Something I Could Hold Onto

Even five hours after his kiss goodbye in the small Honda, after four episodes of rerun sitcoms, one phone call from Triple A, one Lifetime movie, and two iced cappuccinos, Frank was still thinking of Gerard.

His legs were stretched luxuriously over the scratchy hotel bedspread, arms lying perpendicular to his small body. He could have sworn that he was floating, that the lumpy mattress beneath his frame was actually the proverbial cloud all the movies and romance novels talk about. It almost felt like a high, this new sense of content that Gerard had cast upon him.

I can't wait for tonight, he thought for the thousandth time that day. Although he wouldn't have to leave for the party for four more hours, anticipation soon got the best of him and he decided to shower and change.

Gerard had offered to drive him to his brother's apartment, almost begged Frank to let him, but the old broken shell of a car was finally ready for claim. Regretfully, Frank declined the suggestion and instead opted to "kill two birds with one stone".

It's okay, he told himself as he stepped into the shower stall for the second time that day. It's not like he's going anywhere!

… Twelve minutes ahead of schedule, Frank arrived in front of a bouncing apartment, nerves making his fingers shake as he switched the car to park. The windows framing a dark brick building were shoved open, sweaty bodies dancing dangerously close to the open hole. With wide eyes, he watched in horror as boys held girls casually from the five-story drop, music pounding behind them and shaking the already unsteady group with thumping bass.

Frank couldn't help but wonder as to whether there was an invisible netting holding the girls in place; as close as they came to falling in a drunken accident, they were always returned to the small den where they would laugh and choke down another beer.

It's probably not so bad inside, Frank reasoned.

His hesitant feet soon led him to the complex's winding staircase, four sets of thirty-two steps each. He made sure to count each one deliberately and carefully, not wanting to make a mistake. His compulsion, however, soon led him to the audacious gold lettering of A5F.

Frank took one last shaky breath, and then raised his clenched fist to the whitewashed wood.

The door slowly creaked open like an old horror movie; smoke and music and the stench of stale alcohol came rushing out as if a bottle of champagne had just opened. Frank coughed, but stepped into the throng of people nonetheless. Several glazed faces turned to see the newcomer – hoping to recognize his intimidated face – but all turned back to their conversations and empty glasses.

I can handle this, Frank hoped.

The anxious boy began trekking through the crowded apartment, his nerves setting the pit of his stomach ablaze. Frank had begun to borderline frantic, but refused to let his mannerisms reflect his desperation; he had never been one for unruly crowds, and the combination of hormones and booze never added up to a happy ending.

Instinct brought him to the buzzing kitchen, where a crush of people had formed a tight circle. Before he could even question the object of interest, Frank was pushed into the knitting of bodies to witness the apparent astonishment for himself.

Through the haze of smoke and sweat and hair, Frank could only vaguely discern what the commotion was about. A thin, darkly clad body was held up in the air, surrounded by chants of "Chug! Chug! Chug!" The small crowd had assumed one voice in their cheering, a powerful booming of support for the act.

It's just a kegstand, Frank thought. What's so impressive about that?

Eleven more seconds passed, in which the excited jeers never faltered, before the figure was set on the ground. Two pale arms shot up into the air, and the speech shattered into an array of clapping and sloppy whistles. An anonymous hand gave the timid Iero a rough shove forward, clearing his line of view but also throwing off his balance.

In the next moment, Frank found himself kneeling on the floor before a flush-faced Gerard, whose jaw held remnants of foamed beer.

"There you are!" he giggled, lifting the boy off the ground and planting a gentle kiss on his lips. "I missed you!" he cooed.

… An hour and a half passed by, in which Frankie was given the "grand tour" and poured four glasses of Colt 45. The alcohol burned his throat, but he didn't complain.

Gerard's on his eighth shot, and you can't even down this cup? Fucking pussy.

