Wintertime (Frerard, Sequel to Summertime)

32: This Is Where It Starts Getting Traumatic

There was something about waking up in a bed alone, especially when you'd gone to sleep with someone by your side.

There was something else about waking up in a bed alone, with a massive scar down your right side.

Something indeed utterly horrifying, and you couldn't even blame Frank for freaking the absolute fuck out.

He practically leapt to his feet, and indeed regretting doing so, because there was something about a massive scar down your side and suddenly movements that just, you know, hurt like a motherfucker.

He let out an odd kind of muffled groan/yelp, as his fingers made their way down his side, poking tentatively at the crimson mark stark against pale skin, as he struggled to recall, struggle to justify, and piece together just how possibly it could have gotten there.

because the thing was that it wasn't just a little scratch, but a massive scar stretching down from half way down his rib cage to the bottom of hip, and it was fucking ugly in nature: jagged in nature, and goddamn fucking horrifying.

Okay, Frank seemed not to be immediately dying and after the initial shock of it all, he was fine, but more than fucking confused, and more than low-key freaking the fuck out, as he stood there in only his boxer shorts just looking at the scar in the mirror.

He jumped a little as the door opened, leaving Gerard stood in the door way, already a little distraught from a certain conversation he'd had with his brother, only to stand there in shock and disbelief, and more than anything worry and confusion, as his gaze fell upon Frank and the scar.

"What the fuck?" He exclaimed, closing the door behind him and rushing over towards Frank, pulling him into his arms. "What's this? What's happened?"

"I don't know!" Frank exclaimed, clinging desperately to Gerard, tears forming in his eyes as he struggled to explain what the fuck was happening even to himself. "I just, I just woke up, and... I woke up and it was there-"

"Fuck..." Gerard choked out, glancing down at it again, and his head racing as he struggled to piece it all together, because he hadn't injured himself like that, he hadn't hurt himself at all so far that day or even last night, but there was no realistic way that Frank could have acquired such an injury as he slept, but still it lay there, almost mocking, and yet truly horrifying.

"I couldn't have done that in my sleep somehow, and I mean, there's no blood anywhere, it just doesn't make sense." Frank continued, taking Gerard's hand in his for comfort, because honestly, his head felt as if it was about to spin right off his shoulders in that moment, and with the scar on his side, he wouldn't even be all that surprised if it actually did.

"It doesn't." Gerard repeated, "come on, sit down, I think you should sit down," Gerard pressed a kiss to Frank's lips before leading him to the bed and sitting down beside him.

"Doesn't hurt though. It doesn't hurt and it hasn't bled- it's just... there. I mean, it hurts when you touch it like all injuries, but it doesn't hurt of its own accord." Frank glanced across at Gerard, "I mean it's weird, but it's... it's... just a thing, I mean, maybe it's just... I don't know, maybe it's fine, somehow just fine."

Gerard shook his head: not quite so eager to brush it off. "Hey... this is gonna sound weird, but show me your foot," Gerard looked up at Frank, who could only raise his eyebrows back at him in response.

"Do you have a foot fetish or something?" Frank laughed it off a little, before pulling his foot up, and watching with even more confusion as Gerard made a grab for it, before pressing his fingers against a certain spot that Frank hadn't been even aware of. "Fuck." But it hurt, it fucking hurt, and Gerard had barely touched it. "What the fuck was that?" Frank exclaimed, glancing at his foot and looking over a small reddened patch of skin in confusion.