Passing Looks and Disappointed Faces

[Frank's P.O.V.]

I was stunned to say the least, more so when Gerard popped open the lid of the cooler. All of Newark was before us, the bright city lights sparkling in the dark. It was a far cry from the bustling city on the ground, the dirty roads and overflowing trash cans. It was a thing of beauty to see so many lights of all different hues blinking forever in the dim light of evening. All of Downtown Newark was sprawled out, completely visible to wandering eyes. Multiple cars were stationed on the roof of a local parking lot, countless important buildings, corporations, factories, universities even, lit in the distance. It was just barely night but so many lights were already shining and they were so beautiful.

When I could finally tear my gaze from the view, there was a picnic set out on the ground. I couldn't help but laugh, seating myself on the cerulean blue blanket neatly placed on the ground, looking down at the meal he had prepared. Sure, they were simple sandwiches but it was the thought that counted and at the moment, he had the most beautiful mind. There was even a bottle of wine, the neck sticking out of the open cooler. He had plopped himself next to the same, a gentle smile on his face as he watched my reaction, motioning for me to take something to eat. Laughter reduced to a small chuckle, I leaned in toward him, capturing his lips with my own, trying to convey every sense of gratitude possible.

We ate in silence, occasionally glancing over to the changing view, lights flickering on and off every so often, cars whizzing on the roads below. Once our stomachs were full once more, he pulled out the bottle of wine, plucking two goblets delicately as well. They were glass and I have no idea how they didn't shatter in that cooler of his on the way over here. Suddenly, I began laughing hysterically, pointing at the bottle in my mirth, collapsing to my side. The bottle had been scrawled with his name, over and over and over again until the brand and year weren't even visible. He pouted, pouring out an amount into each glass with a shaking hand, thrusting one of the glasses at me. I took it gleefully, ceasing my peals of mirth, eyes glistening with unshed tears of joy as I looked up at him, still sprawled out over the blanket.

He touched his glass to mine, taking a small sip, eyes glinting happily as he surveyed me through it. Raising myself onto my elbows, I took a sip as well, trying hard not to laugh again at the appearance of that bottle. "Have you had a good time?" he murmured, leaning in to whisper in my ear, glass still held firmly in his head.

"You shouldn't have spent so much money," I protested feebly, knowing he wouldn't be too happy about that; I had been chastising him for his money-spending the entire day. He sighed softly and shoved me lightly, causing the wine to slosh around in the glass, just nearly spilling out.

"I told you not to worry about it. It's my money and I spend it however I want to. If I want to throw it into a pit of voracious piranha and acid, then I will. Besides, I spent it on you and I believe that's a very good cause for money-spending." He shrugged nonchalantly, taking another gulp of his wine, bringing his alcohol-scented lips to mine. Deciding it was an entirely fruitless endeavor attempting to change his mind over the matter, I turned my attention to my glass again, taking a sip, mulling it in my mouth briefly before swallowing, smacking my lips at the taste. It was an incredibly good bottle of wine and I had no doubt who had sold it to him or even why it had been so graciously decorated with his name.

After a few moments of silent contemplation, he turned to me, lips curving, eyes shining in the dark. "You never answered my question," he remarked quietly, his empty glass beside him; it appeared he wasn't going to drink any more, especially seeing as he had to drive us back to Belleville on the late-night streets. I laughed lightly, draining my glass and setting it aside, lying back down on the blanket, folding my arms beneath my head. A smile slowly spread across my lips, my gaze turning from the lights of the city to his eyes, just as bright, maybe even brighter, prettier.

"I think I might have just had the best day in my short little existence," I grinned, one hand reaching out for his, grasping his warm fingers tightly in my own. "You're really something, Gee. I feel so proud to have you for myself. I couldn't ask for a better lover," I murmured. He laughed softly but I realized that there was nothing potentially offending in his laughter; he was simply joyous. His hand left mine and he began to clean up everything over the blanket, neatly arranging every object in the cooler again, delicately replacing the bottle of wine and the glasses. Once the blanket was cleared, he clicked the lid shut, moving over to lie beside me, eyes fixated on the sky above. It was a good night; the stars were visible and the moon was bright, almost full.

