needles • frerard

twenty four

At his weekly AA meeting, Gerard talked about the guilt. He kept it vague, but everyone else understood. It's not like he could talk to Frank about it. But it made him sick, sick to his stomach. He should've known not to push him into that, he should've asked, he should've been more careful. He wanted to apologize over and over, maybe fall to his knees and sob, trying to convey that he felt absolutely filthy after that night. Not in a good way, either. He was supposed to be the one to protect Frank, keep him from stuff like that. But now Gerard felt as if he belonged in jail right alongside Bob.

At his weekly NA meeting, Frank said absolutely nothing. He rarely speaks, too scared his stutter will take over and he'll make a fool of himself. Then, the same week at therapy, they talked about why he freaked out.

Gerard's POV
I'm sitting in my odd little art studio, sketching someone who eventually ends up looking like Frank. They usually all turn out like that. Just as I'm putting gauges in the ears of another variation of him, my boyfriend (ha, boyfriend. still makes me smile when i think of him like that) walks in, holding a folded piece of lined paper. "Hi, sweetheart." I say, adding a sharp tuft of jet black hair to the sketch. "We t-talked about last week. I-In therapy." Frank stammers.

"Oh?" I reply, looking up at him.

"Mhm. And we figured out why I-I was f-fine with stuff like th-that a few months ago but not now. So I'm gonna s-say a bunch of feelings, i-if that's okay."

I spin my chair around so I'm facing him completely and nod, wearing a slightly proud smile.

"So, b-b-before I had better support, I had sort of blocked everything o-out and i-i-ignored it. I wasn't processing it or talking about it a-and I just sort of pretended that n-n-none of that stuff had happened. Uh, so th-th-the issues with physical i-intimacy weren't as significant. But now that I'm s-s-s-starting to bring it up and stuff, I'll probably get a little w-worse before I get better."

He takes a deep breath.

"And, um, you can still t-touch me and stuff, just n-nothing sudden. I t-trust you a lot more th-th-than others and you're very comforting to me, I j-just want you to know that. I feel s-safe and okay with you b-but sometimes I might need space. And if, like, I'm kinda leaving you alone ph-ph-physically then please do the same to me. Um, I'm not at all okay with sex y-yet but I did like kissin' you like that last week... so... a-although I'd understand if that would be f-frustrating for you."

"Other than the physical boundaries, is there anything else I can do to help?" I ask.

Frank shakes his head. "You're amazing, Gee. Thank you f-for being so p-patient and understanding, a-a-and I'm sorry that I'm k-kind of a trainwreck sometimes."

I let out a small laugh. "That's okay, we're all trainwrecks sometimes. How are you feeling right now? Like, is it okay if I kiss you?"

He smiles. "Yeah, that's okay."

I stand up and he wraps his thin arms around my neck, pulling me closer. God, I fucking love it when he does that. And I love that he almost always balances on his tippy-toes to reach me, even if I can just lean down the few inches it takes to reach him.

I kiss him, slow and gentle and perfect. "Such a pretty boy..." I murmur, softly brushing my thumb over his cheekbone. A light dusting of pink appears on his pale skin, a beautiful blush that makes my heart thud wildly in my chest. He looks up at me and then kisses me again. I tap the tip of his nose with my index finger and then sit back down. "So, therapy was good?" I ask, returning to my sketch. "Yeah." Frank nods.

"Uh, c-could I, um..."

I look back up. "Hm?"

"Could I s-s-sit on your lap?" He asks, quiet and nervous.

"Of course. C'mere." I push backwards a little, moving my chair away from my desk. He sits sideways with his arms around my neck. He's tiny, and still really light. It worries me a little, but I know he's been eating, so I don't dwell on it too much.

I wrap my free arm around his waist and pick up my pencil with my free hand.

"Do you still feel guilty?" Frank mumbles. "Don't worry about me, doll." I reply. "I c-c-can't help it. It w-wasn't your fault; what happened last week."

"Well, yes and no." I exhale. "I shouldn't have assumed you were okay with it."

"Gee, I was okay w-w-with it just up until the very end. I liked it, I didn't try to p-push you away or anything. Besides, I l-l-let you touch my dick once. Kissing my neck wasn't r-really that far of a stretch." He laughs. I crack a smile of my own. "You sure?"

"Completely."

I look up into his eyes and see a new trust, a certainty, that puts my mind at ease a little.

"I love you so much, Frankie."

"I love you too." He leans down to kiss me again.

"How was w-work?"

"Gave a dude and his girlfriend matching ass tats." I reply. The mood of the room relaxes.

"Yikes..." Frank sighs. "Do you w-wanna get matching ass tats?"

"Scared of needles, babe."

"And th-th-thats your only reason?"

I chuckle. "Well, and the ass part."

He laughs too, sweet and high-pitched.

Frank grabs a cigarette from the pack on my desk and lights it. He blows the smoke up towards the ceiling and then looks down at my sketchbook. "Is th-that me?"

"Well, not intentionally. They all just end up looking like you." I say.

"Oh."

I glance up at the smaller boy and he's blushing again. I smile. "What do you wanna do for dinner?" I ask. He passes me the cigarette.

"Uh... there's a n-new Italian place down the s-s-street." He suggests.

"Mm, I've got my Italian right here." I grin, pulling him a little closer. Frank giggles. "I was being serious." He twirls a strand of my hair around, gently messing with it. "That actually sounded great, let me just put on some real clothes first." I snort, looking down at my flannel pajama pants. He lifts himself off of me and then takes back the cigarette. "Can you speak Italian?" I ask, pulling on some jeans. "Non molto bene." Frank replies. "So, yes...?"

He smiles. "A little bit. That meant 'not very well.'"

"Sounded good to me." I grab my leather jacket from the floor where I left it. I stop at the hallway mirror and raise my hands up to my greasy hair, trying to make it look halfway decent.

Frank appears beside me and pulls back my hair, then leans up and kisses my cheek. "Di bell'aspetto."