a/n: major trigger, pls be safe ily. I'll put a star for a warning and to mark where it ends as well.
also I apologize for some of these being shitty and just given zero edit quality but I really love this one (((youre about to see how fucked up i am))) and spent like weeks (((((months))))) editing it
×××
He started walking up beside me and the ends of my fingers tingled, threatening to drop my books out of their strong white-knuckled grip.
"Gerard?" He asked, coming up beside me. I didn't understand what he could possibly want. Yes, he's usually around me often, but he knows to not ask a lot of questions and especially not to bug me.
"What?" I asked, turning to look at him, making him hit my chest from the sudden stop. "What, Frank?"
"Okay, okay, can we talk at lunch?" He asked, shoving his hands in his front pockets, and biting his bottom lip. I furrowed my eyebrows and glanced around him. He's not joking. I know that look; he's nervous, anxious, he's biting his lip and he knows I hate that.
"Why?"
"... be.. cause I want to talk to you?"
"About what?" I muttered. He knows not to ask, but I turned my attention to his eyes that were frantically searching over me.
"Gerard, can you... please just trust me? I know you don't trust anyone, but please, this once-"
"I don't understand why you need to suddenly talk to me so bad," I interupted gently, more curious than angry at the moment.
"I've never- oh my god, I've always liked you, can you just please?" He whimpered, pulling at his hair.
I nodded.
"Stop that," I grunted, gesturing toward his hair.
"Yeah, yeah; okay, thanks." He started to lean toward me and I backed away. He audibly gulped and instantly wrapped his arms around my torso. I groaned and rolled my eyes. He always does this. Just fucking hugs me 24/7. We're barely even together, I don't think you could consider us close friends, but he likes me. People would call us close friends just because they see us together all the time. And if you actually knew how we interacted, you would call it more of a suicidal risk.
This is the millionth hug but sixty-fourth encounter we've had talking in just the public eye. I respect him for not wondering too often, but he's usually asking questions here and there -barely in public, though. But he's always curious; I just know he is. It's what makes him cute.
"Thanks," he mumbled quietly, voice muffled in my clothes, soon enough letting me go.
I wasn't sure whether he was talking about the hug or that I agreed to talk to him.
I just nodded, turned and continued walking to the next class.
×××
I started walking toward lunch, passing my table and heading to the back of the school where I knew Frank was. I ruffled my hair and lit a cigarette as I stepped out, looking for Frank.
But he came up behind me, wrapping his arms around me again. I gasped lightly and coughed from not fully taking a drag from my cigarette, including the surprise.
"Frank," I grunted.
"Hi," he said sweetly, fiddling with the front of my shirt as he hugged me. I almost smiled as I looked down at his small hands.
"Hi," I mumbled, turning to look at him.
He smiled and sat down against the brick wall. I sat across from him, crossing my legs to make myself more comfortable.
But the tension was filling too quickly.
"You're always curious, it's so obvious."
He shot his head up, staring at me. I blew out my smoke, coughing into my elbow.
"C'mon, Frank."
"Yeah, I have questions. I mean, everyone does."
I nodded, understanding. We regularly sit at my table and this grass is making me uncomfortable. More so that I'm not comfortable going outside period. But being with Frank, you go outside all the time. Whether it's walking through the forest or riding on escalators.
It's always go, go, go.
And always touching me. He must like to... or else he's being intimate. I'm not too good at that, which I've found quick to recognize and pick up on.
"Can I?" He mumbles, fiddling with the ends of his shirt, ignoring how much his nervousness put me on edge.
I hesitantly nod, knocking off the ash at the end of my cancer stick.
"Why are there bandages across your arms?"
I sigh and slip off my jacket, holding my cigarette inbetween my lips, watching it move up-and-down in front of my nose. I catch it in my fingers and let him look over my left arm, covered in bandages.
He moved closer to me, gently grabbing my arm and looking over it.
"Gerard, what's under this?" He asked nervously.
"You don't want to know-"
"I do," he said confidently, his soft voice cracking at the end.
I groaned and took my arm back.
"Its just cuts. Really bad ones. The bandages help me to stop cutting. Sort of."
