Fake Your Death

I hop off the couch and head to the door when he knocks. I smile as I open the door and see him standing there in my hoodie. The hoodie I let him borrow once, but never got it back. I didn’t mind though; he looks adorable in it.

“Hi Frank,” he smiles.

“Hey Gee.” I step to the side to let him in. “Want a drink?”

He steps in and glances around the room. “Sure.”

I grab a few beers from the fridge and lead him into the living room where I was playing video games before he’d arrived. I pick up a controller for him and crack open a can. We pick up where I left off in the game while making a few more rounds to the fridge for more beer. I know he just came home, but what’s the harm? I’ve only had about three, or five. I think I lost count.

“You’re so bad at this game,” I slur.

“I think you’re drunk Frank,” a drunken Gerard laughs back. I try to reply, but nothing comes out but giggles and slurred words that don’t make sense. He tries to take my controller by climbing over my lap. I drop the controller onto the floor as we both roll off the couch and across the carpet.

“Give it back!” I chuckle/whine.

“Never!”

I wrestle with him to get it back, even though I think he dropped it, but both of us end up too tired to continue to care about the game. The wrestling match ends with Gerard lying on top of me giggling like a kid.

“I won,” he teases. I don’t bother argue. I lie still and wait for him to get up, too tired to push him off myself. But he doesn’t move. It seems as if he could pass out at the very second.
He blinks his eyes once. “I love you Frank,” he breathes before he kisses me. The touch of his lips on mine was an odd sensation for my drunken brain to comprehend, but it was incredible; everything I thought it would be.

“I love you too,” I manage before kissing him back. His soft lips on mine is how we fall asleep.

-----------------

I wake up on the floor. Strong arms are wrapped around my waist, holding me down. My head spins when I look around the room. Empty beer cans are strewn across the floor, the TV is on, but nothing showed but static. I glance over to see that Frank is the one holding me close to him. What the hell happened? He shifts beside me and retracts his arms. I sit up and my stomach churns. I jump to my feet and head for the bathroom to throw up. When I’m finished, I stand up and rinse my mouth with mouthwash and wash my hands. When I step out, Frank’s standing at the kitchen counter holding a glass of water.

“What the hell happened last night?” I ask, getting myself a glass of water. Frank looks a little hurt when I ask him this, but he just shrugs. He stares blankly at the floor. “Frank?”

“I don’t remember,” he shoots back defensively. I go to tuck my hands in my pockets, but my hoodie’s gone. Shit! Where is it? Why the hell would I take it off? Calm down, don’t panic.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, his eyebrows knitting together. Fuck.

I cross my arms tightly over my chest. Maybe he won’t notice. “I uh, nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”
His eyes don’t leave mine. He knows I’m lying. He quickly scans over my body, examining the awkward, tense way I must be standing. His eyes stop and widen. He raises a hand and points to my arms. “G-Gerard,” he begins. Tears form on his eyelashes, as well as mine. I close them and tilt my head down in embarrassment, letting the tears fall. “Why would you do that to yourself?”

Notes