Disenchanted

Things fell apart and they fell apart fast. It was the little things Gerard started to notice at first. Like how Frank looked tired more often than before, that the dark circles under his eyes that he’d had the first time he’d met Gerard had returned and became darker in the process. How Frank seemed more irritable, angrier, and would snap at the littlest things. Gerard noticed that he was eating less, refusing to more than pick at even his favourite meals. He began to go to bed later, preferring to stay up and smoking cigarette after cigarette, his eyes on the tv, but glazed over, unblinking, not really watching the screen at all. He would sleep later too, often being roused by Gerard long after the alarm had gone off. And although Frank seemed to be sleeping later, he definitely wasn’t sleeping more. Gerard often woke in the middle of the night to the sight of Frank awake, staring at the wall with a blank expression, a burned out cigarette between his fingers. All Gerard could do was kiss his forehead and help him lay back in bed again, then spend the rest of the night worrying continuously about Frank until he fell asleep once again.

Then the warning signs really started to come. Frank was distant, more so than ever. He didn’t want to talk, about anything. He was cold, uninterested. When Gerard questioned him, he promised he just simply had nothing to say, but constantly? No, Gerard had seen these signs before. Gerard’s suspicions were further confirmed when Frank practically stopped talking at all, stopped practically everything in fact. He not only stopped talking but also seemed to lose the tiny bit of emotion he had had left. He stopped getting excited about things, stopped petting puppies when Gerard dragged him out of the house, stopped watching the tv shows he liked, stopped listening to his favourite bands. Pansy once again began to gather dust in the corner. After a while, Frank just put his foot down and flat out refused to leave the house, leave the room, leave his bed apart from going to therapy once a week. He spent the whole day in there, every single day, not even asleep but lying on his side and staring at the wall. It looked like it actually physically pained him to smile. In fact, the one time Gerard had gotten a small, shitty, forced smile out of Frank, he had broken down and actually cried straight afterwards, mumbling about how everything was a fucking lie. They didn’t seem to have that problem anymore though as Frank couldn’t even cry anymore, and Gerard was worrying if he was actually devoid of any emotion. Worse still, Frank didn’t seem to want to be touched anymore. He flinched at Gerard’s every touch, innocent or otherwise. Sometimes, he even took it upon himself to move to another room if Gerard sat near him or tried to talk to him. He constantly sat with his arms around himself, as if protecting himself. Then the alarm bells went off when Frank started wearing long sleeves constantly, pulling his sleeves over his fingers to cover up all his horrible, dark secrets. It had become a sort of rule between them both that Frank couldn’t wear long sleeves for more than two days in a row, just so Gerard knew he was okay, that he wasn’t doing that. But now as he saw his boyfriend sitting on the couch day after day, hugging his arms to his body, with layers of fabric covering the skin, he knew. Frank had fallen back into his old habits, and he had fallen hard. Gerard knew he had to do something about it and fast, or Frank’s life would be in danger once again.

However, Gerard was afraid. He knew he should call the hospital, let them know what was happening and bring Frank back, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He knew if he brought Frank back after him being out for such a little time, he wouldn’t be let out for months and months; especially as his release had been so unsuccessful and he’d obviously gotten much, much worse in the time he was away. Gerard knew he’d lose Frank, for real this time if he didn’t help him, but he also stupidly believed he could turn things around, make things better. Therefore, he said nothing, and decided he’d at least wait until he had definitive proof that Frank was cutting again. Then, he knew he’d have to stop being so selfish and actually do something. At least Frank was still going to the library each day to study, and was still going to therapy once a week. Gerard tried to convince himself that that was at least something. However, the pressure was getting to him. He became moody himself, stressed and angry with the situation, and the fact that it was happening to someone he loved. He began to drink whenever he could, even at work; stashing bottles in his desk and taking swigs whenever he got the chance. He was angry at himself for slipping back into his old habits, especially as he had worked so hard to get his life back on track. He knew he had ruined all his progress and that made him feel even less in control. He didn’t want to drink around Frank but the withdrawal of even a couple of hours without alcohol made him angry and annoyed with Frank; something he hated himself for as he was supposed to be supportive and understanding. He felt like everything was unravelling in front of him, and everything he had worked to build was slowly crashing down around him. Worst still, he knew it’d only be a matter of time before Frank tried something and the thought of it terrified him.

