Turn Off The Dark (Frerard)

Part Seventeen

-Frank's POV-

I thanked Mikey for the ride, albeit a short one, and slipped in the back door, closest to my bedroom. If I was lucky, my mother was out, or asleep, and I'd be able to get to bed, wake up and slither away again without being noticed. But I didn't feel like some ninja. I felt like a helpless soul trapped in a field of land mines.

I nearly coughed at the pungent stench of older lady-like perfume. Oh, my mother was home, all right. I crept down the hallway. Around the mines. Careful now.

I heard my mother squawking into the phone, so I at least knew she was distracted. I could see my bedroom door. Almost home free.

Continued down the hall. No mines.

Reached my door. Handle squeaked loudly. Oops. Stepped on a mine. I held my breath for a second, the started into my room.

"Frank Anthony Iero, just where the HELL have you been?"

Detonation.

----

My mother was gone by the following morning. I did not want to go to Gerard's, not in the state I was in. I knew he was probably angry about his blades anyway, and I couldn't handle another knock-down, drag-out fight. Then again, Gerard didn't have some hulking biker dude on his side.

I ended up going anyway. Gerard would find out sooner or later as it was.

When I arrived, Mikey was cooking something delicious-smelling, and Gerard was sitting on the counter like a child, watching him. He looked up at the sound of my footsteps.

"Hey Franki- oh my GOD!"

Gerard's sudden shrillness made Mikey jump, and as Gerard rushed over to me I turned away, but he wasn't having it.

"Frank, turn around or I'll turn you around."

Currently weak to threats, I did as I was told, but kept my eyes down.

I knew what he saw. The swelling in my face, the black eye that was puffed too much for me to see. The cut on my forehead, the angry purple-black bruises on my arms. My ribs ached, I knew there were more bruises and scrapes beneath my shirt.

Gerard moved to put a hand on my arm and I flinched. He immediately retracted his hand.

"It's not that bad" I mumbled.

"Not that bad? Frankie, someone beat you."

Mikey came over and handed me some of Gerard's prescription pain pills. I didn't ask what they were, just swallowed them gratefully.

Gerard herded me to his bed and scuttled around, giving me medication, cleaning and bandaging the lacerations, handing me an ice pack for my eye. Eventually, he sat down and cuddled up beside me, but not too hard against me.

"Frankie, I held off for as long as I could, and I respected your business. But I think it's time you tell me what really goes on at home."

I sighed.

"If you insist, I guess."

From there, I wove out my own tale of tragedy for him to see. Told him how I didn't know my father, how my mother had become bitter toward me at a young age, allowing her various boyfriends to hit me almost as their leisure. I told him how I hated life, the bullying I was subjected to, I even admitted to being gay. I then detailed my attempt at suicide, and how I had met him soon after.

There was an intensely long moment of silence when I finished. Then Gerard leaned over and laid his lips on my bruised cheek.

"You need sleep" he said.

I wasn't going to argue with that, so I settled in.

"I'm right here if you need me" he murmured, just before the wave of medication pulled me down.