We remained there for a while and I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, it was nearly midnight and Gerard was gently nudging my side. Reluctantly, I awoke, looking into his bleary face, hearing his words as he informed me that we should be getting home soon. I obliged hesitantly, having to gather up my strength before I could bring myself to get off the blanket, yawning and stretching once I did so. He grabbed the cooler, tossing the blanket at me so that I could carry it. Down the winding staircase we went again, back into his car which had, by now, become cold by our negligence. We slipped into it, me still holding tightly onto the light blue blanket, wrapping it around my body once I was settled, seatbelt tucked in securely, my precious shell a comfortable weight on my lap.

We were both still somewhat tired from the day's activities, me more than him, but I was struggling to stay awake and keep him company; I couldn't risk him falling asleep at the wheel now, could I? We chatted mindlessly for a while, trying to entertain ourselves in the ride back home. It was bound to be shorter now, seeing as it was nighttime which meant less traffic and the fact that we were going from Newark to Belleville. It was mostly quiet in the car, save for our pathetic attempts at lasting conversations. I leaned forward in my seat, turning on the radio so that there was not complete silence. At least it wasn't that awkward silence that forces extreme discomfort and fretfulness. It was more of a sleepy, comfortable silence in which the both of us could fall right unconscious and that was a very dangerous silence to have as one of us was currently maneuvering a 3,000 pound vehicle among other 3,000 pound vehicles down streets that weren't exactly the safest as water began to rain down from the heavens.

It was a normal drive, one in which the day's activities were catching up to us but mostly me. I was the one that had run along the beach, the one that had thrown himself into the ocean waves. I was the one that had insisted on riding all the rides that we possibly could, the one that had pranced the boardwalk like a child. And now I was so very tired, wrapped comfortably in that blanket of his, the heated air from the vents washing over my small frame. I glanced groggily at Gerard, watching him as he tried to keep himself focused on the task of driving; neither of us wanted to die this evening, not after all the good merriment we had shared. It occurred in that strange moment between consciousness and sleep, where hearing, feeling, and smelling everything is still possible but it all seems to be suspended in animation, 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 really wanted was to simply fall asleep, cocooned in that blanket that smelled of safety despite my reluctance to leave him.

The sound suddenly began roaring then, inexplicably, 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, trying to speak to him so that we could both remain awake, so that we would be safe and we could then collapse at his house. We couldn't risk anything now, not now.

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 dancing in the streetlights blaring in the night, until it became tinted in crimson. A scream tore at my lungs, my right arm suddenly engulfed in a horrible, dreadful pain. Cracks, stains. With tears blurring my vision, I looked over at him, needing to know what had happened, needing to know if he was okay. He was slumped over the steering wheel, 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? This day could not have existed; there had been no joy, no copious amounts of laughter.

But then my eyes fell upon the man in the front seat, blood soaking the strands of the silken raven hair I cherished. In that instant, I was reminded that it was simply two-faced reality. In this day, the day I cherished more than any other day I had ever experienced, tragedy had to strike. The light blue blanket wrapped around my fading body was splattered with red: bright, painful red. It was stained, dirtied, tainted. Frantic tears raced down my face and I reached for his limp hand, ignoring the shooting pain that traveled up and down my spine at every movement. It hurt, it hurt so badly but I needed to assure myself of his safety; I needed to know if he would be fine.

"I love you," I whispered, trying desperately to wake him, to snap him into consciousness. I needed him to open his molten gold eyes, to look at me and smile with those dry, cracked lips of his. I needed him to assure me that he was fine but he didn't stir, still slumped over the deflated airbag, "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. I must have offered him everything between here and the moon, everything I owned and everything I could never give him. The blanket seemed to constrict me, the sounds fading, warping, becoming nonexistent. 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.