FicWad

Reynolds finished speaking to Gerard and he crept out, leaving to go to the living area. He lay down on one of the sofas, instantly regretting it when Ray started conversation to him. Ray was a nice guy, just a bit crazy, as all. Frank went into Reynolds' office, sitting down.
"What did he say?" He asked softly, not getting his hopes up. Reynolds smiled. She pushed a piece of paper across the table, which displayed a mind map.
"I encouraged him to put your name in the middle, then he started writing words, that he connected with you. He kept connecting and connecting, then he drew a little picture on the otherside. He did well." Frank smiled, passing the paper back.
"He writes way too small, and I don't have my glasses, could you read it to me?" He asked, shyly.
"Well, he started with Frank.. There are three arrows. One says best friend. One says enemy; and one says boyfriend." She started. "On the enemy side - it says something to do with you wanting him to be stabbed?"
"Oh, that." Frank sighed, "It was the day I arrived, we didn't get along very well." He shrugged.
"I see." She smirked, softly. "There's a few swear words, in this section.. But very little else. Now, the best friend section; it starts off talking about some scars - um, he's drawn some razorblades and a window - and he's drawn you sat with his brother."
"Aww," Frank smiled, blushing, "He threw my blades away, and looked after me, that's when I started getting feelings for him,"
"He's written about his drawings and about being smoked out, he's talked about.. Running Away? Some sort of calligraphy, he says. And that's pretty much it."
"I can't draw, but I saw he drew a lot of pictures of me, and he called me pretty." Frank smiled softly, "But, I can do calligraphy, so I wrote 'You can run away with me, anytime you want.' I thought he'd like it," He shrugged.
"I see." She nodded, pushing the piece of paper back across the table. "From what I've gathered, it's difficult to tell how he feels about you, since he doesn't ever say things straight."
"What about the boyfriend section?" Frank asked softly. Reynolds sighed sadly.
"It only says one thing, here."
"What is it?"
"Help me." Frank's eyes widened.
"Do you know what it means?"
"I don't know," Reynolds shrugged. "I asked him and he just.. He wouldn't say anything. Not a word."
"Okay, thank you for asking him," Frank nodded, getting up, walking back to his room. Gerard by now was sat in his cavern, drawing quietly. He had no interest in smoking himself out, and Frank knew that from the packet of cigarettes that was laid on the side. Gerard had however, kept his lighter with him. Frank didn't realise Gerard was in the room, he sat on his bed, sighing.
"Help me?" He said softly, thinking, Gerard heard him, staying quiet, listening carefully. He turned a new page and drew out what he imagined what could be going on outside the cupboard.
"Why would he write help me?" Frank spoke softly, "Um... He doesn't want to like me that, maybe?" Gerard continued drawing the scene, listening quietly. He knew why he had said help me but he thought Frank might have gotten the message. It was partially to do with Frank, but not really.
"He doesn't want to love me?" Frank asked himself, "Maybe, he doesn't want to feel alone, so he's saying help me, because he wants to be with me?" He sighed. Gerard felt like he needed to speak but he knew he couldn't. He refused to speak. He refused to speak from now on unless it was required so. He would have to write down his feelings - because he sure as hell couldn't voice them.
"He'll look at me like some kind of insane, love stricken child, if I ask him," Frank sighed, sniffing. Gerard wrote down a small message on a new page and pushed it out of the cupboard. Frank saw the paper, he jumped off the bed, trying to comprehend it with little success.
"I know you're there, Gerard, but I can't read it without my glasses, and I've lost them." Gerard bit his lip. How the hell was he supposed to communicate now? He pulled out another piece of paper and wrote in very large, block lettering: "I can't speak".
"Why?" Frank asked softly, sitting by the cupboard.
"I refuse." He wrote, passing another note through.
"But you have a lovely voice, Gerard," Frank sighed softly.
"If Mikey can't speak, I can't speak."
"I see, then can I go and ask Renolds to read the message?"
Gerard wrote "yes" in block capitals on the back and pushed it through.
"Okay, I'll be back in a second."

Reynolds took the note in her hands and squinted, carefully.
"Frank." She started, reading the note. "I need help. Now for two fold reasons, more than one. It's not fair that I can't love but now that I think it's happening I'm frightened. I don't understand it and now, things are more difficult. I tried to call my mother after I had a meeting with Reynolds, and.." On the note, there was a smudge, where it looked as though a tear had dropped. "My mother has been arrested. Finally, I know. But - Mikey's hurt. He's hurt really bad. My mother pushed him down the stairs. He's refusing to speak and he can't really move.. I'm scared and until my baby brother is okay, I'm not talking. I have to do him some justice. Frank, I know more than anyone, that you'll understand this, so please.. Help me." Frank nodded to her appreciatively for reading it. He sat in the living area and thought it over before talking to Gerard.

