The Sharpest Lives

Bert was up against Gerard now, noses nearly pressed together.
“Baby, I missed you so much. How could you leave me like that?” Bert asked, still gripping Gerard’s wrist tight. Frank was clutching his lip as he stood up from the ground and saw Gerard staring back at Bert, terrified.
“Don’t fucking touch him!” Frank yelled, tripping towards them.
Bert took two steps back and laughed at Frank.
“Please, he wants this. Don’t you, baby?” Bert ran his fingers across Gerard’s cheek, grinning at him.
Gerard suddenly regained his strength and slapped Bert’s hand away.
“No!” He yelled, wrinkling his forehead. “I don’t want you, Bert! I left you!” He kept screaming, standing in the same spot.
Frank scrambled over and took Gerard’s hand.
“Who’s this? Your new fucktoy?” Bert spat.
“Hey, fuck off man.” Frank gritted back.
“Let him answer for himself, faggot.” Bert stared Frank in the eyes, fuming.
“He’s my boyfriend. He loves me. He loves me better than you ever did or ever could. I don’t want you, Bert. I want Frank.” He took a deep breath in and gazed over at Frank. His lip was bleeding, but he was smiling.
“You’re fucking lying! I always knew you were a liar!” Bert grabbed Gerard’s shoulders and pulled him forward. “Don’t you remember how much I loved you? Huh? How I’d spoil you and kiss you and fuck you just right?” He leaned in closer, almost touching Gerard’s lips. Gerard’s hand was still in Frank’s, holding tightly. Frank didn’t intervene, the look in Gerard’s eyes was confident and strong; he didn’t need Frank to defend him in this moment, he just needed him to keep his hand tightly in his, grounding him into certainty.
“No, Bert. I remember you beating me, and telling me I was worthless. I don’t remember you ever loving me the way Frank does. I hate you, Bert.” He said quietly, right into Bert’s face without breaking his eye contact. Gerard was serious, he was done with Bert. He was tired of him controlling his life, even when he had been out of it for so long.
Bert stared into his eyes for a few seconds before letting his shoulders go.
“Fine!” Bert said, exasperated, turning away from Gerard. He put his hands on his head and seemed to think for a minute. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. God, I’ve missed you so much. Please, please give me another chance.” Bert turned back to Gerard, eyes watery. He stood far enough away to make Gerard feel safer, but he could still smell the cigarette smoke on his jacket and it made him sick.
“No, Bert.” He said simply, gripping Frank’s hand tighter.
Bert looked over at Frank, who was looking at Gerard. Frank nodded, and gently pulled Gerard towards the car, turning away from Bert. The way Frank looked at Gerard repulsed him. Gerard was his, he belonged to him. No one would love Gerard like he did. He had been waiting over four years to find him again, and he wouldn’t let anyone get in his way.
“I’m sorry baby…” Bert whispered as he drew the handgun from his waistband. Gerard turned around marginally hearing his words, confused, and caught the sight. Bert had the gun pointed towards Frank’s back. Bert was crying, shaking, hand on the trigger with tentative insanity in his eyes.
“Frankie!” Gerard screamed, pulling him down towards the ground.
The gun went off with an ear shattering crack. Gerard stuffed his head in his lap, terrified of the scene around him, when he heard Frank shriek. “No, no, no.” swirled inside his head.
Gerard turned his attention to his boyfriend hesitantly; he was on his side, clutching at his left shoulder.
“Frankie?! Frank, did he hit you? Frank!” Gerard yelled.
Bert stared at the two for a moment before running back to his car. He was a fucking coward, always was and would remain one.
Frank was moaning in pain, curses flying from his mouth. He whined and cried, blood pouring from his left upper arm. Gerard’s mother came running from the house, towards them, ignoring Bert scrambling into his car and speeding off.
“Was that a gunshot? What happened?!” She screamed when she saw Frank on the ground, crying. Bert was already gone.
“Frank…Frankie, talk to me!” Gerard sobbed. He tried to gently turn him over onto his back. He saw the blood on Frank’s hand clutching at his arm and pooling around him.
