Status: Active and typing.
Freight Hopper
.09
Frank’s heart is pounding, and he knows he’s still not up to full strength. He shouldn’t, really shouldn’t, be running, and he can feel sharp pain begin to arise in his chest, and he knows Judy will murder him if he comes home sick. Gerard calls his name from behind, and he’s so close Frank swear he can smell him, but he won’t stop; he can’t, just can’t face it, doesn’t know what it would to to him. Gerard terrifies him, always has. He’s focused directly ahead, and right as his foot touches the first bit of worn asphalt, a horn blares in his ear, someone screams from behind him, and his eyes widen in fear, but strong arms grasp his chest and yank him backward. His chest is heaving, and the taxi driver is shouting obscenities at him and flips him off before finally taking off at record speed.
It’s not until it’s all over, and everyone is staring that he realizes he knows these arms, knows the feeling that has erupted in his chest, doesn’t even think of asking. He wishes it was a stranger, wishes desperately he could turn around to an unfamiliar face, thank them with unfaltering gratitude, and walk away with the promise of being alive and well. But he can’t. Can't because, as fate has promised him, it is Gerard’s arms holding him tightly. Gerard’s. Frank turns with the same uncertainty and reluctance as earlier. Gerard is clutching his arm now, utterly unwilling to let go, let him get away and face the prospect of losing him again, but they are faced with silence. Frank’s eyes are clouded with fear, and his chest is bursting in pain, while Gerard stands with his mouth awkwardly hanging open.
“I, I...” he stutters.
“Let me go,” Frank whispers, “please,” he begs.
“Frank I...I can’t. No, please. You have to come with me.” Frank is shaking his head, tugging at Gerard’s grip, “Please don’t leave me again,” Gerard begs.
Frank just can’t bear to see the pain set in his eyes, just can’t, and he closes his eyes tightly, and, mustering all the courage hidden in the tiniest of crevices within him, he nods.
“Promise?” Gerard asks.
Frank nods again, and Gerard smiles, almost, and pulls Frank into his chest, hugging him with an intensity that makes Frank superbly uncomfortable. He is whispering Frank’s name gently, but with such reverence it seems Frank almost isn’t meant to hear him. There they stand, awkwardly, as Gerard holds him carefully, and Frank, out of kindness really, lightly locks his arms around Gerard’s waist. Gerard, who doesn’t seem to care that Frank isn’t holding him the in the same manner, sighs out of relief, exhaustion, happiness even. He releases Frank, touching his cheek softly, almost in disbelief. He links fingers with Frank, and smiles, but the moment he takes a step, his leg buckles involuntarily, and he cries out in pain. Frank catches his waist instantly. stopping his fall.
“Gerard? What’s wrong?”
Gerard sighs as Frank hoists him up, cringing slightly, “It’s a...I have a bad leg. I shouldn’t have run after you like that. My cane is back in my car, though.”
“Here, lean on me.” Frank accepts the force of his weight against his own; it’s a slow, silent process back to Gerard’s car. Both are at an utter loss for words, but even if he knew what to say, Frank is unwilling to talk, about anything, even the weather.
Mikey is sitting on the hood of Gerard’s car when they approach, Kamry leaning against the opposite side, nervously rubbing her hands together. When Mikey notices them, he grabs Gerard’s cane from the trunk, and jogs to the pair quickly. He takes Gerard from Frank, “You okay?” and Gerard nods, taking the cane from him, “I need to sit,” he says, and Mikey guides him to the car warily.
Frank stays where he is, unsure of what to do. Kamry is wringing her hands together when she reaches him. “Hey,” she says in a small voice.
“Hi,” Frank replies.
“Are you all right?”
Frank considers this; he’s terrified, his courage hanging by a thread, and he’s still speechless, but there is a feeling deep inside of him that think things might turn out all right, just might.
“Maybe,” he tells her.
Kamry smiles, and embraces him, “Don’t run off on me like that. You scared me.”
“Sorry,” he murmurs into her hair. Gerard is watching them from the car now, with a muddled, hurt expression, causing Frank to break their hug. They lock eyes, but Frank feels as though Gerard’s eyes are entirely foreign, new to him, and he’s not sure what to do with that. Kamry smiles from beside him, and pulls a cough drop out of her pocket. “Here, I know you need it.”
Frank pops it into his mouth gratefully, glancing again at Gerard, who looks terrified of whether or not Frank will dart off into the other direction.
“Are you going with them?”
Frank nods slowly, “I promised,” he says.
“I’m coming with you then.” Frank’s initial reaction is to argue, but he stops himself when he realizes it would be nice to have her along.
