Passing Looks and Disappointed Faces

[Gerard's P.O.V.]

All the rage had seeped from the room, taken away by the passion of the sexual tension that had been released. Our arms were wrapped around our sweat-soaked bodies, hugging the other close despite the fact that there was no need for any warmth. The night was passing steadily as we rested our tired bodies, completely spent from our activities. He was resting his flushed face on my chest, eyes closed and raven hair brushing against the beads of sweat collected on my skin. He seemed so fragile then, body completely bare, vulnerable and exposed.

Subconsciously, I pulled him closer, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. The argument had been pointless, just a way to release all the tension knotting our muscles; just a way to get rid of the stress. Now that all that had been released, I felt strangely empty, holding on tight to the boy next to me. He stirred for a moment, malachite eyes blinking wearily into mine. I shushed him gently, stroking his back until he dropped his head back onto my chest, eyes fluttering closed. He looked so peaceful, eyelashes kissing his cheeks so tenderly, butterflies brushing gentle wings over his skin

His chest rose and fell slowly with each breath, his heartbeat mingling with mine; two messed up hearts beating in time. His arms tightened just the slightest around my torso, his face nuzzling against my ribcage before he fell limp again. I moved a hand to run it through his hair, smoothing down the wet locks plastered to his scalp. When he didn't respond, I carefully tried to move the sheets from underneath us without bothering him. Unfortunately, it didn't work out too well and he groaned, opening his eyes again to look at me, weary and sleepy.

"Just go back to sleep, Frankie," I whispered gently, taking advantage of his consciousness to lift him, tugging the blankets out from beneath his frail body. He whimpered, hiding his face in my chest once I lay back down again. He was shaking now, holding onto me tightly as I wrapped the sheets around our sticky bodies. I shushed him again, gently running my hand up and down his back, waiting until his eyes fluttered closed and he dropped back to sleep.

He didn't stir again, hopelessly lost in his dreams as I remained awake, staring at the confines of his room. It was messy, clothes scattered across the ground, a guitar leaning against the wall. It was much smaller than my room but it was cozier, warmer and I enjoyed it. The window was open, a light breeze making the curtains flutter, the moonlight drifting in through the opening. I didn't want to get up and close it, unable to tear myself away from the boy in my arms. He mumbled something in his sleep, pressing against me tighter, his legs wrapping around mine. There was nothing sexual in the way his small frame pressed up against mine; I only felt an overwhelming need to protect.

I pressed another gentle kiss to his forehead, looking at the clock on the nightstand. It was past one in the morning and I still couldn't sleep. It was unlikely I would be able to drop off soon, preoccupied as I was by the unconscious young man in my arms. What was I supposed to do now? How was I supposed to be the caretaker and lover of a boy? I had accepted the charge but now that I see the true nature of my purchase, I'm starting to wonder if it was such a great idea. I don't regret meeting him; I don't regret helping him. I just wonder if the both of us can even survive this, surpass the events to come together and fine. He stirred again, a whimper passing his soft rose lips, his arms tightening around me as he began to shake.

I didn't know what to do, preoccupied as I was by the nightmares taking over his impressionable young mind. I tried running my hands over his back, holding him tighter, whispering soft words of reassurance and encouragement in his ear. Still, the pitiful little whimpers escaped his lips and still he shook. I pressed fluttering kisses to the top of his head, to his forehead, everywhere I could reach with my lips without disturbing him too much. He only shook more violently, nails digging into my sides painfully, without mercy. I grit my teeth, restraining myself from crying out at the pressure of his strong fingers over my injuries, gently removing my hands from his back to pry at them.

It saddened me greatly to see him like this, to feel how his fear translated into his dreams. What was I to do? How was I supposed to fix him? It was nearing two in the morning and he remained the same: shaking, whimpering, frightened. I didn't want to wake him but I didn't want him to be suffering any longer; he didn't deserve any more torture. I tried to shake him but he didn't budge, again digging his nails into my skin, again making me restrain myself from yelping at the pain. "Frankie," I whispered, trying to wake him without alerting the rest of the household of my presence. "Come on, sugar; wake up." Again, he merely whimpered and I could feel the moisture from his nightmares on my chest.

"Babe, wake up. It's me, Gerard; I'm not going to let them hurt you." With a start, he finally awoke, pushing himself away from me roughly, eyes wide and terrified. I extended my arms towards him, gently wrapping them around his torso. He fought for a moment, suddenly unaware of his surroundings, falling back in the repertoire of memories that plagued him. I shushed him, gently applying pressure to pull him towards me. He finally noticed who it was and he fell limp, falling onto my chest with tears falling rapidly from his shining blood-shot eyes. I continued whispering to him, foolishly thinking that my words could make him better, could stop the pain in his fragile frame.

