Safe?.... Hardly! (Re-edited for easier reading)

Once the detectives had sufficiently emptied their stomachs, both having puked at least once, they joined the other men on the sofas in the front room. Frankie, Mikey, Ray and Bob all squished onto one, the detectives facing them from the other.

Detective Blue, who still hadn't given them a first name, sighed heavily.

"First of all, I'd like to express how sorry I am that this is happening..."

He studied each of their faces in turn as he spoke.

"...Second, I want to assure you that we will do everything we can to find Gerard, whether he's alive...or dead, and we will find this Bert, and he will be locked up for the rest of his miserable life"

"No"

Frankie's voice was so quiet, his head down, eyes on the floor, that the detective almost didn't hear him.. almost!

"Frank?..."

He queried softly.

Frank slowly raised his head, all eyes in the room were now on him, and his entire body was trembling.

"I said..."

He swallowed hard, his mouth unbelievably dry.

"I said no! I don't want him in jail, I want him dead! Is that too much to ask for after what he's done? I want to take a gun, stick it in his mouth, and I want to pull the fucking trigger!"

He spat the words.

"I want to kill him!.. I, personally, want to end his life, as he's ended mine..."

Frankie trailed off for a moment, but no one else spoke, as they could all sense that he wasn't finished.

"...and you said you'd find Gerard, alive or..."

He blinked, unable to say the word.

"... He's alive! I know he's alive!...cos I can't think of him any other way. If I even imagine that he's gone, that'll be it, that'll be the end of me too, I might as well just kill myself if he's d..dead...I'm nothing without Gerard, nothing... He's alive, cos that's the only way I am!"

Silent fat tears slid down his face as he tried to steady his breathing, this wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening. Things like this weren't supposed to happen to normal people, this wasn't a TV show. Wake up Frank. Wake up. WAKE UP!! Fuck! Not a dream! Gerard had to be ok though, he had to be... But, that film...? Ugh!

Frank felt sick, and he needed some space. Everyone was watching him, he was pretty sure at least one of them was speaking to him now too, but there was a ringing in his ears that was blocking out their words, and even if he had been able to focus on what they were saying, he really didn't think he'd want to hear it.
Watching Bobs lips, he could just make out the words "...be ok...find him...relax..." Yep! No, he didn't need to hear all the platitudes that were spilling out of their mouths right now.

Suddenly Frank stood, pulling himself out from under Bob's comforting arms.

"I need some air"

He stated, his voice flat and dull, before turning and walking off towards his bedroom. Everyone fell silent as they watched him leave the room.
Frank didn't go into his room, instead, he stopped at the door to the guest room, and quietly stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind him.

In the far corner, against the wall, were four, quite large, boxes. They were Gerard's boxes, full of his stuff. There were old sketch books, journals, notepads and letters, along with other miscellaneous stuff like out of season clothes, and cassette tapes that he no longer had any way to play.

One week ago, Frank had asked Gerard to move in, and he'd said "Yes". Gerard's lease was due to run out in a month, so that was the date they'd set, though, just the other day he'd been trying to bring it forward, but it turned out that it wasn't possible.
These had been the first boxes to be brought over, taken out of ridiculously expensive storage, and placed in Frank's, scratch that, their spare room, until such time that they decided to either unpack them, or fight with the broken attic ladder, and put them up there. Now they seemed like the most interesting and important boxes in the entire fuckin' world.

Grabbing the first box, one labeled "O.S Clothes", Frank settled, criss-cross on the bed, and opened it.
As the chicken-scratch writing on the side suggested, it was all clothing...clothing that smelled of Gerard...that distinctive smell of coffee and cigarettes, and something else that Frank could never quite place, but it was all him.
Frank pulled out a Misfits t-shirt that was a bit too big for Gee, hence it being relegated to the box, and pulled it on over his own top, breathing in Gerard's scent as he did.

Frank thought about just making a nest for himself from Gee scented clothes, and just snuggling up and going to sleep, but, looking at the other boxes, he decided to maybe do that later...Now, he had other things to occupy him.

Placing the clothes box on the floor, Frank grabbed the next.."Miscellaneous and cassettes" scrawled in red on the side. Opening it and peering in, Frank instantly realised that it wasn't worth his time to go through this one, and put it on the floor next to the first box.

The third box, one that said, somewhat neater than the others, "sketchbooks", was much more interesting, and Frank settled once again on the bed, and began carefully looking through Gerard's artwork. He had, of course, seen Gee's drawings before, and had always marvelled at how good they were.
Anger twisted in his guts as he recalled the day Gerard told him that Bert had persuaded him not to go to art school, and instead, to move in with him. He should have fought harder. He should have made him go. If he'd gone, perhaps none of this would be happening, perhaps Bert would never have hurt Gerard.
Damn it, he was crying again.
Angrily Frank wiped his eyes with the bottom of Gees shirt, breathing him in again, and letting the scent calm him down. Turning his attention back to the book in his lap, Frank turned the page and gasped quietly. There, in front of him, was a picture of the two of them.

Most of the book so far, had been vampires, werewolves and such, drawn, if the date in the front of the book was correct, when they were in high school, but this one, was them, sat together, under the willow tree on the day they'd first met, and Frank remembered that day like it was yesterday~

"GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT!"

Andrew hollered as he chased Frank down the school hallways, the smaller boy bouncing off the walls and faded red lockers as he tried to escape another beating. Frank used his size to his advantage and hid behind a group of oblivious seniors, peering out after a minute, to see his bully disappearing around the next corner, still shouting Frank's name.
Sighing in relief, he turned and walked the other way.

