The Aftermath Of Death

It wasn't that he never thought about him. It's just that after 10 years, memories sort of fade away. They become nothing but pictures in a box under your bed. They are nothing until you remember and then they become something. That's what Gerard did to him, he scooped him up in his whirlpool of misery and hate and love and passion and then when the hurricane died, he was left with nothing but memories and a constant craving for that whirlpool. He was a memory, a picture in a box, and Frank had to remember that, he had to keep him as a memory only and nothing more. He was his first love and at 18 Frank met this mysterious guy with his tight jeans and doc marten boots. He was older and a romantic, but with a hidden danger. Because they weren't aloud to be together, it was forbidden. He smoked cigarettes and drank heavily and it excited Frank, he was bad and dangerous, he was unstable. But Frank was in love and nothing really matters when you're young and in love. Frank didn't know how much he had grown to crave Gerard's second hand smoke until he was gone and Frank picked up his own little habit. Loosing a relationship is difficult, loosing someone you love with such passion and enthusiasm that you have for love when you're young is heartbreaking, especially when it's your fault. Frank never really thought about Gerard much, the way he called him baby and the way he would treat him like a kid, which he was, and the way he would kiss him like no one else would, actually he thought about him a lot.

It had been 10 years though, he should've of gotten over it by now. It had been 10 years ago today actually. 10 years since Gerard killed himself. 10 years since Frank lost the only man who ever made him feel wanted.

'Why am I here?' He muttered the question into the open space pushing out all the air in his lungs and using every ounce of energy to stop the tears escaping from his dilated pupils. 'Why?' He shouted it at the once pale marble stone now dirty and decayed. 'Why...why...why?' He slowed his speech down to a monotone slur as he traced the dents in the stone in which a name was carved delicately. His knees were numb and wet and his blue jeans ruined by the mud. 'Why do I feel....I deserved this.' He perked up slightly shaking his head in disbelief. 'I...I'm the reason you're here. I'm the reason your body is six feet under the ground and the only thing to represent your life, your beautiful life is this stupid stone.' He banged his hands upon the grace and pressed his chapped and thin lips onto the cold stone and spoke. 'I pushed you; I wanted you and you couldn't do that because you were hurting. Your mind hurt.' His eyes were wide and he reacted as if the head stone was talking back. He glanced towards the white lilies which were already placed there when he stumbled into the graveyard. 'Who else visits you? You have no family...you only had me. And I only had you.' He picked up the flowers and curled his trembling fingers around the stems. 'Who gives you lilies?' He gulps down the last of his bottle and winces at the burn from the alcohol.

'I am not sure.' A voice from behind him utters mindlessly. Frank laughs slightly at his own delusions his own insanity. He stared lovingly towards the lilies. 'My mother maybe? Though I'd doubt she'd visit me.' Frank shook his head slightly to rid the voice. This was new. He'd seen him before walking down the street or at a bar or in a cafe, but then a second glance always confirmed it was just another ordinary citizen. But never a voice. Never so clearly his. The accent just right the way he chewed his words and let them slip from between his lips so naturally. Unlike Frank who pushed them out so that he can gulp another breath. 'She didn't care for me much when I was alive, why would she now?' Frank refused to turn around. He refused to even entertain the idea he wasn't alone. 'Baby.' The word hit him and he turned swiftly. Forgetting about the gravestone, the lilies and the bottle of vodka which was now leaking its little contents onto the 10 year old grave. His eyes moved up to catch a glimpse of him. Tall and slim and not a day over 21. His figure feminine and his hair cut short and pushed off of his pale face. He was wearing all black and his eyes weren't visible in the dull greyness of November. Frank pushed himself from where he was kneeling. Stumbling up and trying to grip onto something he nearly fell into the overlooking figure but missed as the ghostly presence seemed to have great reflexes. He stabled himself on a random headstone and drew in a shaky breath.

'Can't be true.' He was looking down at his shoes. Black converse with mud sloshed onto the canvas and the dark colours merging together. 'Must not be true.' At this he pulled his head up, it was heavy with grief and dizzy with alcohol. His eyes no longer showing shock, but just sadness. He scanned the figure who was taking shelter from the light drizzle under a tree. Frank scraped his feet along ground in a haze and not thinking he moved closer to the figure.

