死の天使 Shi no Tenshi(Angel Of Death)

"No!" he hissed, pulling away from me. "God, I'm f-fucking fine!" I leaned over to kiss his cheek; he flinched. "I love you..."

"I love you too, Gee... Swear to god I do... S-sorry I'm being such a fucking f-faggot..."

I pulled him close again; he didn't fight it, leaning his head back on my shoulder. "It's okay... It's okay."

He smiled a little. God, that smile...

When the credits were rolling down the screen, Frank got unsteadily to his feet and I followed him down the theater stairs and out of the still-dark room into the theater lobby. We headed towards the exit and out into the cool air, swollen sky dark with rainclouds.

I looked over at Frank, who was busy lighting a cigarette with his cheap red plastic lighter. Trying to make conversation, I shrugged. "Did you like the movie, a little at least?"

"The sex scene." Frankie shot me a glance, then smiled widely when he saw that I thought his joke was funny.

That smile again. That fucking smile. "Frankie-" My voice came out low and husky.

He knew that I wanted him, cigarette dangling seductively from his lower lip, light pink tongue darting out next to it and brushing the small metal ring which pierced his skin.

Butterflies danced along my veins. I was losing control, but I had to keep reminding myself to cling to my sanity before I ended up hurting him again.

"Gerard?" Frankie murmured around the cigarette, his gaze tracing its way up one of my legs to my thigh. I squirmed. "Yeah?"

"Don't just fucking stand there."

I was shuddering. The way my heartbeat was already pounding out of my control made me afraid that I would end up breaking him again. I stalled. "Frankie..."

"Gerard!" His voice was filled with all the frustration and urgency and raw need that I was feeling inside, making me want him even more.

I reached out a trembling hand to touch his face.

Before I could do anything, he had let the cigarette fall to the pavement and pulled me close, pressed hard against his body. Both of his hands were wrapped around the backs of my thighs, keeping me from going anywhere.

With a groan, I pushed him backwards so that he ended up pressed snugly against the brick wall of the city street. It was starting to rain, and the sidewalks were emptying fast, but what people there were stared at us awkwardly. I didn't care, as Frankie's tongue slid into my mouth, giving me chills which penetrated way deeper than the damp, cool air could.

Frank was kissing me with all the intensity in his whole body, and I returned the passion with equal force, every moan he made vibrating against my warm lips and channeling down into the pit of my stomach, where they burned like fire.

"Let's-" He gasped for breath, running his fingers through my hair. "-fucking go-" The air rushed out of his lungs again. "-somewhere."

I slid a hand across his abdomen. "Where?"

He braced himself against the wall, a series of shudders running through his body. He swore quietly, then let out a desperate moan. "Anywhere."

Where was there to go? "I know a-" Oh, god, shit, oh. "-motel on this street-" My knees buckled. "B-but it's a piece of shit-"

"Fine. Fine, Gerard, oh-"

He broke off as I dragged my hands down his back and over his ass, kissing him harder, heavier.

His sweaty fingers twined tightly in mine, I tugged him down the sidewalk towards the motel entrance, barely able to keep my hands off of him for a single instant.

I opened the door to the cramped motel office, shoving Frankie back up against a wall as soon as we were inside the vacant room. I pushed his dark bangs, damp with rain and sweat, out of his eyes and brought my lips desperately back to his. He smelled like cigarettes and sweat and cocaine and sex; the scent making my heartbeat race even faster. I wanted him so bad...

We broke apart as a man came inside from the other entrance, smelling like dirt and cigar smoke. He frowned slightly. "Uh... can I help you?"

I told him what we wanted, a room for the night, and he named the price. As I dug some crumpled bills from my back pocket, Frank rested his hands lightly on either side of my waist from behind, as though he couldn't bear to lose contact with my body, even for a minute.

The man took my money in grubby fingers and silently handed Frankie and me two room keys.

As soon as we left the office, we were kissing again, barely managing to look up and find our room, which was on the second floor.

We made it inside, and I locked the door tightly, throwing the key and my cellphone on the dresser before grabbing Frankie again by the shoulders and pushing his back against the door with a soft thud. I had his t-shirt up over his head in an instant, kissing his neck and collarbone teasingly. As I spun him so that it was his bare chest in contact with the painted wood of the door and slowed suddenly down, just standing there with his ass against the front of my jeans, he tilted his head back, moaning. "You're... m-making me... crazy," he breathed, fingernails drawing little scratches in the white paint in front of him.

I kissed the back of his neck gently, reaching a hand around to unzip his jeans. He shivered against me, leaning back into my arms, then seemed to change his mind, instead dropping to his knees in front of me.

I knew what he wanted to do, heart thudding against my trachea as I tugged off my t-shirt and moved to undo the button of my own jeans.