He looked at me sadly, and whined. Why is he so upset? He knows how I hate making things emotional.
"Stop," I grunted, putting my cigarette out. I get so tired of people sometimes. All their feelings and shit -so annoying, I swear to god.
"Sorry," he mumbles.
"Dont be upset, you know I... you know how I get."
"Okay, okay, please don't."
"I wont, because... because-"
"You care about me?" He said softly, looking up at me eagerly.
I stared at him, contimplating what to say. Do I? Do I care? I'm not sure, yet.
"I care about how my actions affect you. You know I can't help it. That's why I never wanted to tell you about this," I said, pointing at my forearms that were wrapped up. I slipped back on my jacket. "You know I'm not that intimate. I'm trying, I really am. Because I care about how you hurt yourself." When he didn't answer and just looked down, I poked his chest. Hard. "About how you hurt yourself," I repeated. He looked up and me and nodded. "Good, c'mon, I hate the outside." I stood up and he grabbed onto my hand, lifting himself up.
He hugged me again, staying there strongly.
"It's not a big deal, Frank, don't get emotional about it. Or else."
"I know," he said quietly, gripping me tighter. "Can you hold me? Please."
I sighed a little and wrapped my arms around him lightly. I was never one to really understand why people are so sweet, or even why Frank himself is so emotional and clingy.
"Do you like that?" I mumbled softly, watching him nod his head.
I rubbed his back softly and backed up, placing a kiss on his cheek. He still looked like he was going to cry. And he was biting his damn lip. I hate seeing this -upset, nervous, sad. Especially from Frank.
I pulled his lip from between his teeth, urging him to stop, but kissing his cheek lightly instead of getting too angry at him.
"Do you like that?" I asked, wiping my thumbs under his red eyes. He smiled lightly and nodded. "Good."
"Are you coming to my house after school?" I asked, looking down at him as we walked back inside.
"Yeah," he said, smiling up at me. Trying to cover up his emotions. I decided to let go of it for now.
We had the next class together and thankfully we weren't too late.
But he sat next to me as always and we listened to the lecture, even though he kept staring at me. It was only when I knew something was wrong when he asked to go to the bathroom.
I internally groaned, hearing him walk away. After a minute I asked if I could go see some other teacher -just to get out. Because I knew I had to get Frank. He only listens to me, but he's bad at controlling things himself. I know he doesn't want me to come get him, I know he doesn't, because he knows what happens.
But Jesus Christ, he'll never understand. I'm only holding myself attached for him.
I approached the bathroom slowly, not wanting to make any noise. I leaned in, hearing soft whimpers and an occasional sniffle.
Awh, Frankie.
I started walking in. I stood infront of the stall where I knew he was. All noises ceased and I knew it was him. Not to mention the obvious Chuck Taylor's.
"Frank," I started.
He hesitantly unlocked the door and I gently pushed it open.
Tears where staining his cheeks, and they were still in the motion of falling.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, looking down. "I tried, but I cant-"
"Frank, stop."
"Gerard, I can't stop this-"
"Yes you can, Frank. You've done it before; you know, God, Frank, you know this gets me irritated."
He whimpered, cowering into himself.
"You know that; you can't hold it in for less that five minutes-"
"I know, and I'm sorry. Don't threaten me again."
"I will if you don't stop," I warned him, staring at him intensely, just wanting him to calm down more than anything.
He whimpered pathetically, wiping at his eyes roughly and trying to control his uneven breathing.
"If you don't stop right now-"
"Okay, okay... 'M fine," He says quietly, lifting his head up.
I tried to get to understand him at this moment. How is he feeling? What would make him happy? I'm so bad at making him feel good, even though he says it's fine. But deep down, it feels like he's lying to me.
"Are you good now? Are you gonna cry anymore?"
He stared at me, crossing his arms over his chest.
"This is why I didn't want to show you in the first place, Frank. This is your only warning-"
"No," he whined, tugging on my jacket.
"Yes," I said sternly, staring at him deeply, hoping he would just drop it. "Frank, do you understand what I'm trying to do?"
He nodded, sniffled.
