Before The Sun Goes Down

Frank's POV.
In a few days, Gerard thinks he's ready to do his thing with my liver. He had to go away for a few days, to see the Council to ask them about it, and I was left with Mikey. Mikey is still pissed off with Gerard and I, and all I've done while we've been together is tease him and make him angrier.
Gerard got back at around midday today, and straight away Mikey was moaning about me to him. Gerard didn't say anything, though.
Once Mikey knew what Gerard was going to do, he exited the building, shaking his head at us. Gerard and I are sat around the kitchen table, smoking.
“So, you ready, Frank?” I nod.
“I was ready two days ago, Gerard, I'm really ready now...” He rolls his eyes at my tone.
“The Council has warned me that it could hurt...” He looks at me, studying my face.
“How have you been? And, don't bullshit me, because I can just read your thoughts.” I shrug, stubbing out my cigarette and lighting another one.
“Um... I've smoked about fifty cigarettes over the last few days, does that answer your question? Oh, I haven't really slept... So I've drank a ton of that shitty coffee, it's almost all gone.” He sighs, reaching his hand across the table to touch mine. I move mine away, placing it on my lap.
Hurt flashes through his eyes, and he doesn't look at me again for the rest of the conversation.
“I'll buy some more. But, I'm not buying you any cigarettes.” I sigh, flicking ash into my mug.
“I'll get Mikey to, then.”
“What, the same Mikey who you've pissed off to the extreme over the last few days? Get real, Frank.”
“Whatever, Gerard. He'll do it.” Gerard shakes his head, stubbing out his cigarette.
“Okay, lets do this, then.” He stands up, grabbing the half-smoked cigarette out of my hand and stubbing it out. I cross my arms, standing up too, and following Gerard into my bedroom.
“Lie down and close your eyes,” I do as he says, tense and apprehensive. “Relax.” I try to do as he says, only partially managing.
The room is silent for a while, making me want to open my eyes and peek. Suddenly, something happens inside of me, like somebody twisting an organ and jerking it around. I groan, wanting to curl up but finding my arms and legs pinned to the bed.
It happens again, and it continues to happen periodically for several minutes, until I'm a sweating, almost-crying mess. Then, it stops, and the weight on my arms and legs dissipates, and I automatically curl up, gasping for air.
“Do you want anything? Some water?” I shake my head, groaning.
“Sleep..” I can feel my eyes getting heavy.
“No! Open your fucking eyes, Frank,” I feel the bed dip, but I barely register it. “Frank, don't fall a-fucking-sleep!” A hand slaps my cheeks lightly, making me groan.
“Get off...” I feel Gerard pick me up, and panic registers, but I'm too suddenly tired to do anything.
“Sorry, Frank.” I'm placed on something cold and hard, then there's water beating down on me. Freezing water.
I gasp, my eyes slowly opening. My back arches, hair covering my eyes. “Fuck! Get me the fuck out of this, Gerard!” I try to stand up and move out the way, but the same invisible force that held me down a minute ago holds me down again. I feel fully awake now, and I'm shivering.
After another minute or so, I'm able to crawl out and get away from the cold. I'm shaking and my hands are turning blue. My wet clothes cling to me, making me painfully aware that my t-shirt is now see through. I grab a towel, rubbing my face and hair.
“Get out,” He does what I say with no complaint, shutting the door behind him. “Get me some new clothes, please.” I say the please begrudgingly, knowing that if I don't say it, he'll probably make me get them on my own. The shower is still going so I turn it off, glaring at the dripping shower-head.
Clothes are thrown through the door, landing by my feet in a heap of black. I get changed in a rush, wanting to get off the wet clothes fast. Every time I take off an item of clothing, it lands on the floor with a wet smack, because I'm practically slamming them on the floor.
I emerge out of the bathroom, still shaking slightly, but my fingers aren't that blue any more. Another thing that's pissing me off, is that my stomach hurts, like I've been kicked in it a few times. It hurts every time I take a step.
“Hey, Frank... Have a nice shower?” Mikey smirks at me, and in that moment I swear I could have murdered him.
“Fuck off, Mikey.” I push past him, into the kitchen. Gerard's in there, smoking.
“Hey, asshole.” Gerard turns to look at me, his face blank.
“Did you want to die?” I pretend to think, tapping my foot.
“Hmm... Yes, maybe I did... Or, I could have just wanted to... I don't know... sleep?” I flop down in a chair, leaning against the wall.
“Well, you couldn't, Frank.” His tone suggests that he wants to drop the conversation, but I want to know why.
“But why, Gerard?” He sighs at me, giving me a pointed, tired look.
“You could have died. The Council said so.” I roll my eyes at him, crossing my arms.
“Who cares what the Council has to say?” He points to himself, rolling his eyes back at me. “God, you're so fucking boring... It's all rules, rules, fucking rules, isn't it?”
“You're the one that doesn't go outside, Frank.”
“That isn't my fault, though...” He raises an eyebrow at me, pursing his lips.