Frankie was shy about it, obviously nervous and not experienced, but I didn't care. I twined my fingers in his dark hair and pulled his head further towards me, desperate. I gripped his shoulder tightly with one sweaty hand, my moans increasing in intensity. My whole body suddenly spasmed, sending waves of hot and cold radiating through my aching muscles. Oh god, oh- I pulled Frank to his feet and he leaned against the door again, quietly licking his sweaty lips as I ran my hands along his abdomen again.

His jeans fell to the floor around his feet, scuffed Etnies rubbing against the carpet as he tensed his whole frame tightly. I kissed up the back of his neck, then wrapped my arms around his body in a tight hug, grasped both shoulders and thrust my hips hard. He swore loudly, strangled gasp turning into a low moan as he tilted his head back again, chest held firmly against the motel room door by my moving body.

Frankie gasped loudly and choked out my name with a trembling moan. His eyes were starting to roll back. "Gerard... Gerard. Gerard!" He was screaming now; I clenched my teeth tightly as I ran my fingers down his back, leaving light scratches, and my tense muscles started to shudder again. With one last scream, nearly obscured by the blood pounding in my ears, Frankie dug his short fingernails into the paint of the door, gouging out depressions in the cheap wood, then went limp as the final waves of sensation coursed through our veins. I let out a deep breath and put one hand out to steady myself against the door, light-headed and still gasping for air.

"Gerard... that was f-fucking amazing..." Frankie murmured between breaths, eyes closed.

I bit my lower lip. Say it, you fuck. "You're... gorgeous, Frankie. You're beautiful."

He lifted his head slightly, and his eyes locked on mine. I could see how much my words had meant to him as a cautious smile broke across his face.

He really was fucking gorgeous. I couldn't imagine that there was anyone else but Frankie, anything else in the whole world... I wanted it to be like this forever, just us two, together, like this. I slid my hands around his waist and kissed him again, more gently.

He grinned, looking up into my eyes, then bringing his lips slowly towards mine. We kissed shyly, almost as if it were the first time. Frankie's arms went up around my neck as we kissed again. "We've got more than sex, right?" he asked me quietly.

I looked into his dark eyes, filled with shyness and concern and passion and... love, and I felt the familiar wave of conviction that I'd had once before. Yes, damnit, I loved him. I loved him. "Yeah... yeah, Frankie, we do. I'm in love with you. Every single fucking inch."

He grinned, eyes sparkling. "Was that meant to sound dirty?"

"If you want it to." I smirked and carefully pushed the hair out of his face again.

He reached down to pull his jeans up, zipping and buttoning them and then crossing farther into the room to flop down tiredly on the bed.

I laughed as I realized that we'd ended up with a double. The man from the motel lobby must have seen right through us, not like we hadn't been completely obvious about it.

Frankie watched me pull my own jeans back on through half-closed eyes from the mattress, a content smile playing on his flawless lips.

I crossed over towards him, and he scooted to one side so that I could sprawl out on the bed as well. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held him close, listening to him breathe, my eyes tracing his tattooed forearms.

He sighed comfortably, curling up close to me and closing his lids lazily. "Let's go away."

"What?"

"Let's go away somewhere," he murmured. "Just us two. Together. Foreber."

"I wish we could, Frankie..." I answered slowly, tasting bitter regret for what we'd never really have. It could never really be just the two of us... It would always be like this, hiding from the world, from Mikey, from Frank's father, hurried fucks in some dirty motel or my car, seeing each other so briefly that Frank wondered if we actually had anything between us but sex.

He sighed again. "Your parents live with you and Mikey?"

I nodded reluctantly. "They're gonna be home in two days."

"I gotta find an apartment," Frankie muttered. "And a better fucking job."

I didn't answer, figuring his words were pretty much rhetorical. I stared absently at the cracked and waterdamaged ceiling, feeling Frank breathing in my arms, until I drifted into a light sleep.

***

I woke up, my brain running the routine check to make certain that I knew where I was, and why. Rubbing my eyes, I sat up and looked around. Oh shit. "Frank?" He wasn't lying next to me anymore. "Frankie?!"

I bolted to my feet and looked around the room for some clue- a note, anything. Barely comprehending that he really had disappeared, I went to the door, shoving it open and stepping out onto the second-floor balcony. A box of cigarettes that I recognized as Frank's was lying on the concrete, and I picked it up. I thought I heard a cry from around the side of the building, and I turned hurriedly in that direction. "Frankie?"

I rounded the corner and stopped dead. Two men had Frankie by the arms, pushed up against the short balcony railing, tipped backwards so that he would fall if they let him go. "You fucking little faggot," one of them was growling, smirking. "Marty told us what you and your faggot friend were doing when he walked into the lobby."