"Okay. When you don't cry over me, it'll make you stronger; and one day when I'm gone, you are going to have to take care of yourself. And if I don't teach you a lesson, you're not... you're not getting it, you're not understanding- getting the point through. I don't tell you, but when you ask, I do; no matter how much I don't want to -even though I know it's a bad thing to do sometimes- I do, because it definitely is good to tell you, but I don't want to if it's going to keep affecting you like this."
He wiped at his eyes tiredly, like a small baby, and gripped at the fabric on the end of my jacket. He does that when he gets too weak and wants me to understand.
One time when we were outside and I got upset at him, he gripped onto that spot. And when he didn't let go, I took my jacket off, tying it to the branch of a tree and leaving. He kept staring at me, this deep, overwhelming look in his eyes that I never forget.
I kept over thinking about it the entire day, so I went to see if he had at least walked back home. And when I got there, I found him laying in his bed, curled up in my jacket.
"And god dammit, sometimes I don't want to hurt you like that. I don't want to be hurtful, but you'll never understand if I don't help you. Alright?"
He nodded.
"I think you're okay," he mumbled, wrapping his arms around me. I sighed softly and hid a kiss in his mess of hair. "I understand but I don't like it when you make me do that, it hurts me."
"I know, I know," I said quietly, rubbing at his back.
"And I get that you can't help it, I want to make you better."
"I'm not mentally ill, Frankie."
"I know; I wanna cuddle with you, though."
"Maybe some day," I mumured quietly, seeing him perk his head up at me.
"Gerard, can we go home?"
"No, Frank," I said quietly, shaking my head.
"But Gee-"
"I took you home last week, and the week before that."
He sighed and nodded.
"C'mon, you're okay," I mumbled, starting to open the stall door.
He sniffled, rubbing his eyes one last time and following me out.
He leaned against me as we walked, close together and I let him.
×××
"Okay, okay."
Frank grabbed onto my sleeve as I started walking away from him.
I got up the stairs and outside to where my car was.
"We can't walk today?"
I shook my head a little, getting into my car.
Once Frank had gotten in, he grabbed my jacket sleeve and kept his small fingers there as I tried to control things with one arm.
I sighed as I looked at him and started the car. He wasn't even paying attention to me.
The ride was silent, maybe a little too silent. I would almost blame Frank for being too quiet, but I guess I could blame myself. But I had nothing to say in the first place.
I could tell Frank was thinking.
He was thinking a lot.
You can always tell.
Every other minute or so, he would bring his eyebrows together or squint his eyes. He usually had a hand up at his mouth.
"Stop doing that," I mumbled.
"Doing what?" He asked, instantly drawing his attention to me.
"Thinking," I answered clearly. "You're gonna give yourself migraines is you keep thinking so much."
"I already do, Gerar-"
"Well stop."
I pulled into the drive of my house as he gave me a small, tired look.
We got out and once we got inside, I threw my car keys onto the side table by the door. I slipped off my shoes and almost took off my jacket, but then thought about Frank.
I left it on.
"Are you hungry-?"
"Where's your mom?" He interrupted, looking around curiously.
"Doesn't matter, she's probably not coming back in a few weeks anyway.
He sighed nervously, and I could feel tension rising in the room quickly.
"Frank, let's go to my room and study," I suggested, already starting to walk down the hall leading to my room. I was getting kinda hot in this jacket, I admit.
Once I got inside my room, I sat on my bed and started to get all my books and papers out. I only had a reading assignment, but god, I can't stand the air being so thick between us like that.
He walked in and sat across from me, picking at the skin around his fingernails. He dragged out his books and papers. After a few minutes I started getting too hot, and slipped off my jacket, throwing it to the side.
I suddenly didn't hear anything. I looked up at Frank with wide eyes, to see him staring at my arms.
He better not.
"Stop," I said quietly. "Dont. Look."
He made a small whimper noise, scrunching his eyes closed tightly.
"Dont cry."
He started shaking his head and I started to hear soft sobs.
"Frank," I muttered in a warning tone.
He gasped shakily and curled his arms around his head.
"No, no, no," he rambled, shaky sobs leaving his throat, as I caught the sight of tears rolling his cheeks. He must've noticed me looking, and suddenly made eye contact with me.
