Love Sick

A bead of sweat runs down my forehead. It travels over the bridge of my nose and dribbles over my top lip, landing on the tip of my dry tongue.

I don’t know where I am. I don’t dare to open my eyes; I’m afraid of what –or who – I might find. I don’t know what has happened to me, and I don’t know how I ended up here. All I know is that I’m scared, and that I’ve never felt so damn terrified in my life.

My arms have been bound to something behind me, my wrists grazing against the cool material that feels somewhat like metal. My muscles are burning; I feel as though somebody has their nails dug into my flesh and are trying desperately to pull off my skin, layer by layer to reveal my bones - my bare remains. Behind my closed eyes, I imagine the acid building up inside the dynamics of my body, I imagine it slowly eating away at my insides and another bead of sweat drops from my chin.

I can feel my fringe falling softly on my forehead, tickling my skin. I have to fight the urge to attempt moving my arms to itch it – it will only hurt more. It feels as though there are tiny bugs crawling over my face, their tiny legs taunting me as they move. As if they know I can’t move. The bugs are getting faster; they’re stomping harder with their tiny feet, their legs. Their eyes staring down at me; hundreds of eyes and hundreds of legs. Spiders.

My eyes fly open on reflex, and I gasp. There are no spiders on my face. There is no-one else in the room. It’s just me; me and my imagination. Tiny dots black out my vision and I blink so I can see clearly again; my eyes are aching now from how tightly I had pressed them together. I turn my head, ignoring the stiffness of my neck as I move, trying to find what is binding my arms. I was right; metal. Handcuffs, digging into my wrist, there is blood dripping down my forearm – my own blood. I feel dizzy and quickly look away, trying to ignore the pain that has suddenly flared up; I think I preferred having my eyes closed.

I start to take in my surroundings in an attempt to take my mind off the pain. The room is painted in a blood red colour; somebody has painted a scene on the walls. It’s amazing if slightly psychotic...though I recognise it from somewhere. As my eyes gaze at the man in the drawing, a knife behind his back and bending over his lover with desperate tears falling down his face, I rack my brains trying to remember where I’d seen it before. Digging through all of my old memories, opening boxes that I’d sealed in my mind, never wanting to think about again –but still not quite being able to remember.

A thousand bodies piled up
I never thought would be enough
to show you just what I’ve been thinking

My eyes catch a flickering in the far corner of the room. A candle; the flame is dancing across the wick – full of energy, full of light. There are photo frames surrounding the candle, but I can’t quite see what the glass is protecting; I can’t see the faces. Squinting, I study the photo closest to me and I start to feel my heartbeat get faster and faster. I recognise that face...because...it’s me.

I can feel my heart in my throat as I study the picture next to it. It too, is me. Now I can see the rest of the photos, I see myself all through high school. Everything seems to be here; my yearbook photos, photos of me on the sports day that I hated so much, photos from gigs, photos of me onstage. I try to swallow, but I can’t get rid of the lump in my throat.

I don’t know who this person is, but they’re stalking me. They know me.

The door creaks and I stifle the scream that’s rising in my throat. I want to close my eyes and pretend I’m asleep, but my eyes are transfixed to the door. My heart is beating so loudly that I can’t even hear my own shallow breaths. The fear overwhelms my body, until I can no longer feel the pain in my wrists; I can’t feel the burning in my arms and then I feel nothing – nothing other than the fear that has taken over every inch of my body.

I watch the door swing open as if in slow motion, I struggle to move my head away, but still my eyes won’t move from the door. Frozen in horror, I watch as somebody steps slowly around the door. I choke back a scream, and push my eyes closed. I can’t watch anymore, I haven’t seen who is in front of me, and I don’t want to. It’s all just a dream, I tell myself,it must be.

Despite what I’m telling myself, I can feel a tear push its way through the closed curtain of my eye, and burn a path down my face, mingling with the moisture on my sweat drenched t-shirt.

“Frankie?”

My eyes fly open at the sound of his velvet voice, and my heart starts to race inside my chest. The moment I see his beautiful face, I no longer have the ability to control the tears running down my face. No longer with fear though. No, these were tears of relief.

“Oh Frankie, don’t be scared.”

I watch as Gerard takes a few, remaining steps towards me slowly, reaching up to caress my face with his soft hands. I can’t help but stare into the hazel eyes that I’ve always loved, if only in secret. I don’t know how I can tell him, how to let him know that I’m gay. But now he’s here. He came to help me. I smile at him, though I can only imagine how much of a mess I look through my tears and bloodshot eyes.

“You’ve come to save me!” I try to smile at him, though my mind is clouded, worrying now about my Gee getting hurt. “Get me down...before they come.”

I wait impatiently for him to reach up and unhook my wrists from their captives; my eyes scan his body for any signs of movement, but see nothing other than his sympathetic smile fading into a frown. I want to move, I want to shake him and ask him what’s taking him so long but I can’t. I can’t do anything but watch.