"P-please-"

"Let him go!" I was already pulling a penknife from my jeans pocket, moving closer to them.

Although they looked slightly taken aback to be caught, neither man made any move to stop hurting Frank. "Let him go?" one sneered, pushing him further over the railing, causing him to whimper pitifully. "Alright, we'll let the little fucker go."

"You wouldn't."

The man eyed my penknife. "Stay back, or I will."

"You wanna get arrested, you bastard son of a bitch?" I spat. "If he's not standing next to me in ten seconds, I'm going to come over there and show you why you don't ever, ever touch him again, you got that?"

The men looked at each other, then pulled Frankie back up onto the balcony. He rushed over to stand behind me, shaking.

"Aww, hell, we were just fucking around," said the other man nervously. "Fag can't take a damn joke..."

"Come on..." his friend muttered, and the two men turned and started walking in the other direction, only one even glancing back.

As soon as they had turned the other corner of the building, I took both of Frankie's cold hands in mine and led him back around the balcony so that we stood in front of our room. "Are you okay?"

He nodded quietly, rubbing his lower back where the railing's edge had bit into the skin. I thought he would've been even more shaken, but he seemed to be almost resigned. "They wouldn'ta done it."

"Fuckers." I handed him the cigarettes.

He took the box and shrugged slightly, teeth catching his bottom lip ever so gently. "I'm okay. Another t-time, maybe, it would've bothered me more..." He took a deep breath, and mumbled his next words. "But I don't care if the whole fucking world calls me a faggot if I've got you."

Did he had any fucking idea how much that meant? Filled up by feeling, I took his face in my hands and kissed him. "Frankie... Oh baby, Frankie..."

"I love you. I've... I've n-never been in love before..." He looked down shyly, then continued tentatively, voice very quiet. "...I've never actually been with a guy before."

"I know," I said gently. Frankie looked so uncomfortable, as though he felt embarrassed. "It's okay, though... There's nothing wrong with that..."

"It's just that you're so much more..." He seemed to squirm. "...like, experienced, and I'm j-just..."

"You're perfect, Frankie, sweetheart, I promise." I kissed him again, the slightest spray of rain blowing across our faces.

When our lips parted, he leaned his head against my still-bare chest and seemed to relax a little. "I'd d-die without you, Gee..."

"I'm never gonna let you go, Frankie." I stroked his hair, realizing just how desperately I wanted to run away forever, to get in a car and drive on until the fucking end with him... We both knew it would never happen.

Frankie pulled away, and I followed him back inside our motel room, watching him sit down on the edge of the bed. He sniffled tiredly and looked up at me. "I'm so happy that I called you, Gerard. I almost didn't... I was scared..."

"Well, I'm glad you did." I went over to him and put both hands on his back, running them lightly over his shoulderblades.

He shivered slightly. "God, how do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"M-make me... want you, just by touching me once, by t-talking to me even... You're just..."

I smirked gently and kept rubbing his back. "You have the same effect on me."

"Really?"

"Mmhmm."

He shivered again. I knew that I should quit while I was ahead, but I wanted him, damnit, and I really couldn't resist...

He arched his back slightly under my touch, with my hands sliding lower and lower down his spine. He was fucking gorgeous, like a boy made out of porcelain.

"G-gerard..."

"Say it, Frankie."

"I want you... I fucking want you... oh..." His eyelids flickered.

I eased him down on the mattress, bending over with one hand planted on either side of his head so that our lips could meet.

He sighed, hot breath tickling my skin and prompting me to kiss him even harder, tongues sliding seductively between barely parted lips. A loud ringing made me jump suddenly, needing another minute to catch my breath. I realized that my cellphone was ringing. Shit.

"Jus' leave it," Frankie moaned, arms encircling my neck and pulling me back to him.

I gave in to temptation and let the cell's rings eventually fade into nothing as I leaned down again to Frank's waiting body. Seconds later, however, the high-pitched ringing began again, seemingly twice as shrill. "Motherfucking-" I tore myself away from Frankie with a groan and stumbled to the dresser for the phone. My jeans were unbuckled and hanging low, and I almost tripped before I picked it up, snapping a greeting. "What?"

Of course it was Mikey. "Gerard? Where are you?"

"Who are you, the goddamned babysitter?"

"Just tell me where you are." He sounded slightly urgent.

"At a motel."

"A motel? Where?!"

"Near the theater. Why the hell do you care?"

"If you're with somebody, you might wanna go outside... This is really serious."

I had no idea what he was talking about. "Enough with the shit, Mikey. I'm busy." I darted a glance at Frankie, still lying on his back on the bed, shirtless again, with half-closed eyes. He looked incredibly erotic in the dim room.

