Passing Looks and Disappointed Faces

[Frank's P.O.V.]

My breathing was terribly erratic as I finally exited the building, promising the officer that I would get myself checked into a hospital; like hell I would. My mind was buzzing from everything I had divulged, my entire body shaking from the memories. They coursed through my head, pounding against the walls of my skull, ripping through my brain. I let a whimper escape from my trembling lips, reaching up a hand to tug at my lower lip. It felt strange to not have the loop in place, touching my skin and I stopped, holding out my hand to Gerard who was waiting by the stairs. He reached into his pocket, putting it into my hand, keeping his eyes locked on mine.

I swallowed hard, tearing my gaze from his. Lip ring firmly in place, I began walking away again, keeping my arms crossed over my chest. If he died...If he died there was a possibility, a probability that I might get jail time. They could sentence me with manslaughter due to imperfect self-defense; I could face charges of so much. I could rot in jail and every day would be a torture. They probably were all homophobes who wouldn't even wait a heartbeat to crush me into the ground. I rubbed at my face tiredly; this was too much for me to handle. The mere possibility was too much.

He caught up to me, spinning me around into his embrace. I melted into it eagerly, burying my face into the crook of his neck. He held me tight, rocking me gently into his body though I was showing no real sign of distress. I'm guessing it was simple habit already to hold me this way and reassure me despite my lack of physical anguish. He pulled apart a bit, forcing my gaze into his face. His eyes were shining from unshed tears and his lower lip quivered.

Stunned, I simply looked at him, wondering what could have brought about this sudden change in attitude. He said nothing, bringing his shaking lips down to mine. They were cold, clashing with the warmth of my own, clashing with the soft warmth even my lip ring had. His entire body was cold and he shivered against me. I could do nothing more than hold him tightly, kissing him back with as much fervor as possible. He pulled apart and looked into my eyes, his lips burning now with words he was holding back. For some reason, I knew what they were and I knew that he feared them.

What if I rejected his words? What if I caused him pain others must have? I'll never cause him pain intentionally, never. I took a half-step towards him, bringing my hand to his neck, twirling my finger around a lock of hair. I loved his raven strands; they always seemed to be so soft, almost like silk. Sighing, I pressed my lips against his again, the gentle touch of his skin soothing. I could lie to him right here, tell him I didn't love him, tell him he should leave me. I could lie and tell him it would be better if he never saw me again. The truth was that I couldn't possibly do that. I couldn't lie to him.

It was impossible. I looked into his eyes, searching for the words he longed to speak. I found them with a smile which he returned, rubbing his hands up and down my arms. "Leave me," I whispered, just to see if I could lie to him. My words lacked conviction, my voice was small.

"Never," he replied with ferocity, capturing my lips with his. "Never," he repeated tenderly, leaning down to bury his face in the crook of my neck. "Never." I could feel a cold moisture dripping through my shirt, slipping onto my skin. I embraced his body, trying to minimize his quaking; I couldn't. "N-never," he whispered again, clawing at the back of my shirt. I shushed him, surprised that two little words could reduce him to tears; I never meant for it.

[And I wanted you to know
I never meant for this.]

He finally stopped and I pulled away, trying to look into his bloodshot eyes. He laughed softly, painfully, avoiding my gaze fervently. I grasped the sides of his face, forcing his eyes to mine. "I never meant it. I don't want you to leave me, ever."

"I know," he muttered but offered no explanation or clarification, looking off towards the station. "She angered me," he suddenly said, his jaw clenching as he stared intently at the imposing building.

"Why?"

"She didn't care about you. She didn't listen, really listen. She's just another of them...She doesn't give a shit about anything; she's fake, a phony. I hate her." I stared at him, confused by his rage; it didn't make much sense to me. His face contorted, his eyes brimming over with furious tears.

"Gee?"

"I don't know you," he whispered, his voice forcefully controlled. "I don't know you at all." A wave of sorrow washed over me as I stared at him; I didn't know him either. And I wanted to. I wanted to know everything about him: what he liked and disliked; his turn-on's and turn-off's; his pet peeves; hell, I wanted to know his middle name if he had one. But the fact of the matter was that I didn't, at least not yet.

