A History of My Self-Destruction

(Gerard's POV)

I'm lying in my bed when I come round. Funny, I didn't think Nicholas cared that much. Or did I struggle in here myself afterwards? Oh no it's neither of those options. True, Nicholas did put me here, but the blood on my legs tell me he didn't do it because he cared about me. Great. I try to sit up, but it hurts to much at the moment. Guess I'll just sleep then. But now I can't sleep, because fuck it hurts. I could go to Tabby's, I guess. Say I got mugged or something, she might give me some painkiller. Yeah, I like that idea. Off to Tabitha's we go.

(Frank's POV)

I haven't been out of my room since I cleaned up after my mess, so it feels a bit strange to be sitting here on the sofa. I can see just how badly I cleared up - The tape I tried to use to hide the fact I'd pretty much torn apart the sofa isn't exactly doing a great job. I close my eyes and flop back on the sofa, wondering when Tabby'll be back. She went to do some shopping, according to the note on the fridge. She likes to shop early, before it gets to crowded. Knowing Tabby, she won't be back for another hour or two. I'm already half asleep when someone knocks on the door. What the fuck? Most of Tabby's friends live in Canada, in fact the only one who lives close by is - Of course. Gerard DID say he would try and come over today. But it's eight in the morning! I guess I should answer it, but I don't know if he'd like to see me. From what I heard yesterday, he thinks I'm leeching off of Tabby as part of my master plan to never have to pay a bill. "Yolo," I muter sarcastically as I head to the door. I open it and fuck that man is beautiful. Jet black hair, hazel eyes, palest thing I've ever seen...I must have been staring for about thirty seconds before he says "Umm...Is Tabby in?" Shit. I must have creeped to fuck out of him. As I inform him she's gone shopping I study him in more detail and realise that the circles around his eyes aren't caused by yesterday's makeup, as I'd first assumed, but by punches of some kind. He has a small cut further up his head as well, in fact he seems to be completely covered in bruises and cuts, and as he walks into the flat I realise he's limping.
"I guess I'll wait." He mutters. "You're Frank, right? I'm Gerard"
"Yeah, I'm Frank. What happened to you?"
"What do you mean?"
Oh come on, he can't think I haven't noticed. The man looks like he's been through a fucking war zone!
"You're covered in bruises and cuts! What happened?"
"Oh, yeah, these. I, umm, I got mugged. They where pretty violent."
"No shit! We need to get you cleaned up."
Gerard stiffens and moves even further away from me. "N-no. I'm fine."
I sigh.
"Look, whatever you may have against me, those cuts look like they need to be disinfected. Take that top off, I'll be right back."
I went off into my room to grab some of my vodka - The closest thing to an antiseptic I have. I came back clutching the bottle to find him with his shirt still on. He looked at me skeptically.
"Frank, I don't think getting drunk is going to help the situation."
"What? What?" I look down at the bottle of vodka in my hand, then start to laugh. "No, this isn't for me! It's to clean your wounds. Seriously, I haven't drunk for two days." I'd been planning to slip this fact into the conversation anyway, I'm quite proud of myself. Gerard laughs to, although slightly nervously.
"To clean my cuts? I'm going to stink!"
"That you are. Now, take that shirt off!"
He looks worried again. "I don't have that many on my chest..."
"Off! Don't worry, I'm not going to perv on you. I'm not attracted to men. Or women." This is a small lie - I'm attracted to both men and woman, just not in a physical sense. I mean, I find certain people, such as the man sitting in front of me, attractive, but the idea of doing anything besides kissing just revolts me. I'm not a sex kind of person.
"Are, an aromantic are you? Or just asexual?" Gerard asks as he pulls of his top.
"A what al?"
"Asexual. When you feel no sexual desires towards either sex."
So there's a name for me? How nice.
"Yeah, that's it. Asexual."
I begin to dab the vodka on Gerard's many scrapes, and I can't help but feel tempted to try it. I don't though, because I can feel his eyes resting on mine, a mixture of understanding, pity and something else that, if I didn't know any better, I would call longing.