FicWad

Frank woke up alone the next morning with his arms wrapped around himself. This didn’t surprise him; he was used to it by now. Sometimes he’d wake up with Gerard’s arms around him, sometimes it would be the other way around. Sometimes Gerard would be awake and walking around the house, making drinking some or sorting out some papers, or some days, like this one, he’d just be gone. Frank sat up and rubbed his eyes, feeling dried tears flaking away into his hands, then set his hands down on his lap and bowed his head. He’d look for Gerard later, right now he just had to get his head together. He’d have to go get some food from somewhere later because he didn’t remember seeing anything edible in the house yesterday, unless the dead rat under the TV counted, and as appetising as that sounded, he’d much rather have something else. Frank leaned forward and nudged his hand into his back pocket, feeling around for money, and upon not finding any he forced his legs to hold him up so he could go look for some. They shook as he stood up and his head spun for a second before he regained his balance and slouched over to the door.

The rusted, gold doorknob was freezing cold in his hand as he turned it and the door creaked loudly as he dragged it open, the edge of it scraping the floor tiles. He stepped over the nails sticking out of the floor where the door frame used to be, trying not to scrape his foot on them, and crept into the kitchen. His socks stuck to the floor and made muffled noises like velco tearing with every step as he walked over to the old wooden cupboard next to the sink and pulled it open, to find about three dollars in change and half a furry sandwich. Frank grimaced and scooped up the coins, feeling them scrape against his fingers because of the amount of dried up dirt they had collected from being in there God knows how long. He held the front pocket of his jeans open and dropped them in with a quiet clicking sound, then wiped his hand on his shirt, which hadn’t been changed for three or four days now and smelled like sweat and alcohol. Not that he could drink often anymore, he had to be sober pretty much all the time to make sure Gerard didn’t do something stupid, like he was babysitting a little kid. Frank sighed and pushed his hair back out of his eyes. He was going to have to get a shower if he was going out, he didn’t want to get stared at again. He hated that.

Frank noticed half a loaf of cheap white bread in a crumpled cellophane bag sitting on the counter across the kitchen, so he walked over to it, took a slice out of the bag and stuffed it into his mouth before making his way up the stairs to the bathroom. Torn, maroon carpet with the ghost of a faded, yellow pattern covered the stairs with the occasional nail sticking up from under it where it had come loose from the wooden floor boards and peeling speckled wallpaper that was originally a gaudy yellow clung to the walls. A musty scent hung in the air and reminded Frank of the times when he was a kid and would hide in the shed next to his house when his parents told him get a bath. This bittersweet memory brought a sad smile to his face as he plodded up the stairs, swallowing what remained of the bread and clearing his throat. “Gerard?” He called, not expecting a reply and not getting one. He tried a second time, louder, but still nothing – oh well. He’d go look for him after he’d had a shower.

