You Taught Me Love

Gerard's P.O.V.

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'we're over' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love."
-Neil Gaiman (The Kindly Ones)

Frank's P.O.V.

I closed the car door and rushed to the building stairs, before turning around as I heard Mikey calling out my name.

“Um, please call me to let me know how he is, okay? I worry for him and... you know.” he asked me from his Lamborghini.

“Of course.” I assured him, feeling for the napkin in my pocket.

I saw him drive off and continued on my route to Gerard's apartment. I opened the doors and stood by the buzzers, entering Gerard's number on the machine, hoping to God he would let me in.

“M-Mikes?” His voice came out as a croak, weak, and almost garbling. I usually melted at his smooth voice, but the tone it now had made my skin cringe and my bones shudder under my flesh. I got nervous. The Gerard I knew always cheered me up, and was never morbid like that, could it really be so bad? For the first time in my life, I prayed. To a God I knew would never listen. But I prayed. I silently prayed that I'd find my baby safe and sound.

“It's Frank.” I told him, after a nerve-wrecking minute of silence in the entrance cubicle.
I didn't want to have to lie my way in.

He said nothing, but the old buzzing noise soon filled the room, and filled me with hope.

I pushed the doors and ran down the hallway to find Gerard's apartment number, where I stood in front of his suite hesitantly as I felt my heartbeat quicken and my hands start sweating. I brought my hand to the handle and, noticing that the door was unlocked, I slowly opened it as I took deep breaths and mentally prepared for what I thought was about to go down.

But let me tell you already, NOTHING could have prepared me for the sight that welcomed me as I entered his home. And NOTHING could have prepared me for what actually went down afterward.

I thought that, when I'd find him, he'd be sad. I thought that, when I'd find him, he might be crying. Maybe he would want me back. Maybe he'd be mad, or depressed, or hurt. I thought that, when I'd find him, he'd be in a gray mood.

But the state I found him in was much, much worse.

DESPAIR. (de-spair) :
To lose all hope. To be overcome by a sense of futility or defeat.
Desperate.
Synonyms: hopeless, miserable, destroyed, sorrowful, discouraged.

That doesn't even come close.

He was sprawled on the floor, blood-streaked puke running down the wooden tiles next to his body and sticking to his raunchy hair. He was shaking and held a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand.
His face was deeply tear stained and dark purple rings had formed on each side, giving him a weary and bleak expression that send chills right to my core. His skin was pale as death, gray and almost transparent, with broken veins showing just under the surface. The light normally shining in his eyes seemed long extinct, and those hazel orbs that made my heart swell were left lifeless, glassy, empty, hollow, vacant and cold. And horribly bloodshot.
His features were distorted by pain, sickness and distress.
His lips were quivering and had turned to a strange shade of blue that almost faded at the outline with the rest of his face. His chest rose and fell at a frighteningly slow pace and his breaths were irregular, shaky and raspy.
The room smelt musky and humid, and the air felt heavy all around me.

You know that feeling you get when you just can't breathe? When you want to scream at the top of your lungs but nothing comes out? When you think you're gonna break down but nothing happens? When you want to run but your legs won't move? When you feel like you're under water and you swim desperately to reach the top, but something pulls you down and you just sink in those aphotic waters? When the more you walk, the farthest you get from where you're heading?
Well, now I know that feeling.

I stared at the mess my love had become and felt tears sting my eyes for the second time today, blurring my vision for a moment as I choked back a sob. I blinked and rubbed my eyes to wipe away the tears before they dropped, hoping to wipe away the sight before me and failing completely at doing so, now sure that it had been carved in my memory. Even so, I could hardly bring myself to open my lids again, knowing the nightmare I would see as soon as my eyelashes came apart. And when they did, Gerard was looking back at me with a glint of belief flashing in his eyes.

“Frank...” he slurred, crawling his way over to me. “You came back... Please don't leave. I'll do a-anything. I'm sorry.”
He unbuckled his belt with trembling fingers and frantically took off his jeans, throwing them aside carelessly as he stumbled on his feet. He reached for his boxer briefs, but I stopped him and grabbed his wrists, feeling his freezing, clammy skin for the first time.

“No! Gerard, don't. You don't have to.” I told him, fighting back the tears that wanted to flow out like waterfalls.

Hurt now filled his irises as he looked down at me, his hands still shaking in mine.

“Please...I can make you feel good, just give me a chance...” he begged. “I've been told by... a lot of people... that I'm good in bed. I can ride you if you want... I'll fuck you if that's what you like. Or you can fuck me, I don't care. Just, p-please... Give me a chance. Don't go...”

How could he think that that's what I wanted from him? Scratch that, I knew exactly what had made him think such things. Fuck, I couldn't take how that bastard had made him think so lowly of himself.
My heart broke for the hundredth time in the last couple of hours, and my grip on Gerard loosened as I felt all my strength get drained out of my system.

