Passing Looks and Disappointed Faces

[Frank's P.O.V.]

I hadn't noticed in all this time but there were tears slowly making their way down my face, their cold moisture ignored by my preoccupied mind. Gerard noticed however and, as if he couldn't control what he was doing, he touched his lips to a tear on my cheek. And in this way he brushed away all the tears I had. His skin was comforting; a touch of peace in this nightmare I was living. He finally placed a tear-laden kiss on my forehead, pulling away to look at me. My tears were gone and so was the lump in my throat.

"I'm not going to get better, Gee," I muttered and it was the truth. He shook his head as if he willed my words false.

"You will." He pressed another gentle kiss to the top of my head. It was as if he couldn't bear the sight of me before him. I didn't want him to think that way. Still, he should loathe me. He should loathe the very sight of me and curse the Heavens for having placed me in his path. Instead he was accepting it, even embracing it. I shook my head at my thoughts. As long as I didn't think of Dorian, I was safe.

I allowed him to lead me down the hallway and into the kitchen where he began rummaging with fervor in the cabinets. "D'you drink?" he asked after a moment, pushing aside pots and pans with loud clangs.

"Yeah." He nodded to himself, continuing his fervent search through the cabinets, pulling open drawers. Clangs of metal and dull thuds echoed through the air along with his quiet murmuring and curses. Finally, he turned to the trash can and with a yell of triumph he retrieved a bottle.

"Damn him. Remind me to get my little brother later, m'kay?" I cocked an eyebrow, willing myself to focus only on his actions and not on anything else. I did this so intensely I nearly missed his words. Still I nodded, watching him as he ran the bottle under water, rinsing away coffee grinds and other assorted pieces of trash. Once he was satisfied that the bottle was clean, he popped it open, inhaling the bitter aroma. He poured two cups, handing one to me. His was gone in a few seconds while I merely stared at mine. Somehow I couldn't bear drink this vile mixture of alcohol, though I wouldn't hesitate on other occasions.

He gave me this look, cocking an eyebrow, "You can drink it, you know." I gave him quite a sardonic look that said something along the lines of a very sarcastic "No". He shrugged, pouring himself another glass, taking a sip. I finally picked mine up, taking a small sip. It burned going down my throat but I didn't mind at all. Pleased, I took another mouthful and another until I drained the glass, smacking my lips in satisfaction. He grinned, refilling it. I stared down at the crystal liquid before deciding I needed this. If there was any way to forget what had happened in the past hour, this would be it.

Another glass was drained and then another and he was hesitant to pour me anymore. I was angry; I wanted to forget and I still hadn't. Turning his eyes away, he poured a small amount and this I drained as well. "Gee, please more?" I offered him the glass and he took it. I watched, hoping for another shot; he turned around to place the cup in the sink. "Hey! What are you doing?" I stood up, trying to rush and take the bottle so I could continue drinking. My footsteps were slow and unsteady. He held it out of my reach easily.

"You've had enough," he muttered, placing it on top of a cabinet where I couldn't possibly grab it. I glared at him; I hadn't had enough at all.

"No, I haven't," I insisted, my voice a snarl. He sighed, placing his hands on my shoulders, pushing me away slightly.

"Yes, you have." I pushed him, trying to reach the bottle again. A mindless rage coursed through my veins, pumping through me and pricking like needles. There was no way I could continue living; there was no way I could survive the act.

"Let me have it, Gerard."

"It's mine and I won't have you drinking anymore." I turned away, frustrated. There was no way in hell he would ever understand.

"Fuck you," I growled. He lowered his head, looking down at his feet. I softened against my wishes, noting the sadness in his eyes. He was obviously shaken up about this- less than me surely but just the same, he was- and this was affecting him as well. After all, he was the one who had found me; who had seen the man as well. It was he who had dragged my limp body to his house and gave me somewhere to stay. Through the haze obscuring my mind, I somehow noticed all this and shame rose up in me like the bile and blood in my throat.

"I don't mean it, Gee," I whispered, stepping closer to him again, my head a throbbing mess. "Fix me. Fix my head. Fix me please because I don't want to be dead." He gave me a smirk, ruffling my hair softly.

"Black Flag, huh?" I nodded and he pulled me in for a brief hug. "You'll get better, you'll see," he then said but his words lacked conviction. If he didn't believe it, how could I? I shook my head, looking down at the counter. The dots, lines and scratches melded together, swirling before my eyes.