“I know it isn't. It's Miles', I know. But, Frank, you can't let him overshadow your life, he's dead now, he can't hurt you again, he can't... abuse you again.” I swallow, my stomach twisting.
“Yeah, but what if he's turned into what you are? What if someone turned him?” Gerard rolls his eyes again, a smirk on his lips. It annoys me, because I'm being deadly serious. “Gerard, stop fucking smirking at me. It's possible.” He shrugs, the smirk dropping off his face.
“It is possible, yes. How possible, though? The possibility of him being like me is very slim, kind of like if...” He thinks for a second. “Like, if, you jumped off a seventy storey building and survived with no injury...” I sigh, standing up.
“Whatever. If you aren't going to take me seriously, then you can just go...” I look at him for a second, judging his reaction. “Why are you here, anyway? This is my home, not yours.”
“I fixed your liver, remember? I didn't have to, considering you're being a dick, but I did, because I.. um...” He looks down, twirling a strand of hair around his finger. He looks remarkably like a teenage school-girl asking out her crush, or something. I chuckle at him, making him glare at me.
“You what? Love me?” I chuckle again, but he looks down again and acts even more embarrassed. I awkwardly chuckle again, rubbing my arm. “Right, okay... Moving on... Bye, Gerard.” He looks at me and I point to the door, making him sigh.
“Whatever...” He just disappears, the door making a quiet bang as he shuts it.
“Right... What to do now?” I look around, shrugging. “Cleaning it is, then...”
After an hour and a half, everywhere is spotless apart from the bathroom, which is wet still. Also, after just over an hour and a half, I've remembered that I have a decent supply of alcohol in my cupboards, and a working, 'new' liver.
In just two hours, I'm already half way to being incoherently drunk, which is the best thing that has happened to me in a while.
Mikey hasn't come back yet, Gerard hasn't, either. What has come back, though, is my liking for vodka and Redbull. I like it so much, in fact, that I've drank several glasses of it, and I really need to piss. My debate on whether to get up and go to the bathroom is interrupted by the door opening and slamming shut.
In the end, I do get up, armed with a shoe, just in case it's some random burglar or something, although I'm not panicking much, probably because the alcohol has dulled my senses.
I throw the shoe at the person, making them curse.
“Fuck, Frank! It's only fucking me...” Oh, it's only Mikey.
“Hi, me.” I giggle at myself, and Mikey groans at my terrible joke.
“Frank, are you drunk?” He turns on the light, so I nod, making him roll his eyes. “Where the fuck is Gerard? Surely he hasn't left you alone, drunk.” I shake my head, shrugging.
“I.. Uh.. I told him to go, then I cleaned the whole place... and drank Vodka and... what is it? Red... Red... Redbull!” He slowly claps at me, amusement in his eyes. I clumsily bow, almost falling over.
“How much have you drank? Perhaps you should stop...”
“Stop? I've only just started, Mikey!” I grin at him, walking- more like stumbling, into my bedroom where my alcohol horde is and grabbing some random shit, dropping a bottle as I do.
“Frank, sit down, for God's sake- you're going to hurt yourself!” I shake my head, looking at the couch in disgust.
“Nu-huh... Not on that.” I point to it, my lip curling up.
“But why?” He sounds exasperated, and it makes me laugh.
“Why does there have to be a reason?” I bring a bottle to my lips, knocking some back.
“Frank, stop.” He thinks for a second, narrowing his eyes at me. “Have you had anything to eat today?” I think, tapping the bottle in my hand with a finger.
“Don't know... Who cares?” I knock some more back, and Mikey snatches some of the bottles away from me. “You're a really fucking annoying drunk person,” He narrows his eyes at me again, smirking. “No, wait... That's just you in general..” I fake laugh at him, sticking my tongue out.
“Want any? It's good... It wasn't fucking cheap, anyway!” I wobble a little, offering him a bottle. He starts to shake his head, then stops suddenly.
“I might join you in a minute, unlike you, I care about whether or not I've had something to eat before drowning myself in alcohol.” I roll my eyes at him, flipping him off.
I follow him into the kitchen, grabbing my cigarettes and lighting one, putting the bottle on the table clumsily. He makes something, I'm not really paying attention, then he grabs two glasses and sets them in front of us.
“Okay, the first one to drink it all gets a prize..” I narrow my eyes.
“What's the prize?” He doesn't answer, he shrugs and thinks for a minute.
“Um... Money?” I shrug, nodding my head.
“Sounds... fabulous!” He chuckles at me, pouring the drinks.
“Three... Two..... One!”
We both bring the glasses to our mouths, swallowing. Mikey cringes and chokes, not used to the taste, but I'm already drunk, so I easily win.
“Ha, ha! In your fucking little face, Mikey Way! I win, you're a lightweight!” I laugh at him, making him laugh and push me softly. The push is enough to send me sprawling, knocking down mine and Mikey's glasses, Mikey's still half full.
