The first time I saw Frank, he could barely speak. His eyes were as big as puppies and he had the chubby cheeks that many babies had. He could sleep all night, eat, and then sleep all day. His dad used to throw him up in the air and catch him as a baby, Frank screaming and giggling all in one breath and his mother would persuade him to eat veg by pretending the spoon was an aeroplane.

But the night that I saw him last, I carried his mother's soul in my arms, it melted away into me when we saw Frank sleeping peacefully in a bunk bed at his grandma's house. His mother, she had white behind her eyes but it had now faded to nothingness. If souls could smile then at that moment hers definitely would have been, I walked slowly from the room with her light in my arms. I waved goodbye to Frank and found myself breathing heavily.
"The accident wasn't my fault Frank, I'm so sorry."

That's why, when I saw a roughly 17 year old Frank curled in a ball in a dark alleyway late at night I was so shocked. Behind his eyes resided the swirling colour of black, Evil had taken him. His black hair was long and scraggly, falling in front of his tear stained eyes as the rain tumbled down onto his face. A battered fedora style hat laid patiently at his side as if waiting for bad news. Tattoos swirled across his skin that lay dry under his soaked black Nirvana t-shirt and he sighed, picking up a bottle of almost empty beer and throwing the remaining contents down his neck. His eyes were desperate and his brimming smile had faded to a constant frown. His black skinny jeans were covered in his own blood and his hands were a crimson colour but still he sat surrounded by empty bottles and sadness, two kids running into the distance with a knife soaked in Frank's blood. He sighed, his head rolling to the side and his eyes closing gently.

I must now introduce you to another human in order for us to continue with this story. I shall start off by saying that he was the complete opposite to Frank. He owned a small 4th floor flat on the outskirts of the city with 1 bedroom, a tiny kitchen, a bathroom where you could sit on the toilet and wash your feet in the shower and hands in the sink at the same time and a living room. His wardrobes were full of jackets and his cupboards full of coffee and tins of alphabetti, well they were; that's how he found himself taking a midnight stroll through the city. His white skinny jeans were splashed with a little dirt as he hurried down the street, his long red hair dripping with water but still a grin was stuck to his face. His eyes were brimming with life and the cold made the end of his nose turn pink. His newly cleaned white vans were not so white as he accidentally stepped in a huge puddle. I knew in a split second that Gerard was rare, the purity of white glistened behind his eyes.

He pulled down the hood of his slightly oversized jumper as he made it to the shop, grabbing 5 cans of alphabetti spaghetti and 3 jars of coffee from the shelves before leaving quickly and jogging back to his flat.

It was then that opposite him, Gerard saw a stream of blood making its way to a rotten drain.

He ran over the road and threw his bag of shopping down at the corner of the street. He followed the stream of crimson blood up the dark alleyway where graffiti soaked walls towered at both sides and the end of the pathway slithered into darkness. This was no place for a person of such innocence.
He saw the figure, eyes closed under a waterfall of long knotted black hair and tattoos dancing on his skin. Gerard ran to him as he noticed the blood stained hands and the struggled breathes that escaped his lips. He took him by the shoulders and shook him gently.

"Hey, are you okay?" Gerard asked, still shaking him gently, "hello, can you hear me okay?"
He gasped as he saw the wound on Frank's leg and now more urgently he shook him.
"Hi, I'm Gerard and I'm not going to hurt you. Please just open your eyes."
There was no response. Gerard stooped down and picked up the battered fedora and placed it on the strangers head to shield him from the rain.
"Give us one second." Gerard whispered to the unconscious figure who didn't flinch as Gerard ran and left him bleeding in the street.

Gerard returned with his shopping bag slung over his shoulder and a plan in his head. He checked for a pulse to find that there still was one and the shadow of a person was still breathing. He lent down and picked the figure up gently. They were light, Frank was too light. His ribs stuck out from his body like a single star in the night sky and his cheeks were hollow and eyes empty. Gerard walked on, he had gone out to get food and returned to his flat with a child that belonged to Evil.

