FicWad

If you haven't seen Ice Age Four -- go see it now! It's amazing! Although finding out who the voice actors are kinda ruins it, so make sure you leave before the credits come on.

Also, I poured milk into the jar full of coffee granules today. It was one of my more intelligible moments! And did you know that apparently 'intelligible' is a word? Well, it just came up on the auto-correct thing, so I assume it is at least!

Chapter 9

Sx



When Gerard woke up the next morning, his initial reaction was to panic. After all, he didn't recognise his surroundings - all he knew was that he was in a bed that wasn't his, wasn't at the club, and wasn't a motel - and even without moving, he could feel the soreness that radiated through his body. However, a few moments later, he came to his senses and recognised the room as Frank's guest bedroom.

The singer relaxed again, only to remember the events of last night. That would explain the soreness at least, which was sure to hatch into full-fledged pain the moment he attempted to move. It was only with this in mind that Gerard didn't roll over to bury his face in the pillows out of sheer mortification at what he'd done. Or more to the point - the fact that Frank knew what he'd was what made him want to melt into a pool and soak into the mattress, where no one would ever see him again.

Was it any wonder that Iero had been avoiding him these past weeks? It was true, every word the guitarist had said; he was nothing better than a cheap whore, a slapper for anyone to enjoy, something that belonged in the slums and back alleys of the city, and sure as hell not being a role model for thousands of kids out there.

Way thought that he'd cried enough last night to dry his tears up for at least a while, but soon enough salty tracks were being made across his skin as they leaked from his eyes. Abandoning his theory of staying still meaning less pain, the singer twisted on to his front and curled up in to himself. His body did indeed protest at the sudden movement - his abused lower back in particular cried out as he shifted, making Gerard whimper through his tears.

Throughout this, the singer remained quiet, so Frank in his kitchen remained oblivious as he sat on the floor, drinking coffee and petting Sweet Pea. He had music playing softly, and was thinking about Gerard, whilst simultaneously trying to drag his mind away from it. He wanted to help his friend, as he knew he should have done so in the first place, but every time Iero acknowledged what the singer had been doing, his brain churned with revulsion, anger, betrayal. If this carried on, he'd just end up yelling again, and throwing Way out of his apartment. Which he knew damn well wouldn't help matters at all.

It was another half hour or so - nearly noon - when Frank finally decided to check on his friend. Abandoning his dog and half drunk beverage, he stood and went down the green corridor to where the two guest rooms were located. Upon quietly opening the door to Gerard's he saw the lump under the duvet that was the singer's body, and assumed the man was still asleep. He was on the verge of leaving again, when he heard the quiet snuffling that he really wished that he wasn't so familiar with - it was Way crying and desperately trying not to.

Sighing, Frank went into the room, and sat at the end of the bed. Gerard obviously felt the mattress shift with the new weight, because he fell silent for a few seconds. For a long moment, they remained frozen like that - Iero unsure as to how to act, and Way terrified of what was to come, and entirely ashamed of himself and his tears. Unsurprisingly, it was the younger of the two that broke the unhappy moment.

He shifted forward to pull the covers back, off of his friends head. The action revealed his puffy eyes and tear-stained face. All at once, the guitarist felt a thousand emotions wash over him - shame, pity, distress, guilt, remorse, anger, anguish, chagrin. Some were aimed internally, but most for Gerard and the heart-breaking shape he was in currently.

"Oh, God, Gee." He murmured, and leaned down to wrap his friend in his arms. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so, so sorry." Sorry for what happened to you, sorry that it hurt you so much, sorry for not being there when you needed me.

Which ever way the singer took it, he didn't protest at the sudden display of affection - just clung on to Frank and let the tears fall again. For a while that was all that they did - just hung on to one another and let all of the unspoken emotions hang around them. The guitarist continued to murmur apologies, never specifying what he was actually sorry for, but Way didn't press him - it was enough to have his friend here, to have him comfort him after the continual disasters of the last half year.