Gerard was debating what he should do when he received two calls which made him realise he needed to act fast. The first one was from Mrs O’ Connor, the old woman who worked in the library. He wasn’t even sure how she’d got his number when he realised she’d rang his work phone; the number of which was easy to find. He relaxed and was about to answer it when he realised this was more than likely about Frank. A cold shiver ran down his back and he answered immediately. The frail voice of the old lady on the line greeted him warmly, then got straight down to what she wanted to tell him. She explained that she hadn’t seen Frank in several weeks, yet she had assumed he was just doing his lessons at home for some reason. Then, as time went on, she decided to check his online profile, which Gerard had given her the password for. She apologised for interfering, but explained she was simply worried, which Gerard waved away, telling her it was fine and he’d have done the same. She then went on to explain there had been no activity on Frank’s page for weeks, and he hadn’t even
completed one assignment. The realisation that Frank had been lying to him for weeks dawned on Gerard and he quickly gave his thanks to the old lady before hanging up. He leant against the kitchen table, looking up at the ceiling and contemplating what he should do when not ten minutes later, his phone rang again. This time it was Dr Peters. Gerard already knew Frank was in trouble but the tone of Evan’s voice on the phone told Gerard there was only more bad news to come. “Gerard,” came Evan’s voice from the phone. “I’ve been trying to contact you for days now!” Gerard suddenly felt bad about keeping his phone switched off for the past week or so. As the pressure had been building up on him over the last few weeks, he'd wanted an escape and the best he could do was take a break from his phone for a while.

“Listen, never mind about that," continued Evan. I’ve been trying to contact you for a while now; I even went to your office. I’m worried about Frank.” Gerard felt sick. “Oh, god. What is it?” “I haven’t seen him in weeks, now Gerard!" exploded Evan. "He hasn’t been to at least three sessions now. At first I thought he was sick, and you’d contact me to tell me, but then you didn’t and I realised you probably didn’t know.” “You’re right; I didn’t,” Gerard answered back, feeling sicker by the second. “Then the weeks went on,” continued Evan. “And he didn’t show up again, and again. I wanted to speak to you at work but you were never there when I was, and when I rang you, your phone was switched off.” Gerard grimaced, feeling guilty. However that was taken over by worry without Frank. In minutes he had gone from being worried and stressed, to feeling totally helpless and knowing his lovely boyfriend had been lying to him for weeks, hadn’t left the house in weeks, in fact. “There’s more,” continued Evan. “For weeks before that, he barely spoke in sessions. He’d just sit there and stare at his nails, and give monosyllabic answers. But then, about two weeks before he stopped coming altogether, he stopped speaking entirely. I remember how you told me how he used to do that with you, so I let him do it, thought he was just working through some stuff. I was going to let him have a day without talking to me, and then address it the next week. But then he stopped coming at all. I didn’t realise it was that serious. But...I don’t know, Gerard. This is bad. I think he even may have stopped taking his medication.”

“Oh fuck,” exclaimed Gerard, realising he was right. Keeping the phone in his hand, he rifled through the drawer where they kept the morning pills. “Hold on,” muttered Gerard, as he searched for the bottles. He picked up an unopened bottle, and then another, and another. “You’re right,” sighed Gerard into the phone, knowing if he looked through Frank’s bedside drawer, he would find more unopened bottles. “Oh fuck,” shouted Gerard, smashing his hand on the kitchen table. "How could I have been so blind?" “We’re going to have to do something about this, Gerard,” resolved Evan from the other side of the phone. “From now on, you’ve got to watch him like a hawk. Do not let him out of your sight. I want to give him a chance, I don’t want him to be sent away again. So, I’m gonna be a really horrible doctor right now, but hopefully a good friend, and not tell anyone about this. I want to give you and Frank a chance to work this out. I’ll help you if you want. But if things even get the slightest bit worst, you have to tell me. Especially if you suspect he’s self-harming. Do you hear me, Gerard?” “Yes,” mumbled, deciding not to tell Evan he already suspected it. They talked a bit more about what they should do, before hanging up. Before he went, Evan urged Gerard to do whatever it took to help Frank, even if it meant taking away his new found freedom. He told him Frank’s freedom wasn’t worth a thing if he was spending it both miserable and a danger to himself and everyone else.

Gerard groaned in frustration. He knew Evan was right. He had been behaving so idiotically until now, pussy footing around Frank, walking on egg shells, not wanting to upset him. But now from talking to Evan, Gerard realised he had to do something. If he didn’t help Frank and fast, he would be sent back to the hospital, and for god knows how long for this time. Worse still, Gerard wouldn’t be able to be his doctor anymore, especially not after Frank had been shown to be making so little progress under his care. If Frank was taken away from him now, then that might be it. He might never be able to see Frank again, or at least not until he got out, in what, months? No, he needed to stop worrying about Frank’s feelings and make sure he was okay. That was what mattered most. He would do anything in his power not to let that happen but if Frank had to go back to the hospital then that was that. The thought of scarifying their relationship made Gerard sick to his stomach but if that was a consequence to make Frank well again, then so be it.

