frerard one shots | ✔️

seventy-four ~ crossing the line

tw for cuts/blood/scarring, and mentions of abuse. not self harm!!

It'd been a long time since it had been this bad. Frank hadn't seen Gerard in such despair in so long, so naturally, he let him do whatever he wanted, even if it hurt Frank. He knew it was bad for him, but at the same time, every time he let Gerard do it, it got better and better until Frank was looking forward to the next time it happened.

This time, it had gone just a little further. Gerard never hurt Frank this much and Frank had never looked like an abuse victim, but now, walking to work, he felt like one. And he knew that Gerard couldn't help it sometimes, he knew the situation that Gerard was in, and he knew that soon, it would change, but he made up his mind and didn't treat it like abuse. He winced at the way his body ached, and the way his clothes rubbed against a certain scar, and the dull soreness in his ankles, but still, he told himself he loved it.

"Fuck, Frank," Jamia exclaimed as the short man checked into work at the tattoo shop. "You're limping."

"He never leaves it anywhere where people can see it," Frank mumbled. "I'm fine, Jams."

"It doesn't seem like you are," she said. "Come to the bathroom with me and let's see, okay?"

"Jamiaaa," Frank groaned, but she put her arm around his shoulders and helped him into the bathroom nonetheless.

"You're here early," he commented as they locked themselves into the neutral bathroom. "You're never here an hour before opening."

"I knew it had been a long weekend for you, sweetheart," she said, cringing. "Show me what he's done this time."

"Dude, it's not that big of a deal," Frank said, crossing his arms and leaning tenderly on the wall. "I promise."

"Then show me."

Frank sighed. He didn't move for a few seconds, but Jamia's stern eyes and pursed lips told him he wasn't getting out of this one. So, he rolled up the bottoms of his jeans and rolled his socks down to reveal purple and black bruises around his ankles.

She rolled her eyes, but when she saw that he had matching bruise circles around his wrists, she just bit her lip instead. Gripping the top of his forearm, she opened her mouth to say something, but when he hissed at that too, eyes watering, she pulled his sweater sleeve up to reveal a red raised skin, a heart-shaped scar on his forearm.

"Frank!" She gasped. "So this is kinky shit?"

"Uh, yeah," he stuttered, avoiding her eyes, but she locked eyes with him.

"You're lying. Only some of it is."

"No, no, no no no. It's all in the name of having fun sex that hurts, Jams, I promise," Frank said through his teeth, hissing when she let go of his arm too.

She sighed, and Frank could tell she was pushing that away mentally. "So how are you going to concentrate today?"

"I don't have anyone scheduled."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's just walk-ins today."

"You should walk in to a fucking pharmacy and get yourself some Neosporin."

"I took care of it last night and this morning. I know how my skin heals, and it should be all cleared up by Wednesday."

"So this has happened before."

"No! I, uh—"

"Don't lie to me," Jamia said, frustrated. "Come on, let's just open for today before Tony gets here."