He didn't look any different. He looks young and pale and sad. But Gerard always looked sad. Always. His eyes were orbs of darkness and his frame seemed taller than ever, even though Frank was taller than what he was at 18, Gerard still over powered him in ever aspect. He looked up trying to find something to show him this was a dream. He hoped it was a dream. A little bit of him wanted it to be real, wanted Gerard to be alive. Wanted to be 18 again. But he knew that wasn't what was happening and that if Gerard was what he seeing he was either spiralling further than he though he would ever go or ghosts were real and he wasn't totally okay with either. He reached his hand out. To touch. To feel anything feel something. His hand met a cold rubber like skin. He traced his fingers along his exposed arm not looking directly at his face. Too scared too sad. He gripped his wrist slightly turning over his arms to where the scars should be. The red lines which stained his wrists and forearm. The vertical lines which leaked his life and love. The cuts which were his end. They weren't there. Just pale skin. Just nothing but his light hair and freckles which felt the same. He had memorised the feel the movement of skin the dumps, the pores and imperfections. His skin was like marble. Pale and fragile but strong and beautiful.

'It's true.' He bent down to whisper the words into his ear. He felt the breath. He felt his lips lightly pressed to his ear as he spoke. Frank stepped away. Confusion gone and now he was left with the raw devastating truth that he had gone insane. He was hallucinating his past lover who died 10 years ago and he was feeling his touch craving everything he once had. He was spiralling. 'Don't cry, baby.' The figure stepped forward trying to comfort Frank.

'Don't call me that. He called me that. Only him.' He shouted desperately his voice catching as his emotions over flowed and his soul poured from him. The figure stepped from the shadows and smiled at Frank. 'Please. No, you have his skin and his voice. Don't take his smile.' He fell onto the floor still pushing himself further away from the smiling man. Gripping onto the mess of mud and grass his finger nails sinking into the mud as he pushed himself across the drenched dirt.

'I didn't take it.' He knelt down staring over the swampy ground that separated them. With reassuring eyes and his toothy smile. He put out his hand wanting Frank to meet halfway but he wouldn't he just shook his head not wanting to believe... 'I am him. Sweetie...please.' His lips moved and sound swooped out. He sounded desperate, but Frank didn't hear anything it was white noise he was too busy arguing with himself. His hand trembled as a sign to grab his lovers whilst his mind rejected any knowledge that he was in front of him. Bent down on his toes like he was telling off a child and looking as sweet and comforting as he did all those years ago when they first met. 'That day was the best. Wasn't it?' The figure muttered, still holding out his hand. Frank gasped clasping his hands over his mouth. He didn't even realise he was voicing his thoughts aloud. 'I saw you at the train station and you looked lost...so lost....' He looked down at the ground smiled. Frank allowed himself reminisce slightly.

The day was a Tuesday. And torrential rainfall for the past week had meant the sun was shining so brightly and the air was clear of all sadness. He knew it was a Tuesday because he had had a free period at the end of the day. That's when he decided. He was going to escape. Franks life wasn't the greatest, he struggled and he wanted to rid himself of everything that ever brought him down so he decided to run away. That was why he was there. Standing at the platform his rucksack packed full and his ticket gripped in his hand. He had watched two trains out of the city come and go. He didn't have the guts to get on because stepping on was giving in. That's when he saw him Gerard was watching him; he had gotten off one of the trains which had come from New York and he loitered in the train station. Watching him, not in a weird way more of an intrigued way. He found him interesting.

'At the train station. You were gonna run away and I stopped you.' The figure mumbled. Frank nodded.

They got talking. And somehow Gerard made Frank feel safe and he told him everything. Every little secret. About his family disowning him. His fathers affair that ruined his family. The loneliness that filled him to the brim. He poured out his soul and didn't regret it at all because it was a relief to finally talk about what was going on inside his mind. That night he went home. He locked himself away and waited eagerly to hopefully see the stranger again. Because from the moment he met Gerard he knew he was trapped. Till death do they part.

'And you asked for my number. I gave it to you. You were 18 and I was 21 it was wrong, but it didn't matter not to us.' It was moving closer; the figure. Frank could feel his balance start to slip from him. His eyes roll and his vision blur. He fell to the marshy ground the alcohol consumed his mind and he started to sink into the ground unable to move now and giving up. The rain got harder and his skin saturated. His eyes still wide as he glared up to the grey skies which swirled and moved as his minds was drowned in vodka. Suddenly his grey view was obscured by his face. Gerard's face. The figures face. He was leaning over him trying to find life in his eyes. He leaned closer as if he was going to kiss him. Frank needed that, he needed to feel him to taste him one last time. But he didn't kiss him he just smiled his face only an inch from his. 'Baby, save me...' Gerard muttered.

And then everything went black for Frank

Just

Darkness.

Darkness.

Darkness.

Then light.

Notes

This is my first fic on this site, but I do have an archive account, under the same name, with some other frerard so go check it out.

Please tell me what you think!

Till next time

-C