“Ah, shit,” I look up at Mikey, who's grinning at me. Peals of laughter escapes him, and soon I'm laughing, too, still lying on the floor. “Fuck you, Mikey!” I stand up, wobbling.
“Another one, partner?” I nod my head, pushing my alcohol-soaked hair away from my face.
“I'm going to stink in the morning...” I chuckle again, making Mikey laugh as he pours out some more. Luckily, the glasses didn't fully smash, only chip a little.
The end product of Mikey's drink mixing is a brown, thick liquid. “The fuck is this, Mikey?” He shrug, grinning.
“Who cares? Just drink it.” And drink it I do, but it makes me cringe. By now, I'm seeing double and I can barely stand up. Mikey's wobbling slightly, and he's only had two.
“You are a lightweight! You've only had, like, two!” He shrugs, drinking the last of his drink and pouring something else for himself. I finish mine, grabbing a random bottle and drinking from it. I can hardly taste it, and I know for a fact that I won't be able to read the label.
Fifteen minutes later, we've moved our little party into the living room. I'm sat on the floor and Mikey's sat on the couch, much to my distaste. We've slowed down on drinking, now all we're doing basically is talking at laughing at ourselves.
“Shall we call Gerard? It'll be fucking hilarious, Mikey!” He smiles at me, sipping a drink.
“Fine, but what will we say?” I shrug, giggling.
“I don't fucking know, man! Who cares?” He grins at me, pulling out his phone.
“Do you think he'll know it's us? We could prank call him or something...” I consider it for a minute, then remember my house phone in the kitchen that nobody ever uses.
“Hold on, I'll be back..” I get up, stumbling and almost tripping over my own leg. I grab the phone out of it's receiver, walking- stumbling, back to Mikey.
“Read out his number, Mikes.” He hold the phone in front of his face squinting his eyes.
“Okay... There's fucking two phones, Frank... Holy shit..” We both laugh, Mikey glancing between his phone and me.
“There's fucking seven for me, man.”
He reads out the number, and I move closer to him so he can hear.
“Hello?” Mikey starts to laugh silently, making me laugh.
“Hello? Mr Vay?” I put on a heavy Russian accent, making Mikey have to cover his face.
“Who is this?” I look to Mikey for help, and he mouths the name 'Vladimir'.
“This is Vladimir, Mr Vay.” I hear a sigh from him, making me hold the phone away and chuckle. I drink a little bit more of my drink, another mystery concoction that Mikey made.
“How do you know my name?”
“Everybody knows your name, Mr Vay. Vell, everybody from the Secret Service in Russian, anyvay.” Laughs erupt from Mikey, making me slap him.
“Secret Service? What the fuck?” He sounds really panicked, and I think that sober me probably would have told him that it's only me, but drunk me can be pretty spiteful.
“Yes. Is that a problem? Ve've sent somebody to come and collect vou, Mr Vay.” I hear a quiet 'shit' down the line, making me bite my lip to contain the laughter.
“Why?”
“Vou know vhy, Mr Way.”
“My name is Gerard, Vladimir. And, no, I don't fucking know why you're sending some crackpot Russians to come and 'collect me'!” He imitates my voice, but it sounds so completely opposite to what I sound like, I burst out laughing before I have time to cover my mouth.
“Frank?”
“Vou is this Frank? I know no Franks, Mr Vay.”
“Fuck you, Frank. Don't fucking don't that to me, you little prick. You're fucking drunk. Where is Mikey? I want to speak to him.” I give the phone to Mikey, who has tears streaming down his face from laughing.
“Hel-lo?” The word is broken in half by a burst of laughter.
“Mikey?”
“Yes, dear brother... Or should I say, 'dead' brother instead?” We both laugh, making Gerard irritatedly sigh down the phone.
“You're fucking pissed as well? I thought you were the responsible one..” Mikey shakes his head, smirking.
“I'm not drunk? If you think I'm drunk, then you should see Frankie, Gee. He can hardly fucking walk!” He chuckles, downing the last of his drink.
“Fuck... You're both fucking twats, I swear to God. You guys better be sobering up by the time I get back, which I'd say is in... around ten minutes.” He hangs up, leaving me and Mikey laughing and drinking.
Gerard gets back in less than ten minutes, if my drunken counting is correct. Me and Mikey are lay on the floor, one empty bottle on each side of us. We drunk as much as we could before Gerard got back, which resulted in me winning several more competitions.
“Get up.” He nudges me with his foot, making me laugh.
“No.” He crosses his arms, rolling his eyes.
“Mikey, c'mon. You're the sensible one, aren't you? I though Frank would be like this, but you?”
“Nope, fuck off, Gee. I'm fine right here, thanks.”
“Frank. Mikey.”
“Frank. Mikey.” I imitate him, putting on a ridiculous voice.
“Guys, please. If you don't get up now, I'll wake you up in the morning by banging pots together in your ears.” Mikey and I stare at him for a minute, silently agreeing that he's serious, and standing up. We have to grip onto each other to manage to stay upright, and we laugh all the way.
Gerard grabs onto our wrists, pulling us into the kitchen and sitting us down in a chair each.