Frank felt awful. Looking at the situation now, it was beyond him why he hadn’t intervened with the situation the moment he became aware of it. Instead he had just made it worse – after all, Gerard had said that the reason he was doing all this was to feel some affection. The guitarist had more than enough of that for the other man; hell, he fucking loved the guy.

In fact, that was probably why he’d felt so repulsed at the idea of the singer having sex with someone else, but it still didn’t account for his actions. If anything, it made them worse, because really it meant that him avoiding his friend had been out of jealousy, as opposed to something more rational. Great, Frank had abandoned the guy he loved out of unwarranted possessiveness, and just hurt him because of it.

Eventually the sobs subsided, and Iero pulled back to look at the older man. His eyes were still watery, and his nose was a bright red that would have been funny in any other situation. Frank sat up and leaned over to the bedside table, wordlessly offering Gerard a tissue. He accepted gratefully, and blew his nose noisily. Then he shuffled back to lean against the head board, drawing his knees up so he and Iero were facing each other, with the barrier of the singer's folded legs between them.

Then it was his turn to apologise. "I'm sorry, Frank. I fucked up big time."

"I know." The guitarist smiled weakly. "It's ok though - I did too."

"I don't blame you," Gerard looked down miserably. "Look at me, I'm a fucked up, good for nothing slut, no wonder you hate me."

"Stop it!" It might have come out sharper than intended, but there was no way in hell that Frank could let his friend think that. It couldn't be further from the truth. "There is nothing on the planet that could make me hate you, ok? Don't you dare even think that! You could have spent the last six months going around raping virgins and sacrificing babies in Satanic rituals and I still wouldn't hate you. You're one of my best friends, and I was just being a fucked up douche-bag when I decided to ignore you."

A small smile crept on to Way's face at that, even if he didn't entirely believe it to be true. "Thanks."

"I mean it, ok?"

Gerard nodded, then resumed staring at his lap.

"Come on, let's get you something to eat." Frank voiced the first thought that entered his head. After all, they couldn't spend all day just sitting here like this.

To be honest, that was exactly what Way wanted, but he nodded and followed the other man through to the kitchen. He was still fully dressed after last night, so clothes weren’t a problem. What was however, was the way that every movement sent a small spark of pain through him.

"What do you want?" The guitarist questioned. "To eat, I mean."

"I'm not really that hungry." Gerard shrugged. Then winced as apparently the movement had tugged at something that didn’t want to be moved.

His friend frowned, both at the wince, and the other man’s answer. "You have to eat Gee, there's nothing on you."

It was true; all of the weight that the singer had put back on when they were on tour was gone, and he looked skinnier than Frank had ever seen him. Admittedly, it could be worse, but Iero was sure than no full-grown man, or woman for that matter, should ever display their bones so clearly through their skin. How he didn't notice this last night was uncertain, but then, there had been more pressing matters at hand.

"I'm fine." Way frowned.

"I beg to differ." This wasn't good - another argument was not what the two needed right now, especially over something so petty. "Please, I'll just make you some toast or something. You've lost so much weight since the tour, it can't be healthy."

Gerard sighed, but gave in. "Fine, just toast though, I really don't want anything."

The guitarist nodded, and put six slices of toast in the massive machine he had. He didn't bother to ask the other man if he wanted coffee - just presented it to him. A small smile lit up the singer's face at that - and the fact that Frank had made it exactly the way he liked it. Something about the simple gesture reinforced everything that Iero had said about being sorry, and not hating him.

"Thanks." Gerard murmured and the younger man flashed a bright smile back, as he went about searching for various spreads and toppings for the cooking bread.

Way ended up eating his toast with peanut butter and chocolate spread, much to Frank's amusement. It was possibly the most unhealthy combination possible, but he wasn't going to complain - it wasn't as though he was the singer's mom or anything.

Half way through the meal, Peppers wondered up and began to look up at Gerard with eyes that you'd have to have super-human powers to resist. He picked her up happily enough and began feeding her his toast. Iero made no comment other that to roll his eyes and tell the other man not to let her get at the chocolate. Way rolled his eyes, and informed the other that he wasn't stupid, before resuming his coo-ing at the dog on his lap. Frank mentioned that and the singer made some snarky remark back that made his friend laugh.

