Echoes of Eclipsed Fears (Frerard)

7. All Your Things Out the Window, You're Gone

Gerard's gaze eagerly followed Frank as he exited the apartment block. Frank was headed off to work, it seemed. Gerard really hadn't seen the man go anywhere else in the time that he'd been following him. Frank trudged wearily down the street, his beat-up Vans scraping against the concrete. Gerard sighed, shaking his head. That boy ought to pick up his feet a bit more. He waited until an acceptable amount of time had passed since Frank turned the corner before letting himself inside the apartment. He used the front door this time, not fearing any neighbours that may spy him.

Gerard walked around Frank's apartment, wondering what the boy might need when he inevitably moved in with him. He opened cupboards and drawers, not finding anything noteworthy. There was no need for Frank to have his old towels or bed sheets; Gerard would provide him with newer, softer ones. Gerard's eyes swept over Frank's bathroom bench. His toothbrush was shaggy, to say the least, and his toothpaste looked like it had been through the wringer. He would get Frank some fresh supplies.

Gerard entered Frank's bedroom, expecting to find most of his belongings here - clothes, namely. He noticed that the piles of clothes were still on the floor, despite it having been three days since Frank had cleaned out his closet. Gerard passed them in favour of a note that he spied on Frank's bedside table. He hastily glanced over Frank's messy handwriting, smiling to himself. Frank had just made his job a whole lot easier. Gerard returned to the clothes on the floor, trying to discern which ones were Frank's 'good' ones and which were his 'daggy' ones. He picked up a grey t-shirt off the top of one pile; it was riddled with holes. Just to be sure, he sifted through a few more shirts and socks. This was definitely the shabby pile. Gerard glanced over at Frank's good clothes; there really weren't many in the second pile. He didn't mind, though; he liked the boy's style. Frank somehow managed to wear basic clothes and still pull it off as edgy. Perhaps it's his hair that does that, Gerard mused. He loved Frank's short black 'do, especially the way it curled slightly at the nape of his neck and behind his ear. Gerard recalled how soft it had been to touch, how inviting the boy smelled...

He shook his head, hoping to clear his mind of such thoughts and focus on the task at hand. Gerard folded Frank's nicer clothes neatly while he fantasised about buying the boy some more outfits. He checked the list again: guitar, shoes, sentimental shit... Gerard disregarded the latter two, instead opting to search for Frank's guitar. He found it laid across the small sofa in the living room, an amp and a cable hiding in the corner next to a stack of music magazines. He left them by the door for him to pick up on his way out, noting that Frank's only pair of shoes must currently on the man's feet. That only left one last thing on the list that Gerard had to worry about. He headed back to Frank's bedroom, wondering what classified as 'sentimental shit.' Gerard opened the closet, hoping to find a box or a bag of... what? Childhood toys? Frank's closet was quite barren without clothes, bar a soft guitar case that lay slumped against the wall. Gerard collected that, remembering to put Frank's music gear in it to transport everything. He whirled around, spying a small shoebox sitting atop a stack of books in the corner. Peeking inside, he noticed it was full of papers and photographs. Not wanting to look through them and violate Frank's privacy, he simply swept up the entire pile. With the books in one hand and the box tucked under his arm, Gerard made his way back out to the kitchen. These items, along with Frank's clothes and guitar, were all transported to Gerard's black Lexus LS that was parked two streets away. Gerard sped off down the shabby bitumen, stopping briefly at a store to buy Frank some new toiletries and bath towels. He'd worry about the clothes another day. They could go shopping together, when Frank was finally his.