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Counting Down The Days To Go (Frerard)

Demolition Lovers

FRANK'S P.O.V.

I woke up the next morning as Gerard was trying to slip out of my grasp. We fell asleep with our arms intertwined, and I was as stiff as a board when I slept. "Morning," I said just above a whisper. He smiled.
"Morning, sunshine." He shuffled around a bit. "Could you maybe, um... let go? I have to pee." I nodded and released him. He gave me a kiss on the cheek before getting up and limping over to his bathroom.
"Sorry if you can't walk!" I called after him. He laughed in response.
"Don't apologize, I'll return the favor some day!" My face began to heat up at the thought of being dominated by Gerard. I heard a shower turn on and I decided to change. I swung open his closet door and grabbed the only thing really available in his wardrobe, black shirt with black jeans. We were pretty much the same size, so sharing clothes wouldn't be a problem. I quickly slipped them on and flopped down on his bed, which still smelled like our mingled sweat.
While waiting for Gerard to finish his shower, I began to realize: we had never officially said we were dating. I mean, if you call eachother pet names and, oh I don't know, have sex, you can assume you're dating, but we had never said outright that we were dating or that we were boyfriends. Not to eachother. I really hope we were dating. He was just so amazing. I would love to be able to call him my boyfriend. I heard footsteps and looked up. Gerard was in nothing but a towel, wrapped around his waist, and his pale skin was completely exposed. I felt my blush grow hotter. He walked over to his dresser and began to rummage through some pajamas.
"Hey, Gee," I said.
"Hmm?"
"You know, we've... we've never said we were dating." He looked at me with a confused expression, as if asking what this had to do with anything. "I just-- um..." I looked right into his hazel eyes and I stood up and wrapped my arms around his damp body. "I love you. An-and I would love to call you my boyfriend. But we've never said we're dating. I don't know if you feel the same--"
"I had sex with you," he chuckled. "I wouldn't trust anyone to take my virginity if I didn't love them. I love you so much, Frankie." He pulled away from the hug to give me a quick peck on the lips. There was a knock on his door and I plopped down on his bed again, trying to make it look like I was asleep.
"Lindsey's here," a voice that I recognized as his brother's.
"What?" he asked. "I don't have an eval today."
"Uh, yeah, you do..." he trailed off and I could feel his gaze on me. "Um, this might be a bit personal, but I mean, me and the folks were gone last ni--"
"Let's just say I probably woke up the whole neighborhood, and that I'm limping."
Mikey began to laugh. "Dude, all I wanted was a yes or no answer! TMI!" He laughed for a few seconds before he composed himself. "Anyways, yeah, Lindsey's here. Come downstairs when you're ready." He closed the door and I heard footsteps going down the stairs.
"Did you have to tell him?" I whined. I didn't want Mikey to be aware of our sexual habits.
"He would've assumed it anyways," a now-clothed Gee replied, and he kneeled down next to the bed. "Yes, we're dating, boyfriends, whatever you wanna call it." He grabbed my arm and kissed the back of my hand. "You're mine," he whispered.
"Can we go downstairs?"
"Yeah, as long as you don't interrupt my appointment with Lindsey."
"Appointment?"
He bit his lip and looked away, as if he had said the wrong thing. "She's uh, she's a psychologist." He looked me in the eyes, a look of fear in his.
"Why do you..."
"Assholes at school." He wouldn't look me in the eyes.
"Why do you look so worried? I don't care if you need a psychologist." I poked his cheek. "Now, let's go downstairs."

GERARD'S P.O.V.

