The street that Frank had crawled out to was sparsely populated at that time of night – 10:32 to be exact. The autumn air was cracking across the escapee’s dry skin, a discomfort that Frank found rather empowering, given the circumstances. In fact, Iero was so caught up in the scene set before him that he almost didn’t notice the blasphemous cry of concern that spilled out of a stranger’s mouth at the sight of his tattered clothing and beaten skin.

The stars peppered the sky through the burning tree tops that were illuminated by the orange streetlamp that Frank had decided to rest under. Overall, Frank imagined that allowing himself to stop directly under a source of light might not have been the best decision to make, but he was past the point of caring – he had already escaped. It was a bleak attitude to have; to give up as soon as you escape, perfectly willing to risk being found and taken back to the gates of hell, but Frank’s willpower didn’t extend much further than the sidewalk that he was conspicuously sprawled out upon. The young adult had figured that his life would never be the same if he were to assimilate himself back into the “real world”, and the fear of how drastically different and overwhelming society might seem to him now led to his weakening desire to live.

Frank, however, was allowing himself to become entranced with the night sky, to a numbing extent; he nearly reached his arm out to grasp the big dipper, but restrained himself, somehow knowing that it was an impossible feat. He had settled into his little spot on the sidewalk like a hobo might to a bench in a park, focusing on the light that seemed to bounce all across the leaves. His mesmerized eyes had just begun to gloss over when a face appeared over his own.

The young man's prostrated body did not react to the lovely new addition to his blazing wonderland more than accepting it as part of the scenery at first, is eyelids stretching farther back from his receptors in order to enable him to view this apparition that seemed to stare down at him in horror, unaware of the implications of the stranger’s presence. Amazed by the work of art set before him, Frank drank in the man’s countenance; the streetlights cast a flaming halo around the onlooker’s scraggly red locks of hair, bouncing around him too and darkening his face slightly, but not enough to dampen the man’s glorious features.

Noticing that the person hovering above him had smooth, porcelain skin and a striking jawline, Frank wondered how old the man was; the only way Frank could tell that he was an adult was by the crow’s feet wrinkling his eyes and the purple-brown bags drooping spitefully below is long brown eyelashes. The injured man found it sad that signs of sleep deprivation and anxiety were the key to being grown up nowadays, and, what bothered Frank more than that was the fact that this beautiful man had to experience enough unknown stresses to cause these adult manifestations to infect his otherwise young appearance. The stranger’s cheeks hung high above his thin pale lips, which caused Frank to wonder where he had seen the man before.

Shaking off the faint recognition, Frank continued to admire the creature that had so spontaneously come into his life. It may have been because Frank hadn’t seen another face – save his captors’ – in God knows how long or it may have just been because Frank called it as he saw it, but he was sure that this faintly familiar person was the most perfect human being on the entire planet.

It was at that time - when that thought escaped his stream of consciousness - which Frank reacted to the man with the worried face; he had never thought of another male as beautiful before. The boy’s more intelligent side jumped to the frightening possibility that during his time trapped in the wretched place he had just escaped from had altered him in a way that he would have never foreseen. Frank was not scared of the change in that he was opposed to homosexuality, but rather that if it were true – if he had in fact become gay throughout his time captive – his earlier fear had more potency, more prevalence.

“Hello?!” Frank finally allowed his glazed eyes to focus and his ears to hear once more, in time to hear the stranger’s smooth baritone voice quiver with worry and anxiety. “Are you deaf?” The man’s question was loud, and his eyes resonated the inquiry with even greater volume.

Turning his head to the side the good willed man cursed, as if to himself, “Fuck, I should have taken that sign language class.” Then, turning his head back to the confused boy laying below him: “Please, please say something.” That time his voice was barely above a whisper, and tears were running down the sides of his face. Frank wondered why the man was crying: was it out of pity? Fear? Anxiety? Anger?

It didn’t take long for Frank to realize that the figure kneeling above him was pleading with him in desperation, and the younger of the two wondered how long he had been towering above trying to communicate with Frank in order to be caught up in such a desperate moment. The horizontal man faintly recalled the stranger’s thin lips moving rapidly, but, being as transfixed with the free world as Frank was, it was easy to understand his calm unawareness for the words that had been flowing from the unknown person’s tongue.

“H-Hi,” Frank squeaked out, having lost his voice from the consistent screaming that he had been doing for such a long time.

“You – you can hear me?” The man above Frank sniffed and wiped the tears from his face with the back of his hand, causing his skin to scrunch around his eyes in such a way that Frank wondered how it never hurt people when they did that, how it never hurt him when he did it either.

“No,” Frank managed to find a little more strength in his voice, though it was still gravelly. “I’m n-not deaf. I- I’m Frank.” The stranger let out a short guttural laugh at that, and Frank chided himself for such a childish statement, but remembered that he really hadn’t interacted with anyone in even a semi-casual way for quite some time.

