october challenge | frerard | ✔️

twenty seven - monster

twenty-seven: still alive

Frank pulled his boyfriend into his arms, clutching his limp body to his trembling own. He closed his eyes against the tears that had already betrayed him by cascading down his cheeks. The sirens were getting closer— police and an ambulance. But they wouldn't do any good. Not now. He was a monster, a villain for this.

"God, what have I done?!"

---

"Stay back against the wall, please," the guard said politely and my door swung open. I stepped back, leaning against the creamy cinderblock and closing my eyes in frustration. Pressing my fingers to the wall, I felt the inconsistency beneath them. It was rough, almost sharp. I opened my eyes again when I had the energy to, and looked up to see Vic.

The tall, Hispanic man with the kind eyes and dominating presence— Vic. I even smiled a little. 

"Y-you're back." I could practically feel my eyes lighting up.

"I am. And you're still here," he smiled sombrely.

I nodded and sat down on my cot as he brought my food over to my small table.

"How much longer?" he looked up at me, searching my face for something I couldn't make out.

I shrugged. "H-h-how long has-s it been?"

"Two years, three months-ish. It's August fifth."

"Twenty-ten..." I nodded again. "So, what th-th-th-three more y-y-y-years-s?"

"Mhm. You're talking again."

"Mhm."

"I don't have any inmates to serve, and it's really been too long, man. Would you like me to stay and talk?"

I nodded, and his eyes lit up, and I could tell he'd missed me as much as I'd missed him. I was the only one he deemed worthy of his rarely earned spare time— he had told this me himself. I was the only one he'd break his big-muscly-guard persona for. Apparently I was interesting and a good friend.

This made me wonder what the other inmates were like behind their illnesses. I guess it didn't really matter. It was our craziness that made us who we were, wasn't it?

"Oh, g-god, I j-just wanna get out of h-here," I muttered.

He didn't respond saying he was sorry. He knew I didn't like it when people said sorry. But to be fair, how else would you respond to that? Offer help? No. Tell me it'd be okay? Then you'd be lying. Saying sorry was about the only other thing you could do, and that's the worst thing ever. I don't want pity, I just want a second chance. I had told Vic that all I wanted was a second chance so many times. In fact I'd told him so many times that I figured he probably wasn't going to ever come back to this asylum when he took leave because of his wife having her baby. But he did come back.

"Y-you're really ba-ack," I looked up at him, and mentally slapped myself for the tears forming in my eyes. "You c-came back," I murmured again.

He set his keys down away from me and came over to hug me. Gladly, I buried my face in his shoulder. No one ever came back for me. Not my father. Not my mother. None of my friends. Not even Pete. No one. Especially not Gerard. But Vic came back. He went away just like all the others, and yet he was here before me, flesh and blood. I actually let my tears fall. I didn't care anymore. Dr Jess would be proud.

"Y-you know, I think you're ju-just about the damn-near best f-fr-friend I've e-ever-ever had, Vic," I stuttered. He let my tears soak into his crisp black uniform shirt. His arms tightened around me as I clung to him and cried. My body seemed so frail, so breakable held like this in his. He was so big, so muscular, and I was a tiny little piece of garbage.