“My arm…” He whispered out through his cries. “Fucking terrible aim.” He managed to get out whilst sobbing.
“Fuck, Frankie…I’m so sorry, oh my god, Frank. I’m so sorry.” Gerard cried, holding on to Frank.
“Call 911!” Gerard screamed to his mother, who complied. She tried Mikey next, three times, without getting an answer.
“Frank, please. Stay with me, Frankie. I love you. I love you. I love you.” He cried into Frank’s chest.
“I’m with you, Gee. I’m here.” Frank slurred.

The ambulance pulled up about 10 minutes later, but it felt like a lifetime. Gerard was able to keep Frank conscious throughout the ordeal, remarkably. Gerard rode with him to the hospital in the ambulance, and his mother followed behind in her car. Gerard tried calling Mikey on his way, but there was no answer. He settled on simply texting him “ER, Frank hurt.” instead.
It was about 5AM when Mikey walked into the emergency waiting room. At least, it kind of looked like Mikey. His face was swollen and bruised, and he was limping, with Jack holding him up. He had hospital discharge papers in his hand and a scowl on his face.
“Mikey!” His mother squealed, rushing towards him. “What happened baby?” She asked as she helped him sit in a chair.
“Bert, he followed me out of the bar. Wanted to know where Gee was.” He said, his head rolling back on the chair.
Gerard was sitting a few chairs down, head in his hands, crying. “I’m so sorry, Mikey.” He sobbed out. This was his fucking fault. He almost got Mikey beaten to death, and possibly killed Frank.
“Gerard?” A man in a white medical jacket questioned.
“Yes!? That’s me.” Gerard jumped to his feet.
“Frank is stable. We were able to remove the bullet. His arm is going to be fairly unusable for a while, but he will be fine.” The man said.
“Can I see him?” Gerard questioned instantly.
“Yes, one person at a time, though. Keep in mind, he’s on pain medication and might be a little out of it.” The man said.
Gerard followed him down a white hallway. The smell of bleach was making Gerard sick to his stomach. He hated hospitals. He was led towards a brown door that had Frank’s name on a chart next to it. When he walked in he saw Frank lying there, pale, his eyes closed. He was shirtless, with his left arm wrapped in layers of gauze.
“Frankie?” Gerard murmured. Frank’s eyes opened to the doorway and he smiled a sleepy smile.
“Hey, baby.” He mumbled. Gerard rushed to his side, placing a gentle hand on Frank’s cheek.
“Frankie…fuck, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He cried. He placed his head on the side of the bed, deplorable.
Frank started to stroke his hair with his good arm. “Don’t be, it’s not your fault. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Gee.”
“I did this. It’s my fault, Frank.” His head snapped up to look at Frank in the eyes, tears streaming down his face.
“Bert did this, Gerard. Not you.” Frank said earnestly. Gerard just cried while Frank stroked his hair.
“How long do you have to be in here?” Gerard eventually asked.
“Just a few days, the bullet only went in a few inches. I’ll tell you, he was a fucking lousy shot, Gee. Couldn’t kill anyone if he wanted. What did you ever see in him?” Frank chuckled.
“Is now the time for jokes, Frankie?” Gerard said, but a smile fell upon his face nonetheless.
“I love you, Gee. Nothing will ever make me stop. Not this, not anything. I promise.”
Gerard crawled up on the bed with Frank and curled himself in a ball, laying his head on Frank’s torso. He listened to his heart beat in his chest. He was alive, Bert didn’t kill him. Frank was alive and that’s all that mattered.
“Are you in pain?” He muttered to Frank, but he was asleep.

