It's Not a Fashion Statement

Gerards pov
I still haven’t managed to drift to sleep yet; I just can’t stop thinking about the man. I don’t know what it is about the look he gave me, but I recognized it instantly, and it’s been chewing at the back of my mind ever since.

I tilt my head to watch Frankie sleep. The side of his face is bruised and the cut on his neck has bled through the bandage.
He’s lying on his side, curled into the soft duvet and breathing heavily. His eyes are gently locked shut, and his fingers are curled into his palms.
My poor little Frankie, what did he do to deserve any of the pain he’s had to go through? And then there was also the incident in Paris, not to mention he was fucking homeless for a few months, until the point he was actually going to kill himself.

I still think about that day, what if he had actually committed suicide? What if I never took him in, would I still be the depressed, moody, and angry man I was? Would I have relapsed with no one to stop me going back, would I ever have someone there for me, would I ever fall in love, is there anyone else I could fall in love with? And most importantly, my little Frankie’s poor little heart would be broken and sad. Well, either that or it’d have stopped all together.

I stroke his hair between my fingers, sadly smiling down on his beautiful face.

A beam of daylight filters through the gaps around the blinds, alerting me that it’s day.
I carefully sit up, caring not to disturb little Frankie, rubbing my eyes and stretching my cramped arms. A pain shoots up my wrist, rushing up my arm and around my body. I turn to crack my back, feeling satisfied as it clicks in several places. I do the same with my neck, knuckles, and jaw. I move my feet in circles under the covers, tensing and relaxing them, as they click again. I throw the covers off myself, sliding off the bed and then standing up, circling my shoulders around, receiving more satisfying clicks. I jut my hip to the side, clicking really loud and it feels amazing. I scrunch my toes and move my legs about, clicking and feeling refreshed. It’s a strange feeling, yet so good.

I stretch out and yawn, running a hand through my hair, when the pain shoots up my arm again. It feels like having a really tense muscle, I’ve probably stretched an extensor muscle or something, when I punched one of them last night. And my hamstrings wreck, probably from that knee in the balls I preformed. I’ve had a lot of experience fighting, in fact, too much to say.

Frankie was wondering how I had so much experience in the area. As you know, Bert and I were the best of friends, practically inseparable, well that was until the drug incident, but I don’t like thinking about that too much. We were two greasy kids that slept in the day, partied at night. Bert owned the store, and being great friends prior, I started working for him when I needed the most money I could possibly get to start my business, to achieve my dream of a fashion designer.

Being in the drug business, it was obvious we were both involved with a lot of drugs and alcohol, and we did some pretty fucking stupid things over the years. We used to hang around the alleyways at night, convincing people to buy and trade.
There are always ‘funny’ people involved in the business of buying and selling, and more than often negotiation would be hard and violence would be brought out from the apposed. I had always been against violence, but if I were to earn the money and defend myself, I needed to learn some form of street fighting.
Bert taught me a few techniques; he showed me all he knew about fighting. He taught me how to punch without hurting my wrist, where to kick and aim, weak spots. He told me how to head lock, and break free from one. He even taught me how to throw someone over my shoulder, though I never went that far because I didn’t think it was necessary.
Soon enough, any fights that broke out, Bert and I would always end up on top.
I took the power and strength to my head, and as I got carried away with drugs, I got carried away with hurting people.
Not only that, but doing so, I lost a lot of weight and gained a lot of muscle, especially in my arms, and even though I knew deep down that violence was wrong, I carried on with it anyway.

Enough of that though, like I said, Frankie doesn’t need to know. Don’t get me wrong, I believe honesty is so important, and if he needed to know, I’d tell him everything. But there really isn’t any need; it was in the past, it happened, it’s done.

“Geeeee, come back into bed, pleaseee?”
Frankie whines, disturbing me from my thoughts.
He watches me join him back in bed, his big hazel eyes following me.
I flip the covers back over myself, turning over to face Frankie. He gives me grabby hands, telling me to come closer. I lean over his lips, holding my body above his body, kissing him softly and being careful not to touch any of his bruises or cuts.
I pull away and stare lovingly into his wide eyes; smiling down on the beautiful human I can call my boyfriend. I run my hands through his hair, muttering how much I love him.

I grace my thumb over the slit in his neck, checking under the bandage to see how it is. It looks really fucking painful.
“Shit, Frankie, baby, I’m so sorry. They were fucking assholes and I don’t understand why anyone would do such a thing to you,”
He just shrugs, and I can tell he’s thinking about something, because his eyebrows furrow.
He starts, then hesitates and cuts his sentence off, until he tries again.
“Did- erm… do you know any of them-m?” he mumbles, stuttering and refusing to look me in the eye. This question takes me by surprise, how did he know I recognized one of them, at least a little bit. More importantly, had one of them said something to him?

“No… I have no idea… why?” I reply to him, which I guess is partly true. I’m not lying to him, I don’t know who exactly any of them are, I just know I might recognize one of them.

“Oh…o-okay then.”

We end in silence, and Frankie steers his eyes away from mine.

“Frankie, what is it?” I question, worriedly, stroking my hand down the side of his face. He suddenly turns and rolls over, away from my touch, sitting up and getting out of bed.

I’m left sitting in bed, completely dumbfounded. What just happened?

I snap back to my senses and jump off the bed and chase Frankie down the stairs.
He’s sitting at the breakfast bar, his head in his hand whilst slowly sipping some water from a glass.

