[TW//suicide ideation, self-harm]
Frank had been drinking a lot more.
Like, a fucking lot. And crying. Gerard could hear him from his room, yelling Bob's name. He'd tried helping him, while keeping a safe distance. Making sure he's okay, cooking for him, helping him up when he found him lying on the kitchen floor sobbing.
By now, Gerard knew Frank was a little overdramatic. But he also knew he was very intoxicated, and it hurt him to see him like that. He didn't know why he cared so much about him when they'd barely talked, but he did.
When he came home from work one day, he found him crying on the couch, so instead of locking himself in his room, he sat next to him to finish his project while they watched a movie. 'Finding Dori?' he asked, and Frank immediately said yes. He lay on the couch, his head touching Gerard's leg, only because he has his sketchbook on his lap.
They watched in silence, but Gerard knew he was crying.
He heated up the leftover lasagna for Frank, and stayed there to make sure he was eating, and not drinking anything, or having anything else. 'You wanna talk?' Gerard asked.
Frank sighed. 'Not really. That's why I drink.'
'But you're not going to.'
'But –'
'I don't care. You're only making things worse.'
There was silence for a second. Frank finished the lasagna, and just stared at the floor. 'Why do you care about me?'
That caught Gerard off guard. He didn't know why either. Was he attracted to him? Maybe. Though it wasn't so much physical attraction. He didn't know what it was, but he kept pulling him closer. 'I don't know,' he said. 'You look like you could use a friend. I've been there.'
Frank nodded. 'So I cause pity?'
'No – no. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say it like that. I mean, you were really nice to me since we met, even though you didn't know anything about me. I know it's because of Mikey, but you kept trying to be my friend. You got me food, and invited me to hang out, even though I'm the least fun person ever. And I don't like to see you sad, because you seem a really nice person, and you deserve better.'
Frank didn't know what to say, and tears rolled down his face.
'Don't cry.' Gerard couldn't help sitting with him and hugging him to comfort him.
During the following couple days, Gerard would do the same thing when coming home from work. He'd sit with Frank to watch a movie. Some days, he could smell the alcohol. Some days, he could see Frank was different. Intoxicated, with sad eyes, and absent. Yet, they sat together every day to watch something. He'd let him cry, and listen to him complain about anything. They got to know each other better, talking about random stuff, and realizing they had a lot of things in common.
But as much as Gerard tried, Frank was drinking more and more every time, and getting high on whatever he found, which was worrying Gerard.
He went to check on Frank to his room before going to bed, to found him crying again, eyes half open, drooling. Gerard wasn't sure if he was on drugs or just sleeping. 'I'm fine,' he assured him, and Gerard chose to believe him. Despite not going to work, or not showering, Frank had been doing fine in the past couple days. He didn't look as sad, or at least tried to.
Yet, two hours later, Gerard found him in the bathroom, razor blade in hand, bleeding.
'What the fuck, Frank?!'
He carefully took away the blades, and pulled Frank closer for a hug, even though he'd get blood all over him, before helping him to wash his arm. He wasn't a doctor, but the cut didn't look deep enough to do any actual damage other than to his tattoos. 'Where's the first-aid kit?' Gerard asked. Frank pointed to the mirror in front of him, and Gerard got some gauge and bandages. 'Come here,' he said, pulling him to sit next to him on the floor by the bathtub. He cleaned the wound, and proceeded to put a bandage around it.
'I was just – I couldn't even do it,' Frank mumbled. 'I was too afraid.'
'I'm glad you were.' Gerard hugged him closer, aware of his smell. A mixture of vomit and sweat. But he didn't care.
They sat there in complete silence for a while, and Gerard felt like crying at the thought of losing Frank. 'Don't ever do that, okay?'
'Okay,' he heard Frank say against his chest.
When he'd calm down, Gerard helped him to his bed, but saw he had already thrown up there. 'Let's go to my room,' he said. He let him borrow another shirt and some clean boxers, and turned his back on him to give him privacy. 'I'll clean tomorrow. Let's watch a movie or something.' He nodded to the other side of the bed, and Frank went to sit with him.
They sat in silence, watching Back to the Future. Gerard wanted to ask if he was doing okay, but he didn't want to put any pressure on him. He'd talk when he was ready to talk. And just as he was starting to doze off, he felt something brushing against his lips.
Not something.
Frank's lips.
He opened his eyes quickly to find him right on top of him, looking rather surprised, before kissing him again. More out of instinct, Gerard kissed him back.
It felt warm.
It soon deepened, their tongues twisting against each other.
Frank tasted like vodka. Which was better than vomit, he thought.
Even though he was still half asleep, Gerard knew what was happening was very wrong. Not only Frank's relationship wasn't officially over as far as he knew, but he knew Frank was looking for a rebound. Frank wasn't interested in him, he just wanted to forget about Bob for a minute, and fortunately for him, Gerard was there.
And just then, he felt Frank dry humping him, his hand going under his shirt, and he had to stop him. 'I – I'm sorry, I can't do this,' Gerard said, taking Frank's arm. 'I'm sorry.'
'I – no, I'm sorry.' Frank sat up, and started crying again, and now Gerard was feeling even worse. He just had to go along with it, he thought. It wasn't like he didn't want it. But not this way. 'I'm such a –'
Now he had to fix it. Gerard put his arms around the small man, and hugged him tight. 'I'm sorry, I don't mean it like that.' It wasn't the right time to come clean about thinking about fucking him. 'I meant – this isn't going to make you feel better, trust me. And I don't know all the details, but wasn't this what get you in trouble the first time?' He hated himself for bringing that up.
'Are you calling me a whore?'
'Fuck, no! I'm sorry.' He took a minute to think about the right words to say before screwing it up again. 'What I mean is – you're still hurt. And even if we were to do something, it's not going to make any of this better. Trust me, I've been there.' Frank just gave him puppy eyes. 'And also, I don't want you to think that the only way to be friends with me is by sleeping with me. I don't work like that. I'm sincerely offering you my services as friend, and I promise I'll help you until you get back on your feet.' They sat in silence, and Gerard couldn't help staring at him. His scruffy face looked adorable, and he was really hot under his nasty hair, so he pushed his hair back to see his eyes. 'Can I ask you a question, and if you get offended, you're free to tell me?'
Frank nodded.
'Have you tried making friends without sleeping with them?'
Frank sat there, actually thinking for a minute, which was concerning. He just shrugged.
'So you're telling me all those people at your party – the ones you told me were your friends, you slept with them?'
'Some of them.'
Gerard nodded. It just made him sad. The fact that he thought that was the only thing he had to offer. He just wanted to hug him and protect him. 'You know you're so much more than that, right? You have so much more to offer than just sex. People might want to be your friend just because you're you and you don't need to sleep with them?'
'But people don't like me.'
'Don't say that!' Gerard hugged him again, and they stayed like that. 'I like you. You're so kind you have no fucking idea. The fact you let me stay here without even paying you, and that even when I tried to pay you, you told me to fuck off.'
'Because you're Mikey's bro.'
'I could still be a creep or a murderer. But no, you gave me a chance and tried to be my friend. Nobody else has.' There was a pause. 'And I'm not saying I don't want to sleep with you. But not like this. Not because you feel like shit. For now, let's just be friends, okay?'
'Okay.'
At some point, he noticed Frank falling asleep in his arms, so he just lay him down in the pillow, and cuddled next to him. He knew friends weren't supposed to sleep like this. But this was different. He ran his hand through Frank's greasy hair, seeing him sleep. He looked like an angel. A drunk angel he was falling for.