Barbed Wire Love

As soon as he left Frank curled up into a ball and cried. His mind really fucks him over with nightmares sometimes, but it's never been this bad. It just can't be real, it has to be a nightmare.

Gerard wandered downstairs around an hour later, approaching the boy still curled up on his sofa, his broken sobs echoing around the large room. Gerard watched him for a moment.
He coughed to let him know his presence. Frank froze, looking up with his puffy red eyes.

"I'm going out. I'll be back around 12, maybe 1am"

He paused to let Frank speak, but he remained silently staring up at Gerard.

Gerard scratched the back of his head.

"Uh, food's in the kitchen if you want more. I only have the one bed, but you can sleep in it if you wish" he finished, looking back at Frank who was peeping over the back of the sofa. He gave one last nod and left.

Frank sat frozen until he heard the front door close, then jumped up and ran around the house, shoving the windows and trying all the doors. But Gerard had obviously been prepared, being sure to lock every one.

He let out a little exasperated scream and ran to the kitchen, flinging the drawers open and searching through them desperately.

He flung open Gerard's liquor cabinet and pulled out a half bottle of Jack Daniels. He pulled the top off of it and took a messy gulp.

He yanked a chef's knife from the cutlery cupboard and ran back to the living room, sitting down in the corner.

He twirled the handle of the knife between his fingers, gazing at it thoughtfully. He'd tried something like this a few weeks after his dad had left, but that was under much less extreme circumstances. It's not like he'll see them again anyway, either way he's dying here.
Yeah, if he was going to be held hostage, he'd rather not be here at all.

Frank took a deep breath, another large mouthful of alcohol and pressed the blade to his wrist.

*

Just after midnight, Gerard arrived home. He hadn't really wanted to leave in the first place, but Mikey had been pestering him about splitting the money they'd gotten today.
The house was completely silent, so Gerard assumed that Frank had gone to bed. He ascended the stairs quietly, genuinely trying not to wake him. But when he reached the bedroom, he found the bed empty. Where was he?

I sudden chill ran down Gerard's spine. He hadn't actually found a way out, had he? If he'd managed to escape, Gerard is screwed. After all, Frank knows his name, what he looks like, what his house looks like inside and out. He'd go to the police and it'd be game over.

"Frank?" He called out into the echo-y house.

He ran downstairs. "Frank!"

He ran to the living room and his heart dropped at the sight.

Frank was slumped in a corner in a small pool of blood and alcohol. His face was still wet from tears. Oh you little bastard, Gerard thought roughly.

He crossed the room and knelt down to the unconscious boy; he could clearly see the steady rise and fall of his chest and the slightly raspy-from-crying breathing.

Gerard carefully scooped the boy up, carrying him upstairs with his head lolling slightly.
He laid Frank on the bed and pulled his hoodie off, trying not to scrape it over the cuts. He grabbed his little first aid box and got to work.

He's no nurse, but he'd like to think he can use a little gauze and bandages.
Once he'd finished, he pulled Frank's t shirt. As he pulled the jeans off, he noticed two small birds inked into his hipbones. Gerard smirked and brushed his thumb over one of the birds. "Oh Frank, I wonder if you're mom knew about that"

He pulled the jeans off, leaving him in his boxers and tugging the duvet over him.
Gerard brushed his fringe to the side and brushed a small kiss over his forehead. "You weren't getting away from me like that Frankie"

He stood up and looked down at the sleeping boy. He'd chosen well, Frank was truly beautiful.

*
Frank awoke early afternoon, his arms stinging and his head aching.

He groaned and opened his eyes. The bed he was lying on felt weirdly soft, not like his own. It smelt different too; like cigarettes and something sweet he couldn't quite put his finger on. Baffled, he opened his eyes and sat up.

He could have screamed as it all slowly came back to him. The guns, the kidnapping, Gerard... oh god, Gerard.

His eyes flashed down his bandaged arms and he cringed as he realised his lack of clothing. He couldn't remember coming upstairs to bed, or removing any clothes, making him think that he wasn't the one that did it.

Frank drew the duvet to his chin and watched the door intently, barely blinking. It did not help that he needed to pee. After 15 minutes he gave up and went to the ensuite.
Just as he had climbed back into bed there was a knock at the door. Frank slowly brought the duvet back to his chin and peered out. Oh, so now he knocks? Who kidnaps someone, tries to get them to suck their dick, undresses them while their unconscious yet has the manners to knock before entering?

The door opens and Frank draws the duvet higher.

"Morning, I thought I heard you up. C'mon down and get some coffee"

Frank bit his lip. Coffee sounded very tempting right now. Hell, coffee is always tempting. He nodded silently and Gerard nodded back.

"Good" he turned to leave.

"Could- could I have my clothes?" Frank asked timidly, his voice croaky from sleep.

Gerard's face hardened and he crossed his arms. "I would, but they were stained with your blood and my alcohol"

Frank blushed and looked down.

"...There's clothes in the wardrobe" he paused, then nodded to himself, closing the door swiftly behind him.

Notes

This is really just pure procrastination. I should be planning out an English exam essay I have to do tomorrow...
-killjoybyname