Clearly, everything was back to normal.

They spent the rest of the day avoiding any difficult conversations, just playing video games, and play-arguing in between heated battles of killing animated creatures on the screen. Gerard knew that sooner or later Frank was going to start asking questions, but he was determined to avoid that for as long as possible.

On his part, the guitarist decided that his friend had been through enough recently without him grilling the man, and decided that the best course of action would be to let Way have the day off, before finding out what the fuck he'd been thinking – sleeping with all those guys – tomorrow. For now, he tried to ignore how his friend winced with every movement.

It was around ten in the evening that Gerard tried to leave. At Iero’s insistence, they’d ordered Indian for dinner, and had just spent the past hours or so choking on the spiciest foods that either had ever tasted. It would probably have been a delicious meal; if either could taste it over the burning of their tongues.

“You are crazy.” The singer said, lying back, hands resting comfortably on his stomach.

“Yeah, but tell me that wasn’t an experience.” Frank grinned.

“One my taste-buds will never forgive me for. To make matter’s worse, I’m also craving a fag.”

“Well, I’ll be happy to arrange your funeral if you wanna risk it.”

“I think I’ll pass.” Gerard said, standing up. “Thanks for the meal anyway. I best be off.”

“What!?” Frank exclaimed. “No!”

Way paused. He’d been hoping that his friend would want him to stay, but was nervous about not being welcome for any longer. “It’s kinda a long drive home, I better get going soon.”

“Do you honestly think I’m letting you out of my sight?” The younger man stood, caught the other’s arm and pulled him back on to the sofa. “Recent events aside, we haven’t seen eachother in nearly a month now! Plus, it’s not like I’m gonna have any more fun without you here.”

“Well,” Gerard joked. “You might wanna jack off or something.” Now that was a nice visual.

“Yes, because being around you all day has exactly that effect on me.” Frank replied dryly. “Anyway, we’ve lived together for how many years now. As if you have no idea what I sound like when I jerk off.”

“True.” Way allowed, not thinking about how he’d purposely listened in once or twice.

“So, you’re staying.”

“Uhuh.”

“Good.”

They went to bed at around two in the morning, their late start and lazy day meaning that they stayed awake past the time they normally did. Gerard was in the spare room again, Frank in his own. Neither would voice the fact that they’d rather just stay with the other.

The singer awoke a few hours later, the sun had barely risen. He didn’t want to go back to sleep though, not in light of the nightmare he’d just had. With every second the details were slipping from his memory – but that didn’t matter. It wasn’t a dream he had any desire to remember, and anyway, he knew what it was about, and what had prompted it.

Frank was probably still asleep, and so were his collection of dogs. The apartment was eerily quiet with no music playing, no small paws scampering around and no laughter from the owner of the place. Gerard didn’t like it.

However, he didn’t want to wake his friend (or any of his four legged minions) so he remained as silent as possible as he crept down the hall and in to the bathroom. It still hurt to move, and the intensity hadn’t lessened in the time he’d spent asleep. The singer vaguely debated having a bath – at least it would ease the soreness.

There were two tubs in the flat – one in this bathroom and one in the ensuite to the master bedroom. The rooms were both reflections of the true price of the home; all mood lights, and soft towed and shower jets aimed in every direction possible. The bath tubs were huge as well, with small fountains at the end that spurted lit up water around the occupant. The apartment wasn’t overly ostentatious, other than these rooms.

Gerard had become familiar with all of these features though over the time that Frank had owned the flat (Since his divorce, in which they had decided that Jamia got the house. The man claimed that he would hate living in such a big place on his own, and this was closer to their recording studio in town) so they were no surprise to him now. He turned the lighting to a dim blue and filled the bath up with hot, scented, bubbly water. He was such a woman at times, but who cared? This was perfect to relax in and forget the terrors that haunted him in his sleep.

He remained in the silky water for hours – just adding more of the hot liquid whenever what he was bathing in cooled. By the time he considered it was reasonable to be awake, the foam had all disappeared; floated off, or dissolved into the bath, or whatever the hell it did. The singer towelled himself off, and went back to the guest room, before realising that he didn’t actually have any clothes other than what he’d arrived in. They had done for yesterday, but now, he didn’t really feel like wearing clothes that stunk – not so soon after washing.