Well here we go.
"Gerard," he said softly.
"Are you ready?"
"No, no!" He yelled. "No, no, no."
"Frank, I already told you-"
"Gee," he whined. "I don't want to."
"You already know why, Frank. We might as well do it now," I pleaded, giving him a glare.
He violently shook his head and ducked into himself.
"No," he whined.
"Yes," I corrected, starting to stand up off the bed. I squatted on the floor, infront of Frank. "Frank."
"Gee, please," he whined, pushing uselessly at my shoulders. He sobbed and ran his hands through his hair. I gently started to pick him up, but he thrashed around and pushed on my chest like a toddler. He fell back against the bed and scuttled across it to lean against the wall, knees hugged against his chest.
"Frank," I sighed, tugging on his arms.
"Please, Gerard, I don't wanna," He pleaded, shaking his head, tearful eyes looking at me desperately.
"Frank, c'mere," I coaxed, getting tired of him holding up my time. I didn't want to be too forceful again, because it would just make things worse.
"G-Gerard," He mumbled, voice broken and sniffles filling his continued cries.
"Come here," I ordered, laying my palm flat on the space infront of me -wanting him to just obey and do what I tell him so nothing else worse were to happen.
"I don't want to, Gee."
"Do it now or else I yank you off this bed and trust me, your outlook will not be pretty."
He stared at me, his eyes going wide as tears quietly streamed down his face. He seemed to be contemplating all of the possible decisions he could make with how long he was taking. He waited, and hesitantly released his legs from his arm's embrace, starting to slowly scoot towards me.
He sat in front of me on the edge of the bed and I looked at his wet cheeks, but shook any possible thoughts away before they consumed me.
[☆]
I gently picked him up this time and carried him to my bathroom, making sure I locked the door, and had the blade in my pocket. I could hear his sniffling against my shoulder, tears soaking through my shirt.
I set us on the floor and held him against my chest, as my back was against the wall. He was weakly leaning forward, sobs starting to shake his body every few seconds, subtly resisting my actions.
I took off my bandages revealing the open wounds, most were deep and probably infected. But there were many scars and tiny cuts that still litered my arms in a twisted form of art.
I wrapped one of my legs over Frank's so he wouldn't be able to move, not that he seemed to have as much fight in him. He gasped once he saw my arm and just started to cry harder. I grabbed one of his hands and placed the razor in his weak grip, his small fingers shaky so badly they couldn't even properly hold it.
I wrapped an arm around his torso and held out my other one infront of him.
"Do it-"
"No, no- please don't make me," He whined weakly, shaking his head, not wanting to look at me, he was shrinking in my grasp.
"Just do it, Frank!" I yelled, beyond fed up. Done with this, done with everything being so uptight, emotional, a complete wreck... at least I had a bit of sanity.
"I-I cant," he whimpered, sobs erupting out of his throat making his voice sound scartchy. "I cant, Gerard."
"Yes you can," I corrected. I knew he was able to, but... I shook my head at myself, pushing my forceful thoughts aside and maybe- god damn, it's so hard thinking from Frank's point of view.
"I don't want to hurt you," He protested quietly, slowly nudging my arm away, while I still remained a strong grip on him. Maybe too strong.
"You're not hurting me, you're doing me a favor. You know Frank, you know what I told you."
"I know, and I remeber, but I can't help it."
"Well do it now, Frank."
"I won't," he rambled, shaking his head. "Please, Gerard, please." He couldn't even look anywhere, he was trying to press his ears against anything that would quiet the moment.
"Do it or I will."
"No, don't, Gerard, stop."
"Do it, Frank. It's not that hard."
He sobbed, his small body shaking harder.
"I don't want to hurt you. I-I don't want to do this. I'm sorry," he sobbed, quite literally falling apart from control all because of me. Of my control.
I swiped the razor out of his grip faster than he could keep up with.
"No!" He yelled. "Don't do this to yourself, please! Please, Gerard!"
I started to near my arm, but Frank started turning on his side, curling into my chest, still unable to move his legs.
I pressed the cold metal to my arm and felt Frank try to shove it away.