"I think I can say anything now, because I can't see you or hear you." He paused, "I'll help as much as I can with Mikey and everything, and he'll be okay, I promise." He gulped, "Gerard, I think I love you." Gerard sniffed, softly, listening.
"How long have you known?" He pushed the note through the cupboard and onto the floor.
"How long have I know what? That I think I love you?"
"Yes."
"Yesterday, when you hugged me and when I gazed into your eyes, and when I noticed your drawings." Frank sighed.
Gerard didn't push a note back, until he had thought about what he wanted to say enough.
"Do you want me to love you back?"
"I can't make that decision." Frank smiled softly, shrugging. "It's your decision."
"But if you could."
"Yes. But if you don't, I don't mind." Gerard was pensive before replying.
"Then I will do that, for you."
"It doesn't work like that, Gerard." Frank gulped, "I don't know what you feel about me, if you care about me or not."
Gerard took a new piece of paper and began to write, in big lettering.
"I want to make sure your safe and I want to wipe away your tears. I want to curl up beside you when your sleeping and I want to carry you around in my pocket. Sometimes I want to slam your head against a wall and beat some sense into you when you say horrible things about yourself, but then I'd pick you up and dust you off and make sure nothing hurts you. I want to protect you from the rest of the fucking evil world because something so perfect shouldn't be tainted. I want to cry because I don't understand how to explain it."
"Can I come in? Please?" Frank asked softly, sniffing. Gerard looked around him. There wasn't really enough space, but Frank was only little anyway. He pushed open the board for Frank to come through. Frank crawled in, wrapping his arms around Gerard, sniffing softly.
"You explained love." Frank smiled, gazing at Gerard lovingly. Gerard gave Frank a quizzical look. He shook his head softly, taking the sketchbook in his hands.
"I can't have done. I don't understand it." He wrote.
"What you just said, is love. The fact that you care a lot about one person, and sometimes you hate their guts, but you want to make sure that their safe. It's love." Frank smiled softly, blushing.
"I thought love was supposed to be, you know, like, kisses and having sex and stuff." Gerard shrugged.
"Kissing and sex and that, is affection, not love. You can have sex with anyone, and it's not love." Frank smiled, "But, if you have sex or kiss someone you do love, it makes it a lot better."
"Then why would anyone be a /prostitute?" Gerard wrote, out of the blue, making Frank giggle every so slightly. Frank giggled.
"Because, sex is pleasure. I think it feels nice," He shrugged, "I wouldn't know."
"But surely they want love? All normal people want love, right?"
"Everyone wants love, but sometimes when they get older, they give up, trying to find the right person," Frank shrugged.
"What do they do then?"
"They stay lonely, and sometimes they get lots of cats." Frank giggled, seeing Gerard smile.
"But I thought love was what all normal people strive for? Mom always told me that I was weird because I never wanted to get married."
"Most people do want love, but some just don't." Frank shrugged, "I feel like this is the right moment to do this," Frank pressed his lips to Gerard's, softly. He kissed him for a couple more seconds, before pulling back, shrugging.
"I wanted to see what you would do," He smiled softly. Gerard nodded softly, unsure of what he could possibly write back, before pushing his sketchbook aside and crashing his lips against Frank's again, clinging to him desperately. Frank wrapped his arms around Gerard, kissing him softly but still quite passionately. Gerard pulled away, pushing his forehead against Frank's, his fingertips pressing into Frank's cheekbones and holding him there.
"Can I ask you something?" He spoke softly, not moving. Gerard nodded, gently.
"Would you be my boyfriend?" Frank asked, shyly, blushing hard. Gerard considered it. He didn't really want a boyfriend, he just wanted Frank. He nodded once again.
"We don't have to act differently, we are pretty close as it is." Frank giggled softly. Gerard tugged Frank towards him into a hug. Frank smiled, pressing his face into Gerard's neck, wrapping his arms around the older boy. Gerard let tears drip from his eyes and he didn't even understand why. Frank hushed him.
"Shh, don't cry," He smiled softly, kissing his cheek. Gerard sniffled, hunching up his knees. He took the sketchbook.
"I don't know why I'm crying.." He scrawled.
"You sound like a hormonal woman," Frank giggled, "Don't worry about it, honestly." He placed a hand under Gerard's chin, lifting his face up, and with the other hand, wiped his tears.
"I don't like it," He wrote, shaking his head, still in tears.
"No one likes crying," Frank rolled his eyes, "But, you'll get through it." He smiled softly.
"I don't like it because it hurts," Gerard wrote, frowning through his tears.
"Do you know why you're crying? Any reason?" Frank asked softly, frowning. Gerard shook his head, confused. Crying didn't make much sense to him either - in fact, with such a brilliant mind, things that he didn't know were particularly alienating.
"Tears are words, the heart cannot express," Frank smiled softly, shrugging.
"Well that's pretty good, considering I can't talk right now."
"I miss your voice," Frank sighed.
"When I hear Mikey laugh again, you'll hear me laughing with him."
"That's so sweet, Gerard." Frank smiled softly, sniffing.
"I'm a good person."