So Gerard collapsed on the bed and decided that when Frank woke up, he’d ask for a pair of sweat pants, or something. Jeans wouldn’t fit due to their differing builds, although, he may be able to fit into to the younger man’s after losing so much weight. They’d still be ridiculously short though.

The singer just lay there for a while in a drowsy half-slumber, until the sound of the man whose apartment he was in leaked through the door. He was tired enough to just lay there for a little while longer, listening to Frank stumble along the hall and into the kitchen. There was the sound of quiet yapping, and some laughing, and Way grinned to himself. The guitarist’s dogs had always amused him, though he was clueless as to why. It was just hilarious how tiny and pathetic the majority of them were, and how Frank spoilt them up until the point they were probably about four times the weight a canine of that breed should be.

Gerard yawned and rolled off the bed, grabbing the towel as he went. He wrapped the fluffy white material around his waist, and wandered in the direction from which the yapping and Frank’s deranged giggles came from.

In the kitchen, said man was distributing rather gross smelling food into four different bowls balanced on the counter in front of him, whilst the same number of tiny dogs (looks like Jamia got all the big ones in the divorce) jumped around his ankles, occasionally nipping them to convey their impatience. The guitarist was only wearing sweats, and was swearing as the meaty chunks slid out of their packaging and on to the counter as opposed to the bowls he was aiming for. It was a hilarious sight.

When Way entered the room, the canines were momently distracted and ran at him. He wouldn’t have minded if not for the fact that they immediately decided to attack the bottom of his towel, which nearly resulted in him losing his one source of modesty. Not that it would be anything new to Frank, but still... it was a situation Gerard would rather avoid.

The dogs soon lost interest though – or more to the point, were diverted by the food bearing dishes their master finally placed on the floor. The singer laughed at the sight, and Iero grinned ruefully back at him.

Then his mouth fell open. Way blushed, although was not entirely sure why – it couldn’t be his state of undress that had shocked his friend so badly. As noted, it wasn’t anything new to the guitarist. Then he glanced down to see his torso was littered with purple and blue splotches.

Oh.

Truefully, they looked worse than they felt, but seeing the marks now, Gerard wasn’t surprised at the way simple movements had been hurting him over the past two days. He couldn’t remember where most of the bruises had come from – well, what specific injury. He could recall the night they’d been inflicted on him well enough, but even then, he didn’t realise that the damage was that bad.

“I’m going to kill him.”

Frank’s voice broke the singer out of his reverie.

“What?”

“I am going to fucking kill that bastard.” Iero was staring at Gerard’s chest with an almost scary intensity, fury etched over every line of his face. If he hadn’t know that none of the rage – or at most, very little – was directed Way would have been terrified. He couldn’t recall having ever seen his friend this angry.

The singer himself was lost for words. What exactly was he supposed to say to a proclamation like that? One that sounded so extreme, but impossible to determine whether it was trueful or not. Gerard didn’t even want to know if Frank was being serious, but got the feeling that if he found some random guys in the street and claimed that this was the man who raped him, the guitarist wouldn’t hesitate to attack.

“Frank, calm down man.” He said finally, needing to break the tension crackling in the air around them. “It’s nothing.”

“No!” The younger man snapped. “Look at yourself, Gee! He deserves every ounce of pain he’ll get.”

That did not sound good.

“Frank, please. I just wanna let it go ok? Getting yourself in trouble won’t fix anything.”

The guitarist sighed, but didn’t respond this. “I’m going to make him pay. I don’t know how, but I will.”

Gerard nodded. It was the best he could do for now.

For several moments more, an awkward silence hung in the air, both men unsure what to say. Frank was seething, of course, but still worried. Mostly that he couldn’t see the full extent of the damage. The towel that Way had slung around his waist draped down to below his knees, and the guitarist had a gut-churning suspicion that the worst injuries would be hidden beneath it. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to see or not.

