Surrender The Night (Frerard)

The next morning, Frank woke up at noon and groaned. He had a hangover, his entire body hurt and he was lying in his teacher's spare bed. He had meant to wake up early and sneak out before Mr Way woke up, writing him a note of thanks, but judging on the smell of breakfast wafting up the stairs and the distant sound of singing, there was no chance of that now.

Frank got up slowly, wincing as the room swirled around him, and he slowly descended the stairs, getting closer and closer to the source of the wonderful smell. It smelt like pancakes and Frank's stomach grumbled, hungry. Not even eating with his teacher could ruin pancakes for him.

Gerard had woken up at four in the morning and had waited his hangover out, wanting to be in proper shape for when Frank woke up. He knew how terrible it would look if he had a hangover. He was surprised when he began to feel well again around nine and he decided to wait and to make breakfast for his student, thinking back to his favourite dish when he was in high school. He only noticed Frank was awake and standing right behind him when the boy coughed self-consciously to alert Gerard to his presence.

"Good morning." Gerard said casually, turning round and smiling politely at Frank, who returned the smile warily.

"Good morning." Frank replied cautiously, as though he thought Gerard might be tricking him. He felt very nervous suddenly.

"Did you sleep well?" Mr Way asked chirpily, dropping a pancake onto a plate and placing it on a table with a bunch of assorted sauces in front of Frank. Without waiting for an answer, he continued. "I made breakfast. I didn't want to wake you. I hope you're hungry."

Frank swallowed, nodding quickly so as not to offend Mr Way. It looked like he had gone to a lot of trouble making Frank breakfast and the last thing he wanted to do was look ungrateful; but at the same time Frank knew he had History with Mr Way fourth the next day and he dreaded how weird it was going to be, having to go back and pretend nothing ever happened. He didn't know if Mr Way did this often - allowed students to stay at his house, or even bring them back there, although he seemed like a decent enough guy, not someone who would do that - and he was reminded of when Mr Way had walked into the spare room the night before and knelt down next to his bed. How he had leaned in close and whispered 'Frankie', how Frank had felt goosebumps rise on his arms at the small action...

"Frank?' Mr Way asked, and Frank realised he must have asked a question that he had missed. Blushing furiously, he shook his head and slunk into the chair Gerard offered, picking up a fork and starting to pick at the pancake, looking anywhere but at Mr Way.

"Sorry, what?" Frank said quietly and Gerard tried and failed to hide a smirk.

"I just asked if you shouldn't go home soon? Won't your parents be wondering where you are?" Gerard repeated. He frowned when he saw a dark expression cross his face that he couldn't quite place, but it was gone almost as quickly as it came and Frank nodded, standing up and stepping away from the empty plate.

"Do you need a hand with the washing up?" Frank offered half heartedly and was quite relieved when Mr Way said no, that he could do it on his own. He stood still for a short moment before turning round to the door and walking towards it. "Well, thanks for letting me stay, sir."
Gerard nodded, following Frank to the door and opening it; he stuck his head out and looked right and left before he gave the 'okay' for Frank to leave. As he was halfway down the driveway, Mr Way called out to him.

"You know Frank, the bruises are already fading."

Frank couldn't help but laugh as he made his way towards his own house.
***
It happened when he got home. Frank had expected his stepfather to be out and to only have to face his mother asking about his whereabouts, but as soon as he stepped through the door he realised he was mistaken. He could hear yelling coming from the living room and he closed the door quietly, trying to make as little noise as possible. Somehow, like his stepfather had superhero hearing skills, both he and Frank's mother came crashing into the hallway when they heard Frank return home.

"Where have you been?" Frank's stepfather yelled whilst his mother looked on with a pained expression. "Answer me!"

He had been drinking again; Frank could tell. Daniel, as Frank always called him, despite being told to call him 'Sir', always slurred his words after a couple of drinks. He was such a lightweight, and for Frank and his mother than was a bad, bad thing. Daniel got loud when he got drunk, and he got angry when he was loud and he was aggressive when he was angry.

"Out." Frank said defiantly, attempting to walk past Daniel to his stairs when the bigger man took his by surprise, grabbing the lappels of his coat and slamming him into the wall, shaking him violently. Frank hit his head hard on the brick wall behind him, blinking rapidly to clear his head. All the noise seemed to drop suddenly and there was just a high pitched whine in the back of his head, like white noise. He was aware of Daniel yelling something in front of his face, his spittle flying at Frank, but Frank couldn't for the life of him be bothered to focus on what he was saying. Out of nowhere, Daniels fist came out of nowhere and hit Frank square across the jaw in one of the few places he didn't already have a bruise. All the sound in the house came rushing back one hundred times louder and he can hear Daniel's angry yelling, his mother's distressed screaming and begging for his stepfather to stop.

Daniel loosened his hold on Frank for long enough that he wriggled out of his grip and took the stairs two at a time, running into his room at the end of the corridor and slamming the door behind him. He knew they wouldn't dare follow him to his room; it was sort of sacred territory, a line no one else in Frank's house would cross. He collapsed onto the floor, silent sobs racking his body as his shoulders shook. He missed his father.

On having this though, he immediately pulled out his phone and his finger hovered over the call button. He really needed to talk to a friendly, cari person right now, and this was something he couldn't tell his friends about. But then ... His father had left him and his mother for another woman. He couldn't care about Frank all that much if he left him, could he? Screaming in defeat, Frank threw his phone at the wall and continued to cry out his suffering.

Notes

This probably sounds like a horribly cliched domestic abuse fanfic now, but hey. Consider yourself warned. <3