Turn Off The Dark (Frerard)

Part Ten

-Gerard's POV-

I didn't leave my little sanctuary of solitude again for a week. My internal tug-of-war over Frank was alive and well, haunting me every second, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

My arms were a mess, as well as my stomach and legs. The urge to cut came and went in a binge-like fashion for me, and well, it had been a binge week.

Eventually, after spending nearly a precursor hour making sure no scars were visible, I made my way downstairs to the lobby, midday, an extremely rare occurrence. As far as most in this building knew, I wasn't even still among the living.

But not Miss Jean. That old lady had a way of staying on top of things that I could never truly comprehend. And of course she was sitting on one of the leather couches in the bright lobby- playing Connect Four with Frank.

I'm not sure why, but my heart did a backflip, then kept an upbeat pace, doing a little tap dance behind my ribcage.

Miss Jean glanced my way, and her face lit up when she saw me.

"Why, hello dear! How've you been, feels like I haven't seen you since World War II. Come here, sit down for a minute. You're not interrupting, Frank and I are just playing our usual Sunday game."

Sunday. So it was Sunday. I hadn't been keeping track of the day for some time. Meretricious, it seemed, as it didn't affect me.

"Well don't just stand there, dear."

Semi-reluctantly, I took a seat next to Miss Jean, across from Frank. The annoying thing about sweet old women is they seem to exude and aura that is near impossible to turn your back on.

I sat quietly and watched them play round after round. I'd only played Connect Four once in my whole life- in elementary school, and since I'd played against my brother, that still didn't quite count as human interaction.

I felt a distant pang of- something. Sadness? - at the thought of my brother, Mikey, whom I hadn't seen in a few years, not since I made my own way, moved in here.

(Nevermind him.)

I forced myself to snap back to reality.

"So what brings you downstairs in daylight?" Miss Jean bubbled as Frank made his move.

"Uh, I'm not sure" I murmured, and honestly, I really wasn't. What HAD been my motivation in leaving my abode?

"You can't honestly like to sit in your apartment your whole life." It was Frank that spoke this time. We locked eyes; I'd forgotten to hide mine. For a moment all shyness was forgotten.

"I actually do" I retorted, feeling a bit defensive of my lifestyle. This kid had no idea what I went through.

(See? They all want to hurt you.)

"Gerard here is a touch reclusive" Miss Jean said kindly as she won the game.

"A touch?" I interjected.

"Dude, I'm here every night. You can easily come down and say hi, I've got nothing against you. Besides, you owe me a peek at your art." Frank's tone was gentle, and he smiled shyly.

(You're not considering it, are you?)

"Maybe" I whispered, the anxiety bull kicking full force, throwing me clear off the saddle. "I gotta go."

"Bye, dear. Listen to Frank" Miss Jean said knowingly.

"Okay." I stood up. "Bye, Miss Jean. Bye, Frank."

Frank smiled. Just a little bit.

"Bye, Gerard."