"I don't care if you're busy, Gerard. This is important. Are you by yourself right now?"

I looked back at Frank. "Yeah," I lied. Instead of going outside, I crossed back over to him, leaning on the edge of the mattress next to where he lay.

"Look, Gerard... Hell, are you even listening?" Mikey sounded somewhere between tense and annoyed.

Frankie's hand was tracing my collarbone slowly. I could barely breathe. "Yeah, uh-huh. Sure."

My brother didn't believe me and sighed, angry and exasperated. "Okay. Gerard, you've gotta stop-"

I interrupted. "Look, can't we just have this conversation another- Ohh..." My voice trailed off as Frankie's fingers slipped down across my chest. He had scooted closer, and his warm breath was tickling the back of my neck.

"Gerard? What the fuck's going on? Are you fucking listening or not?" Mikey was really getting pissed.

"I'm listening, I'm listening!"

"You have to stop seeing Frank."

I sat up in surprise, pissed off. "What the fuck? Not this again..."

Frankie mumbled something in annoyance and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, trying to pull me back down.

I let myself recline again, leaning on the mattress, but I kept pressing Mikey. "What the fuck does that mean?!"

"You heard me, Gerard. I have a reason for it, though. You're gonna hurt him... you have to come home right now."

Mikey was completely serious; I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "What are you talking about? How the hell do you think you know this shit?"

"Gee..." Frankie moaned plaintively from beside me, hands around my waist. "Tell whoever that you'll call 'em back..."

"Hold on." I covered the phone. "Wait, Frank!" I had to know what the fuck my brother was saying.

"You can't hurt the kid much at a movie theater, Gerard." Mikey's voice had a smirk in it. "But trust me- you take him to some fucking motel, and you're asking for a chance to fuck with him, in more than one way."

"I can't believe you think you have the right to say that!"

Next to me, Frankie was still pouting from my earlier rebuke.

"Just come home, Gerard."

"This is ridiculous, I-"

Frankie whimpered from his sprawled position on the mattress, trying to recapture my attention. "You rather be fucking whoev'r your talking to?" he murmured sulkily, lips fixed in a seductive pout.

"Is someone with you?" Mikey questioned suspiciously. "Is he with you?!"

"No, that was... the television; he's outside, um, smoking."

Frankie frowned, seeming to realize as I lied that something serious was actually going on. He sat up slightly and gave me an anxious look.

"If you aren't back here in twenty minutes-"

"You'll what, come get me, you little fucker? You're my goddamn little brother. My actions are my own responsibility."

"What's going on?" Frank hissed urgently, some of the shyness returning to his eyes.

"You know what, Mikey? Go to fucking hell." I closed my phone abruptly and sighed darkly.

"Gee?"

"Not now."

I didn't look, but I could feel the bed bounce as Frankie got quietly to his feet. The bathroom door clicked shut a few seconds later, and I put my head in my hands, sitting on the very edge of the mattress. What was Mikey's fucking problem? I slumped back on the bed, but I was feeling restless, and I got to my feet again after only a few minutes. Digging my cigarettes out of my pocket, I went out onto the balcony for a smoke.

It was getting dark outside, a cool wind blowing my hair around my face as I closed the motel room door over behind me. I leaned on the cold metal railing of the balcony, its white paint flaking off slightly under my touch, and watched as a few ashes fell from the end of my cigarette into the darkness below. I sighed. What the hell was I doing anyway? Why was my little brother having such a hard time with Frankie? I just didn't get it.

About twenty minutes and one very spent cigarette later, I took a deep breath of the nighttime air and turned for the door to our room, rubbing my cold hands together. As I shut and locked it behind me, I realized that Frankie was curled up asleep on the bed, fingers clutching the pillow as though he was afraid someone would take it away. His breathing was deep... awfully deep. I couldn't remember Frankie ever being so entirely unconscious while he slept.

Acting on instinct, I crossed to the bathroom and pushed the door open, flicking on the light. Resting on the counter was a bottle of sleeping pills. The stupid little shit- I hoped he hadn't taken more than the label recommended, or mixed in cocaine. Him getting sick all over himself-again- was the last thing I wanted to deal with.

I stood and watched him sleep for a moment. Frankie had curled up tightly and left enough room- and then some- for me to comfortably lie beside him without having to worry about getting too close. Still, it seemed awkward, and I eventually decided not to sleep. There was a chair by the dirty window, and I sat down heavily with another sigh.

I wasn't sure how much of the night had passed when Frank started whimpering in his sleep, clutching the pillow all the tighter with white-knuckled fingers. The drugs had obviously worn off, since he seemed to be dreaming. Or rather, having a nightmare.

His shoulders were shaking, lips moving unconsciously. "No, n-no, Gerard, no please!"

