I Can Transform You

POV: Frank

I let Gerard deal with booking us a room and I took a seat on the moth-eaten sofa in the reception. There was a kind of eerie vibe to this place. The weird cabaret music playing over the speakers wasn’t really helping me feel at ease with anything. Even more creepily, it wasn’t even playing before we walked through the front doors. Everything was deadly silent and there was no one around, we just kind of stood in the doorway staring at the invisible tumbleweed. I thought the place was completely deserted, but after Gerard rang the bell for assistance about nine times, some old woman appeared and the music started up.

I was already regretting my decision to come here. But when I thought about it, this rundown motel was like a luxury holiday from the life I had run away from. It might be somewhat unnerving, but it could never be as terrifying as being back home right now.

“For fuck sake,” Gerard suddenly materialised in front of me, looking somewhat troubled.

“They’ve got no rooms?” I guessed, secretly feeling a little relieved by this inconvenience.

“No, they gave us the Devil room,” he corrected flatly, and my eyes widened in horror. What the FUCK was that? “The code to get in the room is 666,” he explained shortly, seeming nothing more than irritated by this whole thing. I, on the other hand, was fucking shitting my pants.

“Oh my God, this place is creepy as fuck,” I whispered, my eyes scanning the lobby in paranoia that someone was listening in our conversation. I had an unshakable feeling that we were being watched. “Let’s just go,” I decided hastily, jumping to my feet and nearly bolting straight back out the door we just came through.

“Man, you’re such a drama queen,” he smirked, looking bemused by my evident fear.

“Well, excuuuuse me for not being a fan of Satan,” I hissed.

He laughed, low and breathy, and shook his head at me.

“It’s just a number, Frank.”

Just a number, my ass! More like a sign… A sign that we should get the hell out of here right now, while we still can. Lord knows what awaits us in that room…

“This whole place is so creepy though,” I protested in a whiny voice, sounding like a seven year-old girl and not even caring. I wanted to go find somewhere else to stay.

Gerard wasn’t having it though; he gave me a patronising look and reached out to take my hand, then proceeded to lead me to the staircase. (What kind of motel didn’t have a goddamn lift?) I complained the whole way to the room, about how dark the corridors were, how there seemed to be NO ONE ELSE in the building, how I felt like someone was following us, how I had a bad feeling about this room we'd been given, etc. And Gerard still didn’t stop.

“Are you possessed?” I demanded, thinking of something else to get paranoid about.

He was full-on laughing now.

“Are you seriously asking me that question?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, not caring for his inability to take this terrifying situation seriously. I snatched my hand out of his and stepped away from him to make a point. That wiped the smile off his face and made him stop in his tracks.

“You’re being weird,” I accused him, my eyes searching his for signs of dark forces.

“Frank, I promise you, everything’s fine,” he held his hands up in surrender, looking at me like I had lost my goddamn mind. Which I definitely had. “I’m not possessed, and Satan isn’t going to send his minions to kill us in our sleep tonight… okay?” He spoke slowly and clearly, as if talking to a five year-old, and I realised with a surge of embarrassment that I was being a fucking baby right now.

I’d worked myself up into a state over nothing. Jesus, I was a paranoid wreck.

“I loathe myself,” I sighed, taking his hand again and reluctantly continuing in our never-ending trek to our room.

“So, I’m guessing you don’t wanna watch a scary film tonight?” he smirked, glancing at me as we walked.

I just glared at him, the answer written clearly on my face.

Finally, after climbing about seven flights of stairs, we found ourselves outside our room. Gerard entered the cursed code and pulled me inside with him, despite my obvious hesitance.

I didn’t really know what I was expecting from the room; maybe a dead body on the floor, a mirror with a threatening message written in blood on it… You know, that kind of standard motel thing. But the room I found myself in wasn’t quite like a scene from a horror movie. Granted, it was kind of dark and shabby, but the scariest thing was probably the double bed in the corner.

“We’re sharing a bed then,” I noted, not really sure how I felt about this.

It seemed a bit forward for the current ‘friend stage’ that Gerard and I were at. It wasn’t like we were a couple or anything, and it wasn’t my intention to take things to the next level either. Fuck that, I was still a broken man. Maybe if I actually had any heart left, I’d give it to Gerard and declare myself his. But right now, I was just a shell. Hollow inside. And the last thing I wanted was another relationship.

But hey, I was definitely reading too far into this. It was just a bed, for Christ’s sake, it was hardly a fucking wedding ring. It didn’t need to mean anything serious.

“Well, I mean, if you don’t mind,” Gerard responded quickly, seeming just as apprehensive as me about it. “Or I could, uh, sleep on the floor…”

We both glanced downwards automatically and stared at the dark brown carpet in dismay.

“As if I’m gonna make you sleep on the floor,” I scoffed, raising my eyebrows at him, before heading over to collapse on the bed and lie there spread-out flat on my back.