“Gerard? Help me. Get me down!” There’s a hysterical edge to my voice. I want him to help me. I need to get down before whoever done this to me captures him too.

“I’m sorry, Frank.” He mumbles, and shakes his head. I watch as his black hair frames his ashen face, his jaw line prominent as he clenches his teeth with some overpowering emotion. I’d noticed him doing that for the past few days; staring into space a lot. Was this why?

My arms screamed in protest as I tried to move, throwing myself from side to side against the handcuffs. I needed to get out; I needed to get away from here.

Gerard is watching me, his eyes following the sharp, jutted movements of my body as I try to wrench myself free. I knew that he was waiting for me to tire myself out so he could start this sick game, but I didn’t know why.

As my energy slowly starts to fade, I take a quick look at my wrists – now drenching my whole arm in the warm, thick, red liquid that drips slowly down my burning forearm to my elbow. I don’t dare risk a glance at the man I had secretly loved for so long; scared of the manic glint I might see in his eye.

“Frank...Look at me.”

I ignore his words, and hang my head to my wet t-shirt and I start to sob. Silently at first, but the sobs build up louder and louder in my throat, until my throat is sore and I have no more tears to cry. He is still watching me as I let the tears dry on my cheeks, and finally look up at him with swollen, blotted eyes.

He comes closer. So close I can feel his warm breath on my cheek, and despite myself I crave for his touch. I long for his arms enveloping me, his lips on mine. So long have I imagined my hands running through his hair as he whispers his love.

Suddenly his arms are around me, and my body relaxes into his. He lays his head on my chest, and sighs into my t-shirt. I can do nothing to show him that I love him, so I close my eyes and try to imprint the feeling of his arms around my waist into my memory. I can smell his oh-so –familiar scent, the mix of coconut and cigarettes that is always so perfect, so distinct, so...Gerard.

He starts to untangle his arms from around my body and I want to cry out for him to come back, but he doesn’t retreat. Instead, he reaches up and strokes my cheek, his touch so gentle – just how I’d always imagined, maybe even better than how I’d dreamed it would be.

“I wish you could be mine,” He whispers, so quietly I can barely hear him – so quietly I don’t think I’m meant to hear him so I say nothing, and then he’s kissing me. At first just a peck at the corner of my lips, but I’m greedy for more. Before he gets too far away, I push my lips to his, kissing him desperately, passionately. I want to let him know how long I’ve wanted to call him mine. To be able to feel his hand in mine without waking up wishing that it was real. He breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead on mine. I can feel his quick breaths on my lips, and crave for one more kiss.

His hands stroke my tangled hair, knotting his fingers between thick strands gently as my eyes study his face. I scream out suddenly as a sharp pain rips through my skull. Gerard pulls his hand away, and emotionlessly drops my midnight black hair onto the floor. He pushes himself away from me, and stares at me – his eyes now hard, cold and angry.

“Why tease me, Frank?”

I shook my head, unable to find words. The back of my head throbs, and a warm liquid drips down my neck. I can’t make myself look at his hard eyes anymore so I drop my gaze to his shoes and say nothing.

“Why?!” His hand withdraws and he slaps me. My head is thrown against my shoulder, and I try my best to ignore the stinging sensation. I don’t look at him, and I don’t answer him. I don’t know what he’s doing, and I don’t know what I’ve done. Tears sting at my eyes but I blink them back, biting my lip to force them away. When I finally look at Gerard, he’s no longer watching me. Instead, he’s across the room, his soundless trainers giving me no warning.

“It’s time, sugar.”

He smiles at me, and pushes over a metal table. The wheels squeak as they turn, and in my warped brain, it starts to sound like laughing.

“Time for what?” I manage to ask. My voice shakes, and I can do nothing to fight the terror from my voice. I keep my eyes trained on Gerard, but I can’t see what’s on the table, he pushes it to the side of me where he knows I won’t be able to see and laughs. His laugh fills the room, though it’s not a laugh I’d ever heard before – this one is manic, psychotic.

“You’ll see.” He smiles at me, and I suddenly grow scared of his mood swings. He reaches for the table, and picks up something. He holds it up in front of his face so I can see it, and my eyes widen considerably. I shrink away from him, my aching back groaning as I try to bend it further.

“Gerard,” I whisper, “What are the scissors for?”

“I’ll be careful.”

Taking hold of the hem on my favourite ‘Coca Cola’ shirt, he slips the blade underneath and starts to cut. He takes his time, pausing every few seconds to glance at my face. I try to keep my breath steady, but when Gerard had finished cutting my t-shirt, the split remains left hanging lifelessly by my sides; he pushes the blade into the skin of my neck. I feel myself gasp quickly, my breath catching in my throat and stare at Gerard.

“See, I told you I’d be careful.” Smirking at me, he pulls the blade away and drops it onto the table, the sound crashing through the otherwise silent room. I exhale breathily, but keep my eyes on Gerard as he reaches forward and touches my chest with his cold hand.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited...”

