My One And Only ~FRERARD~ (boyxboy)

Chapter 19 ~ Movies and spooning part 2

AN: I think the writer's block bruise is cleared up by now, so let's write!

**Gerard's POV**

Frank pulls away from the hug and I kiss him lightly. I feel him smile into the kiss. I pull away, but he grabs me by my shirt collar with both hands, pulling me down and smashing his lips against mine. He lets me go after about two seconds and pulls away, but I continue leaning in with my eyes closed. Frank giggles lightly and presses his lips to mine, gingerly, one last time. He pulls away and I look him in the eyes lovingly.

"You're so amazing. Is it too early to say I love you?" I say.

"Of course not, because I love you, too." Frank replies, sweetly. He snakes his arms around my neck, looking me directly in the eyes. "I really do." He adds.

I move my hands to Frank's waist, smiling to myself. He starts playing with the short hairs at the back of my neck, smiling back up at me. I can see the love in his gorgeous, golden-green eyes. I feel so blissful right in this moment. I can feel this wonderful emotion bubbling up in my chest. I don't know what to call it but, just like they say in the movies, it feels warm and fuzzy.

**Frank's POV**

Gerard makes me feel so happy. He makes me forget about my insecurities whenever he looks me in the eyes. He has such a beautiful smile -a beautiful face- yet he tells me that I'm the beautiful one.

"Let's get ready for bed." I say, detaching myself from him.

**Third person because it's the only way I can make this work**

"Okay." Gerard replies, sighing due to the loss of contact.

****OH SHIT TRIGGER WARNING****

Frank makes his way to the bathroom across from Gerard's bedroom. He slips into the bathroom, closing the door and stripping himself of all but his underwear. He looks in the mirror at himself, eyeing the wounds he's inflicted on himself.

Frank stares at his own hips, at the long scars that tell the stories of the times he couldn't handle the pressure, at the things that screamed he was too weak to move on, at the abominations covering up the fuck-up that he is.

He doesn't understand. He doesn't understand what went wrong. He doesn't understand why his father had to leave in such a vile way. He doesn't understand why his mother is now too drunk to care about him. He doesn't understand why everything had to pan out the way it did, why everything had to fall apart.

His eyes move to his arms, staring at the scars that were littered there, as well. He remembers the first time he cut himself on purpose.

~flashback~

Frank, thirteen years of age, comes home to his mother sitting in her recliner chair of sorrows, drinking away. She does not realize that he, her own son, is there. He walks off to the bathroom without saying a word to the drunken rock sitting before him. He makes his way to the poorly lit bathroom, staring at his own lifeless eyes in the mirror. There is so much lonliness present, yet there is still no emotion. It is more popularly known as emptiness.

The young boy feels nothing and everything all at once. But the everything that he feels is the everything that causes sadness, dispair, and lonliness. It is the unhappy everything. It is not an everything one desires to feel.

He can think of one thing and one thing only: To inflict more damage.

He searches around for his mother's razors. He finds one in the medicine cabinet and removes one of the blades, putting the razor back once done. He moves back over to the sink, steadily holding the blade over his left wrist. In one swift movement, he swipes the blade across the skin. He watches as the blood begins beading at the incision point. He likes the blood. He likes the pain. He cuts again, a little deeper this time. Even though he enjoys this, he does not want to make a habit of it. Oh, but it already has become a habit. He just doesn't know that yet.
He cleans the blade off and puts it back into the razor as to not leave a mark to justify his actions. He cleans out his new cuts and wraps bandages around his wrist, covering it back up with his sleeve.

He leaves the crime scene after disposing of any evidence it ever happened.

~end of flashback~

Frank does not know what made him do it but, in a flash, he punches the mirror, making the large glass shards fly everywhere.

Frank looks to his bloodied hand, laughing maniacally. He sits down on the floor, watching as the blood pours down his arm. He lays down slowly, letting everything settle in. This was a suicide attempt and he knows it. At least, now. His eyesight becomes blurred from lack of blood and he slowly drifts out of conciseness

****end of trigger warning, I think****

Gerard hears the glass shattering from across the hall. He runs to the bathroom to see if his boyfriend is alright. He knocks lightly on the door. "Frankie? Are you alright?" The scared boy asks, shakily.

There is no answer.

"Frank? Baby, answer me!" He shouts.

There is still no answer.

The boy tries to open the door. But he can't. But he can't. The door is locked from the inside and there is no key. "Frank! FRANK!" He screams, pounding on the door.

In a panic, Gerard moves his hands to the door handle. He shakes it, turns it, jiggles it, but it is no use. The boy lets out a scream, letting the budding tears flow from his eyes. "Someone get down here and help me!!" He screams at the top of his lungs. He needs someone. Anyone to help.

His mother comes rushing down the stairs in a hurry. "Honey, what's wrong?" She asks, worry stricken.

"F-Frank left t-to ch-change into his p-pajamas, but he wa-was t-taking a really long t-time, so I-I-I was g-gonna go ch-check on him, b-but I th-thought I wouldn't n-need to and th-then I-I heard glass sh-shattering s-so I ran t-to s-see if he w-was okay b-but the d-door's loc-locked and he-he won't answer m-me and I-I don't-t think he's o-okay in there p-please y-you need to c-call 911 o-or someth-thing please." The boy explains shakily, all in one breath.

"Okay, honey. Would you like to do the speaking?" His mother asks him, calmly.

"S-Sure." The boy stutters.

His mother pulls out her phone, dailing the number and placing it to her son's ear. After the third ring, the line picks up. "911. What's your emergency?"

"Hello, my boyfriend locked himself in the bathroom and I heard glass shattering. He hasn't answered to anything I've said and I can't get the door open." Gerard quickly explains.

"Okay. Would you like us to send over a team to break down the door?"

"Yes, please."

"And where are you located?"

The boy tells the person on the line the address.

"Alright. And would you like to explain what exactly happened so we know whether or not to send an ambulance?"

"Uh... Y-Yeah. Sure. My boyfriend, Frank, went to the b-bathroom to change into his pajamas a-and he was taking k-kind of a long time so I-I tthought to ch-check up on him but then I thought he would be fine and that I-I was worrying for no reason. A few minutes later, I heard glass shattering from the bathroom and I ran to see if he was okay. I called his name and knocked on the door, but there was no answer. I tried to open the door, but it's locked from the inside and I don't have a key or anything. I don't think he's okay." Gerard explains in one long story, his voice cracking at the end.

"Okay. We'll send an ambulance just in case." The person on the other side of the line says.

"Thank you." Gerard says and hangs up.

AN: I do not even know what happened here and I'm so sorry but here's an update. We'll find out what happens together. See you sometime in the next few days.