sad, which made me want to shrink until I was no bigger than a dust particle. I didn't know what to say, so I tried the first thing that I could think of.
"Frank, I'm sorry," I nearly whispered, lowering my eyes. I felt bad for what I'd nearly done; ashamed to be in Frankie's presence. "I wasn't thinking, and I was scared, and I--" I was cut off by his lips on mine, and when he pulled away, I saw tears in his eyes.
"Gee, don't ever do that again," he said, wiping his face with the back of his hand. I noticed he was wearing his skeleton hobo gloves again; something he hadn't done in a long time. I reached out and laced my fingers in between his. "Elena and I were worried sick," he continued, sitting down next to me on the bed. "We didn't know where you were. Don't ever leave me like that without telling us. Don't ever leave me." he whispered the last sentence almost pleadingly. Now I really felt guilty for what I'd done. I pulled him closer so that he was lying down beside me.
"I'm so sorry, Frankie," I said, feeling the tears slide down my cheek. "I had no idea."
"You had no idea how much you mean to me, you mean," he finished. "You have no idea how much I need you. Promise me you'll never pull anything like that again. Promise me."
Without hesitation, I promised.
Frank's POV
Just lying there with Gerard; taking in his scent, his shape, his warmth; made up for the scare of Elena and I not knowing where he was yesterday. I let myself take in his form another few minutes before going to tell Elena that he was awake and okay. You should have seen the look on her face when I told her; she had the same mixed look of I'm-Going-To-Kick-His-Ass-Until-He-Realizes-We-Love-Him, and Oh-Thank-God-I-Haven't-Yet-Because-It-Will-Give-Me-Something-To-Do-Later-After-I'm-Done-Fussing-Over-Him as I'm sure I was wearing when I went to check on him.
After rechecking the bandage around his wrist and making sure he didn't have a fever from being out in the rain, Elena left to go to the grocery store, since all the food she could throw into last night's stew was accidentally burned, due to lack of attention. I understood; her grandson was lost, for God's sake. Not even Elena can think about making food during desperate times.
Now that me and Gerard were alone in the house, I decided to try to talk to him about it. We eventually got up from his bed and moved to the couch, where we put in a DVD for no apparent reason.
"Gerard?" I asked before the previews. He grunted a response as he sat down next to me with a giant bowl of popcorn. "May I ask why you felt the need to kill yourself?" He made a choking sound, then pressed pause on the movie, which was just beginning to start. "Gee? You gonna answer me?" I pressed on.
He made another inaudible noise, but still didn't seem to want to respond. Finally, after realizing I wasn't going to let it go, he looked defeated and guilty. "You," was what I thought I heard escape his lips.
My eyes widened. "Me?" I squeaked. He nodded sadly, and I felt horrible as to why I would make Gerard want to kill himself. Was I really that bad of a person that people would rather die than be around me?
"You're too perfect," he answered my question unknowingly. "You don't need people like me in your life; you deserve better. I don't want to hold you back from what you can be, because I love you too much. I also didn't want to have to let you go, because I'm selfish, and the only way I could let you go without going insane was... Listen, I left school early because of some assholes who threatened to do horrible things to you if I stayed. I figured the only way to keep you alive was to take my own life. Like I said, they only want me dead."
"That's a lie, and you know it," I cut in. "And you know that I wouldn't be where I am today if it weren't for you. I can defend myself now, thanks to you. You taught me how to fight back and be myself." He didn't look convinced, but interested in what I had to say. "In fact, I defended both of us just yesterday, when Elena and I were looking for you." I didn't mention I had also gotten a glass bottle slammed into the side of my arm, but some things he just didn't need to know just yet. "I stood up for myself, because you taught me how."
"No, you already knew how. I was just re-teaching until you could help yourself. You've always had fight in you; you've never needed me. I kept telling you that you didn't deserve me, but you never listened. So this time, I thought I'd make you listen by killing myself."
He thought I never needed him? Bullshit. If he thought he could make me listen, I knew I could make him realize the same thing, on the contrary.
Gerard's POV
He paused for a second, then slowly wrapped his arms around me in a hug, then pulled away and got off the couch within seconds. I watched him, puzzled and a little hurt that he had left me so quickly. "You know what, Gee?" he asked, standing directly in front of me as I remained on the couch.
"Y-yeah?" I asked, worried about what he would say next. No doubt that he thought I was stupid, or that he would rather me die, or that he was, indeed, better off without me. Just like my seventh-grade boyfriend, my old family, Bert, and everyone else I once loved, he would leave me too.
"Do you need proof that I need you?" he asked quietly. "I can show you what you've done to me, if it'll convince you to stay with me." I nodded. I almost didn't need convincing; I loved Frankie too much already. It should have been me trying to convince him to stay with me, not the other way around. But that would have been selfish of me.
I then watched as he silently sighed and took his shirt off. I gawped at a bandage on one arm that I'd never seen before now, but the rest of me continued to stare at bare-chested Frankie in front of me in confusion. After another long pause, he asked, "Notice anything?" Honestly, the only thing I saw was his pale, defined figure in front of me.
"No," I said quietly, not sure as to what I was supposed to be looking for.
"Look closely," he instructed patiently. I shrugged a few minutes later; I recognized that something was, indeed, different about Frankie from the last time I had seen him shirtless, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
"I give up," I said, my eyes trailing up to his face for the answer. He laughed softly and said,
"The bruises. They're all gone." Sure enough, not one hint of his mother's abusive states were to be found on Frankie; now he was flawless. A smile spread across my face before I could stop it, and Frankie smiled back and rejoined me on the couch. "Now do you see," he whispered, nuzzling into my neck. "That I don't just need you; I want you. You complete me, Gee. Being with you heals me. Do you see that?"
I saw that, and I couldn't have been happier. "I love you, Frankie. More than you know."
"I love you too, Gee. More than you know."
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