“Stay.” I nod solemnly at him, but when he turns around, I flip him off and stick my tongue out at him. It makes Mikey laugh, but I've noticed that when he's drunk, it doesn't take much.
The room is spinning, and everything is in broken up images. If I stare at one thing for too long, I start to feel sick, so I keep closing my eyes.
“Drink.” Gerard slams two glasses of water in front of both us, but me and Mikey just stare at them. “Drink!” Gerard claps his hands, making me jump. I roll my eyes while Mikey sighs, but we sip at the water.
“Guys, I think I'm going to throw up.” I groan at the end of my sentence, putting down the glass and leaning back.
“Bathroom's that way, Frank.” I open my eyes, glaring at Gerard.
“Why are you so mean, Gee?” He raises his eyebrows, crossing his arms.
“You dug your own grave, now you have to lie in it.” I close my eyes again, a wave of nausea going over me. I stand up, shakily, and make my way to the bathroom.
“Fuck you!” I shout to Gerard on the way there, barely getting it out because of the gag making it's way up. I barely get to the toilet before my mouth fills with saliva and I'm throwing up. Alcohol is ten times worse coming back up than it is going down, it burns and makes you throw up even more just from the taste.
I'm not sure how long I'm bent over the toilet, everything's a blur, but I do know that nobody has came in to see if I'm okay. I finally stop, standing up and spitting out some more shit from my mouth into the sink. Walking shakily out of the bathroom, I stumble and almost fall over several times.
When I get back into the kitchen, I sit on the floor, not bothering to get to the chair that isn't even two feet away from me.
“Here.” I get a cigarette thrust into my face, along with three packets thrown into my lap. I take it, taking in a long drag.
“I thought you said you weren't going to get me any more.” I open an eyes, looking at him. He shrugs, smiling a little.
“I can take them back, I smoke, too, you know.” I grab the packets, shoving them into my pockets pretty unsuccessfully.
“Fuck...” Mikey groans, leaning forward. “I'm going to fucking throw up, too.” He stands up, a lot more steadier than me, and runs to the bathroom. We hear retching and liquid splashing into the toilet bowl less than a minute later.
“You guys are going to be brilliant company when you wake up.” I smile at Gerard, a fake, overenthusiastic, sarcastic smile. He responds with his middle finger, grimacing at the thought of tomorrow, probably.
“You don't have to be here. We can take care of ourselves, Gee.” My words are more slurred now than they were earlier, a mix of tiredness and intoxication.
“Really? Would you and Mikey have drunk until you passed out... or maybe until you got alcohol poisoning, or you choked or your own puke. What about tomorrow? What about then? Will you start drinking without eating again, Frank? And the day after that? Will you finally get the balls to go out, but only to buy some cocaine or something?” I say nothing back to him, I look down with red cheeks and stub out my cigarette on the floor. “Thought so, Frank.” I glare at him, but it doesn't really work out for me because I'm blushing even harder.
“I'm going to bed.” I get up, grabbing my water and walking out, slamming my bedroom door behind me. Instead of the shame I was feeling just a second ago, rage bubbles up inside me, from what happened to me, from Gerard, from myself, and I throw the glass at the door. It shatters and the water inside it splashes everywhere, but I don't feel any better. Instead, I feel worse, if anything.
I punch the wall, growling. “Fuck you!” I practically scream, at who, I'm not sure. I punch the wall again, with my other hand, and grab some shit of the window sill and throw it. Everything I throw brakes, including a picture of me, Gerard, Ray, Mikey, Donna, and Bob. I walk over to it and stare at it, looking at the broken glass. Stomping on it, I turn away, throwing the sheets and everything off the bed and tipping the mattress off.
I'm beginning to get tired, and I keep seeing random spots of my blood from my knuckles everywhere, which reminds me of the lounge. And Miles, and that night, and everything else that I fucking hate about everything.
I stop throwing things everywhere and sit down, my hands landing on the broken, sharp stuff. I start to bleed from the cuts on my hands as well as my knuckles, but the sight of the blood enraptures me. I like how the red of the blood contrasts with my white carpet, something I'm sure I will fucking hate in the morning.
I fall asleep staring at my blood, and I wake up with a headache doing exactly the same.

With dismay, I look around at the room, which is wrecked and shattered.
Everything is literally everywhere, I'm sat in fucking glass and blood. I've actually bled quite a lot, by the looks of it. There's blood on the walls from where I've threw something and the red liquid has gone with it, there's water stains by and around the door. My sheets and mattress are strewn across the floor, dotted with the brown color of dried blood.
I stand up, groaning at the ache in my head and open my door, wincing at my wounds cracking and opening again from the movement. Little beads of blood fall onto the carpet again, so I grab a random shirt from a tipped out drawer and wrap them up.
Nobody's in the kitchen when I walk through, so I rinse my hands off and wrap them up. I also take some pills and drink a lot of water.