I groaned when I realised it was one of those lumpy mattresses that kind of consumes you when you lay on it. So, not only did I have to share a bed with Gerard in a haunted-ass motel, the bed in question was the most uncomfortable in existence… Clearly sleep was not an option tonight.

Without warning, Gerard suddenly ran and launched himself onto the mattress next to me, causing both me and the bed springs to squeak loudly in protest. I flew up in the air and nearly fell off the edge, which caused me to swear loudly and grab onto Gerard for dear life; all the while, he just laughed at me.

“I changed my mind,” I grumbled, still clutching to him like my life depended on it, “You can sleep on the floor, fucker.”

“Make me,” he smirked, and I sat up immediately and glared down at him. He was daring me with his playful eyes; I saw this as a challenge and I would be damned not to accept it.

My lips curled into a smirk, and then one second later, I was on top of him, kicking off our wrestling match. I didn’t get very far though, because he started fucking tickling my ribs, and Jesus, that was a killer. I completely spazzed out, falling off him and squirming away from his hands of torture, gasping for breath and begging for mercy.

“No! I – fuck you!” I choked out in between hysterical laughing. This wasn’t FAIR, okay, I was the most ticklish person on the planet, how did he KNOW that?

Somehow, we ended up trading positions, and he was suddenly on top of me, holding me down to tickle me relentlessly within inches of death. But I just about managed to pull out my own weapon of choice – the pillow I was lying on – and hit him over the head with it enough times to make him scramble off of me.

I jumped back on top of him, trapping him underneath me, and lifted my pillow in the air, preparing to hit him square in the face, and now he was the one begging for his life.

“Okay, okay,” he threw his hands up in surrender, protecting his face, “You win!”

I wasn’t sure what I had won, or what had even started that over-excitement, but I grinned and threw my fist up triumphantly, letting go of my trusty pillow.

“Victory!”

Gerard rolled his eyes and I giggled, staring down at him smugly.

The seconds crept by and our laughter gradually died down, our heavy breathing returning to normal, until the moment of childish negligence had passed. But still, we remained where we were on the bed, our hands clutching at eachother and our eyes locked in an intense gaze, and we found ourselves consumed by an unfamiliar, unnerving kind of tension.

Sexual tension.

I knew there was no reason for me to still be straddling him right now, pinning him down with my hold on his chest, but I couldn’t find the strength to move. I was transfixed by the heavy pounding of his heart beneath my fingers and the naïve curiosity in his eyes. His hands suddenly came to life and slowly slid up to my thighs to grasp my hips, and Jesus, fuck, I nearly choked from the lack of oxygen in my lungs.

I bit my lip as I stared down at him in anticipation, and he quirked an eyebrow as if to say “do you want to?” and my whole body practically caught on fire, because, oh God, I wanted to.

But no, shit, we couldn’t…

In a moment of panicked lust, I scrambled off of him, and the bed too, declaring in a strangled voice that I needed the toilet. And then, I practically ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind me and collapsing with my back against it, breathing fast to try and catch up with my erratic heart.

POV: Gerard

Well, fuck me. That was intense… I don’t think I have ever wanted anything as much as I wanted to kiss Frank then. And I know he wanted to kiss me too, I could see it in his eyes, and yet he ran away from the desire, just like he runs away from everything.

As much as I wanted to help him, he was such a coward, I didn’t know how to. And I didn’t know what the hell he wanted from me, either. Why was it so hard for him to admit what we had was more than just friendship? It wasn’t wrong for us to want to act on our feelings. Why wouldn’t he just let it happen? We got to third base once, and that was back when he was with Lydia… and he’s not even with her anymore, so what’s holding him back now? I know he's hurting, but I could heal his scars if he would just LET me.

I sighed and stared up at the ceiling, lost in my own confusing thoughts. This whole thing with Frank was too complicated for my heart to handle. I really didn’t know what to do about my feelings. Was I supposed to ignore and supress them? That’s what he seemed to be doing. I just didn’t understand why…

All of a sudden, my phone started vibrating vigorously in my pocket, snapping me back to reality. I groaned out loud and pulled it out to check who was responsible for interrupting my deep-thinking session. If it was my dad, I knew I was going to have to come up with some believable story about where I was and stuff, and I really couldn’t be bothered with that right now. But thankfully, it wasn’t him; it was Mikey.

“Hey,” I answered hastily, relieved for the distraction. “What’s up?”

“Principal Harrison is here,” he hissed down the receiver, making my heart stop. “He’s got Frank’s tape and he’s downstairs talking to Dad and Linda!”

Well, shit.

“Oh my God, what?” I spluttered, sitting bolt upright, practically feeling the colour draining from my face. “Do something! Steal the video – fuck, don’t let them see it!”

Seriously, they do NOT need to see Frank declaring his love for me, among other regrettable things…

“I can’t, they sent me out of the room!” he retorted frenetically, “You’ve got to come back, Gee, everyone thinks Frank’s dead…”

“Okay, calm down, just – shit, okay. We’ll come back,” I blurted out rashly, my brain clouded by the urgency in Mikey’s tone. I felt bad that he had been dragged into this – that we had run away and forced him to cover for us - and now it was all kicking off in our house and he was stuck in the middle of it.