I'm glad he didn't care if I had a psychologist. I mean, I lied to him about the reason, but I didn't want to explain my situation to him. Not yet.
I followed him downstairs, and showed him to the kitchen. "Go crazy," I told him, motioning to the fridge, and went back to the dining room to sit with Lindsey.
"How are you?" she asked me as I sat down.
"Good. And you?"
"Amazing. Kitty, my girlfriend, is taking me out to dinner tonight to celebrate our anniversary tonight. Would you and Frank like to join us?"
"I would, but... we had a very eventful night last night." I chuckled as her expression went from confusion, to realization, to surprise.
"Please tell me you don't mean what I think you do." I nodded. "Oh god. Is he the same age?"
"Of course!"
"Okay, I don't want your boyfriend to be arrested." She pinched the bridge of her nose and laughed. "Anyways, I actually came here to tell you intense exercise should be avoided."
"Too late."
"God, I did not need to know you guys had sex." She looked me in the eyes. "But I'm not kidding. Intense exercise can set off your..." I had no idea what she was going on about, medical stuff. "... understand?" I nodded.
"Lindsey, when do you think is the best time to tell him?"
"Well, before you two really fall in love. Before you get to the point of no return in your relationship. You don't want to break his heart. But it can't be easy to tell someone you have mere months to live. So I understand any hesitation."
"It's too late for that."
"Gerard, you just met him a few days ago."
"I love him, Z. I don't know, there's something about him that draws me to him. I really, truly love him. How am I going to break it to him?" Tears welled up in my eyes. Lindsey simply shook her head. Frank walked in just then, his phone in hand.
"Gee, babe, I have to go."
"Aww, so soon?" I asked, mocking him the night we met. He gave me a kiss on my head before realizing we weren't alone.
"I know, it's alright," Lindsey replied, smiling. Frank immediately relaxed.
"See you later!" he called as he walked out the door. I sighed as I watched him walk off to his house.
"You think this is true love, G?" I simply nodded in response. "Tell him. Soon." And then Lindsey walked out, getting into the black car with the brunette driver, and left.
That's the second warning I've been given in the past few days. I know that he will find out sooner or later, whether I tell him or not. I'll tell him soon. I know I will.
I hope.

FRANK'S P.O.V.

I hurried home, my hand gripped around my phone. Jamia called and told me to come home, that Mom needed me. I didn't want to come home, but I knew that if I didn't. the punishment I received for basically running away would be even worse. I quietly locked the door in hopes that if I was quiet enough Mom wouldn't know I was home. But when I turned around to go upstairs, mom blocked my way. She was obviously angry, and her hands balled into fists. "Where were you?" she hissed.
"At a friend's."
"You know, you're supposed to ask permission before you leave the house." I thought back to last year, when I sneaked out to go get lunch. Since then, she's been really strict about when I can leave the house, and I have to ask. That wasn't going through my mind when I stormed out of the house, though.
"I-I know. I'm sorry, mother." I wasn't scared of her so much as scared of her hitting me. A fire burned in her eyes and her knuckles were white. I've never seen her this angry.
"You're just a good for nothing piece of shit," she muttered, and laughed. "You don't have any friends, I know that. But you're not gonna get anywhere in life if you're going out with reckless abandon." I think she tries to sound reassuring on purpose, as if someone was recording her, she knew if she said one normal-sounding thing, it could be taken out of context, and therefore she wasn't a bad mother. But she knew, deep down, that she was abusive. She laughed again. "Who am I kidding? You're not gonna get anywhere in life being the person you are. No one will hire some goth kid with piercings that never leaves his room." She inched closer to me as she spat out her words. I knew what was coming. I squeezed my eyes shut, immediately followed by a fist slamming square into my jaw. The blow caused me to stumble back a few steps before falling to my knees. I swear, she used to be a professional boxer. I braced for another impact, which was not dashed. She brought her foot to my stomach. I groaned in pain, tears forming in my eyes. She went on with the insults, on with the abuse. I learned to tune out her words and focused the searing pain all over my body. It felt like someone had just repeatedly beat me with an anvil. I suddenly envied Jamia. It must be nice to be the favorite child, to not have to endure this. As much as she was a nuisance, I still loved Jamia. She was my sister, there was nothing I could do about it. I just pray to god mom doesn't turn on her.
After a few excruciating minutes, mom had finally had enough. I'm sure there was another bruise on my stomach. She grabbed me by my collar and pulled me up.
"Apologize." she whispered.
"I-I'm... I'm sorr-rry, mother... mother. I won't-- won't leave th-the house without y-y-your permission again."
"Good boy," she said, smiling, and pushed me towards the stairs. I immediately toppled over, weak. But I knew if I stayed down here, it wouldn't be long before I went through that again. I forced myself up, steadying my body on the pole that ran along the wall, and limped upstairs. The second I got to my room, I peeled off my clothes-- well, Gerard's clothes-- and jumped in the shower. I hope he doesn't mind his shirt might have blood on them.
And then, I cried. Just sobbed into the wall, letting everything go. I wailed like a fucking baby, but crying was a release. My eyes drifted to my other release, a shiny blade sitting on the edge of the tub. Completely incoherent, I reached for it and examined it in the dim light of my bathroom. There was dried blood on it from the last time I used it. I sat on the floor of the shower, cleaning off the dried crimson.
And then I did something I always told myself I would stop doing: brought the razor to my blade.
I slowly moved the blade across my olive skin, leaving a nice cut and trail of crimson on my wrist. Then, I did the same thing, right under the last scar. I figured several cuts on my arms would be obvious, so I brought the razor to my hip. Slowly, I cut open the skin. I felt all my troubles disappear as the water turned from clear to a light pink with blood. My tears joined the mess of water at the bottom of the tub as I tried to release, to stop feeling anything. Can I please just stop existing? This happens almost every day. I come home, release, and wallow in my own self-pity.
I eventually find I've harmed myself enough and wash off the blade, setting it back on the edge of the tub. Mom was right. I'm just some goth kid who sits in his room listening to music and playing his guitar who never leaves the confines of his room except for foods or family outings. How could Gerard love me? He may say he does now, but when he finds out what I do to myself, he'll leave. I know it. That's what happened with all my friends. They told me to just end it already, just finish the job. I'll work up the courage to, eventually. I'll go down the road, not across the street. But not yet. Not now.
I cleaned off my cuts and turned off the shower. I immediately grabbed some bandages and covered the cuts on my hips with them. My waist would hurt like a bitch for the next few days, but that wasn't a worry of mine right now. I changed into some pajamas and flopped down on my bed. Suddenly, I had a burst of inspiration. I grabbed a notebook and pencil, which I kept on my bedside at all times, and began to write.
I wasn't aware of what I was writing until I had finished. This happens a lot, I get a sudden burst of inspiration and then I start writing, but when I'm done it's just an illegible blurb. But, this time, I had actually written something. A song. I had written "Demolition Lovers" at the top, so I assumed that was the name.