He reached the top of the stairs, grabbed an old t-shirt from its nest on the yellowed windowsill (these windows were boarded up, too), pulled off the one he was wearing and tossed it aside before stepping over to the bathroom. He hadn’t had a shower in five or six days and it was sad how happy the thought of simply being clean made him feel. However, when Frank nudged open the cracked white door, what he found was Gerard sitting on the bathroom floor, eyes closed and knees up to his chest with his back against the sink, his head tilted back in what looked like tiredness. Frank rolled his eyes and sighed. “Gerard,” he said irritably, poking his shin with his toe, trying to get his attention. He could tell he was awake, the stillness of his face was too controlled to be asleep. Gerard moaned when Frank nudged him again and pulled his knees closer to his chest, leaning his head on them.
“Go away,” he whined, his voice muffled by his jeans. Frank itched his neck and chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to stay calm.
“Gerard, I need a shower,” Frank said patiently, gesturing at the bath with his thumb.
“Then have one!” Gerard snapped, holding the back of his neck with both hands, knitting them together behind his head. Frank frowned and reached out to take Gerard’s arm in his hand - he could have sworn he saw red there.
“Did you hurt your arm?” He asked softly, gently pulling it forward to look at it and, sure enough, there was a slender gash on the side of his forearm, not too deep but about three inches long and weeping thin trails of crimson blood that drew lines on his skin. He raised his eyebrows and looked at Gerard, wide eyed with concern. “What did you do?”
“What?” asked Gerard, groggily, rubbing his face with his free hand then looking at Frank holding his arm. “Oh, uh, broken glass, on the floor.” He coughed roughly and stretched one of his skinny legs out on the floor. When did he lose all this weight? His cheekbones certainly looked more prominent than they used to and he looked gaunt, like white silk draped over a skeleton.
“Are you hungover?” Frank asked, kneeling down in front of Gerard and grabbing a piece of toilet paper to clean up the cut, if it got infected he’d have no choice than to take him to see a doctor and, well… Frank didn’t think that was the best idea.
“Mm,” Gerard hummed, twisting his hair in his fingers and watching Frank dabbing the paper on his arm. “You look pretty.” He added, giggling a little. Frank glanced up at him quickly, smiling a little.
“Thanks.” He’d finished cleaning the blood away so pressed the paper down against the cut to stop the bleeding, causing Gerard to wince slightly and inhale through his teeth. Frank laughed. “Baby.” He teased, smirking at Gerard who stuck his tongue out and looked up to the stained ceiling. Frank was glad he wasn’t in a bad mood today; it made everything so much easier and made him feel happier, too. “Have you eaten?”
“Um… No.” Gerard answered, wetting his lips with his tongue. Frank frowned.
“Well, there’s bread in the kitchen but that’s about it, I’m gonna go get more food later if don’t want that,” he said, still pressing the paper towel against Gerard’s arm, “Don’t know what I’m gonna get though, I’ve got like three dollars. Cheap beans, maybe.”
“I don’t want beans,” Gerard slurred.
“Tough shit, we’re poor.”
“Not my fault!” Well, if Gerard didn’t spend all their money on booze it’d help. Where did he even get the money for that? And God knows that drugs don’t come free.
“Well, where do you keep all our money?” Frank asked, tossing the balled up tissue aside and trying not to sound accusing, wary of ruining Gerard’s mood.
“I dunno,” said Gerard, “You checked under the bed?”
“No,” Frank admitted, sliding across the floor to sit next to Gerard, who put one arm around his shoulders. The touch relaxed Frank, feeling Gerard’s warmth through his jacket and his rough hand curled around the curved bone in his shoulder made feel less alone here.
“Well then, y’know, there’s probably some there. Mm’kay?” Gerard assured him, squeezing his shoulder and kissing the side of his head softly. His hand was shaking. Frank turned his head and looked up at him, concerned as always. Despite everything, Frank was still amazed at how amazing Gerard looked. Every time he looked at his strange, pale face, he saw something new there, and whether it was the slight creases at the edges of his mouth or the small, pink birthmark under his right eye, he could never find any faults. Not even the imperfections could be counted as flaws in Frank’s eyes, not the way in which his silver hair was outgrown and different lengths wherever you looked, not the way his dark eyebrows never seemed to look even remotely symmetrical, not anything. He caught Gerard’s eye and smiled. He was so beautiful.
“Okay,” he croaked, grinning up at Gerard before shuffling closer and leaning against his chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing relaxing him and making him feel safe.
“Oh and, uh… Frank?” Gerard looked at Frank with slight confusion and reached over to tuck a strand of his dark hair away from his face and behind his ear, then stroked his cheek tenderly, his angular hand still vibrating like that of an old man with Parkinson’s.
“Mm?” Frank hummed and closed his eyes, breathing in Gerard’s smell of cigarettes and alcohol.
“You’re not wearing a shirt, you know.” Frank giggled and hugged Gerard’s waist tightly.
“Yeah, I know.”