Gerard didn’t leave Frank’s side for the six days he was in the hospital; not once. He didn’t leave to eat, to shower, to sleep. Nothing. Not that Frank didn’t protest, he definitely did. The police came to question Frank and Gerard on the second day, and Gerard timidly gave up Bert’s name as the guilty party. Mikey was at home, recovering as well, his mother by his side. With Frank and Mikey being the wounded ones, Gerard still was likely doing the worst emotionally. He tried to hide it from his boyfriend, but Frank had his suspicions. Though Gerard didn’t leave the hospital for days, he found opportunities, like when Frank was sleeping or in physical therapy, to sneak out of his room and cut himself, usually multiple times a day. By the time Frank was able to leave the hospital, Gerard’s left arm was nearly as useless as Frank’s.
“You can drive, right?” Frank asked, handing Gerard the keys to his car. His mother had driven it over to them so they could leave from the hospital alone.
“Yeah, I can drive, Frankie.” Gerard rolled his eyes.
“Well I’ve never seen you drive, how would I know?” He laughed.
Gerard wanted to say something snarky back, but he just didn’t have it in him. He was too tired, in too much pain, and feeling entirely too much guilt.
He helped Frank in the car and buckled in. Frank only winced in pain once when he had to get the belt over his arm, so he considered it a success. Gerard did not. Every time he saw Frank struggle with a seemingly simple task, or take a pain pill, his heart broke a little more.
When they walked in the door, they were greeted by a very enthusiastic mother, who carefully pulled Frank into a hug. Gerard walked passed them and shut himself in his old bedroom.
“Gee?” Frank knocked on the door, a few minutes later.
“Not right now, Frank.” He said.
He heard Frank’s footsteps down the hallway and back into the living room. Frank assumed he needed sleep, but he was mistaken. Gerard lay on his childhood bed, staring at the ceiling. He cried silently to himself for all the pain he had caused, and wished himself dead. He had run out of space on his arm to slice, and this left him feeling more anxiety than usual. He eventually settled for a clear spot on his calf, figuring that this would be easier to hide anyway. It didn’t hurt like cutting his arms did, but it did the trick, allowing Gerard to relax if even for only a few moments. Gerard stayed in his room for the remainder of the night, tossing and turning, still not sleeping. He felt Frank come into the room around 10PM and crawl in beside him. Frank tried to wrap his arm around him, but Gerard pushed him away with the excuse that he was afraid he would roll over on his arm. The truth was that he just didn’t want to be touched, not by anyone, and especially not by the person he had hurt most.
The next morning Gerard had his and Frank’s suitcases packed before anyone woke up. He was sitting in the living room, smoking and thinking to himself when he heard his mother come out of her room.
“You’re up early.” She said, making her way into the kitchen.
“Yeah. Lindsey called and woke me up.” It was half true, Lindsey had called, and she had been calling for days trying to get information from Gerard, but he never answered. The lie was that he was never asleep. “We have to get going soon, once Frank and Mikey are up.”
She shot him a confused look, but then her face softened. “I wish you could stay longer, but I understand.”
Gerard smiled at her and followed her into the kitchen. “Mom.” He said, stopping in the doorway. She turned around and looked at him. He walked over to her and hugged her tight. She squeezed him back.
“I’m so sorry, mom.” He cried as she rubbed circles into his back like when he was a kid.
“Baby, no. None of this is your fault. No one blames you.” She whispered in his ear. Gerard nodded and pulled away.
“I love you mom, don’t forget that.” He said, and turned and walked away before she could question him. He loaded the bags in Frank’s car and stood up against it, chain smoking until the other boys were awake.
“Gee?” He heard Frank’s voice from the doorway of the house. He turned around to acknowledge him, but didn’t say anything.
“You want to leave?” Frank said as he walked towards him.
“Need to get you home.” Gerard said coldly. He didn’t look at Frank, he just dropped his cigarette and stomped it out with his foot. He walked away from Frank back into the house, leaving Frank both confused and slightly hurt at his boyfriend’s emotionless tone.
“C’mon Mikey! We have to go!” Gerard yelled through the hallway to Mikey’s room.
“I’m coming!” He heard him yell back.
