needles • frerard

four

Gerard holds the tiny, trembling body close to him, comforting a man he could barely call an acquaintance. Frank is soaking the shoulder of Gerard's favorite shirt, but he couldn't care less.

"You're okay, hun." The black-haired man coos, holding Frank tightly. The New Jersey air is biting at his skin. "Frankie, it's freezing. C'mere." Gerard opens the car door for Frank and helps him into the passenger seat, where he immediately brings his legs up to his chest and wraps his arms around them.

Gerard
I get into the driver's seat and turn the heat on. "Take a breath, Frankie. What happened?" I ask softly. He takes in a deep, shuddering breath. After wiping away the tears from his flushed cheeks. "W-We got h-home, and Bob got real mad at me." He stammers. "And he got j-jealous, and mad, a-and he hit me, a-a-and pinned me down on the couch, and he- h-he-" Frank bursts into tears again. My jaw drops. "Oh god, Frank. I'm so sorry..." I gape, my heart constricting. Fury ripples through me at the thought of someone taking advantage of the smaller boy. "Is Bob your boyfriend?" I ask. He nods, sniffling. When he goes to dry his eyes, I see his wrist. It's purple and black over his joint.

"Shit, Frank, your wrist... we should probably go to, like, a hospital or something..."

"No!" Frank looks up at me with wide eyes.

"They'll ask questions."

"Ok, Ok. No hospital. I promise." I reply. "I- I have some first aid stuff at home. And tea. Do you like tea?" I ask.

"Um, y-yeah I g-guess." Frank replies.

"Okay."

We drive, mostly in silence, to my apartment. "I'm s-sorry for my stut-stutter." Frank says quietly.

"Why are you apologizing? It doesn't bother me. And it's not like you can help it." I reply, glancing at him.

"Oh..." He mumbles. My eyebrows crease with concern. I can't believe he's saying sorry for stuttering. Someone has conditioned him to feel bad about something he can't control. Jesus, I want to punch his boyfriend. I wanna do more than punch him, really. I don't even know the guy. Hell, I don't know either of them, but I do know that there's a guy crying in my passenger seat because some foul creature hurt him.

When we get to my place, I guide him to the bathroom and have him sit up on the counter. "Why are you doing this? I mean, you b-barely know me..." Frank asks, his voice scratchy.
"Because you're hurting, and I want to help. And I like you." I smile, placing a box of band-aids and disinfecting alcohol on the counter next to his leg. "Um.. thank you." The shorter man replies hesitantly. I nod.

"So I'm not, like, a doctor or anything but I think your wrist might he dislocated."

Frank raises it to eye level and nods. "It is." I watch as he grasps his wrist and then quickly twists it. I hear a sharp popping sound. He winces but doesn't say anything. My jaw drops.

"Wh- wh-" I gape. He looks up at me, confused. "You just popped your own wrist back into place..." I mumble, still kind of shocked.

"Not my first time." The hazel-eyed male shrugs.

"Oh." I nod slowly. "Well, alrighty then. Is it ok if I bandage it?" I ask. Frank quickly draws his hands back, shaking his head. I back up slightly, giving him space. "Frankie, doll, if I don't wrap it then it'll just get worse." I reply. He stays still.

"I promise it won't hurt, okay?"

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"O-Okay." Frank cautiously extends his wrist towards me.

"I'll be gentle, don't worry." I pick the ace bandage and unroll it, then very lightly grab Frank's thin wrist to steady it.