Gerard slammed to phone back on his desk and made his way to the main bedroom where he knew Frank would be. “Hey, babe?” he called out, hoping Frank would be in the mood to talk. It wasn’t likely, but hey, a guy could dream. “Dr Peters just called,” he went on, pushing open the door. “He said some things we really need to talk about…Oh,” he trailed off as he was met with the sight of an empty bedroom, complete with messy bed sheets. A sort of crash was heard from the bathroom with the sound of Frank whispering “Shit!” under his breath, following. “Frankie?” called out Gerard, clutching the door knob and squeezing. “You in here?” Another crash was heard as if the person inside the bathroom was desperately trying to hide or clean up whatever they were doing. “Uh, no! No, don’t come in, okay?” Now Gerard really was getting worried. “I’m going to have to come in, love.” Replied Gerard, jiggling the locked door and hoping it would give. “No,” whimpered a lost sounding Frank from the other side of the door, his voice just filled with regret and despair. “I’m coming in, Frankie,” warned Gerard as he shoved his shoulder into the door. “Stand away from the door.” “Please, Gee.” “I said stand away from the door,” repeated Gerard, hoping the fact that his heart was in his mouth from terror at what Frank was doing on the other side of the door, wouldn't affect his strength. The door finally gave and Gerard was catapulted inside the bathroom, the sight he was faced with, making his heart sink further than it had before.

Frank was in front of him, desperately trying to hide his bleeding legs, the gashes deep and flowing with blood. Dozens of cuts and scars accompanied the new cuts Frank had just made. “Give me the blade,” said Gerard with gritted teeth, holding out his hand. “But-“ “God damn it, Frank! Just give me the fucking blade,” shouted Gerard, banging his fist against the sink. When Frank didn’t move again, Gerard held out his hand and looked at Frank as if to say ‘Give it to be right this minute or so help me god…’ Frank reluctantly dropped the blade into Gerard’s palm, whose fingers enclosed over it straight away. Frank withdrew his trembling fingers and looked like he was about to burst into tears. Gerard wasted no time in pushing past Frank and opening the bathroom window, dropping the blade outside where it would be lost. “No!” Frank shouted, rushing to the window and looking down in the street below. But it was too late, the blade was already far below and out of sight. Frank really did start crying then. “I can’t believe you did that!” he shouted. This had been the first time Gerard had heard him speak in almost a week. “Yeah?” Gerard questioned. “Well I can’t believe you did that!” he shouted back, gesturing to Frank’s torn up legs, the blood running down past his knees and splashing down on to the bathroom mat. Frank looked away, ashamed. “Shut up, okay,” he mumbled. Gerard scoffed. “Fuck you, Frank! How could you do this?” Frank flinched, not expecting Gerard to be angry. Upset, yes, but not angry. Maybe he was finally getting sick of him just like everyone else in his life. A tear ran down Frank’s cheek at the thought. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbled. Gerard laughed bitterly. “Oh yes, of course; my mistake. Why would I think you wanted to talk about this? You haven’t even spoken to me for the last fucking week! Haven’t even looked me in the eyes. Frank burst into tears and slid onto the lid of the toilet, a crumpled mess, still trying to hide his bleeding legs even though Gerard had already seen what he had done to them.

Seeing how miserable and pathetic Frank looked, Gerard softened. “I’m sorry, baby.” He reached out to Frank who flinched and turned away from him, still snivelling. Gerard sighed and let his hand fall. He sat on the edge of the bath and eyed Frank. “I just don’t know what to do anymore,” he said, mostly to himself as he ran his hands through his hair in desperation. “Wait there,” he ordered, pointing at Frank as he got up from the hard edge of the bath. “Don’t you dare move.” He was back a minute later with the first aid kit, crouching beside Frank as he tenderly wiped away the blood and covered the bloody gashes with bandages. Frank said nothing the whole time, avoiding Gerard’s eyes and concentrating on his hands which were clenched on his lap, biting his lip ring at the same time. “I just can’t believe how deep they are…” mumbled Gerard under his breath. He gave a deep sigh and looked at Frank who finally met his gaze. He continued looking at him for another minute or so, taking in his cut up legs, his scarred arms and his tear stained face. “That’s it,” he said decidedly as he got up and made his way out of the bathroom. “You have to go back.”