"What do you expect then?" I asked, a tint of anger in my voice. "We met yesterday, okay? A lot of shit has happened since then but we've still only got a day together, a day." I seemed to be trying to drill this into his mind every moment but he still didn't understand it.

"I want to know you, Frank. I don't want us to be strangers, okay? I don't want to have to live off the bit of knowledge I have; it's not enough."

"You know more about me than I know about you, Gerard."

"It's not enough. It'll never be enough." I sighed, turning away; there was no point to this argument, none at all. I felt his arms wrap around my abdomen, pressing me against his body. His lips fluttered over my neck, his hair brushing my shoulder. There were no apologies, no excuses exchanged between us; there was simply silence. We stood there a while, staring out into the street, watching various cars zip past us. They never once slowed their pace; never once did they pay any attention to us. This was how I preferred it.

"Let's go home," I muttered, glancing at his face out of the corner of my eyes. He nodded silently, pressing another fluttering kiss against my neck. We began walking towards the car, hips nearly bumping from the proximity between our bodies. We didn't want to be apart, even for a moment. He unlocked the doors, slipping into the vehicle without even a glance toward me. Though it hurt slightly, I understood his reluctance to look at me; he was exhausted from the entire situation, as was I.

I entered the car, leaning against the headrest after I fastened my seatbelt, closing my eyes. There was a steady pounding developing in my temple, throbbing against the walls of my skull. I let out a small groan, rubbing at my forehead in a failed attempt at relieving the pressure. The car was already in motion and the movement did nothing to help my headache. A whimper pushed past my lips and I tried to adjust myself into a more comfortable position though I knew it wouldn't do anything to alleviate the throbbing.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently, moving a hand from the steering wheel to feel my forehead.

"It's just a headache, Gee," I muttered, not bothering to open my eyes, simply reveling in the cool, rough texture of his hand. I leaned into his touch, feeling comfort in the simple sensation of having his hand against my skin.

"If you say so," he sighed, moving his hand away. I nearly whimpered again, feeling at a loss without the touch of his skin. He never replaced his hand and I began slipping in and out of consciousness. It was that strange moment when you're in between sleeping and waking, where you can hear, feel and smell everything but you're virtually immobile. The music from the radio was slowly fading though I could hear every word, every beat and every rhythm. It was strange but nothing mattered because all I wanted was to rid myself of the dull throbbing still taking place in my head.

The sound suddenly began roaring, the car jolting beneath me. I forced myself into full consciousness, raising my face from the car door after getting hit in the side of the head by the glass. Rubbing at the side of my head, I blinked once, twice, trying to get adjusted to a sudden bright light. I looked over, trying to adjust my vision.

And then it happened: the sudden crunching of metal, the sudden splintering of the glass showering upon us like rain. It seemed a beautiful sight, that glittering shower of crystal, until it became tinted in crimson. A scream tore at my lungs, my right arm suddenly experiencing a dreadful pain. With tears blurring my vision, I looked over at him, needing to know what had happened, if he was okay. He was slumped over the steering wheel, his eyes closed, and a trail of blood running down his face.

More screams rent my throat, my vision blackening at the edges. This couldn't happen; I must be dreaming. I must be dreaming. I closed my eyes briefly, opening them to the pounding of my head, the pain in my arm. It was terrific reality again, come to spirit me away from a beautiful dream. It was a dream, this love, these emotions. How could any of this be real?

But then my eyes fell upon the man in the front seat, blood soaking the strands of silken raven hair I cherished. In that instant, I was reminded that it was simply two-faced reality. Frantic tears raced down my face and I reached for his limp hand.

"I love you," I whispered, trying desperately to wake him, to snap him into consciousness. "Please, Gee, I love you." My words were slurred and my vision was blurring as the pain increased. Torn apologies passed my lips, words I can no longer recall. It was all in the moment of helplessness that I spoke, trying to wake him. Exhausted from my efforts, I slumped, resting my head against the dashboard, ignoring the sharp pricking from the glass pressing into my skin. With my hand still clutching his, I allowed myself to fall into the dark pressing in upon my eyes. I couldn't take any more of this accursed situation.