Status: It's back :) xo
Street Kid
Chapter 7 - Brooding
Gee POV
I stared at the sleeping form on my bed.
I don't want to look away, just in case something happens.
Frank's lips still have a blue tinge to them and he's still slightly wet but at least he's safe now.
In a few hours he would wake up and probably wonder where the fuck he was. He didn't seem to really be in a right state of mind when I found him, to realize that I'd brought him back to my place.
I sighed and let my mind wonder back to last night’s events. I remember the feeling of my heart being ripped out when I saw Frankie lying on the floor.
I thought he was dead.
When I picked him up, his skin was so cold; it was like picking up a corpse. And by the looks of him I'm not sure how wrong that statement was... I was so scared, that moment in which I actually thought he was dead was the worst moment of my life. His blue lips, his ice like skin and his lack of movement lead me to believe that I was too late.
I was so relieved that I almost cried when I saw his eyelids flicker open and revealed his wonderful eyes, so full of pain, yet still filled with fighting fire and determination.
I wanted to help this tortured soul, offer him a place to live... but it wasn't my house.
Mikey would agree, I could convince my Mother, but my Father. He was the problem; although he wasn't in very often I shuddered to think of what would happen if he found Frank in our house. He was an asshole, racist, sexist, against gays, any other religion than Christianity and homeless people. A royal piece of work. i have no idea what my mother was thinking when she agreed to marry the son-of-a-bitch.
He would probably kill me if he found out that I was bi...
I remember when I was a younger, when he used to make us go to church, on the way we saw this kid, around 10, sleeping on a bus stop and my father gave him such a look of disgust that I couldn't help but ask why.
My father had replied that "People living on the street, deserved it. Either they were drug addicts, whores or simply needed to be punished by God."
That was the day that I promised myself that I would never become like my Father. Ever.
Thinking about it, that kid could have been Frank... I have no idea how long he'd been on the street.
Looking at how skinny he is, it must have been a while.
God... I really need to find out about this boy. Living on the street at 16, can't be easy. He's gunna have some serious things to get over... It's gunna be a long road, but I'm gunna help him. I'll find a way somehow.
I don't know why I feel the need to help him. I've spent less than 20 minutes with the guy whilst he was concious. We're not friends, we're not family...but, I want to protect him.
My thoughts where interrupted by a croaky voice.
"Gerard?"
I stared at the sleeping form on my bed.
I don't want to look away, just in case something happens.
Frank's lips still have a blue tinge to them and he's still slightly wet but at least he's safe now.
In a few hours he would wake up and probably wonder where the fuck he was. He didn't seem to really be in a right state of mind when I found him, to realize that I'd brought him back to my place.
I sighed and let my mind wonder back to last night’s events. I remember the feeling of my heart being ripped out when I saw Frankie lying on the floor.
I thought he was dead.
When I picked him up, his skin was so cold; it was like picking up a corpse. And by the looks of him I'm not sure how wrong that statement was... I was so scared, that moment in which I actually thought he was dead was the worst moment of my life. His blue lips, his ice like skin and his lack of movement lead me to believe that I was too late.
I was so relieved that I almost cried when I saw his eyelids flicker open and revealed his wonderful eyes, so full of pain, yet still filled with fighting fire and determination.
I wanted to help this tortured soul, offer him a place to live... but it wasn't my house.
Mikey would agree, I could convince my Mother, but my Father. He was the problem; although he wasn't in very often I shuddered to think of what would happen if he found Frank in our house. He was an asshole, racist, sexist, against gays, any other religion than Christianity and homeless people. A royal piece of work. i have no idea what my mother was thinking when she agreed to marry the son-of-a-bitch.
He would probably kill me if he found out that I was bi...
I remember when I was a younger, when he used to make us go to church, on the way we saw this kid, around 10, sleeping on a bus stop and my father gave him such a look of disgust that I couldn't help but ask why.
My father had replied that "People living on the street, deserved it. Either they were drug addicts, whores or simply needed to be punished by God."
That was the day that I promised myself that I would never become like my Father. Ever.
Thinking about it, that kid could have been Frank... I have no idea how long he'd been on the street.
Looking at how skinny he is, it must have been a while.
God... I really need to find out about this boy. Living on the street at 16, can't be easy. He's gunna have some serious things to get over... It's gunna be a long road, but I'm gunna help him. I'll find a way somehow.
I don't know why I feel the need to help him. I've spent less than 20 minutes with the guy whilst he was concious. We're not friends, we're not family...but, I want to protect him.
My thoughts where interrupted by a croaky voice.
"Gerard?"