He Calls a Mansion, Not a House, but a Tomb

Gerard took me back to his place in the morning.
It was a silent cab ride, I slept most of the way. I couldn't sleep during the night - way too disturbed by the risen memories.
"I'm sorry, Frank." Gerard whispered, running his fingers through my hair. He had knelt by the side of the couch after he laid me down on it, kissing me and petting my hair gently for the past few minutes.
"Gerard..." I whispered, closing my eyes. I was too afraid to look him in the eye. I had been thinking of saying what I was about to, ever since I spoke to Dr Burke. "I want--"
"Hey!" Mikey's voice called out from the doorway. Gerard turned and I looked over his shoulder to see Mikey, fully clothed in an outfit I recognized as yesterdays. I grinned. I'll make a point to ask him about that later. If there is one.
"Hi, Mikey." Gerard said, smiling at him before returning his attention to me. I then felt out of place, unsure if I should talk about it with Mikey in the room.
I lifted my hand to Gerards cheek, softly stroking him with my thumb. He smiled, his cool fingers wrapping around my wrist. "We can talk later. I want to just practice walking on my own for a bit." I said as convincingly as possible. He nodded, bringing my wrist to his lips for a warm kiss before standing and leaving the room.
After a moment of silence, I was pulled from my dull mind by Mikey.
"Do you want help getting up?" He asked as he approached the couch, sipping a steaming cup which I could only presume contained coffee.
"Yes." My voice nearly stayed in my throat. Mikey set his mug down on the aptly named coffee table and grabbed my hands. He pulled me to a seated position and then to standing. I wobbled slightly, but I was relatively stable.
"Are you okay?" He asked, his hands still holding me around my shoulders. I couldn't help but sense a second meaning to the question and I stared at Mikey for a moment before shrugging.
"I'm fine." I smiled, trying to assure him. He smiled back and took his coffee from the table.
He left the room and I was unsure of what to do with myself. I felt too tired to even walk. I took a deep breath, braced myself, and walked to the front door. Draping myself with my coat, I closed the front door behind me.
I was a little wabbly, and a little dizzy, but I slowly made my way to the park that was down the street from the house. The wind was picking up, bringing a cool breeze brushing against my burning flushed cheeks.
I needed help. I didn't know what to do. I sat on a black-painted wooden bench, pointed towards a dull clouded-out skyline.
I palmed the outline of my phone through my jacket; thinking over whether to call Richard. Or Abbey. I haven't talked to her in a while.
I wanted to talk. To someone. But I couldn't find the will to do it.
I felt weak. I slumped in my seat, closing my eyes, hoping for something to think about other than Gerard. Or Laurent. Or Richard. Or that fucking Dr Burke.
I felt a new warm and nauseating breeze push against my face, engulfing my body in a sticky heat for just a moment. I felt disgusted -- I wanted to leave, and find another spot in which I could relish the cold bitter morning in peace. But, again, I had no will to move.
Then it all slowly faded away. Like meditation -- I wasn't quite aware as it was happening, but it quickly came to realization when I woke with a jolt with a whole new lighting of the park. Pure sunshine; clouds went away. Ugh.
But, I felt a warm hand resting on my shoulder, the other running through my hair.
"Frank, you shouldn't sleep in the park, you know." Gerards voice cooed from behind me.
"Sorry." That was all I could manage out of my mouth.
"Are you okay?"
That god-damned question again!
"I'm fine." I said firmly, but found myself leaning into his touch.
"Do you need help getting up?"
Oh, for fucks sake!
"No, I don't. I don't have my crutches; meaning I got here all by my fucking lonesome! I can certainly manage to get back the same way!" I snapped before I could stop myself. Gerards hands froze, then slipped away.
"You don't have to be like that. I just wanted to help." Gerard mumbled, stepping to the side of the bench.
I looked towards him. He still had a bruise around his nose from last night. It stung me a little with guilt.
It was silent for a few minutes. I was trying to summon the courage to confront Gerard. About everything. Or anything.
The lying. The cheating. The obsession. The disorder...
Any of those would be perfect, if I could only open my mouth.
I dropped my jaw, forcing myself to take a deep inhale before speaking.
"Gerard." He looked at me. His hazel eyes were gleaming in the sun.
"I want you to know, that I do like you. But, there are things I sometimes-- well, all the time -- worry about." He was beginning to be confused; his eyebrows knitting together.
First order of business, "Are you still with Bert?" I looked into his eyes directly for this one. Watching.
"Frankie, I know it's hard to--"
"Don't avoid the question."
I was firm with it now; he was avoiding my gaze.
"Yes; but, I'm going to break up with him. We've been having problems."
I nearly snorted; of course they've been having problems.
"So, I'm the other man? That's fucking perfect..." I muttered, shoving my hands in my coat pockets.
"Frank, I hold you higher than anyone." Gerard said, placing his hand on my arm, kneeling down in front of me.
And, according to Dr Burke, that's the worst thing that should be true right now...
"You shouldn't. We've only known each other for a few months." I tried to slowly phasing in the disorder section of this conversation.
"But, Frank, wouldn't it only make sense for me to care for you this much? I've taken you in and took care of you. I thought we became friends. And then more..."
I wanted to cry.
"Gerard, I think I should go home. For good. It's not healthy for this to go on." I wanted it to be a soft blow. Or at least, I wanted to chicken out and go home and run away from this problem.
"No!" Gerards hands squeezed down on my arms.
"Gerard, stop!" I exclaimed, wriggling free. He fell backwards onto the grass as I stood up, still wobbly.
"Frank, you can't leave!" He shouted, lifting himself off the ground.
"Gerard, you need help!" I began to back away, watching Gerard take swift steps towards me.
"What do you mean? I'm psycho?! What the fuck do you think you're saying, Frank?!" Gerard shouted. He was dangerously close to me - fuming with rage now - and I knew I was getting closer to the fence enclosing the park.
Things were going too fast. I stopped thinking.
"I went to see a psychiatrist--"
"Oh, and I'm the psycho!" Gerard retorted, still advancing.
"...About you! I told her all about you. How you cheated, took me in, about us having sex! This isn't good Gerard. Please stop!"
I realized I had started crying when my back scraped against the fence. Gerard pinned me to the tall wooden structure, plants both his arms on either side of my body. He was glaring at me. "I can't fucking believe this!" He punched the fence next to my elbow.
I closed my eyes; praying for something. Anything.
"G-Gerard, don't hurt me. Please; scream, just don't hurt me!" I stammered quickly. I didn't want to get hurt again. I couldn't think of anything worse. Tears were streaming down my face, seeping through my closed eyes.
"Frank." Gerards voice had become hoarse from the screaming.
I blinked away the tears, watching a blurry Gerard stare down at the ground.
"I-I'm..." He whispered, moving away from me. I was frozen against the fence, watching him move. He looked up to my eyes, then turned and ran.
I felt my heart pounding against my chest, sliding down to sit on the grass. I felt for my phone in my coat pocket.
I pressed 1 on speed dial. Richard.
"What's up, Frank?"
"Umm..." My voice was quivering. "Can you pick me up?"