A couple of hours later, Frank heard a rumour that Andrew had been so furious at not finding him, that he'd taken it out on some poor new emo kid, beating his ass, and stuffing him in a locker, nearly unconscious. The rumour continued, that the unfortunate boy still hadn't been found.
Shit!.. He felt guilty now! If he'd just taken his beating, and not run crying like a little girl, that guy would be fine, not trapped, hurt, in a tight, dark, metal box. Fuck!

Still managing, somehow, to avoid Andrew, Frank made it to the end of the day, and went to retrieve his Batman hoodie from his locker. On unlocking and opening it however, he was suddenly bowled over by a black clad figure, falling from the tiny space, and landing right on top of him.

"Woah! Shit dude, what the hell?"

He squeaked, pushing the unknown entity off of his legs, and rubbing the back of his head where it had struck the floor. The person had their head down, long black hair shielding their face, and Frank couldn't even tell if it were a boy or girl, as they shuffled backwards away from him on their hands and knees, then sat back, pulling their knees up to their chest, and burying their face in their tightly folded arms, shaking, and beginning to sob quietly.

"Oh...hey, come on, don't cry, I ain't gonna hurt ya"

Frank moved forward to place a tentative hand on the other's arm.
Suddenly, the figure's.. Boy's.. as Frank could now see, head shot up, his thick black hair falling away from his face, revealing pale, almost translucent skin, thin rose pink lips, lipgloss? a tiny little pixie nose, and the most beautiful, wide hazel eyes, surrounded by black liner that was currently run and smudged beyond repair, probably from crying in a locker for hours, Frank mused, as he sat there, staring at the boy.

Noticing that he'd been looking at the boy for what could possibly be considered a creepy amount of time, Frank cleared his throat, turning his eyes down towards his hands for a moment, as he felt his cheeks flame, before returning the boys gaze once more.

"Hi, I'm Frankie."

He grinned.
The boy hesitated a moment, then returned the smile.

"Hi, I'm Gerard"

Frank smiled at the memory, it was one of the best days of his life, and definitely the best of his school life. It was the day he'd fallen in love for the first, and last time. He just wished he'd had the guts to do something about it back then, then none of this... FUCK IT, he was crying... again.

Frank replaced the sketchbook in the box, and stood it on top of the cassettes box, before turning to get the last one. This one, Frank considered, could be the most interesting of all, as the side stated that there were "Journals, Notebooks and Letters" inside, maybe there'd be something about Bert, something that could help the cops find that son of a bitch, maybe.

The first few books were just notes, scribbles of song lyrics and half finished poems. Frank put them to one side, he'd look at them a bit closer later on. Then came some letters, a small stack, tied together with a thin strip of black ribbon. On further inspection, he realised that they were the letters Frank himself had written to Gerard, that one summer when they were 12 or 13, and Frank's parents had sent him away to camp for two whole months. It was Hell! And the worst bit was that Gerard wasn't there, and he couldn't even call him on the phone.

Frank couldn't believe Gee had kept them all these years, he smiled, thinking of his sentimental boyfriend.
Carefully placing the letters next to him, Frank reached into the box, and pulled out the first of the two journals, a slim, red, leather bound book, with an uncomfortably familiar date written on the spine... The date that Gerard met Bert. Opening the book, Frank began to read.

~Dear journal, I met someone today, his name's Bert, and he's really nice. He's no Frankie, but...well, like I said before, Frankie's straight, and even if he wasn't, he'd never go for a fat loser like me, and well, Bert was sweet, and he's kinda cute, and I think he might ask me out, and if he does, I think I might say yes...

Flicking forward a few months..

~Dear journal, he said he didn't mean it, but I can still feel the sting, have I made a mistake? It WAS only a slap...

~Dear journal, Bert asked me to move in with him today, I'm so excited, maybe I'll try art school next year. Frankie didn't seem too happy for me though, wonder why?...

~Dear journal, OUR place is so nice, I still can't believe he asked me to live with him, why won't Frankie come to our house warming?...

~Dear journal, he hit me! ...

Frank saw that he'd reached the end of the book, then he realised why the book was so thin, the second half had all been ripped out, and there was no sign of the missing pages in the box. Putting it down with shaking fingers, he picked up the second, considerably thicker book, and opened it at the first page.

~Dear journal, Frankie loves me! Omg, I can't believe it! I tried to kill myself, pills and booze, but Frankie found me, he saved me, and in the hospital, he told me he loves me. Frankie Iero loves ME!! Yippee!! Lol...

Frank smiled, Gerard sounded so happy, he flipped further through the book and continued to read.

~Dear journal, I've literally never been happier. Frankie's the sweetest, kindest, gentlest, most wonderful man in the world, and he makes that whole thing with 'You Know Who', seem like a bad dream, oh, I'm still having those btw...

~Dear journal, it's one year since THAT NIGHT, and I just can't get it out of my head, shit, who am I? Kylie? Lol, anyway, Frankie keeps trying to distract me, and it helps a bit, but I keep snapping at him, and he's being SO patient with me...

~Dear journal, I think I'm paranoid or something, I keep thinking that I see 'You Know Who', it's driving me nuts...

Frank turned to the next page, but it was blank. Had Gerard really seen Bert in the days before he was taken? And why hadn't he told him about it? Frank sighed, putting the book, and it's companion, on the nightstand, he'd show them to the detectives later, there might be something he'd missed that would help.

Placing the box with the others, he yawned, Frank thought about his previous idea of making a nest, but in the end, just decided to lay down and sleep.
As he closed his eyes, and visions of Gerard, smiling, and happy, danced through his head, Frank drifted off into exhaustion fuelled dreams.

Notes