Taking the opportunity, he released himself and pressed a hand on my package.

“Gerard, stop. You don't have to do anything, I'm not going anywhere. But please don't think that this is what I came back for.” I told him, surprised at how steady my voice sounded despite the hurricane I felt inside my mind.
I pulled his hand away from my (still sensitive) crotch and held his palms in mine. He showed no resistance, but his arms fell limp and he seemed confused.

“Mikey to-...” I started.

“Is he alright?” he wondered in a worn out voice, cutting me off as worry found its way in his mind.

“He's fine. He went back home.”

“Oh, then why...” he mumbled, more to himself than anything, frowning slightly.

“Your brother...your brother told me about what happened to you. He told me about Steve.” I said, looking up at him only to see desperation fill him again at the name I knew he dreaded.

“Oh. O-okay.” he muttered anxiously, pulling his hands away again. “L-look, I d-don't want your pity, Frank.”

“I'm not here by pity. I'm here because I love you, Gerard.” I told him, trying to sound reassuring as I placed a hand on his shoulder. “And now I know why you were acting strange when we got close. I made wrong assumptions and leaving you was a mistake. I love you, do you understand?”

“No.” he breathed, falling down to his knees and holding his face in his hands.
I knelt down beside him and held him in my arms, rubbing his back as I heard him sob.

“No, I don't understand.” he blubbered, his voice breaking as he spoke. “How could you love me when you know how fucking ugly I am? I'm fucking worthless, and I'm fucking hideous.”
His words cut to my heart and I felt a lump rise in my throat as my eyes began to water.

“Gerard, look at me...” I said, pushing his chin up with two fingers and pulling his arm down to take a good look at him. He quickly turned his face to the side and hid under his hair, murmuring: “I don't want you to see me.”

I forcefully grabbed his head with my both hands and directed his gaze straight toward me, our noses touching as I brought our faces closer. I wiped his wet cheeks with my thumbs and he closed his eyes, biting his bottom lip.

“Gerard, look at me!” I ordered, effectively making him look me dead in the eyes. Our mouths were merely centimeters apart, and I could feel his warm breath on my lips. My own tears were now running freely down my cheeks, drenching my face in their salty liquid.

“You are the most beautiful man I have ever met.” I stated, being entirely honest with the man I had always found, and would always find, no matter what, the most gorgeous guy I had ever laid my eyes on.

“And you're worth everything to me. You're a wonderful person, a passionate lover, a reliable friend, a great listener, an amazing artist and an outstanding teacher. You're creative, kind, understanding, sweet, thoughtful, expressive, seductive and valuable. And I love you, more than I've ever loved before.” I told him, watching as the flame in his eyes gradually reappeared, shyly, but it was definitely there. Hope and love were burning somewhere in his golden irises once again, and my heart sped up as I finally recognized my darling in those hypnotizing orbs.

I closed my eyes and brought our lips together, closing the gap between us as I kissed him like my life depended on it. And in a way, it did.
He's my drug, and his kisses are my fix, he's my oxygen, and his kisses are my breaths. I know we'll heal from this whole thing with time, because I know we both need each other so much.
And at that moment, all I wanted was to show him what he meant to me.
I caressed his cold face and massaged his lips tenderly, ignoring the taste of alcohol that stuck to my mouth. He kissed back a bit sloppily, but the familiar passion was still present, and the electricity rushes I usually felt still shot through my body at the touch of his lips. His palms, resting on his thighs, met mine in a second as we held hands, desperately in need of contact with each other.
I broke the kiss and stroked his hair out of his face. He looked terrible, and his smell was a mix of sweat, whiskey and puke, but he was my Gerard, and he was still the most beautiful guy in the world.

“What did I do to deserve someone as good as you?” he asked, melancholic but smiling weakly.

“You were born. You're alive.” I answered simply, because for me it was the only thing he had to do to make my heart beat for him. “You're worth everything I have to give you, Gee...”

We hadn't said it officially, but it was clear that we had made up, and I was relieved that we would be a couple again.

I pecked his moist cheeks and got up, giving him a hand to do the same, and we managed to get to his bedroom as I held up his weight the best I could. It was only six o'clock, but I knew he was about to pass out, and I wanted to get him to his bed before he did. We slipped under the covers and I held him in my arms, kissing his forehead. He rested his head on my shoulder and snuggled in my side uncertainly.

“Goodnight, babe... Have some sleep, we'll talk more tomorrow.” I whispered.

I watched him wordlessly and stroked his hair until he fell asleep, feeling his breaths become regular on my neck.

I couldn't find any sleep before midnight, but I stayed in bed with Gerard in fear of waking him up. He looked so tired, I couldn't bring myself to break his much-needed rest.

I had called Mikey, though, and had told him that his brother would be alright after all.