"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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A week had passed since Frank's ominous conversation with Bert. The basement had been left behind, and now, the scene had shifted to the kitchen. Frank stood by the stove, humming softly to himself as he cooked an egg in a cast-iron skillet and the aroma of sizzling butter and eggs filled the air. Bert sat at the dining room table, his body visibly healing from the torment he had endured. Frank had meticulously tended to Bert's wounds, applying ointments and dressing his injuries with surprising care. The bruises had faded, and the whip marks had started to heal. "Breakfast is almost ready," Frank called out, his tone cheerful, as if nothing was amiss and Bert watched him from his seat, his eyes wary. The past week had been a surreal blend of cruelty and kindness. Frank had oscillated between a sadistic captor and a meticulous caretaker, ensuring Bert's injuries healed according to some inscrutable plan. Bert couldn’t make sense of it, and the unpredictability left him constantly on edge.
Frank plated the egg, its yolk perfectly runny, and walked over to the table. He set the plate down in front of Bert with a flourish, then took a seat opposite him, folding his hands on the table with a satisfied smile. "Eat up," Frank said, his eyes never leaving Bert's. "You need your strength." Bert picked up the fork, his hand trembling slightly and he took a tentative bite. Frank watched him eat, his expression one of casual interest. "Feeling better?" Frank asked. "I told you I'd take care of you." Bert nodded slowly, swallowing another bite. "Why?" he finally asked, his voice rough. "Why are you doing this?" Frank's smile widened, but there was a hardness in his eyes. "I need you to be in good shape," he said simply. "There’s more to this game than just pain, Bert. I need you to be a reminder for Gerard. A living, breathing reminder." Bert's grip tightened on the fork, but he forced himself to keep eating. He didn't want to provoke Frank, not after everything he had been through. He had to bide his time, to wait for a chance to escape or be rescued, no matter how slim the hope seemed.
Frank leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting to the window. "You know, Gerard’s been quite busy with his new family," he mused aloud. "But I wonder how long he can keep pretending everything's fine. How long before he breaks?"Bert looked up at him. "He won’t break," he said quietly. "He’s stronger than you think." Frank chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Oh, Bert," he said, his voice almost pitying. "You don't know Gerard like I do. He’s already cracking. And when he does, he'll come running back to me." Bert finished the last of the egg, pushing the plate away. "What do you want from me, Frank?" he asked, his voice steadier. "Why keep me alive?" Frank stood up, walking around the table to stand behind Bert and he placed a hand on Bert's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Because, Bert," he said softly, "you’re my leverage. My insurance. As long as I have you, Gerard will never be free of me. And that’s exactly how I want it." Frank patted Bert's shoulder and stepped back. "Now, rest up," he said, his tone returning to its earlier cheerfulness. "We have a long way to go, and I need you at your best."
XXX
Hayley sat next to Gerard on the bed as she gently broached the topic of therapy. She reached out to touch his hand, hoping to convey her support and understanding. "Gerard," she began softly, "I think it might be helpful for you to see a therapist. You've been... distant lately, and I'm worried about you." Gerard glanced at her, his eyes hollow and distant. He hadn't eaten much in days, barely speaking or showing any interest in anything, not even their newborn daughter, Cherry. His mind was consumed by thoughts of Frank. "I don't need therapy," Gerard mumbled, his voice barely audible. "I'm fine." Hayley sighed, feeling a pang of frustration and helplessness. She knew Gerard was struggling, but he refused to admit it, preferring to bury his feelings deep inside. She had hoped that becoming parents would bring them closer together, but instead, it seemed to drive them further apart. "Gerard, please," Hayley pleaded. "I just want to help you. We can't keep ignoring this. Something is wrong, and I want to make it right."
