Chalk Outline

6: Break

Frank was furious. Everyone knew he was furious. It was clearly written on his face as he paced the living room, only stopping when he got dizzy from spinning on his heel a little too harshly. Mikey was pissed too, but seemingly not as aggravated as the guitarist in front of him. Gerard was sat on the sofa, his knees to his chest as he hugged his legs, shaking, staring at the floor as he waited for Frank's anger to bubble over. For a shorter man, he had a hell of a big temper. Though it was rare and this, sadly, was one of the times that the band witnessed it.

Mikey had stated firmly that it was a family matter, a sensitive one at that, so he had told everyone else to go home - including Frank. But, the guitarist had been very persistent in staying. Gerard was best friend and he would die for him, so he wasn't leaving. Not at a time like this. Not now. Not when he had to be there as much as he could for the troubled boy seated on the couch.

Biting his lip, Gerard held back the tears which were fighting ever so hard to spill over. He couldn't break down again. Not in front of the two most important people in his whole life. Struggling to keep his emotions in check, he pulled a packet of cigarettes from his jeans pocket, then his lighter. Unfortunately, for him, Frank was all too quick in snatching them off of him. His mouth parted for a few seconds before he actually managed to say anything. "I-I- Frank, please. I need them. I-I'm sorry." Slowly, he rested his hands in his lap, staring up through his dishevelled black hair at Frank, who had the most frustrated expression on his face.

"Sorry?" He scoffed, shaking his head as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Sorry?" He took a stride closer to Gerard, watching the poor boy flinch when he edged nearer. Doing his best to ignore what that could have meant, Frank walked backwards, stopping in the middle of the room. "You're always fucking sorry, Gee. We never know, maybe one day you'll mean those words. Because right now, it's all you ever seem to say and you don't even try."

Mikey caught on to the silent whimpers that Gerard let out, seeing his eyes scrunch up in defeat. "Uh, Frank." He whispered, gesturing slightly towards his older brother.

Frank shook his head, putting his hand up at Mikey. "No, Mikes. I've been too soft on him already. Sympathy and kindness don't seem to be working. He's not sorting himself out." He growled under his breath, rubbing his eyes, pretending like Gerard wasn't even in the room with them. It made it easier to express what he had kept locked up. "There are only so many times he can screw up before I stop being nice."

Mikey sighed, switching his gaze from his older brother to the floor, a part of him knowing Frank was right. He tried think of an arguement to back Gerard up, but his mind went blank, only filling his brain of the many times he had watched Gerard waste himself on cheap beer until he collapsed.

Taking deep breaths to calm himself down, Frank slammed the cigarettes and the lighter on the table, glancing over his shoulder at Gerard. "You have to quit this, Gee..." He paused. "It was only a few days ago that you nearly overdosed yourself."

Gerard coughed deeply, chest aching with each breath as it felt like acid was burning his throat. When he pulled his hand away from his mouth, he discovered more blood on his pale skin. Quickly, he hid his hand from anyone's view, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa. However, Frank still noticed.

He fucking noticed.

"What's that?" He asked, snapping a little harsher than intended. Mikey furrowed his brows, looking between his friend and his brother.

Panicking, his breaths coming out shaky and short, the singer shook his head, "nothing, Frankie, n-nothing." He tried sounding strong, but his voice cracked and faded to a whisper. Scowling, not taking anymore of it, Frank marched up to Gerard, who sunk back in his seat, wishing he was invisible. Mikey stared, his frown deepening. It was all crumbling at their feet, all the secrets were about to be spilled, he could sense it so easily in the air, which was thick with tension. Hurriedly, Gerard wiped his hand on his jeans as Frank stood a mere meter away. Not registering his own actions, Frank reached out roughly, gripping Gerard's wrist tightly, causing the singer to flinch and wriggle his hand in the guitarist's grasp. "Please." He begged, staring up at Frank with damaged hazel eyes that held so much pain and terror, Frank had to let go.