"I'm going insane," I muttered and I was certain of it, much more certain than he could ever be on my well-being. I continued staring at the swirling mass of black before me. I watched as patterns formed and then faded away as if they were never there. I felt weak, light-headed, as I stood there staring at the spinning patterns. "You know what, Gee? I think I'm going to faint."

Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see him begin to panic; he hadn't drunk enough to be completely out of it. "Come now, Frankie. You can't do that." I chuckled; as if I could control something like that. And then every tie holding me to this; everything that was suppressing the feelings and holding down every heart-wrenching emotion snapped. As if the strings holding me upright broke, I collapsed. Every emotion burst out, overwhelming my heart. It swelled to the point of bursting, pressing against my sternum, cracking it. My lungs seemed to swell as well but it also appeared every molecule of air was ripped from them, leaving me breathless.

My tear ducts began working at overtime, causing tears to spring to my eyes and spill down my face. I taste their salty moisture on my dry lips, soaking them. I taste my own desperation, my own fear and panic. I taste my shame and guilt. I taste my blood and his. It seems to be draining from my body, leaving me weak and lifeless, leaving me dead on the floor of the kitchen. He panics, his hands ghosting over me. I can barely feel them. Breathing is no longer something to be taken for granted but an incredibly impossible action.

"C'mon Frank, stop," he says but his voice reaches me from far away. My vision blurs, spots of dark dancing in front of my eyes. I can't hear well; every sense is dulled. My stomach sends pangs of pain to my nerves, traveling to my brain. Nothing makes sense; nothing matters right now. Controlling myself was impossible; there was no way to cease my pained crying. Nothing could soothe my frayed nerves; nothing could fix my broken strings.

His hands hoist me up and press me against his warm body and yet I can't feel them holding me. It's as if I'm weightless, floating without any will of my own. I can remotely feel his hands clutch at the fabric of the shirt, pulling it taut against my skin. Still, it affects me in nothing; all I can focus on is the hopeless sobs causing my body to shake without consolation. There is nothing I can do, nothing he can do until I fade away again. And slowly I do, my sobs subsiding as exhaustion infiltrates my system. My thoughts are jumbled, whizzing in my mind in a flurry of confusion.

I think of everything from my first ever CD of Black Flag to first grade geography to twelfth grade Pre-Calculus. Therefore my thoughts run along the lyrics of Revenge, the capital of the United States, how to change a logarithmic equation into an exponential one and the certainty of dying. The first two do not hold any weight to me at the moment and the third only does because I need that information for a test later on in the week. However, it is the third that frightens me to a certain extent. This is not because I fear death necessarily but because I fear how I'll die. What if my death will come to me in the form of his long-awaited revenge? Or, what if I die a lackluster death? What if I die because I was clumsy and tripped down the stairs? At least if I am to die, I wish to die a worthwhile and possibly noble death.

Noting my sobs had gone (I was now completely engrossed in the concept of my death) he loosened his grip on my shirt. My senses were still dulled and there was exhaustion pervading me but still I was very much alive. At least I hadn't died in a nervous breakdown. "You okay, Frankie?" I shook my head; what did he want me to answer? Sure I had survived this episode but what about the next time? What of my overall sanity? What of my once cheerful disposition? There is no way for me to answer my own questions though there still nags the certainty that I will die.

And what a worthless certainty! Everyone dies. All of us will end up dying in one of hundreds of ways. It may not be today, maybe not tomorrow, next week or next year but I will die and so will everyone who surrounds me. Maybe they'll die alone or by threes. Maybe they'll all perish in an instant, in a tragedy. Maybe I'll be the first to go, or maybe I'll be the last. Still, I will die. We all die.

"Come on, Frank. Don't do this to me," he mutters, his voice rumbling in his chest. It is a mark of my life, amazingly. I am alive; I can still feel, hear, see, smell, taste. I am still alive and it kills me.

"Why do you care so much?" I say, noting the way my voice is hoarse and cracked. I have used it so much I have worn it down. He seems shocked at my question by the way he remains in silence for what seems to be hours but was only seconds. He sighs, pressing me tight to me as if he were afraid to let me go. It surprises me the way he cares so much about a stranger.

"Because,"-he pauses, silence around our still bodies-"because I care." I sigh; it was not the answer I was hoping for. Still, I can only be satisfied with it and accept it. It does nothing to help me but at the same time it tames my swelling heart