needles • frerard

twenty two

I run my hand under the faucet, choking back a gag of my own. He's slumped against the side of the bathtub, breathing slow. I kneel down and check his pulse again. It's quick but steadying. I know I probably should've taken him to a hospital. But this isn't my first time doing this, and the last thing he needs is a pile of medical bills.

"Frankie, sweetheart, you with me?"

Weakly, Frank nods.

"I'm gonna clean up your knee." I say. He doesn't reply. I stand up and grab a box of bandaids and a hand towel, which I soak slightly with warm water.

He has no reaction to me pressing the towel against the scrape on his bony knee. As gently as I can, I wash away the dried blood and clean it out, then dry it and put a bandaid on it.

I lean forward and kiss his forehead, then stand up. He slowly follows, confused and trembling. "Slow, baby. Slow." I sling my arm around his waist and guide him to our room, then set him on the bed. "Do you know where you are?" I ask.

Frank pauses, then raises his arm slightly and turns it. He points to the NJ anchor and then giggles. "Jersey."

"Good job, doll. Let me go getcha some water."

A couple moments later I return with a glass of cold water, to see Frank with his shirt off and his own belt around his wrists. He pulls it tight with his teeth. "Frank, what are you doing?" I set the cup on my nightstand.

"H-Here, I made it easier for ya." Frank looks up at me with wide eyes and a hopeful, crooked smile.

"Wh- Oh. Oh, sweetheart. No." I murmur sadly, reaching to undo the belt. Frank pulls away. "Why? Did you find some other wh-whore already?" He spits. The glare quickly fades from his eyes after the words leave his lips. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it." The shorter boy whimpers, as he scrambles backwards. Away from me.
"Please, you already made me bleed t-t-today. And I kn-know I deserve it but please don't hit me again. Please, Bob. I'm sorry."

My jaw falls a little. "Frank, Bob is gone..." I say slowly. "It's Gee, remember?"

He searches my face, eyebrows creased a little bit. "So you a-a-aren't gonna... you know..."

"No, baby. I'm not." I shake my head.

"Oh." Frank replies quietly.

My heart feels heavy in my chest. I walk over to our closet and take out one of his shirts and a pair of shorts. "Can I untie this?" I ask him softly, sitting down on the side of the bed. He simply holds out his wrists, looking down at the floor. I undo his belt. "Here, put this on."

Frank just stares. I sigh lightly and pick up his shirt, then slip it over his head. I put his arms through the sleeves one at a time. "There you go."

"Drink this, Frankie." I hold the glass of water to his lips. He takes a few weak sips; I rub his back. "Why are you-" He hiccups. "-Being so nice to me? You d-didn't even fuck me."

"Frank, it's cause I love you." I tell him, my voice beginning to give out. "And Bob is gone, you're safe. You're with Gerard, remember?" I try to meet his unfocused gaze. "G-Gerard?"

"Yeah. From the tattoo place. Your boyfriend, honey."

"Oh. I'm s-sorry." Frank slurs.

"That's okay. Do you wanna change out of your jeans?"

"Mhm." The black-and-red haired boy nods.

"Alright, I'll be right back." I softly pat his hand and stand up, closing the door behind me. The minute I'm out of his sight, I sink down to the floor, my back against the wall and my face in my hands.