“Frankie, what’s wrong baby, talk to me-“
“It’s nothing. I’m just… I’m just tired, okay?”

I wrap my arms around his waist, and place a kiss on the side of his cheek. At first he tenses up, but eventually he falls into my embrace.
I stroke gently through his hair, the only sound being our breathing and the light patter of rain on the windows.

-Franks pov

“It’s just revenge, sweetheart-“ they purr into my ear, slowly caressing my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. Gerard was right, he knows the surroundings and I should’ve listened to him when he told me it’s not too safe around here.
“What-what for? I haven’t done anything-“ I’m cut off by low chuckle. A feel a hot breath on my neck, as the person squashes me against the wall even further. Their breath reeks of alcohol, and they stick of cigarette smoke.

I hear a smash of a bottle, suddenly shards of glass littering by my feet. I look back up, to be met with a large piece of glass being held up against my neck. I can already tell there’s a slice in my neck that’s dripping with blood, even though I can’t feel anything apart from the cool glass. Just give it time and soon enough, it’ll sting so badly.

“Yes, I’m very sorry that you have to pay for your boyfriends mistakes,”
The words ring through my head,
‘Pay for your boyfriends’ mistakes’
I’ve heard that before, I know I have.


I think over last night, the words ringing through my head. Gerard? What could Gerard have possibly done?
It’s not just that though, I recognize something about it, their tone of voice, the way they said it through gritted teeth, the words they said…

And why would I have to pay for his so called mistakes? Yes, I’d rather it be me than him, but that’s not the point.
Why me?

‘Sorry that you have to pay for your boyfriends mistakes’

Gerard continues to rub my shoulders soothingly, massaging my higher back.
It’s so quiet in here. I stare blankly out of the huge arched window, watching the gentle drops of rain tap onto the glass.

“What do you wanna do today, then? I suppose you’re not really up for work,”
I hum in reply, too tired and too distracted with other things to actually form a verbal response.
He spins my chair around so that I’m looking at him and our faces are a few centimeters apart. He speaks in a hushed tone as he caresses my cheek with his thumb, looking down on me with sad, concerned eyes. His eyebrows furrow, only a little bit, his thumb sweeping over my bottom lip.
“Gonna lay you down on the sofa, okay? I’ll get you some coffee and put some movies of for you, I’ll get you some blankets and pillows too.”

He speaks, almost whispering. I nod, rubbing my temple with the palm of my hand, suddenly aware of the mind splitting ache in my head.
He leans forwards, his eyes trained to my lips, so slowly I barely notice. His lips touch mine, only slightly. I feel his teeth tugging at the flesh of my bottom lip, soft and gentle. His fingers tickle the sides of my face, as he cradles my chin with his warm hands. His lips only just brush mine; we’re barely even in contact. Yet, I’ve never felt such passion behind a kiss in my whole life, if you can even call this a kiss. I don’t want to move, I don’t want to accidentally ruin the moment; I just want it to last forever. I feel as though all the blood is speeding around my body, I feel as though my heart has just completely erupted. I get goose bumps on my body, as my hairs stand on end.
His eyes lock shut, his eyebrows furrowing. I sit still, my back straight and my body tense, my eyes wide open and watching the way he lightly presses his soft as silk lips to mine.

I watch him slowly tilt his head, creating the perfect angle for our lips to lock. I finally slip my eyes shut, relaxing, letting Gerard carefully move his lips against mine. I feel one of his hands brush against my neck scar, shaking and resting on my shoulder, as I finally kiss back. It’s so full of raw emotion, love and compassion and just don’t want it to end.

I run my tingling hands up his neck, palming his jawline as he brings the pressure off our lips, and I can feel his soft lips shiver against my own. He rests his forehead against mine, breathing heavy.

I feel his hands grip around my body, picking me up and carefully taking me through the kitchen and to the couch, dropping me onto the huge comfy sofa.

He disappears, jogging up the stairs to the spare bedroom, seconds later, running back down with a thick cover and pillows. He props a pillow under my head, and throws the cover on top of me. He’s too good for me; he shouldn’t have to do any of this.

He frowns at me, biting his lip and watching me lovingly with his concerned eyes. He leaves and jogs over to the kitchen, presumably to make the coffee I never requested. He jogs back again, crouching down by the DVD player and inserting a disc. I have no idea what it is, but I don’t think I’ll be paying much attention anyway.

He perches himself on the armrest, brushing a piece of my hair away from my eyes and tucking it behind my ear. His gentle, warm hands palm the side of my face, stroking the apple of my cheek with his thumb. The chime of the coffee maker suddenly interrupts him, ringing through the room.

Soon enough, he returns with the coffee in my favorite mug (it’s a huge blue sully mug from monsters Inc.), and bowl of ripe, red strawberries.
“You didn’t have to-“
He cuts me off by instantly replying with ‘I wanted to’.

He places the bowl and mug, on the little coffee table, sitting down next to me and cupping my hand in his. It makes my heart jolt, the way he rubs his thumb around my knuckles and the way he smiles sadly at me.
I nod and thank him, grateful that he’s so fucking good to me. Would anyone else ever treat me like this? I doubt it.

He leans back into the cushions, sighing and running a hand through his greasy hair. I’ve just realized how tired he looks. His hair is a mess, he has huge bags under his eyes, and his movements are slow.
Before I can even ask him about his sleep, he’s already crashed and lightly snoring.

Notes

*keyboard smashes with head*