“What the fuck did you do to your room?” Gerard's voice comes from behind me, but I'm so out of it still that I don't jump. I shrug, pulling out a cigarette from a packet in my pocket.
“Can't remember.”
“There's fucking blood everywhere, Frank. What did you do? Did you hurt yourself?” His voice is halting, and the last of it is just sighed out.
“No. I'm pretty sure I didn't hurt myself. Well, not intentionally.” I hold up my hands, and he gasps.
“Fuck, Frank...” He touches one softly, making me whirl around and glare at him.
“Don't fucking touch me.” I say this through gritted teeth, and Gerard steps back because of my sudden mood change.
“Okay, okay... I'll go out and buy you some more shit for the bedroom, okay? You can't go out, Mikey's still dead to the world, so I'm the only option, whether you like it or not.” I sigh, clenching my jaw, but I nod, anyway.
“Fine. Don't take the piss and buy me anything pink, though. I'm gay, but I'm not that gay.” He lets out a weak laugh, his eyes dead.
I stare at him for a minute, properly looking at him and noticing everything for the first time in a while. He looks really fucking tired. And sad. And his skin is kind of translucent, which looks pretty scary. His eyes are tired and there's no life in them at all. His hair is really faded and his roots are coming through really bad.
“Shit, Gerard,” I stare at him, open-mouthed. “What's wrong?” He looks at me weirdly, shrugging.
“Nothing, why?” I touch his hair, tugging on it a little.
“When was the last time you ate something?”
“I... Um..”
“How long?”
“A few weeks, maybe. I don't know, I can't remember.”
“When was the last time you even looked at you hair?” He shrugs again, not looking at me, but at his shoes.
“Gerard, I don't particularly like you at the minute, but I'll always fucking care about you and love you, and I hate to see you like this. Before you buy the shit, go hunting and eat, and while you're buying the shit, buy some hair dye and hairdressing scissors.”
“Why scissors?” I tap my nose, tugging his hair again.
“I thought you were supposed to be smart...” I smirk at him. “Anyway, go. Remember hair dye and everything, okay? Buy any color, go mad..” He chuckles at me, but it's fake. His eyes aren't lighting up like they usually do when he laughs.
I fake a smile, my concern about him growing. “Go, go, go!” I push him lightly, making him walk out the door, waving goodbye.
When he's gone, I sit and smoke, thinking about things.
And I set up a 'hairdressing station' for Gerard.
I know I care about Gerard, I know I love him. I know I can't be with him. I know he deserves better, not some fucked-up rape victim that can't hold it together for five minutes. Getting close to him isn't going to help anyone. I can't help it, though. I can't keep acting like a dick towards him, I can't be apart from him. I can't watch him slowly... die in front of me, I can't.
But I can't help him. I'll just bring him down, I know I will.
We both need a fresh start, him with someone he deserves, and me on my own, getting some kind of help. He deserves it, so he's going to get it. Our relationship from now on is going to be strictly platonic, and he's going to get over me. I'm going to help him, even if it's the last thing I do.
When he's back, he looks a lot better. His skin is better, his eyes have some kind of a sparkle in them, and his smiles look almost real. I don't know how the fuck I'm going to let him go, I really don't.
“Did you get the hair dye and scissors?” He nods his head, handing me a bag. I pull out the dye and scissors, smiling. “Okay, sit down.” He does as he's told, sitting down in the chair I've placed in the middle of the room.
I brush his hair, getting rid of the knots and things in it. Then, I work on cutting his hair to a reasonable length, one that he suits with the red. With the black, he suits it long, but with the red he suits it better when it's shorter, but not too short.
I put the dye on his hair, handing him a cigarette and some coffee.
“Thanks, darling.” I freeze at the name, thanking God that's he's not facing me, otherwise he would have seen the color leave my cheeks.
“No problem.” I say it stiffly, but I don't think Gerard notices.
“How long does this have to be on for?” I read the box, skimming the words.
“How long is a piece of string?” He sighs at me, flipping me off. “Around forty five minutes, okay?” I bring a chair in front of him, sitting down and looking at him. He nods at me, giving me a grin.
“Really, thank you.” I wave him away, looking away.
“Really, it's no problem.” He rolls his eyes at me, smiling.
We sit in silence for the rest of the time, but it's companionable. “Time to wash it off, Gerard.” We stand up, walking to the bathroom. I wash off the dye and wash his hair, leaving him alone to dry it or whatever he wants to do.
He comes out with flaming red hair, a color I haven't seen on him for a while, because it's been faded and overall pretty shitty. I wolf-whistle at him, making him laugh.
“Come here often, Mister?” He rolls his eyes, putting a hand on his hip.
“What's it to you, sleaze-ball?”
“Well, I thought I could buy you a drink, but if you're going to be like that, sweetheart, I won't bother.” I walk away, a stupid lovey-dovey smile on my face that disappears as soon as I turn back around.
“Don't be like that, baby.” He walks up to me, smiling.