I stared, a sinking feeling in my stomach.

"N-no..." he moaned pleadingly, rolling over, pulling the comforter to his chest, eyes still shut tightly in semi-interrupted sleep. His pale face was wet with tears. "G-gee, no..."

Shit. Oh shit. Frank's nightmare was about me... How the hell could I have thought that we were past what I had done to him? I had been trying to pretend to both of us that it had never happened; I had thought that in some sick way, I'd had him convinced. But even if the bruises had faded, Frankie wasn't okay... Frankie was fucking broken, and I had broken him.

God, I hated him. I hated him for letting his father hurt him... I hated him more for letting me hurt him.

Frankie gave a sudden shuddering gasp and bolted upright, tear-filled eyes locking instantly on mine. Fuck. He knew that I'd been watching him suffer, and hadn't done a single thing. He stared at me for a minute, confusion and hurt on his face. He swallowed painfully and looked down at his lap before standing and wiping the tears away almost angrily. "S-smoke," he muttered unsteadily, passing me on his way outside onto the balcony.

Shit. Shit shit shit. I should've said something, asked him if he was okay, or at least apologized again... Actually, I should've gone over there and woken him up, told him it was okay and it was only a bad dream... But instead I had just watched him hurting. What if my shithead brother, of all people, was right? What if I didn't love Frank? What if he didn't love me? What the hell were we doing here anyways?

I got to my feet as the need to do something, anything at all, overwhelmed me. Moving the chair and pushing the blinds out of the way of the small window, I blocked out the reflection with my hand so that I could see Frankie outside, leaning on the railing just as I had been doing before. His silhouette was flawless. The burning tip of a cigarette glittered in the dark next to him, casting just the slightest glow of red on his face and highlighting his cheekbones, some tears still clinging to his skin. He was beautiful outwardly; if it wasn't for the hollow look in his eyes, you never could've guessed that I had ruined him.

My stomach burned. I hated him. I hated him for being so gorgeous, for tempting me to hurt him in the first place. He had seen that my eyes had been completely devoid of any love, actually anything but lust... Well why the hell hadn't he stopped me right then?!

I shoved my way past the chair and into the bathroom, picking up the bottle of sleeping pills and holding it up as though to read the dosage. Instead, I just slammed it angrily back down onto the countertop with a loud rattling sound as the pills shook. I could see my face in the mirror in front of me, and I realized that I hated it almost as much as I hated Frank. My fucking face. My fucking face- Without thinking, I lifted a fist and slammed it into the mirror, driving my knuckles through the shattering glass. Blood spattered across the counter and the tile floor and my face, and I could only stare at the mess I had made. Oh fucking god, I was doing it again, losing myself... Shit.

My knuckles were bleeding badly, full of lacerations from the fragments of the mirror. I turned the water on and watched as the water going down the drain turned a sickening shade of too-bright tempera red. Could I stop fucking up for five straight minutes, maybe?

I pressed a wad of tissues to my hand, waiting for the bleeding to stop. The cuts were to the bone, but that wasn't saying much, considering most of them were over my knuckles, and after a while, the blood began to congeal and turn dark. I threw out the tissues and tried to pick up as many of the glass shards off the counter and floor as I could before walking back over to the window.

Frankie was still smoking, sitting on the concrete now and hugging both knees tightly to his chest. I thought I could see his breath, even excluding the cigarette smoke, and wondered if he was cold. He pulled his arms even closer to him, shivering, and I felt a pang of guilt. Of course he was cold. I should go let him know that it was okay to come inside if he wanted.

I opened the motel door. "...Frank?"

He looked up. "Huh?"

"If you're cold..."

He got unsteadily upright and followed me back inside. As I turned around to face him, he spoke. "Why do you hate me?"

My brain stalled. "I don't hate you, I-"

"Why do you hate me, Gerard?!" His voice got more pleading. He wasn't going to let it go.

"I don't! I-"

"Gerard!" His neck muscles were taut; he must've had his teeth clenched. Both eyes were locked on mine, so innocent, so insistent, so full of pain and pleading.

I didn't say anything, and his face darkened further.

"I wanna know why! Is it Mikey? Is it something I do wrong? 'Cause I c-can't fuck? I swear to god, I can change whatever it is, or at least try!"

This was not what I wanted to hear. If I was being an asshole, the least he could do was to get pissed off in return, not... this. "That's not it, that's not- Can't you just fuck off?!"

"Just tell me, please, then I'll leave you alone, Gerard! I just want to know what I did wrong!"

"You let me do it, you son of a bitch!" I yelled hysterically, snapping completely. I noticed that my hands were shaking, which pissed me off worse. "You let me hurt you just like you let your fucking father hurt you, and I hate you for it; I fucking hate you for it!"