Mikey is driving, mixed in soft conversation with Kamry. Their conversation is amiable, harmless, but the tension in the backseat is painfully unbearable, and Frank wants nothing more than to throw himself out of the car and run as fast as he can, to the tracks, Kamry’s apartment, anywhere. He knows he can’t though. He can’t run from this anymore, and he knows, this moment, this day, he must face this, must face him.
It’s not until it’s all over, and everyone is staring that he realizes he knows these arms, knows the feeling that has erupted in his chest, doesn’t even think of asking. He wishes it was a stranger, wishes desperately he could turn around to an unfamiliar face, thank them with unfaltering gratitude, and walk away with the promise of being alive and well. But he can’t. Can't because, as fate has promised him, it is Gerard’s arms holding him tightly. Gerard’s. Frank turns with the same uncertainty and reluctance as earlier. Gerard is clutching his arm now, utterly unwilling to let go, let him get away and face the prospect of losing him again, but they are faced with silence. Frank’s eyes are clouded with fear, and his chest is bursting in pain, while Gerard stands with his mouth awkwardly hanging open.
“I, I...” he stutters.
“Let me go,” Frank whispers, “please,” he begs.
“Frank I...I can’t. No, please. You have to come with me.” Frank is shaking his head, tugging at Gerard’s grip, “Please don’t leave me again,” Gerard begs.
Frank just can’t bear to see the pain set in his eyes, just can’t, and he closes his eyes tightly, and, mustering all the courage hidden in the tiniest of crevices within him, he nods.
“Promise?” Gerard asks.
Frank nods again, and Gerard smiles, almost, and pulls Frank into his chest, hugging him with an intensity that makes Frank superbly uncomfortable. He is whispering Frank’s name gently, but with such reverence it seems Frank almost isn’t meant to hear him. There they stand, awkwardly, as Gerard holds him carefully, and Frank, out of kindness really, lightly locks his arms around Gerard’s waist. Gerard, who doesn’t seem to care that Frank isn’t holding him the in the same manner, sighs out of relief, exhaustion, happiness even. He releases Frank, touching his cheek softly, almost in disbelief. He links fingers with Frank, and smiles, but the moment he takes a step, his leg buckles involuntarily, and he cries out in pain. Frank catches his waist instantly. stopping his fall.
“Gerard? What’s wrong?”
Gerard sighs as Frank hoists him up, cringing slightly, “It’s a...I have a bad leg. I shouldn’t have run after you like that. My cane is back in my car, though.”
“Here, lean on me.” Frank accepts the force of his weight against his own; it’s a slow, silent process back to Gerard’s car. Both are at an utter loss for words, but even if he knew what to say, Frank is unwilling to talk, about anything, even the weather.
Mikey is sitting on the hood of Gerard’s car when they approach, Kamry leaning against the opposite side, nervously rubbing her hands together. When Mikey notices them, he grabs Gerard’s cane from the trunk, and jogs to the pair quickly. He takes Gerard from Frank, “You okay?” and Gerard nods, taking the cane from him, “I need to sit,” he says, and Mikey guides him to the car warily.
Frank stays where he is, unsure of what to do. Kamry is wringing her hands together when she reaches him. “Hey,” she says in a small voice.
“Hi,” Frank replies.
“Are you all right?”
Frank considers this; he’s terrified, his courage hanging by a thread, and he’s still speechless, but there is a feeling deep inside of him that think things might turn out all right, just might.
“Maybe,” he tells her.
Kamry smiles, and embraces him, “Don’t run off on me like that. You scared me.”
“Sorry,” he murmurs into her hair. Gerard is watching them from the car now, with a muddled, hurt expression, causing Frank to break their hug. They lock eyes, but Frank feels as though Gerard’s eyes are entirely foreign, new to him, and he’s not sure what to do with that. Kamry smiles from beside him, and pulls a cough drop out of her pocket. “Here, I know you need it.”
Frank pops it into his mouth gratefully, glancing again at Gerard, who looks terrified of whether or not Frank will dart off into the other direction.
“Are you going with them?”
Frank nods slowly, “I promised,” he says.
“I’m coming with you then.” Frank’s initial reaction is to argue, but he stops himself when he realizes it would be nice to have her along.
Mikey is driving, mixed in soft conversation with Kamry. Their conversation is amiable, harmless, but the tension in the backseat is painfully unbearable, and Frank wants nothing more than to throw himself out of the car and run as fast as he can, to the tracks, Kamry’s apartment, anywhere. He knows he can’t though. He can’t run from this anymore, and he knows, this moment, this day, he must face this, must face him.