"P-please, don't do it," he whimpered, voice faint and cracking.
As I started to cut through my skin and sigh of bliss, Frank shielded his face against my chest. But I made sure to keep it deep and slow, all stress flooding from my body.
I left it at one, not wanting to clean up after myself, not wanting to prolong the process this time.
[☆]
I looked down.
"Frank-"
He started shaking his head, wrapping his arms around me and as my leg relaxed, he moved his arms around my hips, perching onto my lap. His small body, weakly laying against mine. He started sniffling and rubbing his watery eyes over my shirt.
I felt a strong tug at my heart, my body yearning to curl up in depression and wallowing in hate. I almost wanted to cry, tears tugging at my eyes.
Strong shakes were controlling over his small frame. He's so fragile, I realised. I didn't want to break him. No, no, no- oh my- how could I have been so blind and... and just stupid and selfish? I'm so dumb, I feel terrible. I never wanted to hurt Frankie. Not like this. Not ever.
"Hey, hey," I said softly, pushing his hair out of his eyes and tracing my fingertips across his back. "Calm down."
I quickly wrapped my arms up, shaky fingers struggling at first. I returned my arms to being around him, wanting to keep him safe from my animalistic side.
"You're fine, now," I said softly. "You don't need to cry."
"I can't help it that I cry, Gerard! I fucking care about you, and you don't understand that. I care about you so much." He dug his head into my chest and between my neck, his soft rapid breathing was tickling my back and making me gasp quietly, still wanting to hold him tightly.
I ran one hand through his hair softly.
"Frankie," I mumble softly, gently pulling on his hair.
He made a small noise and moved his head up to look at me. His eyes were red and puffy.
I leaned in and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. So tired, worn out, upset and... broken.
"Did I hurt you?" I asked, pushing his bangs out of his eyes, only for them to fall right back. He nodded, wiping at his eyes. "Well you're okay. I won't do it again, I promise. I'm sorry, Frankie, please don't cry, Baby."
He nodded sadly, kissing my cheek.
"You're so fragile," I said softly, running my thumbs under his eyes and gently picking him up. I unlocked the door and laid him on my bed gently. "I don't want to hurt you, anymore," I said quietly, just wanting to strangle myself for being so... so hurtful and not even realising. I was afraid if I touched him he would break apart into a million tiny pieces like a fragile glass China doll.
He gasped softly, almost strangled, but nodded slightly, as his eyes closed slowly.
"Gee, 'm sorry," he said quietly. His voice is so... it's so soft and sweet.
"No, no, Frankie, I'm sorry. I never say that but... I can see it hurts you a lot, I know-"
"It's okay, it's just you."
I almost sobbed. No, it's not. It's a terrible demon, it's something that's not me.
"I don't want it to be me," I answered brokenly, my voice cracking a little.
"Awh, Gee, c'mere," Frank cooed, sitting up and opening his arms out for me.
I cracked a small smile.
"I'm fine," I mumbled, turning around.
"No, dont do that to me, c'mere... please," Frank whimpered, tugging on my arm. I sighed and eventually got onto the bed, helping Frank adjust me in his lap. He made soft noises as he held me closely and kept his arms around me tightly. "You're too big," he sighed out, gently chuckling. It was true, Frank was too tiny to be the bigger one. "Gee, I love you," He whispered out softly. "I love you." He sniffled as he burried his head against my chest.
"Do you want me to say it back?" I asked, curling my fingers in his hair.
He hesitantly nodded.
"I love you, too, Frankie."
He sighed blissfully, gently pressing his lips over my chest. His small fist gripped handfuls of my shirt and he pressed the side of his head to my chest.
"What are you doing?" I asked quietly.
"I can hear your heartbeat," was his only reply.
I carefully looked down at his small body, ear pressed to my clothed chest.
I smiled and kissed his forehead, a small smile spreading across his lips.
Maybe I'll learn to love.
×××
this was,, eh ?? I'm probably going to get criticism for writing this and a ton of hate because it's just a dark subject and- feel free. honestly I wasn't going to post this just because of how bad it seems and how it might reflect on me.. but i'm just tired and don't care about everyone's judgment because it is was it is.