Into The Dark

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Faint beeps bounce against the hospital walls, ringing in Frank's unconscious ears and causing him to stir. Slowly, hesitantly, he brings himself to open his eyes against the harsh florescent lights; the sight before him makes him wish he had slept until the sun burned out.

Needles and tubes and clear drops of foreign liquids create a maze around him, almost resembling a plastic cage. His day clothes sit in a crumpled and soggy heap in the chair beside him, darkened by the presence of snow. He shivers suddenly as his fragile mind rushes information to him; images of himself and of Bert and of Gerard–

Where is Gerard?

Frank struggles to lift himself from the sterile bed, finding that his joints and once able muscles are too tired to support his dwindling weight. He thinks desperately for a moment of what other possibilities are available to him.

Pillows? he surmises, rearranging his body, blankets, and sheets into a sort of makeshift incline. The glass window before him illustrates a concept that he had hoped to be rid of, an image that he hopes was just a sick joke his twisted mind was playing on him:

Gerard, heavy lidded in Bert's arms.

Frank feels his tear ducts begin to activate, but does his best to hold back the onslaught of sorrow. He sighs, taking deep breaths akin to those he in the newborn shows he watched with Gerard. They had always wanted a child and had planned to hire a surrogate mother immediately following the wedding. Frank smiles, reliving the moments when they had debated over names.

"I like Emily for a girl," Frank had giggled, wrapping his strong arms around his fiancee's waist. "Or maybe Lauren."

Gerard laughed, running his fingers along the all-too-prominent spine that protruded from his lover's back. "Whatever you want, baby," he coed.

The younger boy sat up, locking his eyes on the man before him. "You don't have any suggestions, Gee?"

"Not really," he responded, brushing his lips against the porcelain skin of Frank's cheek. "Whatever you pick will be perfect; you're perfect, and I trust you and whatever you chose."

They shared a short kiss, not unlike all the ones before. "I trust you too, Gee," Frank beamed, reclaiming his previous position. "More than anything."

He wishes he could say the same now.

Bert and Gerard separate partially, remaining attached at the hips. They seem to be discussing something, or rather, Bert seems to be. His words are hushed, inaudible almost by Frank's desperate ears but for a faint mumbling sound. His lips are curved upward in a sly grin and his hands are running along Gerard's delicate torso; it used to be that only Frank was permitted to perform such intimate gestures.

They hug again, this time more tightly, and Frank feels his last bit of hope draining. What would be the point in trying ti survive now?

Frank shuts his eyes, tired from whichever one of these foreign tubes was delivering much needed medicine to his frail body, but is forced to snap them open instantly after hearing raucous shouts from the hall.

"What the fuck are you thinking?!" Gerard was screaming, pushing Bert from his body. He slaps his neck violently, appearing to wipe something from his skin.

"I thought you... What the hell do you mean?!" Bert yells, advancing on the shaken boy before him.

Gerard shoots him a venomous glare before back pacing. "You know I'm with Frank," he almost whispers with a trembling voice, "and you know for a Goddamn fact that I love him."

"It certainly didn't seem that way this morning," the taller man grins. "Come on, Gee... I know you don't really wanna marry that fucking pansy." He steps forward, trying to place his hands on the objective boy's hips. "You're not the marrying type. And neither am I."

Gerard winces as the sinful touch of his former partner make contact with his belt loops. He struggles for a moment, obviously contemplating his options before acting. "Shows how much you know," he hisses, flattening his palm across the scratchy surface of Bert's cheek.

A violent red mark is left in its place, stunning Frank; Gerard had never been the type to participate in physical conflict.

"Now get the fuck out of here before I call security."