FicWad

Frank woke with a jolt, his surroundings scaring him further. Cream walls? White ceiling? Black, leather sofa, and a modern, floral duvet over him?? He was in a house. A place he hadn't been in in almost a year, since his mum threw him out. Frank sat up slowly, carefully, his stomach hurting where the punches had been thrown. As he lifted his shirt, he realised that he had been stripped of his shoes, cagoule and jumper, and they were down by the cloat rack. He noticed that Gerard had seperated Franks things from his, and wondered why. Gerard surely wasn't the type to think of hobos' like they have germs. He wouldn't have given Frank the five pounds if so... or maybe he was just getting Frank out of the way so he could go to work? No, impossible. I mean, Frank was sitting inside his house right now, his face surprisingly clean considering how much he'd bled. Was Gerard just being kind, though?

"Frank? You awake yet?" There was his voice from the kitchen. His tender yet worn voice that seemed so captivate Frank so unwillingly.

"Yeah." Frank answered, finding his throat incredibly sore. He flinched at the pain, pausing to let it subside, before continuing. "Do you have any painkillers?"

"I left some next to you. Try not to move too much, by the way. Your stomach and face is all bruised, and your thraot sounds like its hurting too." Frank panicked. Bruises? He lifted his white shirt quickly, peering down on himself. Of course, the teenager must have been wearing rings of some sort. Franks stomach, above his waist right up to the bottom of his chest, was littered with shades of black and purple. Frank threw his head back harshly into the leather material of the arm of the sofa, just as Gerard walked back in.

"Hey, I did my best." Gerard said, resting on the doorframe a couple of meters in front of Frank. Frank looked up at him, feeling strangely guilty.

"Oh, no, I'm annoyed with myself." Frank answered quickly. "You did a great job, you got me out of that fight just in the nick of time." Gerard grinned, glad to know Frank was happy, but then he frowned again.

"Well, I obviously didn't. I don't think you've seen your face." Gerard looked quite serious, then took a mirror from the bookcase next to the door and handed it to Frank. He then inspected himself in the mirror, sighing. His nose was swolen, with bits of dried blood around the end of it. His cheek was also in pretty nasty condition, although he couldn't remember being hit there. Perhaps he was in shock, so he didn't realise until now.

There was a long silence, and it was killing Frank. He had to start conversation.
"So, do you keep a mirror around you all of the time?" Frank asked, although he was still looking at himself.

"Duh," Gerard grinned. "I find it hard to stay away from them, whether it's a mirror or a shop window. You'll find I'm pretty self-obsessed."

"Ah, I see. So you like to look presentable, and like the way you look? So what? Is that tan part of the image, because people don't just get tans in winter."

"No, I'm part Italian, so it just happens. To be honest, I'd rather have your skin tone."

"What, grey? Stop trying to flatter me, Gerard." Gerard laughed at this.

"It's not grey!" He protested. "It's nice, pale, cool. And... how did you know my name?" Frank reached up, flicking Gerards name tag on his black polo shirt.

"How do you know mine?" Frank asked back.

"Skully was shouting it. I wish he'd have shouted louder, I don't think China heard him." Gerard said, sarcasticly. Frank grinned.

"Hardy har, Sarcy arse." He chuckled. "So... I mean... I guess I should be going now, since I'm okay." Frank hated saying this, it felt wrong, foreign on his tongue, but he had to. It felt too relaxed, and he and Gerard might get along for years to come. This was a huge problem. Especially for Frank.

"Oh, your not okay. Have you seen the weather? If you think you're sleeping on the street then for gods sake, you're stupid." Then Gerard leant over Frank, and opened up the curtains behind the sofa, looking at him expectantly. Frank sat up slowly, Gerards hand on his back supportively, then knelt up on the sofa and looked out. Snow. Everywhere. Now what was Frank to do? He was stranded completely in Gerards house. Gerard who he had feelings for, more feelings then he'd ever care to admit. And he was stuck. He was so shocked to see the snow, he was only vaguely aware of Gerard stood behind him, hands on his hips, chest on his back, simply watching the falling white flakes with him.