Letters from the Dead

Frank’s life had been perfect. He was a successful corporate lawyer, and he was sure he was going to be offered the chance to become a shareholder of the law firm he worked in soon. He had a wonderful lover, he had loyal friends in Ray and Bob, and he was happy.

Then his life shattered into a million pieces.

Gerard’s death left him reeling in shock, bitter pain and anger, and he was trying to pick up the pieces and build up his life again, slowly.

There were good days and bad days.

There were days when Frank woke up, thought of Gerard, and was able to smile and carry on with his life.

He could count the number of good days with three fingers.

Then there were days when it felt like Gerard had betrayed him. He raged and cursed and swore at the man who had left him behind in the world. There were days he wished, wished so hard with all his heart and soul that he would wake up and Gerard would still be alive, and that he would be lying next to Frank on the bed in the morning, greeting him with a lazy smile and a soft, tender kiss.

And then there were those days when he felt so empty… like everything had lost its meaning. Like the ground bled into the sky, and the entire landscape was bleak and grey and there was nothing ahead, nothing to look forward to. There were days when he woke up screaming and crying for Gerard, missing him so much it felt like his heart was about to rip apart from all the pain and agony that was consuming him from the inside, the blackness twisting painfully in his chest, like ivy stretching mercilessly over a crumbling wall. There were days when it felt like he was trapped in a glass enclosure with no way to escape and was pounding away at its surface, terrified and screaming with agony and yet no one could hear him, no one could see him… and no one could understand him. There were days when Frank was so helpless and weak against the onslaught of memories he and Gerard shared that he couldn’t stop crying, days when his heart ached so fiercely that he couldn’t breathe, days when he felt like a flickering candle struggling to stay lighted in a raging thunderstorm, days when he felt like he was going to die any moment.

Frank was trying to cope. He really was.

**

Frank had been 10 years old when his sister died.

He felt guilty that she wasn’t on his mind all the time, but whenever he thought of her, he had missed her. She was beautiful, the best sister in the world he could ever hope for. Kind, sweet and thoughtful. Brown hair, hazel-green eyes… But that was all he could remember of her. Her facial features were a shadowy haze in his memories. He couldn’t remember her voice, couldn’t remember her laugh, couldn’t remember her warm embrace…

He was terrified.

What if one day he couldn’t remember Gerard’s face anymore? His eyes… his soft hazels, the playful golden flecks dancing in them whenever he teased Frank. He didn’t want to forget the way Gerard’s face felt like when Frank’s fingers brushed his face and brought it close to kiss him. The sharp contours of his jaw, the pale smooth skin that was occasionally interrupted by the prickly presence of his five-o-clock shadow. The way it felt whenever Frank tangled his fingers into Gerard’s hair, silky and smooth. The way Gerard’s tears tasted like the ocean and sea whenever Frank leaned in to comfort him and kiss his tears and pain away. The way Gerard smiled, the way only one side of his smooth, pink lips curled up in a playful smirk as though he was sharing a secret with Frank… The way he grinned at Frank, as though everything else in the world did not matter, only Frank did.

What if he forgot Gerard’s voice? Loving, soft and smooth like velvet as he spoke to Frank. The sexy, low, dulcet and dangerous tone Gerard used whenever he wanted to seduce Frank, knowing that that particular tenor made Frank’s knees weak in desire. The way Gerard sounded like whenever Frank pleasured or fucked him, full of wanton desire, want and raw need. Raspy and dry whenever Gerard woke up from sleep, rubbing his eyes and grumpy as fuck till he got his morning coffee. Sharp and harsh like a whip whenever he was angry, his eyes raging wildly, cruel and unforgiving. Sarcastic and dry whenever he made a joke, the edges of his lips twitching faintly in amusement. Light and carefree whenever Gerard was happy, faint little creases at the edges of his eyes.

What if he forgot the way it felt like when Gerard embraced him, his warm, smooth skin against his own, his arms tight around his waist, Frank’s ear pressed against his chest? What if he forgot the way Gerard’s heartbeat sounded like? What if he forgot the way Gerard’s heartbeat felt like under his hands? The way it felt like Gerard was the only thing anchoring him to this world, the way it felt like Gerard loved him more than anything else in the world?

Frank was terrified of losing the only thing of Gerard he had left – his memories.

Notes

Within Temptation - Fire and Ice

And I still wonder
Why heaven has died
The skies are all falling
I’m breathing but why?
In silence I hold on
To you and I