With bitter thoughts, he swallowed the remaining liquid. Seconds after he had finished his head swam with lessening sobriety and he was forced to reach out to Gerard for stability. His desperate hand took hold of Gerard's knee and the action was met with inebriated laughter.

"You okay, Frankie?" Gee slurred, tossing his spare arm around the smaller boy's waist. "Do you need to lay down?" he whispered, leaning his head down to Frank's ear and allowing his hot breath to run against the sensitive skin of his neck.

The younger boy shuddered, but nodded.

Gerard grinned and tightened his grip on the boy's hips. "Let's go, then."

… In the blink of an eye, the two were suddenly recumbent on a musty mattress, lips and tongues thrust together in a disoriented mess. Gerard seemed to be moving at a superhuman pace, and Frank fought desperately to keep up. The elder man's hands ran fervently up and down the sides of the boy beneath him, sliding the thin material of his white shirt up his torso. Behind the thin door, synthesized music was being played at a deafening volume.

"Gerard," Frank panted between breaths and moans, "s-slow down."

But his request went unheard, or so he assumed. Instead, his companion increased his speed and intensity, moving his numbed lips to the delicate and unmarred skin of the smaller boy's throat. He began biting harshly at the fragile epidermis, scraping his teeth across the bulge of his Adam's apple and licking at the irritated tissue. His drunken tongue ran itself against Frank's collarbone, trailing down to the hem of his shirt.

"Sometimes I feel I've got to
Run away; I've got to
Get away
From the pain that you drive into the heart of me."

"This should go," he grinned, pulling the fabric away from Frank's shy body and tossing it haphazardly across the room.

"The love we share
Seems to go nowhere
And I've lost my light."

His mouth soon took advantage of the newly exposed area, moving quickly despite his sobriety – or lack there of – and leaving the younger boy whimpering at the almost painful force facilitated against his chest.

"Gerard!" he said again, more assertive this time. "Please, slow do-uuh!" he grunted, cut off by the sudden attack of Gerard's hand on his jeans.

"Once I ran to you (I ran)
Now I'll run from you."

"Quiet, Frankie," he cooed, rubbing small circles against the boy. "Just lemme do this."

Without removing his hand, Gerard pulled off his own shirt and turned his focus to his belt buckle. The clink of metal on metal was all that reverberated around the dark room, save for the uncomfortable moans and stiff requests echoing from Frank's throat.

"Gee!" he shouted, sidling up the mattress to escape the elder boy's ravenous hands.

"This tainted love you've given
I give you all a boy could give you
Take my tears and that's not nearly all."

Instead of understanding, a look of amusement crossed Gerard's face. "Playin' harrta get?" he slurred, crawling towards the half-naked boy before him.

"Come on, Frankie," he continued, fidgeting seductively with his zipper. His hands soon made a surprise appearance around the boy's jeans, worming their way slowly into the top. "You fuckin wan' this, I know-"

"I don’t want to go that far!" he shouted, worry bubbling in his throat.

"Now I know I've got to
Run away; I've got to
Get away."

His thoughts began to race. This isn't Gee. This isn't Gee. This isn't fucking Gerard!

Before he could clear his head and organize his thoughts, Frank was lessened to the point of victim as Gerard took firm hold of his wrists and pinned him underneath his weight.

The smell of tequila hung heavy on his lips as Gerard continued to whisper. "It's okay, baby," he giggled, repositioning his hands to slide on further into the trembling boy's waistband. "No one cares-"

"Don't touch me please
I cannot stand the way you tease."

"Shut up!" Frank yelled, finally realizing that this man would not cease. In the blink of an eye, he had brought his knee upwards between Gerard's legs, seizing the moment of his temporary disarray to dash through the door.

His head swam as he walked through the saturated crowd, shirtless and crying, ignoring the slurred shouts of "Frankie, wait!" Within seconds, he had descended the four flights of thirty-two stairs; his feet slapped against the pavement as he broke into a run, determined to escape the festivities as quickly as possible.

"Oh, tainted love."