I shudder involuntarily as his hands travel from my collar bone, slowly moving down over my chest. He stops for a moment, and plants a small kiss on my shoulder blade. My body tenses with the movement, and for a moment I need to be in his arms; I need him to hold me, love me and kiss away the pain that’s screaming around my veins with every pulse.

“How long I’ve wanted you in my arms...”

His hands travel further down onto my stomach, tracing my ‘Search and Destroy’ tattoo. He leans forward, his breath on my chest raising the hair on the back of my neck, his black hair falling onto my skin, tickling me. He kisses the spot above my belly button, and then continues down until he’s facing the top of my trousers.

“How long I’ve dreamed about this...”

I’m too pre-occupied in my bliss to notice his hand moving away from my body, too far away from reality to see the knife in his hands. And suddenly there’s a pain in my abdomen, a pain so bad that I don’t make a sound, but I gasp noiselessly for air and tears spring to my eyes and don’t hesitate before falling down my cheeks.

“Oops, sorry,” Through my blurry vision, I can see Gerard smiling. “This might sting a little...”
I can’t breathe, I don’t know how deep my wound is, but I can feel myself becoming weaker. Suddenly I feel a different kind of moisture, and I swivel my eyes down as quickly as I can – the motion makes me dizzy, and I forget where I am for a moment. But then my eyes focus again and I see Gerard, my Gee....licking the blood from my wounds.

I feel the cold metal of the blade tracing my skin, but not puncturing and shuddered against the feeling.

“I wanted to tell you.” Gerard starts, his gaze now fixed on the tattoo that he’s tracing the knife along harmlessly. “But Frank’s not gay is he. Frank’s quite the lady’s man.”

“You don’t know how long,” His tone is aggressive now, the knife digging in a little bit deeper. “You don’t know how many times I’ve been up crying all night because of you!”

“I didn’t know,” My voice is high pitched, scared “I couldn’t tell you I was gay.”

“Liar!”

Before I can register what’s happening, the knife is once again plunged into my skin but this time I do make a noise. I let out a blood-curling scream that echoes off the walls. The tears fall helplessly onto my cheeks.

“You know what I’ve always said, Sugar. Three cheers for sweet revenge, hey?”

I find myself struggling with breath, and the salty tears falling from my face mingle with my blood and somewhere distant I can feel a stinging sensation. But the pain has started to numb my body, and I can’t control myself. I’m not myself now, I’m only watching from the outside as I get tortured by the only person I’ve ever loved.

“Don’t,” I breathe, “Don’t...Gerard. Please.”

“Aw, Sugar. But you don’t understand.” He looks into my eyes, his face only inches from mine. I don’t try to lie to myself, I’m not scared of the manic look in his eye – I’m petrified. “I’m going to cut out your heart.”

His voice is raw, excited and now he’s grinning. He runs his hand down my naked chest and presses a kiss to my lips.

“I’m going to cut out your heart, and I’m going to keep it. Because then, Frankie, your heart will be mine.”

He’s gentler this time as he pushes the knife carefully into my skin but then my vision blurs and I...

-End P.O.V-

Frank was getting weaker with each passing second, slipping in and out of consciousness. Ignoring the blood pooling on to the floor, Gerard held the cool knife against Franks pulsing artery.

“Tell me you love me, Frank.”

Frank couldn’t answer as he struggled to keep his eyes trained on Gerard. He took a sharp breath in, and waited for the dizziness to clear.

“Tell me! Lie to me if you have to. Damnit, Frankie – tell me you love me!”

“I was never lying.” He fought against the darkness pressing around his vision, against the pressure slowly suffocating him. “I love you.”

And with his last burst of energy, Frank leaned forwards and pressed his cold, bloodied lips against Gerard’s for a brief second before collapsing against the handcuffs that bound him. But then, slowly, his eyes flickered open as he waited for the next move. For a second, Gerard stood unmoving, but then he pulled at the arteries, severing them with a single swipe of the knife to a final, bloody cry of agony. Frank fell lifelessly forward, caught only by the metal around his wrists.

Without thinking, the man loosened the handcuffs and watched the figure fall onto the floor. But in his hands was what he thought really mattered to him. He glanced towards the body, and then looked down at what he was cradling in his hands -the object that he’d wanted for so long.

Silhouetting the image on the wall, Gerard dropped the heart, leaving it discarded by his side as the impact of what he done finally hit him. He leant over Frank’s fragile, cold frame and sobbed, his lifeless hand entwined with Gerard’s, the room eerie, Gee suddenly realised. There was no happy ending, not this time.

“I’m sorry, Sugar.” Gerard’s whole body shook with his sobs, tears landing on his love’s massacred body. “I wish it could have been different.” His voice turned into a whisper, and he pressed his lips to the boys in a way he had been dreaming of since they’d met.

“I love you.”