“No,” shouted Frank, desperately scrabbling to get up after Gerard. He stopped him at the bathroom door and grabbed onto his arm, pulling him back. “No, no, no, you can’t do this. You can’t.” Gerard pulled away from Frank and gripped his shoulders, holding him so he’d have to listen. “Frank, come on! Look at you! This is just a trial run; I’m supposed to bring you back if things weren’t working out or if you were a danger to you or anyone else. And evidently…” he trailed off, gesturing to Frank’s legs and then again to the blood filled towels left in the sink. “You need help.”

“Oh god!” shouted Frank starting to get angry now. “Just stop! Yes, I’m a fucking mess right now, I’m aware of that; I’m not fucking stupid! But wake up, Gerard. I can’t help being this way. God damn it, do you think I want to be this way? This is who I am and it’s shitty and I hate it, but I can’t stop it! This is the way I am. And people like you, you can’t help me. I gave up thinking you could a long time ago. Maybe I’m just destined to be this way, I don’t know anymore. But sending me away, fuck, what good’s that shit gonna do? We’ve tried it time and time before, ever since I was fifteen. It’s never worked. This is the way it’s always gonna be, can’t you see that? This is just a bad patch really, a horrible shitty fucking relapse but it’s okay, you know why?”

“Frank, just stop-“ Frank shook his head. “No Gerard, just listen to me, alright? This is horrible, of course it is, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get through it. I can and I will. I’ve done this a thousand times, haven’t I? I never wanted to before in my life. You know, get through it or whatever. But then I met you and now I really do. And because I want to, I can do it. I know I’ve said that a thousand times already but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t trying then, or that I’m not trying now! You’re the best thing in my life Gerard, I need you. I don’t need to be sent away, I don’t need pills or doctors or anything like that, I just need you. None of that shit has ever worked for me before. I gave it a chance this time when I hadn’t before, I really did; but still – nothing. You’re what I need. You to be there for me and support me when I’m like this. We were happy before, weren’t we? We’ll be happy again I can promise you that. I’ll be the boyfriend you deserve. Just please, give me some time. Don’t send me away, please,” he begged, his voice hoarse, as he clasped Gerard’s hand and begged for his freedom. “Please, Gerard. I love you, don’t send me away again. I’ll never get out of there again if you do, I know it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Frank began to cry, tears of frustration slipping down his face. “Gerard, please…”

Gerard let out his own sigh and made his way over to Frank, slipping his arms around him. Frank leant into him but stayed quiet, the thought of being sent away again crushing him and draining away all his strength to argue. Gerard finally pulled away from Frank and took his hand, looking him in the eyes. “I have to do what’s best for you Frankie,” he said sincerely, as Frank cried harder. “I can’t keep doing this with you, over and over again. You need help. I shouldn’t have let it get this far, but I really wanted to give you a chance but…I don’t know anymore.” He began to cry himself as Frank leant his forehead on Gerard’s, and let tears drip down his face. Gerard stroked Frank’s hair with one hand and cupped his cheek with the other. “I love you, baby,” he murmured. Frank didn’t say anything but simply shook his head slightly and leant in closer to Gerard, whimpering. "I just don't know what to do," ended Gerard.

Hours later they were wrapped in each other’s arms in bed, Frank lying down on Gerard’s chest listening to his heart beating; Gerard stroking his hair. After Frank had calmed down, Gerard wanted to make him feel better, so had kissed him and because Frank was seeking comfort and safety in Gerard, they ended up sleeping together. They were laying comfortably, Frank’s eyes fluttering open and closed, as he stroked Gerard’s chest. “You won’t send me away will you, Gee?” Frank asked, sounding tired and contented but still worried. Gerard hadn’t quite decided what to do yet, but the initial terror of what was going on with Frank had lessened slightly, knowing he was laying safely in his arms. He was also feeling comforted by the fact that Evan knew what was happening and had resolved to help him. Maybe they could sort this out together, and if that didn’t work, well then, more drastic action would have to be taken. He decided not to make any decisions just yet and just simply answered “I’m gonna look after you, sweetheart. I’ll do anything,” Frank sighed, satisfied with the answer for the moment and leant in closer to Gerard. They were laying sleepily like that when they heard the front door being unlocked, and footsteps around the apartment. Gerard and Frank froze as they heard Lindsey’s voice ring out throughout the apartment. “Hey Gee, I hope you don’t mind me letting myself into the apartment, it’s just I still had my key and I needed to talk to you…Wait, where are you?” she called, as the noise of her opening and closing doors hit Gerard and Frank.

They shot up, and looked at each other, frozen in fear as the door opened and Lindsey walked inside, her heavily pregnant stomach straining against her t shirt. She stared at the boys in total disbelief and shock before stuttering “What the FUCK?”

Notes

Really long chapter for you guys (almost 4,000) words so please comment, rate and subscribe!
I didn't really go over this after I edited it so I hope it's ok!