Hand in mine, into your icy blues
And then I'd say to you we could take to the highway
With this trunk of ammunition too
I'd end my days with you in a hail of bullets
I'm trying, I'm trying
To let you know just how much you mean to me
And after all the things we put each other through and
I would drive on to the end with you
A liquor store or two keeps the gas tank full
And I feel like there's nothing left to do
But prove myself to you and we'll keep it running
But this time, I mean it
I'll let you know just how much you mean to me
As snow falls on desert sky
Until the end of everything
I'm trying, I'm trying
To let you know how much you mean
As days fade, and nights grow
And we go cold

I stared at the words I scrawled on the paper. I couldn't believe I had actually written this. It didn't seem like something I was capable of. I think... I think it was about Gerard. He was all that was on my mind lately. God, I loved him. Too bad he won't love me when he really finds out about me, about my past. For now, I'll accept his love.
My phone suddenly went off, the ringtone I had chosen for Gerard. "Hello?" I answered.
"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, sounding genuinely worried.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Why?" Good job, Frank. You've started lying to your boyfriend.
"Just making sure. So, um, Lindsey and her, uh, significant other are going on a date tonight and want to know if we'd like to come."
I sighed. I was tired, I had been out almost every night this week, but I wanted to spend time with Gerard. "What time?"
"11." I looked over to the clock: 3:57
"Why so late?"
"They're adults. They just can." I chuckled.
"Yeah, sure." I could hear him smile.
"Great, meet you at my house?"
"Yeah. Later."
I sighed and hung up the phone. I guess I could sleep for a few hours, then get ready. The problem was, of course, Jamia and my mom. Jamia would probably watch me leave and tell mom, which would lead to a recurrence of today. But I wanted to spend as much time as possible with Gerard. I put my notebook and phone back on my nightstand and stared up at my ceiling. My eyelids eventually grew heavy and I drifted to sleep.