Frankie's face went still, like he was trying not to cry. His voice came out quiet and unnaturally shaky. "You hate... m-me? You hate m-me because I let you h-hurt me?"

Even I could hear how sickeningly selfish that logic sounded. But I nodded, not trusting my vocal chords.

Frank was crumpling, but he managed to pull his face into a taut mask before he spoke. "I... d-don't get it. G-gee, I d-don't get it!"

What the fuck did he want me to say to him?

"But what did I do?" he whimpered, eyes silently begging me for an answer.

"You fucking let me!" I screamed, unable to take the incomprehension and pain on his perfect face.

"What did you want me to do? What did you want me to do? S-shove a knife between your f-fucking eyes?"

"Anything, you son of a bitch- You let your dad walk all over you, you let me hurt you-"

"I thought if I just waited for it t-to be over..." Tears spilled down Frankie's face.

"No, no, you had to stop me, goddamn you, I fucking hate you!" I couldn't stop yelling, even though he wasn't screaming back.

He flinched. "You w-want me to be something I c-can't be, I c-could never have stopped you; even if you wanted to do it again right now I still couldn't s-stop you..." His voice broke. "I'm n-not good enough for you."

Why did he have to keep crying like that? Why did he have to keep agreeing with me? Why was he making this so hard? I rubbed my eyes tiredly. Why couldn't he just yell back?

Frankie's eyes were focused on the lacerated knuckles of the hand I had just used to rub my eyes. "What the f-fuck did you do?"

I glanced down. Shit. "Broke the mirror. I'm fine."

He lifted his own trembling hand, a long cut, barely visible now, across the fingers. I recognized it from when he had cut himself on the glass window in his living room. The day he'd told me he loved me... The same day that I had fucked up everything. "Please. Don't. Break. My. Heart," he whimpered slowly, emphasis on every word.

I couldn't say anything. It was a cliche, but the effect it was having on me... I couldn't find the right words to express all the thoughts running through my mind. All the memories; Frankie, Frankie, Frankie...

"I love you," Frankie murmured, very quietly. "I love you for everything you are, Gerard, I mean it. I don't care if you hurt me, I want you, I love you, I'd live through it again if I c-could just-" He choked on tears and abandoned the rest of the words, sobbing.

I pulled him towards me in a crushing hug, almost like a crash, two cars colliding on the fucking highway, forcing his head against my chest and holding him there to keep him from slipping away again. "S-shit shit s-shit..."

His fingers found mine and twined together tightly. "After all the things we put each other through..."

"I love you, Frankie. I. Love. You."

"I'm s-sorry, Gee, I am; I shouldn'ta let you, I shoulda s-stopped you, somehow... I'm s-"

"Frankie, don't."

"Gee-"

"Don't say anything." I just wanted to stand there with my face buried in his hair and pretend that we were the only two people in the whole world. I wanted him, I loved him, I just wanted to hold him.

I smoked, and the smell of cigarettes had never turned me on, but somehow with Frankie, it became the most seductive scent I could imagine. I breathed him in with my eyes closed, loving him; every fucking thing about him, I loved it.

"Gerard... Gerard." Frankie looked up into my eyes and a smile stretched across his face. "You make me so happy."

"I want to, Frankie... And I never wanted to hurt you, b-but I know I did, and I can't make up for it; I-"

Quietly, he put one finger to my lips. "You don't have to make up for anything," he murmured. "I just want to be with you... okay?"

I held him close tightly, whispering "Okay" into his hair.

"What... what was Mikey saying?" Frank asked tentatively.

"Thinks I'm gonna fucking hurt you again."

"He doesn't know you that well, does he..?" Frankie sounded nervous, as though he hoped that was the case.

I shrugged uneasily. "I thought he did..." I pulled away to sit down heavily on the edge of the bed. "Look... I'm scared, Frankie." My emotions started to rise. "I don't want to hurt you, ever... I swear to god, I don't! But... but what if he sees something I don't? What if I do hurt you again?!"

Frank came over and put a gentle hand on my shoulder, teeth catching his bottom lip again. "I don't know, Gee..." he said unsurely. "I love you and I don't think you'd ever, ever do that again... but I don't know why Mikey thinks so, then... Maybe you just scared him when he found out what you'd... what you'd done. Maybe..?"

I put my head in my hands. "Damnit, Frankie..."

"If you ever did, Gee... If you ever did hurt m-me, I'd... still love you. Forever."

I shook my head frantically. "No; no, don't say that! Don't! You're just f-fucking inviting me to do it again; don't fucking say that!"

His eyes hardened. "You wanna be fucking invited?" Frankie stretched out his arms. "Okay, go on, take me. Take me, Gerard. Hurt me. Fucking hurt me."