We stare at each other for a minute before I lean forward and kiss him frantically. He responds the same, bringing me closer to him. I tug at his hair as he bites my lip. We kiss hungrily and desperately for a few minutes before I have to pull away because my lungs can't take the lack of air.
I lean my forehead against his chest while I catch my breath, only now realizing that I didn't panic or anything while I was kissing him. I let out a breathy laugh, proud of myself. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kiss him again, the kiss more desperate than the last one.
His hands snake under my t-shirt, making me tense, but I don't stop kissing him. His hands stay there for a while, until I decide to just take it off and see what happens. We stop for a minute, him looking down at me with a cute little fucking smile on his face, and it makes my heart want to burst.
“Fuck, Frank. I love you..” He kisses me softly, making my heart leap.
“I love you.”
I kiss him again, slower and with more love. He takes off his shirt, leading me into the kitchen and pulling us onto the chair in the middle of the room. I'm a panting mess, but Gerard still looks as he did before I kissed him, which isn't really fair.
“Are you okay with this? Say something if you aren't, Frankie.” I smile at him, making him smile back. A real smile.
“I think I'm okay, Gee.” He beams at me, laughing. Out of relief, I think.
We kiss again, the kissing and our movements getting more intense as we go along, with occasional breaks for air. Our jeans have now also been discarded, somewhere on the floor.
“Are you sure?” I nod, kissing him again after I broke away for air. We kiss for the longest time this time, I don't give into my body's pleads for air until I feel light-headed.
“Morning, gu- Whoa, okay.” Me and Gerard jump at the sound of Mikey's horrified voice, and I flush as red as a beetroot. I jump off Gerard, grabbing my jeans and pulling them on, almost toppling into the table, but Gerard saves me.
Gerard not only saves me, but he does it fully dressed as well. “How the fuck are you fully dressed, man?” He smirks, shrugging and hands me my t-shirt.
“You can look now, Mikey.” Gerard says once I have my shirt on and our hair is less crazy.
“No, I'm good. I don't think I can look at either of you again without seeing that, to be honest.” Gerard chuckles, and I roll my eyes.
“Sorry, Mikey. You weren't supposed to walk in on anything, at any time, it just happened...” He turns around, rolling his eyes at me.
“I really don't want to speak about this any longer,” He smirks at me, making a love heart with his fingers and pointing at Gerard, making me flush again. “And, I have a super bad headache and I need a drink and some pills to take it away.”
“Water does the trick, Mikey.” He nods at me, getting a glass of water and gulping half of it before he looks for some medication with bloodshot eyes.
“What's happened to your hair?” Mikey asks Gerard, reaching out to touch it.
“Frank happened.” He smiles at me, winking.
“Where did you learn to cut hair, Frank?” I shrug nonchalantly.
“I haven't...” I grin at Gerard, who's looking at me with narrow eyes.
“So you mean to tell me that you took it upon yourself to cut my hair with no skill at all?” I nod, laughing.
“It turned out okay, though, didn't it?” He rolls his eyes, but he begrudgingly nods.
“It also escalated into something more, by the looks of things...” Mikey smirks at us, clearly noticing the flush on my cheeks.
“Shut up, Mikey...” Gerard smiles at him, winking at me.
“Will you stop with the fucking winking?” I roll my eyes, punctuating my sentence with a laugh. He sticks his tongue out at me, turning around and grabbing the bags that were abandoned on the floor.
“Shall we sort out your room, Frankie?” The nick-name makes my stomach twist with guilt, Gerard must think we're okay now, when I'm actually planning to make him move on from me. I nod, standing up.
“What's wrong with your room?” He looks at me, his eyes widening as he sees my hands. “And your hands?” I sigh, not answering for a minute.
“I can't really remember, to be honest. I think I went a little crazy, judging from the state of it and all the blood...” I lift up a hand, wiggling it.
“Can I help you guys?” I nod as Gerard shakes his head. “What? Why not, Gerard?” He taps his nose, glancing at me and winking again.
“You can Mikey, come on.” I shove Gerard, making no difference to him at all, but he ends up sighing and agreeing with me.
The rooms looks worse now than it did a few hours ago, the blood has dried a little more, making little brown colored spots stand out on everything. Mikey gasps, looking around with wide eyes. Also, something I hadn't noticed before, my window has a crack running diagonally down the middle, and there's some black, smashed-up pottery or something lying around the window.
“Shit...” Gerard sighs at me, looking thoroughly disappointed, which makes me feel like shit.
“Jesus, Frank.” Mikey looks at me with surprise, glancing at the devastation.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Lets just get this shit clean, okay? Save your lectures for later or something, when I don't care.” I start picking stuff up, shoving it all in my trash can.
I get to the smashed photo, picking it up and staring at it for a minute.
“Here..” Gerard hands me a new photo-frame, a plain black one. I smile at him, taking it and putting the photo in it.
Everything that we can salvage, we put on the floor in the corner, and everything else goes in the trash, including my bedsheets and everything. My mattress is okay, no blood on it or anything. We put the new sheets that Gerard bought on, tidying it up and then placing everything we managed to save on it.
