Here's to the Heartache (Frerard) *Discontinued*

21: Friendly Fire

Frank knew he was dreaming somehow, his instincts telling him that none of this was real despite the pungent smell of damp earth filling his nostrils that seemed more genuine than any scent he could produce with his imagination, or the clogging veil of terror inundating every one of his nerves endings, but even though Frank was aware that this was all a fabrication concocted by his mind, he couldn't seem to wake himself up, no matter how many sharp pinches he applied to his sweat soaked skin.

But although Frank's senses were amplified to almost inhuman proportions, his emotions weren't, and that in itself was all Frank needed to assure himself that he was indeed in an world invented by his subconscious state, because Frank's heart didn't feel like it was being dragged out of his chest by prying fingers, his stomach had stopped writhing uncomfortable as if his organs had come alive inside of him, his head was clear and focused, and despite the fact that he still ached, and the simple recollection of everything that had happened with Gerard released a dull wave of pain that slowly rolled over his entire body, it was muted, it was bearable, and a part of Frank wanted to stay asleep forever if it meant that he would continue to be granted this much needed respite.

Frank allowed his eyes to crack open a small margin, trying to decipher where he was, and why he couldn't move, a part of him not wanting to deal with the horrors of his subconscious, the whole reason he had drifted off was to escape the ordeals he had suffered through earlier on, but curiosity won out, even though Frank instantly regretted his action when grit and mud slipped in-between his lids, producing stinging tears in an attempt to remove the irritating substance from Frank's corneas.

The brief view Frank had caught of his surroundings around him hadn't been very informative, all he had managed to deduce was that he was lying on his back, the material underneath him molded around his frame, leading Frank to believe that it was the same dirt that was covering his face and torso, keeping him pinned down with its weight, the darkness surrounding his partially submerged body erasing all other clues to his location, but it really didn't matter anyway, because when another layer of soil hit Frank's body, the silt seeming to appear from the sky like rainwater, Frank understood what was happening - he was being buried alive.

Frank chuckled under his breath at the realization, the paltry attempt at humor transforming into a wracking cough as small particles of dust were dragged into his lungs, but Frank couldn't stop his hysterical laughter, it was the only thing keeping him from bursting out in tears after all, and faking mirth was better than letting his weakness show to whoever was doing this to him, even in a dream.

Frank never understood how dreams worked, although this should probably be classified as a nightmare, but either way, it seemed strange that at times Frank's brain would produce random images that made absolutely no sense, but now it had knitted together a perfect analogy for his current predicament, the heavy soil representing the weight of Frank's lie, the rapidly rising level of it accurately portraying Frank's chances of finding a way out of his falsities in the real world, the constriction in his lungs matching the sensations he felt whenever he allowed himself to reminisce on the way Gerard had looked at him when his secret had finally been revealed in the worst way possible.

And even though Frank was aware that this was a fantasy, he instinctually fought against the second round of soil as it poured down around his small frame, his limbs twisting helplessly as he tried to escape, because maybe if he survived this illusion, it would mean something, or at the very least, it would give him hope that he had a chance at getting through to Gerard, although Frank was well aware how illogical his thought pattern was, but he was willing to cling to any scant amount of foolish conclusions his mind presented to him at the moment.

And just the thought of Gerard had Frank intensifying his pointless struggles, his chest heaving from his efforts as he managed to free one of his arms from the growing pile of silt, the added leverage helping him to put more strength into unearthing the rest of his buried body, but just when Frank was convinced that he could do this, that he could escape, an even larger amount of dirt cascaded into the pit, smothering Frank entirely, leaving only his neck and head free, and Frank knew that the next load would bury him completely.