I hung up immediately and jumped to my feet, and I suddenly found myself faced with Frank; he was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, watching me with wide eyes. I didn't know how long he'd been stood there.

“Uh, what’s going on?” he demanded fearfully.

“Harrison’s at our house… He’s showing our parents your tape,” I explained regretfully, starting to feel crippled from the pressure we were under.

“Holy shit!” he gasped, looking as horrified as I felt. “Not them too...”

Yep, first everyone at school, now everyone at home… There was no escaping this monster Frank had unleashed on himself. His mother was going to hear her own son talking about how she played a part in his suicide by ignoring him for years. That was going to destroy her, which would ultimately destroy my father.

“Yeah, we’ve to go and talk to them,” I replied, feeling sick to my stomach at the idea, but what choice did we have?

“Wait, what? I can’t go back there now! Are you insane?” he choked dramatically, gawking at me like I was the one being irrational here.

“Frank, we have to… They’re gonna think you’re dead,” I spelled it out for him, needing him to think about someone other than himself for once. “We can’t do that to them.”

“But when they find out I’m alive, they’re gonna fucking kill me!” he exclaimed anxiously, shaking his head vigorously.

I was starting to lose patience with him now. He was being gutless, and I needed him to find the strength I knew he had in him to face his fears and stop running away from them.

“No, they won’t, they’ll be fucking relieved,” I assured him in a dismissive tone, despite second-guessing myself deep down. Would they be angry? Would they consider this all some kind of cruel trick Frank had played? Parents were so unpredictable, who KNEW what they would think of all this?

I bent down to grab my backpack and threw it over my shoulder in preparation to leave.

“I’m not going… You can’t make me!” Frank snapped, storming straight past me to the bed, where he lay back down, as if to make a point.

“So, what…” I turned to face him, holding my hands in the air questioningly, “You’re just gonna stay in this motel for the rest of your life, hiding from everyone, instead of facing them and yourself?”

“No,” he stated flatly, and I noticed that he was clenching his fists slightly, “but I’m not ready to go back yet, so stop fucking pushing me!”

I took a defiant step towards him and glared down at him on the bed.

“I have to push you, because you don’t fucking push yourself! You are always running from the truth!” I shouted back in frustration, letting my intense feelings get the best of me. I couldn’t help myself; there was still a bitter taste in my mouth due to him avoiding his true feelings for me.

“What do you want me to say, Gerard?” he demanded hopelessly, sitting up a little and looking at me with desperation in his eyes. “I can’t just change how I feel. I fucking hate myself! I hate my life, and I hate the fact that I’m this weak, pathetic mess, but I’m not ready to face all those people who have made me this, and have them fucking tear me apart even more…” He looked like he was either on the verge of crying or punching the wall; I couldn’t quite tell which natural instinct he was fighting right now.

“So, if you don’t get that, maybe you should just go home and quit wasting your time on me,” he added forcefully, warning me off with the potent look in his eyes.

I felt utterly helpless right then. This arguing was getting us nowhere, and I could tell that we weren’t going to agree on what to do. I was still set on going home, to face our parents and let them know we’re both okay, because I knew when they realised we were both gone, they would have a total fit. And the longer we stayed away, the worse it would be when we returned.

Maybe I was wasting my time with him. Nothing I was saying seemed to be getting through to him. He was acting like a lost cause and I was losing the will to help, not to mention the hope that he might actually open his fucking eyes at some point and realise we should be together.

In my eyes, Frank was being selfish about everything and my patience had finally run out.

“Yeah, maybe I should,” I mumbled, downheartedly agreeing with his suggestion.

I was torn about whether to go home or stay with him. I decided to leave my decision up to him. If he asked me to stay, I would. If he asked me to leave, I would do that instead.

There was a flicker of sadness in his eyes, and I thought for a moment that he was going to beg me to stay, but then his expression hardened and he turned away from me, focusing his piercing eyes on the wall.

“Whatever,” he muttered uncooperatively, “I never asked you to come with me anyway.”

Well, he’s right about that. I just assumed he would like the company… How foolish of me.

“Fine,” I sighed, losing myself in the neverending frustration inside of me and reaching breaking point. “Just know that the longer you run away from all of this, the harder it is going to be to face in the end,” I pointed out, as I stormed across the room, towards the door.

I was hoping and praying my words and the fact that I was leaving would have some kind of impact on him and make him see sense. I needed him to find the strength inside himself to get off that bed and come home with me.

I stopped with my hand on the door and glanced over my shoulder at him, and he held my gaze for a couple of seconds, before rolling his eyes and turning his attention back to the wall.

“Goodbye, Gerard.”

I rolled my eyes back at him and left without another word, making sure to slam the door hard behind me.