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Mibba

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Gerard and Frank Discover the Secrets of the Universe

no way this year anyones gonna die

things
-pool scene
-watch frank get nearly killed
-italics-fronk shs

The props and set crew recently finished the pool. It's just a big box that's about 3 feet deep, but are you gonna get much better on set? Frank and I have memorized the first scene we have together, and now we're rehearsing.

I walk onto the stage, sitting on the edge of the 'pool' and letting my feet dangle in. A few moments pass before
'Dante' sits down across from me. "I can teach you to swim, if you want." He says. It wasn't really a question. At the moment, he's fully clothed, but in dress rehearsal that has got to change.

He repeats the question after I don't answer, and I make a face. "You talk kind of weird." I say.

He sniffs. "Allergies."

"What are you allergic to?"

"Oxygen."

I force a laugh, which is soon egged on by him saying "My name is Dante." I grasp my chest, trying to make this laugh look real. "Sorry," I apologize. "It's just that my name is Aristotle." Frank perks up his head, "Aristotle," He repeats, and then we both burst out laughing.

This is fun.

- - -

Frank and I are sitting offstage, and my arm is around him. We're quietly laughing, joking about what it would be like to perform this live. My hands keep brushing against the scars on his waist that I can't get out of my mind. What if there are more than I imagined? Do I want to see them up close? I don't think I do, but then again, I feel like I need to.

I lean to the left to ask Mr. Collin, the choir teacher, if we're done for today. He says we are, and tells us we can go around the school. I nudge Frank in the ribs and nod towards the door off the stage. He nods back, standing up, and we walk out. Our feet carry us to the Senior Hall

"Last night, we had a talk about how you... cut yourself." I say quietly, beginning to unlock the door to the Lounge. "I was wondering, you don't have to, but could you show me your scars?" I hear his breath hitch in his throat, and he looks up at me. "You don't have to if your uncomfortable-"

"No. I should. I don't want to hide them from you." He says, his voice just above a whisper. I watch as his hands rest on the hems of his shirt, then pulling it up just past his bellybutton. I get on my knees, my eyes level with his stomach. There are more than I imagined. There are so many.

Over a hundred brownish lines are scattered on his waist, some longer or wider than the rest. Others are shorter. Most are in clusters of 3 or 5. Others are gathered together in groups of tens. But there are so, so, many. I want to know what made him stop. I want to know how long.

"How long have you been doing it for?" I ask, my hand hesitantly reaching up to one that looks more vibrant than others. How have I not noticed before? This one looks less healed over. When my fingers brush over it he inhales sharply, his stomach getting significantly smaller.

"I did it for five years. I stopped a few weeks ago. When I met you." His free hand meets mine, pressing it flat on his skin. "I think that was my last time." He concludes, his thumb rubbing over the back of my hand. My forehead rests on his stomach.

"I gotta go to the bathroom. I'll be right back." I say, standing up and giving him a small kiss.

- - -

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I turn off the tap and look to where the hallway is. Someone's voice is really, really loud. This can't be good. I attempt to identify whos speaking, and maybe what their saying. It almost sounds like...Bert.

Now I know what he's saying. I shake my hands off, rushing out the door and following his voice to the door to the teachers parking lot. A few thuds make me grimace, shaking my head as I open the door. The thuds, groans, and yells make me turn my head to the left, where oh God.

I rush to the spot where Frank is huddled on the ground, Bert's steel-toed boots crashing into his ribcage every second. My fist collides with Bert's shoulders, everything that Frankie said a week ago flying out of my head. I just hurt him enough to make him stop hurting Frankie, and I rip him away from him. "What the fuck is your problem?" I yell, kneeling down to Frankie. His right eye is swollen shut, and practically every inch of him is either bloodied or bruised. Bert doesn't answer, but I don't hear him walk away. "How much does it hurt?"

"So fucking much," he mutters, and Bert still hasn't walked away. He reaches up to the collar of my shirt and pulls my ear down to his mouth. "Don't hurt him. At least not in front of me. I don't want to see you angry." I nod, and he lets go of my shirt. Something presses against my scalp, making me stand up and face Bert.

"See you soon, honey." He winks at me, then walking back into the building. I give him the bird, yelling after him. "Fuck you!" Once the door closes, I kneel back down to Frank. "Do you think you can walk?" I ask, and he shifts so that he's sitting up.