Gerard placed Frank down on the sofa and managed to stop the bleeding, he wrapped the wound tightly (but not too tightly) with a soft white bandage but decided that he should recommend taking his 'guest' to the hospital. Then after checking that his 'guest' was still breathing he took him to the bathroom where he washed the dirt from his face and ran a brush through his soaked black hair. Then, with no other thought than hoping that his 'guest' was comfortable and warm, Gerard swapped Frank's clothes for some of his. It was strange to see the skeleton of a figure who looked as if he was drowning in Gerard's not-so-big clothes. Gerard picked him up gently and placed him on the bed, tucking Frank in as if he was a child before closing the door quietly. He took his place on the sofa and pulled a flowery blanket over him before he fell into a deep sleep.

---

Gerard woke with a knife at his throat, his 'guest' awake and stood above him.
"Who the fuck are you?" The voice asked, "and how the fuck did I end up waking up in your house?!"
Frank turned the knife in his hand, his black hair was messily covering his eyes again but Gerard couldn’t stop looking at his lip ring that glinted in the light. Frank had changed back into his now dry black clothes and stood slightly taller with his black Doc. Martin style boots on.
"Woah!" Gerard said calmly, pulling the flowery blanket up to his chin, "Soothe your boobs mate. I'm Gerard and I found you on the streets last night and you looked like you were going to die so I brought you back here an-"
"Wait…wait…" Frank interrupted with the knife still pointing at Gerard, "Did you just say 'soothe your boobs'? Are you such a wazzock that you can't bear to say 'calm your tits'?!"
"Yes. No. And it would be nice to know what your name is…" Gerard replied, sitting up on the sofa and staring at the green eyes that stared back at him. He couldn't help it, he couldn't help but get lost in the swirling depths of a waterfall of green and brown. 'No Gerard.' he whispered to himself, 'Now is not the time.'
"I'm Frank." The figure with the knife replied, "and why didn't you say 'calm your tits'?"
"Because swearing can be unattractive Frank, you should probably stop."
"Well I'm not attractive anyway so you can fuck off!"
"How about you go put the knife away Frank and I'll make you a coffee and then you won't murder me?" asked Gerard, politely, a hint of fear running through his voice.
"Okay." Frank mumbled, "Okay."

Frank backed away from Gerard and limped to the kitchen, placing the knife back in the kitchen drawer and then flopping back onto the sofa. He sat in silence as Gerard got up and made them both coffee before walking cautiously back into the room with two mugs and then he set them down on the coffee table. Gerard sat in the chair opposite Frank who was stretched out like a puppy on his back as he messed with his lip ring. He stopped when the coffee was placed in front of him, he took it without saying thanks and warmed his hands on the mug until it was cool enough to drink.

Frank stared at Gerard, trying to weigh him up. Why did he not swear? Why did he save him? Is he as innocent as he looks? He almost lost himself in his eyes before he reluctantly dragged himself back into reality and realised that Gerard had also been staring curiously across the room at him. Frank broke eye contact and looked down awkwardly, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Oi! Fuck nugget!" Frank began, taking the anger out on Gerard (because he didn’t know how to react to someone with such mesmerising eyes), "Your coffee's shit mate!"
"Sorry Frank." Gerard apologised, looking down to his feet as he swung them.
"Yeah mate, I've had Jägermeister that tastes more like coffee than this. It tastes like Death."
"And what does Death taste like Frank?" Gerard asked, taking another sip of his coffee and tilting his head slightly.
"Like a fucking corpse. Death is a fucking dick who takes what isn't his and stole everything I had so Death tastes like a shit-pouch!"
"Okay Frank. I shouldn't have asked I'm sorry."
"You should be!" Frank spat back, placing his mug onto the table and folding his arms.
"Are you okay?" Gerard asked, his voice soft and like silk.
"Yeah. I'm completely fine Gerard!" Frank replied sarcastically, "I'm obviously fine after getting stabbed in the street and then waking up in a strangers house. I have no clue where I am and the guy sat in front of me can't make coffee and gets annoyed when I swear, that's like getting annoyed at me for breathing."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"Good, I'm gunna go back to sleep now because I feel like shit, okay?!" He stood up and limped towards the bedroom.
"Okay!" Gerard called after him, "I'll make you alphabetti spaghetti on toast when you wake up!"
"I could eat a bowl of your fucking alphabetti and shit out a hundred reasons why I hate you!"
With that Frank slammed the door and Gerard sighed.

Why of all the people that Gerard could like, did it have to be Frank?

Notes

Hello, so ta-da! Here is the third chapter where we finally get to meet Gerard and Frank! I'm not even sure if anyone is reading, but if you are then thank you so much and I hope that this update was okay. Thanks. :)
-Lou