My clothes are fine, most of them being black so you can't even see the blood on them, if there is any, anyway. They go back into the now-upright drawers, and the new photo-frame goes on top of the drawers.
In just over an hour, we've cleaned everything up apart from the blood, which nobody has even mentioned. It makes me feel pretty sick just looking at the droplets, and it's my blood.
“Okay, so what about the blood? I can see it everywhere... It's even up the window.” Gerard and I look, following Mikey's pointed finger. And, sure enough, it is.
“The blood is something I can deal with, I just don't really want to because it's pretty disgusting..” Gerard speaks up, with a disgusted look on his face.
“But it's blood... You're into drinking blood and shit...” Mikey rolls his eyes at Gerard, making Gerard push him a little.
“Yes, but it's Frank's blood. It doesn't make me want to go and suck his blood or lick it off the fucking walls. Neither does the thought of your blood, Mikey.” Mikey shrugs, nodding.
Gerard narrows his eyes, staring at the walls. The blood on them slowly starts to disappear, then he does the same to the carpet, and the window. Soon, everything is as good as new, and Gerard looks at us and smiles.
“All done!” He claps his hands once, making me jump.
“I'm going to take a shower, so don't come in.” I look at them both, narrowing my eyes. “Oh, and thanks, Gee.” I smile at him, them I make shooing motions with my hands, and they walk out. I grab some clean clothes, heading to the bathroom and locking the door behind me.
I take about twenty minutes in there, and unlike usual, I don't really think about anything, I just stare at the tiles while I wash my hair and things. I get out, dry myself and put on my clothes, brushing my teeth when I'm dressed.
Walking out of the bathroom, I run into Mikey, who grabs me by my wrist and drags me behind him.
“What is going on between the two of you?” I chuckle at him at first, rolling my eyes and lighting a cigarette.
“Mikey, you sound like a teenage girl,” He stares at me, an eyebrow raised, so I sigh and answer him. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” He shakes his head, his expression doubtful.
“So what I walked into this morning was a... mistake?” I look down, a blush creeping onto my cheeks.
“No.” I say it quietly, more to myself than anything.
“Then, that means that it was something.” I shake my head, looking at him.
“Mikey, we aren't together. We can't get back together. I shouldn't have even kissed him in the first place, I really shouldn't have.” His face softens with concern, and he opens his mouth to speak, then closes it.
“But... He loves you, Frank. He fucking adores you, okay? When you two are together, I can feel the... the... magic! It's like fucking magic, anyway. You obviously love him, and I know he did some bad shit, but you've already forgiven him deep down, haven't you?” I go to shake my head, then stop, giving away my answer. “Well, why can't you get back together?”
I lean forward, bringing my face closer to Mikey's. “I can't be with him... No, I can't let him be with me. I'm a mess, he deserves someone better. I'm not the right one for him, all I do is hurt him.” I don't look at him as I say this, my voice low and shaky.
“Frank, you are the right one. Without you, he isn't the same person. He isn't happy. When you passed out the other day, he was besides himself with worry and regret and everything. Why aren't you the one?” I drop my gaze even farther away from Mikey, my eyes stinging.
“Something bad happened to me, a few weeks ago. Miles... he...” I try to say it, but it won't come out of my mouth.
“He...?” I take a deep breath, closing my eyes shut and quickly blurting it out.
“He raped me.” Mikey recoils from me, gasping. I look up, seeing Mikey's eyes closed and a hand over his mouth. When he opens his eyes, they're full with tears.
“Frank...” He reaches out a hand, then stops and places it on the table. I bitterly smile, looking at the wall.
“I know, I'm disgusting. You don't have to pretend or anything, just tell me the truth, Gerard dances around me and makes out like I'm a delicate flower.” Which I am, really, but I'm not going to admit it.
“No, you aren't disgusting. Never fucking think that.” His palm slams onto the table, and he gets up.
“Mikey, calm down.”
“Calm down? You're my brother, Frank. You got...” He's pacing now, and with shaking hands I get out another cigarette and light it. I close my eyes as I inhale, biting back tears. The cloud of smoke that leaves my mouth leaves in chunks, broken up by my shaky sigh.
“Mikey, please.” The last one is broken by a sob, and he stops pacing and looks at me, a single tears falling down his face.
“I thought it would be bad, but not this bad...” He swallows, collapsing into the chair and banging his head on the wall. “And then Gerard says those horrible things? No wonder you can't get back together with him, I feel sick.”
“Gerard's okay. He's probably just as sick of me as I am with myself.” I shrug, flicking ash into the ashtray.
“Frank, shut up.” I sigh, inhaling more smoke.
“Can I tell you about it? I haven't told anyone, I haven't admitted it to anyone, not even Gerard. He read my thoughts.” He swallows, looking at me.
“S-sure. Talk away, Frank.” I breathe in deeply, down at my lap and beginning.
