Diluted ☻ FRERARD ONE-SHOTS

Stockholm Syndrome

Two months; that's how long former-psychologist Frank has been a hostage of sadistic abuser Gerard Way. Intent on keeping his promise of never giving into Gerard's demands, he'll take every punch and kick and twisted grooming that comes his way - even if it kills him. But is it possible to put a time limit on how long it takes to break a man?

WARNING: This one is pretty sick and twisted and deals with manipulation/strong physical abuse.

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It's day sixty.

Another kick has Frank tumbling down the stairs on his side, the wind knocked out of his lungs as his ribs thud with every sharp movement. He lands on his arm bad and curls up instinctively with his face pressed against the floor.

Just let it be over, comeoncomeon, no more, he can't take it, nononono.

He hasn't registered the dampness of tears mixed in with the blood spilling down his cheeks, too preoccupied with pains so intense they're hardly real. He is in a dream, floating within and without himself, and it's only the soft sounds of his own sobs that keep him present.

Footsteps grow nearer - the threat they pose makes Frank whine louder and he covers his head with his hands. Don't open your eyes, don'topenyoureyes (he doubts he even could if he wanted to).

"Do I have to keep doing this?" Gerard kneels before the shaking boy and cocks his head at the way he flinches away instinctively. "Frankie?"

It's day sixty of being held here against his will, taken from his grad-job office in the middle of night when he decided to work late. How badly he wishes he could go back and have an earlier bedtime.

Part of Frank yearns for it to be done with, to simply give in and put a rest to the pain. Two months of this endless routine have worn him out. Gerard promised he would stop all of this if Frank does as he's told, and in respect to survival, perhaps obeying is his only option - perhaps Gerard will keep his promise. Forget what Frank knows about psychopaths despite his ironic Psychology degree; maybe he can appease this one.

"P-please," Frank chokes out, momentarily disgusted at how weak his voice sounds. Damn his stammering.

He used to get teased for it as a child, the mild speech impediment. Eventually he grew out of it but when faced with stressful situations (and this is the cherry on top), it resurfaces.

Gerard places a hand on Frank's back and the younger man cries out in fear more than anything, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. He can't move. "Please," he begs again, wrecked and hysterical, "p-please, I'll be good, I'll be g-good, I promise, pleasepleaseplease! Please s-stop, please—"

"Please what, sugar?"

His eyes stay shut. He can't bear to look at Gerard, to see the grim pleasure in his eyes when he uses the title. "P-please, S-S-Sir."

Gerard lifts Frank, so surprisingly soft and gentle, and pulls the battered boy into his shoulder. Frank is too shocked to try to pull away and instead lets his whimpers and pleads be shushed as he's soothed, one of Gerard's hands brushing lightly through his hair. Gerard's biggest wish, Frank has learned, is to be respected as much as he's feared (aside from this, Frank makes no effort to try and consider why he's even been kidnapped to begin with).