"I love you more than anything, Gerard Way. I want your soul, your every breath, your very existence. Will you submit to me?"
"If I can't have you, no one could."
To Frank, their paths were written and Frank saw himself as the owner of Gerard's dest...
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*TW: Smut/ Self Harm*
Gerard stood beneath the scalding hot water, tears mingling with the droplets as they trailed down his bruised and battered body. He winced as the soap stung his open wounds, hissing softly as he lathered it over his skin. The water turned a murky red as it washed away the evidence of Frank's brutality and Gerard scrubbed furiously, as if trying to erase the memories along with the blood that stained his flesh. With trembling hands, he reached up to cradle his aching head, his sobs echoing against the tiled walls of the shower stall. Each gasp for air was a desperate plea for escape, a silent cry for freedom from the prison of his own making. But as the water continued to rain down upon him, Gerard knew that no amount of scrubbing could wash away the scars that marred his soul. As the water finally began to run clear, Gerard emerged from the shower, his body trembling. With each step he took, he moved closer to the realization that he deserved better, that he was worthy of love and respect, and that no one, not even Frank, could take that away from him.
Gerard stood in front of the imaginary figure of Frank as he summoned the courage to speak his truth. "Frank," he began. "I refuse to be your victim any longer. I refuse to allow you to diminish my worth, to strip me of my dignity, and to rob me of my freedom." He locked eyes with the imaginary Frank. "You may have thought you owned me, but I am not your possession. I am a human being, with thoughts and feelings of my own, and I deserve to be treated with kindness and respect." His words echoed in the empty room. "I refuse to let fear dictate my actions, to let your cruelty define my existence. I am taking back control of my life, reclaiming my autonomy, and stepping into the light of my own truth." As he spoke, Gerard felt a weight lifting from his shoulders. Suddenly, Gerard accidentally slipped on a rug and he cried out Frank's name instinctively. Despite knowing Frank was at church, a desperate part of him clung to the hope that somehow, someway, his tormentor would come to his aid. "Frank!" he called out again but there was no response, only the hollow silence of an empty house. Tears welled in Gerard's eyes as he struggled to regain his footing, his injured body trembling with the effort.
With a trembling hand, he reached for the edge of the tub, his fingers gripping the slick porcelain for support. Slowly, painstakingly, he managed to pull himself upright, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he leaned against the wall for support. In that moment, as he stood there, battered and broken, Gerard knew that he couldn't rely on Frank to save him. Then, a chilling realization washed over him: despite the abuse he endured, his first instinct in times of crisis was still to turn to Frank for help. It was a sobering acknowledgment of the deep-seated hold that Frank had over him. Gerard couldn't shake the overwhelming urge to reach out to Frank, to seek solace in the arms of his tormentor despite knowing the pain that awaited him there. It was a cruel paradox, the very source of his suffering masquerading as his only refuge in moments of despair. Clutching his bruised and battered body, Gerard fought against the instinct to call out for Frank, to plead for his assistance as he had done so many times before. Gerard sat on the edge of his bed as he reached for his shirt, the fabric crumpled at the foot of the bed. He winced as he gingerly pulled it over his head, the material brushing against the tender skin of his bruised torso.