"What the f-fuck are you doing, Frankie?" I spat, throat closing up.

"Hurt me, go on."

"Shut up. Just shut up."

Instead, Frankie wrapped his arms tightly around me, burying his face in my neck unexpectedly. "You didn't do it, Gee. You didn't; you didn't hurt me. It's okay now."

Did that really reassure him? He had asked for it; of course I wasn't going to hurt him on command. If I did, it would be unexpected... and much more brutal. "Goddamnit."

"Don't be mad; please don't. I just don't want you to be scared, Gerard. I don't want you to have to worry about hurting me." He took a shaky breath. "Can't you just love me? That's all I want..." "I know. I know it. Oh Frankie..."

"Mikey's wrong. You're perfect. You're beautiful. I love you like crazy." His eyes started to sparkle as he finished the sentence.

I had to smile. Frankie's wide grin was contagious.

"Can I talk to your brother, maybe?"

I frowned. "Uh..."

"I'm a people person. It's okay." He smirked.

"I guess." I speed-dialed, then handed him my cellphone. "Just hang up if he... y'know..."

Frankie nodded, phone to his ear. "Hello? -- It's Frank. I'm in love with your big brother... -- Yeah, but why do you think he's gonna hurt me?"

There was a long pause while Frank listened to Mikey's answer. I was trying to read the expression on his face, but even his wide eyes made it impossible to guess the emotion.

Finally, Frank spoke again, but hesitantly. "...I know he's not like my f-father, though. He won't do it again. He won't. -- What? -- Nuh-uh, listen to me... I know he's not perfect fucking plastic, Mikey. But I love him for everything, even the faults. To me, he is perfect. That's what matters."

My chest felt tight. Frankie was... god, he was amazing. Did I even deserve him?

"-he hurt you... n-not like that, but if he hurt you somehow, wouldn't you forgive him?" he was asking my brother.

"Frankie, just forget it-" I started, but he shook his head.

"It's not any different, Mikey; you know it isn't. I'm not that... experienced, or whatever, b-but I know I'm in love, and I'd do anything for Gee." Mikey said something, and Frankie laughed slightly. "Yeah, I said Gee. I love him."

I smiled.

"Just tell me you wouldn't forgive him, Mikey. -- See? That's what I did... He's not gonna hurt me. He loves me..." Frankie's serious face suddenly melted into a smile as Mikey responded. "Okay. I'll let you talk to him... Thank you for caring, though, about me and Gerard... and thank you for listening. -- Mmkay, bye." He handed the phone to me.

"Hello?"

"Gerard? Keep the kid safe, okay?"

"I know you're worried, but I swear to god, I won't let anything happen to him, Mikey."

"He trusts you, I guess that's good enough. I love you, Gerard. I do, and I do think you're better than that. Frankie deserves you."

"Thanks, Mikey. Um... I'll be back tomorrow, sometime."

"Okay, I'll see you then. But Gerard-"

"What?"

He sighed. "I think you made him grow up a little too fast."

I wasn't sure what to say. Mikey's words held some truth; even I could see that... But my thoughts told me that I would rather keep pretending that nothing had changed, and that Frankie and I could get back to where we'd been before.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Mikey said finally.

"I... I love you too, Mikey."

"Go pay some attention to your boyfriend," he said, laughter in his voice, and I had to laugh too.

"Alright." I closed the phone and looked at Frankie. "You are fucking amazing."

He shrugged, smiling at me. "He's nice. I think you just scared him, coming home-"

"-covered in blood?" I finished darkly.

A shadow passed quickly over Frankie's face, but he seemed to shake it off, and nodded. "He's okay now, though."

I ran a hand down the curve of Frankie's cheekbone gently, then kissed him carefully.

He sat down next to me and cuddled close with a comfortable whimper. "I heart you."

"What?"

"I heart you," he repeated.

I grinned, one arm around his shoulders, then yawned.

"You should sleep," Frankie told me, looking concerned.

I tried to shrug it off, but I was tired, and eventually flopped back onto the mattress, letting Frank curl up next to me even though he had already gotten some sleep and looked very much awake.

We lay there in comfortable silence in the dim room for a while, until I was drifting gently into sleep behind flickering eyelids.

"Now we gotta go to San Francisco," Frankie muttered lazily at one point, and I opened my mouth to ask what the hell he was talking about, but before the words could surface, I heard his soft laughter, and then I was fast asleep.

***

My consciousness returned to the unpleasant feeling of someone poking anxiously at my forearm. ''Fucking christ..." I muttered, still half-asleep, rolling over to escape the discomfort.

The prodding still continued. "Gee..."

"Fuck off!" I moaned, but sat up abruptly, shoving the covers down to my waist. Blinking at the sunlight filtering through the blinds, I realized that Frankie was standing beside the bed, pouting slightly. I smiled a little and sighed reluctantly. "Oh, I'm sorry."

