You Mean More to Me Than Words Could Ever Say

"Frank, listen. I know we hardly know eachother, but I feel close to you. And I want you to know I'll always be here for you. Okay?" His voice was shaky, but sincere.

"Okay." I wanted to let him know I'd be there for him too, but for some reason, my breath was hitched in my throat. I was nervous. Here I was sitting with Gerard, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist, and I felt uncomfortable. I slowly shuffled back a little bit. He dropped his arms, and we each looked at the TV.

"Hey Frank?" He asked, sort of whispering.

"Yeah?"

He studied my face hard, with the skin between his brow slightly crinkling. He purced his lips, before looking down at his hands, picking at his fingernails. Suddenely he brought his head up, not quite looking into my eyes.

"So, then, what did bring on the topic of me...being gay, with Elena?" I felt my face get red, trying to come up with something, but I had nothing.

"I really don't remember. I woke up and went to the kitchen, and she was there, putting away groceries. We just started talking and it just came up. I don't know how, I was still out of it since I had just woke up and was a bit hungover." He just nodded. I knew I had to change the topic fast.

"I was wondering, why is it you guys live with your grandmother?" He offered a weak smile.

"Well, when Mikey and I were young, our mother got into a car accident, and passed away. Our father, who was head over heals still in love with her, fell into a depression and started drinking. But then that lead to prescription pills, and finally, heroin. He still is badly addicted, so Mikey and I had to up and leave. Elena took us in, and gives us what we need. Every now and then we stop by to say hi to dad. He still loves us unconditionally, and is upset over the fact we left, but things were falling apart at the house, and he just really needs help. But he can't accept the fact he has a problem." I nodded in understanding, there was so much I didn't know about him.

"I'm sorry Gerard. I'm sure he'll realize eventually and pull through for you both." I smiled and he returned it.

"And if you don't mind me asking, did your grandfather pass away as well? I never hear any of you mention him." It was something that had been bothering me, and I just wanted to know.

"Well, no, actually Grandmom and him divorced years ago, and never heard from him after that. I've never met him. And I don't know what caused them to split." I nodded.

"Ah."

"Any more questions?" Gerard asked, raising his eyebrow, with his signature smirk starting to form.

"I think I'm good." I said, smiling.

X~x~X~x~X

Over the course of the next few days, I noticed something odd about Gerard. The first time I noticed was in art class. I looked over at him sketching away in his book, and noticed little scabs all over his hand. Mostly they were on his fingers, with one or two on each, and then a couple spread on the back of his hand. After that, he came in the next day with a few more. And the day after that, there were so many it was beginning to become unbearable not to ask whats happening.

"Hey Gee," I started, the hint of the questioning voice peeking through with a pinch of suspicion.

"Yeah?" He chirped, looking up at me, smiling wide. It almost appeared fake. I gave him a questioning glare before trailing my eyes down to his fingers. He registerred immediately what I was going to ask. However he continued to await my question anyway.
"What happened to your hand?" I asked as my voice wavered. He parted his lips, before clicking his tongue and then closing his mouth again. He obviously wasn't ready to share. But I prodded at him any.

"Gerard, are you doing it yourself?" I asked uneasily. He suddenely looked pissed.

"Why the fuck would you even think that?" He said, without yelling but spitting the words at me harshly and distastefully. Before I could answer, he went on.

"You think I hurt myself or something!?" This time he yelled. I felt my cheeks grow warm as everyone looked at us. Still, I didn't get a chance to respond. He leaned in close to my face, almost as if he were to kiss me. I almost got the butterflies but remembered that what was happening was really happening.

"I'll have you know," He started, bringing his voice down again-

"That I ain't no freak doing that shit to myself." I wanted to say so badly 'Gerard, you're not a freak. That's not what I meant. I just worry about you, and I want to know whats going on.' But he was
already storming out of the room.

Whatever I did, I hit a soft spot, and I felt like complete shit.