“Miles and I went on a date, but I ran out on him. Probably the reason why he did what he did, but it doesn't really matter. Anyway, he knocked on my door some time after, and I blanked it and pretended I wasn't in. Then, he came back the next day, and I answered it. I fucking answered it, Mikey...” I shake my head at myself, letting a bitter, humourless laugh. “I invited him in, I don't know why I fucking did, but I did. He asked for a drink, and he got drunk. And bitter. He pins me down, undoes my shirt. Throws my phone, which makes it smash. I hit him over the head with a bottle, which makes him angrier. He beats me up, making me unconscious. Before I do go unconscious, though, I see him take off his pants.” My voice is monotonous, and I don't shift my gaze from the table top.
Neither of us say anything, and when Gerard walks into the kitchen, probably over an hour later, we still haven't said anything. Mikey shoved a bottle of gin and a glass in front of me, so I've had two little glasses of gin, and I think Mikey's had three, maybe four.
“Hey, guys,” Neither of us say anything still. “Who's dead?” Gerard stiffly laughs, coming over to us. I glance at him, then at Mikey, who's staring into space. “Why have you been crying?” We shrug at the same time, and I touch my cheeks, finding them indeed wet.
“I didn't know I was.” I look at him, pouring myself another gin and swallowing it all in one.
“What's happened?” I look at Mikey, who glances at me, too.
“Oh, and it happened on the couch.” He looks at me again, his face draining of color.
“Oh, you told him.” I nod my head, taking a drag of my cigarette and stubbing it out, letting it join it's many dead friends in the ashtray. Gerard sounded politely disinterested, but when you look into his eyes, you can see every emotion he's feeling, the main ones being anger and disgust.
“I'm going to throw up.” Mikey stands up, running to the bathroom, presumably.
“Frank, your shaking. And crying. And you look like you're about to pass out..” I look at him, breathing out air.
“I am?” I can't hear myself properly, but I see Gerard nod.
“What have you had to eat recently?”
“I can't remember, Gerard,” I close my eyes, running a hand through my hair. “I feel faraway. Like I'm floating or something.”
“That's because you're about to pass out, Frank. You need to eat. I went to the library for a few hours, reading about things that might help you, and the first thing is to get you to eat. To gain weight.” I shake my head, frowning.
“I hate throwing up, though.”
“I know, but if you eat regularly enough, it'll stop.” I sigh.
“Fine.” When I open my eyes, the room spins, so I close them again. “The room is spinning, Gerard.”
“You haven't eaten in days and your drinking; what do you expect?” I shrug, feeling even lighter than before.
“Make it stop, please.” I hear distant noises, which I realize is coming from Gerard.
“Make what stop?” Mikey sounds unstable and shaky, which is probably what he is.
“The spinning and lightness.” I open my eyes again, glancing at Mikey. I have to close them because the spinning has picked up speed, but I can see that Mikey Way is a wreck, and I have caused it.
“Here, eat this. I ran to the shop and got you a sandwich, I thought it would be quicker than making one.” I open my eyes to grab the food, then close them again and take a bite.
It feel foreign in my mouth, the simple cheese sandwich bursting with all kinds of flavor that my starved body hasn't had in a long time. I manage to chew and swallow the first, second, third, and fourth bite with almost no problem, but then the rest of it grows in my mouth and chokes me as I swallow. I fight my way through the food, though, eating almost all of it, and drinking two glasses of water after.
I look at Mikey and Gerard- the room's almost stopped spinning, and see that they're smiling at me. I didn't look at either of them all the way through, too focused on trying to even find the willpower to bite the sandwich.
“Well done, Frankie.” Gerard's smile is so proud that I smile back, a tight-lipped, probably ugly smile, but who cares?
“If you'll excuse me, I'm going for a shower.” They nod, Mikey still looking slightly green in the face.
I shower again, the dirtiness from remembering what happened making me feel like dirt. Not just dirty, but like actually dirt. I scrub at myself until I'm lobster-red, from the heat of the water and the scrubbing, then I get out.
The sandwich threatened to come back up quite a few times, but I think it was just my willpower for it to stay in my stomach that made it stay.
I emerge, kind of clean and still red. The first thing I do is make a coffee, then I light another cigarette and smoke it while I drink. I even go as fas as to open a window and sit on the sill. The air felt good on my skin, but the eyes I felt didn't.
Gerard and Mikey didn't talk to me, and I did the same to them. I don't want to talk, I want to brood and think and reflect. I want to smoke and drink alcohol, as well, but coffee will have to do. Until later, that is.
After an hour of thinking and smoking, I finally go and seek company. “Guys.” They look up at me, both peering at me over books.
“Yes?” They both speak at the same time, which is slightly creepy but even more cool.
“Talk to me, please.” They smile, putting down their books. “Will you please stop doing things at the same time? It's kind of creepy.” They nod- at the same time. I sigh frustratedly, making them laugh. Gerard moves, breaking the same-thing-same-time thing they had going on.
“We have to go back home, Frank.” I think I pale, but I'm not sure.
“Both of you?” They nod. “At the same time?” They nod, and I swallow.

Notes