Frankie grinned, and the mattress bounced as he sat down next to me. "Sleep well?"

"Better than you... no nightmares," I said guiltily.

He nodded, more serious for a minute, but then his smile returned. "What do you wanna do today before you go home?"

"Uh... Fuck you?" Couldn't say that. I shrugged. "Whatever you want."

"Can we get ice cream?"

Not the first thought that had come to my mind, but Frankie looked so excited about it that the enthusiasm was contagious. "Sure. The closest place is back down by the theater, so I guess we can walk."

''Okay!"

I got out of bed and stretched, then collected the room key and my cellphone before joining Frankie at the door.

We checked out at the office, where a completely different man was watching the front desk, then started back the way we'd come the day before.

The ice cream place was nearly empty because it had been raining so heavily the day before, and temperatures had dropped. The girl behind the counter looked up from her homework as we walked in, then got up and came over. Her name tag read 'Tanya.'

"Can I help you?"

I looked at Frankie.

He grinned. "Can I have chocolate? In a cone? With sprinkles?"

"You sure can," Tanya said, amusement in her voice.

"Lots of sprinkles," Frankie added seriously.

"Lots of sprinkles it is." She turned to me. "And you?"

"Vanilla. Um, no sprinkles."

Next to me, Frank looked disappointed.

I melted. "Alright, alright. I want sprinkles too."

"Lots of 'em."

"Yeah, Frankie. Lots of them."

After we had paid, I followed Frankie outside to a park bench on the cement of the sidewalk and sat down. He leaned his head on my shoulder and licked his ice cream cone slowly.

Fuck. That was erotic. I tried to turn my attention to my own purchase, but I kept glancing back to Frank and his stupid chocolate ice cream cone.

Finally, he caught me staring and shot me a wide grin. "Is it me, or do you just wish you'd bought chocolate?"

"Fuck, Frankie. You're too goddamn sexy."

His smile grew even more, and he scooted closer to me, leaning down towards my ice cream. "If you're not gonna eat it..." He took a big lick, smearing vanilla all over his mouth. "Damn. Got a napkin?"

"I've got a better idea." I bent my neck and kissed his sticky lips.

"Mmm, that is better." He went back to his own ice cream with another wide smile in my direction.

We sat there together in silence for a while, but there was something on my mind that I had to ask him.

"Hey, Frankie?"

"Yeah?"

"D'you really forgive me for... what I did?"

His eyes were wide with sincerity. "Honest, Gee. I do."

"But you can't possibly have right away..."

He nodded. "It hurt a lot at first... I was confused, and I couldn't even believe it... I kept thinking, why the fuck me? Why do the people who are s'posed to love me always hurt me?" He swallowed. "But Gee, you came back for me... You saved me. You came back and you drove me home, and you saved my f-fucking life. And I still loved you and everything."

"Look... I've done a lot of shitty things, to myself and other people, but hurting you... That was the worst mistake of my life."

"Everybody makes mistakes, Gerard. Maybe you don't know, but you've done so much good stuff for me too. It doesn't matter about my dad now 'cause I've got you... It still hurts, but I know you'll help me." He brushed my hair out of my face, then kissed me gently.

I sighed. "God, I love you. You know I'd do anything for you."

"Help me find an apartment?" he teased.

"If you want."

"Maybe I can just sleep on your floor."

"Oh, yeah," I said sarcastically. "Mikey would love it."

"Can I have his room?" Frankie grinned.

"No, maybe you and I can share... We're pretty close."

He smirked, leaning over for another lick of my ice cream. "We'd keep Mikey awake, though."

"Not if you'd stop giving me those sex eyes, fucker..."

Frankie grinned mischievously as I reached over and ruffled his hair, leaning his head back on my arm and snuggling close on the park bench.

He was mine. Finally, after everything, Frankie was mine and I loved him, and I was never ever going to let him go, or let him get hurt.

"Do you really love me?" he murmured softly, in a voice that said he already knew the answer.

"More than I ever thought I'd love anyone, ever. God, I just wish that there wasn't so much shit in between... everything I've done to you... everything your father's done to you..."

"Let's just forget about it, Gee," Frankie whispered as his warm fingers found mine. "Please. I wanna pretend that it's just us two; that love is everything they talk about, pain and hope and lust and chemicals and revenge, and hearts and guns and bloodstains and 'I love you's' and rainclouds and candy hearts... Just you and me, forever, like that."

"We're never gonna make it, Frankie..." I murmured quietly.

"I don't wanna make it," he told me honestly, staring straight into my eyes. "I just wanna-"

Copyright 2006 someonesxsweetheart