“And, I’m Gerard,” the older man said, continuing to sniffle and wipe lingering wetness away from his face. “I’m sorry,” he continued once he caught sight of Frank’s hurt expression, fearing that he had offended him, being in the broken state that he was in. “I shouldn’t have laughed.”

“Why?” Iero asked, momentarily forgetting the condition that he was in, it seemed easy to forget about it as he conversed with Gerard, but there was no mistaking the tense air that encased the two concerning the reality of why they were conversing.

“You’re very hurt, Frank,” Gerard began, much more tender in his explanation. Frank found comfort in the smooth caress of Gerard’s voice.

“Yeah,” the broken boy concurred, lifting his head enough to act as though he was surveying his body, “I guess I am.”

“I need to get you to a hospital, can you stand?” The fiery-haired man inquired, abruptly reverting to his previous state of intense worry, much like a light would flicker on and off with the flip of a little plastic switch.

“Please don’t take me to a hospital!” Frank knew that if he were admitted, people would ask him how he had gotten hurt so badly and Frank would have to explain everything truthfully (because he was really bad at lying) and then they would make him talk to the police and Frank just hated the police, almost as much as he hated the idea of having to describe the men that put him in the shape that he was in.

“Frank,” Gerard was still positioned above him, propping himself up with his hands – one on either side of Frank’s small shoulders – and his knees. His tone remained stern, “you need help, and I sure as hell am not going to be able to provide any of it.”

“Well then I suggest you walk away,” The broken boy’s voice cracked several times throughout the statement, hindering his case further. “I refuse to go to the hospital, and I will scream ‘rape’ if you try to take me there.”

“You realize that if you do that, a) no one will help you, because no one wants to deal with that or b) someone will come, hit me with their purse and take you to the hospital anyway, right?”

“Fuh-fuck you.”

Gerard sighed deeply and removed his hands from the ground, sitting back on his heels, and tilting his head toward the sky, considering the stars among other things. Frank let his eyes wander to the space in between the trees once more, the one which he could see the big dipper through, though half of its making was being blocked by Gerard’s neck and chin. Still in his original position of rest, Frank wondered what Gerard was pondering.

“Fine,” Gerard began in obvious concession, “I won’t take you to the hospital.”

“Thank you,” the younger ended, nodding his head tightly once, “it was nice to meet you, Gerard.” Gerard scrunched his eyebrows together in frustration of Frank's stubbornness, or just his peculiar inability to understand what Gerard was leading to .

“Oh, I said I wasn’t taking you to the hospital, but I refuse to let you go.” Frank’s heart stopped and his eyes grew wide as he stared at his companion in complete horror. Immediately recovering from the shock of Gerard’s statement, the newly freed man scrambled backward, trying desperately to get away from this new threat.

“Frank!” Gerard gasped, unsure of what was scaring the poor boy. “What’s wrong? Why are you afraid?”

Frank’s only reply was hyperventilation and a stream of tears biding their time at the edge of his eyes as he crab-walked backward, in the direction he had secretly vowed never to go again.

“Frank,” Gerard had gotten up and started walking gingerly over to the boy who had since fallen onto his back again in a heap of battered skin, broken bones and tears. “Frank, shhh” He cooed, finally reaching the cowering figure. “Frank, what’s scaring you?”

It was an odd scene to behold; a twenty-three-year-old squatting next to a severely injured, tattooed twenty-year-old stroking his greasy locks in hopes of providing comfort and shushing away his increasingly desperate gasps.

“Ge-get away from me.” Frank spat as menacingly as he could manage.

Gerard retracted his hand as if Frank’s dirty shirt had burned him. “Frank,” he paused, considering his next words. “I’m not sure why you’re so afraid, but I refuse to let you just bleed out.”

“Duh-don’t hurt me” Frank’s heavy head remained sheltered by his tear-filled hands.

“Why-” Gerard came up short with an end to his question, deciding that the “why” of the situation wasn’t nearly as important as the blatant truth of it – the boy was hurt, and Gerard wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he just left him here to die.

Gerard of all people knew that Frank’s injuries were bad, having sustained many throughout his lifetime, and with such knowledge, he concluded that this strange, mangled boy was in dire need of help, even if it was his own, amateur assistance. Gerard, being as savvy as ever, was also quite familiar with the traffic on the streets, and he knew all too well this street almost never had any company past nine o’clock on any given night - Frank wouldn’t be found until morning if Gerard didn’t do something, if he didn’t help him, and he feared that morning might be too late.

“Frank,” the stronger began again, “I won’t hurt you. I swear it.”

“Ruh-Really?” Frank tilted his head up out of his hands to search Gerard skeptically for any cracks in his statement.

“Really, Frank.” Gerard nodded softly, and grasped Frank’s arm, ready to help him stand. “Come on, you’re staying with me for the night.”

Notes

Are you guys ready for a second chapter?! (yeah, me either.)

xo
Bunny