He simply shook, sobbing into my chest disconsolately, hands shaking so that he could barely even grasp my sides anymore. Even though I was quite grateful that the undeniable strength in his fingers was gone, it still disconcerted me. I liked this boy more than I ever had for another and it felt as though I were losing him already; as though he was going to dissipate before my very eyes. I continued to hold him, waiting, just waiting, for his desperate sobbing to subside.

It finally did after another hour of shaky breaths, hiccups racking his body. When he could finally breathe easily at approximately 3 a.m., I continued to reassure him. "It's okay, Frankie. I'm here; I'm going to protect you no matter what. You've got nothing to fear, okay, sugar?" He nodded gently, one lone hiccup escaping his lips as he did so. "Care to tell me what happened?" He shook his head negatively, clutching onto me with the same strength he had before his panic attack. "Come on, babe, you can tell me. Maybe getting it off your chest will help you. And then I'll know what's wrong and I'll be able to help you better."

He took a deep breath, raising his head from my chest finally to look into my eyes, his still blood-shot from his stint. I moved my hands from his back to his face, gently cupping his cheeks between them. His eyes fluttered closed, his hands releasing their hold on my sides finally, moving them to my tear-soaked skin. "I'm so sorry, Gee," he whispered, keeping his eyes closed and his hands on my chest. "I'm so fucking sorry."

"What have you got to be sorry about?" I asked him, gently pressing my lips against his shaking mouth. He whimpered softly, opening his eyes when I pulled away. He stared at me, eyes boring into my face, boring holes into my flesh and muscle and bone, straight down to the very essence of my soul.

"I didn't mean to keep you awake; I screwed up the night for you. I didn't want to mess this up but I did. Please," he whimpered softly, another one of those pitiful little whines, "forgive me. I'm so sorry, Gee." I shushed him as best as I could again, reassuring him that it didn't bother me; that I hadn't been able to sleep in the first place. It seemed to calm him and he refrained from more outbursts, eyes resolutely dry, hands finally still over my skin. "D-Do you really w-want to know?" he asked then, trailing his fingers up and down my chest gently, avoiding my gaze as he stared down at his fingers.

"Of course. Frank, I don't want you to hide anything from me. I want to know you; I want to help you. I don't want you to feel like you can't tell me anything. I'm going to be here for you whenever you need me; I'm going to help you in whatever way I can. I've already promised myself and Mikey that I would take care of you, that I wouldn't let anything happen to you. I don't want to let anyone down, especially myself; that'd just be stupid. Help me help you. Just tell me; I swear I won't scoff at you or anything; there's no way in hell I would do that." He nodded slowly, mulling over my words for a moment before sighing.

"Fine," he acquiesced, pressing his lips gently against my own. "It's just all those stupid memories. I can't get his face out of my mind; I can't get his wound out of my head. I don't know what to do; all I can think about is him and the trial and all this shit. I keep thinking I won't make it. I know I've got you but sometimes I feel as though you're not enough. You don't know him; you don't know what he's capable of. I don't want anything to happen to you; I don't want my mistakes to affect you.

"Please, Gee, I'm sorry. I just don't know if I can handle this. I thought you...you had been attacked. I thought you had been killed like I killed him and he killed me. I thought you had been hurt and I was so fucking scared. He turned to me after he killed you; he said he was going to finish the job. God, Gee, I see his face all the time, telling me I'll die, telling me it's not over and that he'll finish what he started. I can't get it out of my mind. I'm so fucking afraid all the time. I can't look out the window without thinking he might be out there, just waiting for me, just waiting.

"Oh, fuck. How am I going to be able to go each day without panicking every second, just thinking about him? I can't leave my grandparents' house; they'll be suspicious. I can't go home; I don't want to go home. I want to be with you. I feel safe with you; I feel fine with you. And I can't be with you, Gee. I'm only going to screw you over and I just can't do that. I'd rather keep you out of trouble but if I do that, it means I can't be with you and I don't want that either. Help me." He sounded so troubled, voice cracked and pleading, just pleading. I pressed him against me again, running my hands soothingly over his back and through his hair.

"I'll keep you safe, babe; I promise. I'll stay with you here. I'll do whatever I possibly can to help you. I'm never going to leave you alone, whether you want me to or not. It doesn't matter where you are or what's happening, I'll be at your side, I swear. I'll help you come out to your family; I'll help you get over your fears. I'll stand by your side at the trial. I'll do everything I can, Frankie. Nothing could ever keep me from you; I only want to make you happy, to keep you safe."

He raised his head again, looking me square in the eye. He took a deep breath, furrowing his eyebrows somewhat as he stared. "Then why can't you fuck me?"