The truth was though – it was like a train wreck. Or when someone says ‘don’t look’ and everyone in the vicinity immediately spins around to see what’s going on. Car crashes; mangled bodies from war zones; horrific images that littered the news so frequently; dead animals on the side of the road; your friend accidently pulling down their underwear along with their jeans and screaming at you to turn around. You couldn’t help but look, even knowing that this was something you really didn’t want to see.

Frank didn’t know how to put his sick desire into words though, so just approached his friend and pulled the towel back, before Gerard had time to protest. Way’s hands automatically flew down to cover himself, as the guitarist stared for a few seconds before his lids closed in horror.

If the singer’s chest was bad, his hips, thighs and stomach was... indescribable. There were more splotches of black and blue and purple than pale skin, and of what was on display, was tainted by the yellow and green shades of fading bruises. Frank bit back a sob, now understanding the constant flinches of the previous day, and wondering how his friend wasn’t in worse pain.

Gerard grabbed the towel back and wrapped it around his body messily, hiding the worse of the damage. He was swallowing down tears himself, as he looked at Iero’s horrified expression. He didn’t want to know what was going though the younger man’s brain at the moment, now he’d seen physical evidence of exactly how Way had degraded himself. The frontman was bracing himself to be kicked out, to have Frank scream at him that he never wanted to see him again.

If that happened, Gerard didn’t know what he’d do.

So it was surprising, but not unwelcome, when Iero flung his arms around the singer’s neck and pulled him into a bone-breaking hug. He wrapped one of his arms around the guitarist’s waist – using the other to hold up the towel – and held him close as the tears both of them were trying to restrain broke through. Gerard’s were more of relief than anything else though. His friend wasn’t going to abandon him.

“I’m sorry.” Frank choked out. “I am so, so, so sorry this happened to you. That I wasn’t there for you. Oh, shit, why did I do that? I am suck a dick. I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this, you never have. I wish it didn’t happen, that I could have helped. I’ll be there for you now, I promise. Fuck it, I’m never letting you out of my sight again, ok?”

“Fine.” Gerard replied, the sobs coming harder with every promise his friend made. It was everything – or most of the things at least, that he wanted, that he needed. “I’m holding you to that Iero.”

“You do that. You live here as of now.”

Way chuckled, not sure if his friend was joking or not. He wouldn’t protest if he wasn’t.

They stood there for a moment longer, until the moment was interrupted by Peppers flinging herself at the men’s feet, now that the novelty of food had worn off.

Frank drew back, swiping tears from his eyes as he giggled through them. Gerard dropped to his knees and scooped up the small dog, laughing and scratching her behind the ears. “You silly girl, I love you too, don’t worry.” Peppers yipped happily and snuggled into the singer’s chest. The latter laughed. “Hey, Frank?” He glanced, up at his friend, who was smiling down fondly at him, the tears not yet entirely dissipated. “Can you grab me some sweatpants and a t-shirt or something please?”

“Yeah, sure.” The guitarist grinned, before walking off and leaving the older man to continue playing with his undersized dogs, who were beginning to swarm around him like over-excitable, fluffy rats. Yes, even Frank would admit that his pets looked like rats.

It was only when digging through his draws to try and find some clothes that would fit Gerard that would should have been an obvious worry occurred to the guitarist. With this in mind, he just grabbed the first things that came in to view (a Slayer shirt, and brick red sweats) and half ran back into the kitchen.

The singer was still seated on the floor, fending off the canines around him. He looked up with apparent and by no means unwarranted alarm as Frank dashed in and skidded to a halt in front of him.

“What is it?” He asked warily, noting the horrified look was firmly back in place on Iero’s face.

The guitarist choked a few times on the words rising in his throat, but there was no delicate way to put this, and even if their was, Frank had never been one to mince his words.

“Gerard, you did use a rubber, didn’t you?”

The singer’s jaw dropped – somehow the implications of this hadn’t occurred to him either. Then he blushed darkly and dropped his gaze to the floor, shaking his head miserably.

“Shit.” Frank whirled and kicked the wall next to him.


Review and rate, pretty please?

Sx