His mother just watched as the boys filed out the door. They had been there for nearly two weeks now, but she still felt as if she had barely seen them. Gerard made his way into the car, neglecting to say goodbye as Frank and Mikey embraced his mother in hugs and promises to come back soon. Gerard knew if he said goodbye to her, he would make the same promise of visiting soon, and it would be nothing but a lie. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he would not be coming back. Not ever.
The ride home was nearly silent, with Mikey sleeping in the back and Frank gazing out the window. Gerard just stared at the road ahead as he tried to stay awake.
Gerard stopped at Mikey’s first once they were back in the city, dropping him off at home. His face was nearly healed and his ribs only hurt slightly. He waved at them as he walked into the building, tired and happy to be home.
“Gerard, we need to talk.” Frank said once they pulled away from Mikey’s.
“What about.” Gerard said, it wasn’t a question. It was an emotionless response with no interest whatsoever in whatever it was Frank needed to talk about.
“I need help, Gee. I can’t shower, or make food or…anything. I was hoping you would stay with me for a few days…” Frank said, looking over at Gerard. Gerard made no visible reaction, only staring at the road in front of him.
“I can’t do that, Frank. Can you call Jamia?” He said, still not looking at Frank.
“I can, but…I want you…” Frank said, he could feel the tears starting to well in his eyes. He had lost Gerard, he was fucking gone. He was cold, unfeeling. He was breaking Frank’s heart.
“I’m sorry, Frank. I can’t.” He responded in the same cold tone.
“Why?!” Frank started to yell. “What is going on, Gee? Why are you acting like this?”
“You know why, Frank. I can’t be around you, I hurt you. I’m sorry.” Gerard sighed as he pulled up to Frank’s apartment building.
“Gee…don’t do this, please…” Frank begged, but Gerard wouldn’t crack. He wouldn’t look at him for fear of giving in. He wanted nothing more than to stay with Frank, but he couldn’t. It was over.
“I’m sorry, Frank. I love you.” He said, still looking forward, but handing the keys to the car back to Frank. Frank cried for a few moments, not trying to hide back his sobs any longer, before getting out of the car and slamming the door. He grabbed his suitcase and dragged it towards the building. He turned to see Gerard already walking out of the parking lot, crying, and suitcase behind him.
Gerard walked home silently. He felt no anxiety, no pain, no anger. He felt nothing, he was empty and hollow. Now that Frank was out of his life, he was detached. He had accepted his fate and was ready to cut everyone from his life. He had hurt Frank, Mikey. He hurt his mother just by being a fuck up. He wouldn’t let anyone pick up the pieces anymore, he was done. Gerard loved Frank more than he ever loved anything, and he couldn’t stand hurting him again.
He was almost home when his phone rang again, for the fifth time today. It was Lindsey. She left a message begging him to call her back, he promptly deleted it. Once inside, Gerard set his bags down in the living room. He opened the front pocket and grabbed the pills Dr. Foster had prescribed him. He had taken only two and the bottle was mostly full. He pocketed it and sulked into the kitchen. He sat on the floor in front of the fridge, knowing he didn’t want to be too far from the alcohol, and cracked open a beer. He downed it in seconds, reaching for another one.
Two became three, three became five, and five became ten. Gerard was drunk, plain and simple, but his mind was still full of pain.
He heard his phone ring again, and he ignored it. Lying on the kitchen floor, he heard his phone ring again and he broke. He was done. Done hurting people, done letting them down. Done being unlovable and worthless, just like Bert said. He was a fuck up, and he had ruined people’s lives. He ruined Frank’s life and almost ruined Mikey’s. He had certainly ruined Bert’s life; he would be running for the rest of his life, or in jail if he was ever caught. It was his fault any of it happened, and he was tired. So fucking tired. He just wanted to sleep.
The pills in his pocket had not been forgotten, and with the last few sips of beer he had left he downed a handful. Another handful. And another. Until the bottle was empty. He cried on the floor until he started to feel dizzy. The walls went blurry and his heart was pounding in his chest. He listened to the pounding, pounding, until he eventually passed out.

Notes

I'm so sorry - again.