"I think so. Just help me up." I nod, taking his outstretched arm and pulling him up. We get a few steps with his arm wrapped around me before he cries out in pain, his face scrunching up. "Shit." We both say, and I hoist him into my arms. I carry him, princess style, to the parking lot.

"Really, Gerard?" He manages to smile, looking up at me. "Hey! You weren't going much further on my watch. Just because you can walk doesn't mean you should." He giggles, and I set him down on the hood of my car to pull out my keys. I unlock the car, helping him into his seat.

"Are your parents home? I don't think I'll be able to climb through the window today." He asks, putting on The Cure's newest album. I glance at the clock, then shaking my head. "They will be soon, so we have to hurry."

We pull into my driveway, and I swiftly hop out of the car and help him out. He slings his arm around my shoulder, and we walk to the door together. Mikey is sitting in the living room and eating, and he looks at us with a questioning gaze. "What...? Oh shit!" He spots Franks black eye, dropping his fork and running over. "What the fuck happened?" He asks, wrapping Franks other arm around him and helping us down the stairs.

"Bert." Frank answers while I open the door to my room. Mikey and I set him down on my bed, then we sit across from him. I whisper into Mikey's ear to get tissues and a cup of water. He sets off, and Frank expands on his prior statement. "He said that he would hurt you-Gee-if I didn't follow him. He told me he would do so many things to make me hate myself and I didn't know what to do because I didn't want him to hurt you and I still don't but I just wish I was dead."

- - -

Gerard and I went to bed about thirty minutes ago. He's asleep, but I'm keeping myself awake. Whether it be insomnia, depression, anxiety, I'm awake and I need to do something. I had it in my bag for survival, so that's where I go. I slip out of bed, making sure not to disturb him.

I pull my sack open, rifling through it until I find a small earplug container. I take it to the bathroom, locking the door and turning on the light. Once I'm sure Gerard is still sleeping, I undo the latch on the box and pull out a shiny, metal, blade. I shouldn't but I have to.

I look down at my bare chest, at all the scars. I remember why I did some of them. The one's just above my hipbone are from the first time my parents shamed me for liking rock bands. It doesn't seem like much of a reason to hurt myself, but when there are so many things already piling up in my brain, a single thing can make me go over the edge.

I bring the blade to my waist, closing my eyes and leaning against the wall. I don't want to do this. I don't want to do this. It helps me cope. It's my escape route. I run my finger on the blade before pressing it down ever so lightly against my skin. It's enough to feel a sting, but not enough to draw blood. I'm about to start moving it when I begin to think.

What am I doing. I have a boyfriend who would be mad if I did this. I've gone for so long, the longest for a while without hurting myself. I can make the record a little longer. I
should make the record a little longer. I will.

I put the razor back in it's case, shutting it and turning the light off. My fingers fumble with the knob in the dark, and moments later I'm putting the case back in my bag. Alarm bells ring through my ears when I hear someone clear their throats outside of the door. It must be Mikey.

I lean against the door and hear Mikey whisper my name, and I slowly unlock and open the door to see a worried face. "Thank God." He whispers, wrapping his arms around me. I'm about to ask what he's doing when he answers my unspoken words. "Gee thought you might cut, so he asked me to wait outside the door. Please tell me you didn't do it."

I shake my head. "Don't worry. I was gonna, but I couldn't. Please don't tell him? Just say nothing happened." I mutter, walking back to bed. "Go to sleep, and I will too." I say, shutting the door and locking it. I climb back into bed, cuddling up next to Gee and inhaling the scent of his shampoo.

He smells like cinnamon.

Notes

if you guys haven't caught on yet, the italic at the end is Franks POV. This chapter was inspired by what I did last night

Comments

I honestly love this story so much.

love this it's so cute

This is so good. Good luck my friend, and my best wishes bc this is really good and very sweet

cKayE cKayE
1/11/19

Gerard is right - Frank is definitely perfect! :D (‘slight’ Frank bias here!)

SaskiaK SaskiaK
1/4/19

This is really sweet! Also, 30% tip?? Who’s he trying to impress?? :P

SaskiaK SaskiaK
1/4/19