Fic: Promises, Promises (Don’t Send Me Back In 30 Days) [part 1]
title: Promises, Promises (Don’t Send Me Back In 30 Days)
pairing: Frank/Gerard
rating: NC-17
words: 26,300
prompt: Stockholm Syndrome
warning: Strong non-con/dub-con scenes; potential squicks and triggers. Stockholm Syndrome; non-con/dub-con sex (oral and penetrative); Dominance/submission; bondage (handcuffs); forced cross-dressing/feminization; criminal activity; violence; blood/bruising; handwaving elements of the American justice system.
summary: “Sources on our investigative team say this was a bank robbery gone wrong, and that, when faced with a police task force surrounding the building, the suspect grabbed the nearest person and is now holding that young man at gunpoint as he makes his getaway.”
disclaimer: this is an AU, so it’s obviously not true. I don’t own any of the people involved, and I’m not making any profit from this. Also, my knowledge of the justice system is pretty limited, so take everything in that regard with a grain of salt.
a/n: Written for the bandom_hc challenge. Extra special thanks to my betas! Especially giddy_london, who is always amazingly helpful and articulate to the extreme (if I can satisfy a person with an English degree, then I’m happy!), and will ramble at me about characterization and plot for hours. And tuesdaysgone, who caught everything I still missed and has really awesome attention to detail. ♥ Thanks to everyone who encouraged me during the challenge when I seriously thought I wasn't going to make it, and thanks to philosiraptors, who wanted this fic in the first place. I hope it lives up to your expectations! :)
part 1
part 2
part 3
**********
+ 1 hour
Mikey wasn't in the habit of watching the news channels during the day; he preferred MTV or Cartoon Network in the mornings, before all the high-budget drama shows came on, but since he’d moved back into his mom’s house, she was exercising her parental rights of controlling the television.
Donna wasn’t actually in the kitchen at that moment, but her habits were rubbing off on Mikey and he didn’t mind flipping to the local news station while he poured himself a bowl of cereal. He suffered through the sports and weather, waiting for the entertainment news, but there wasn’t anything Mikey hadn’t already read online. The cycle began again at ten o’clock, starting with the breaking news, and suddenly Mikey was very glad he hadn’t changed the channel. He froze with his spoon halfway to his mouth, dripping milk and soggy Cocoa Puffs onto the table.
“…hostage situation has developed at the Bank of America in Belleville, New Jersey. The authorities have released this photo of the perpetrator, but they haven’t identified the man yet, as he hasn’t given his name to the police.”
The screen was filled with a blurry, black and white security camera screenshot of a man in a long black jacket and gloves, with a striped scarf tied around the lower half of his face. He was turned towards the camera, but his eyes were hidden by a mess of dark hair.
“Shit,” Mikey breathed. He dropped his spoon and turned up the volume.
“Sources on our investigative team say this was a bank robbery gone wrong, and that, when faced with a police task force surrounding the building, the suspect grabbed the nearest person and is now holding that young man at gunpoint as he makes his getaway. The hostage’s name has not yet been released to the media. All of the hostages at the bank appear to be unharmed…”
“Oh, shit, Gerard.”
**********
+ 23 days
“How did he hurt you?”
“What?” The boy’s eyes were wide and frightened, and Ray felt a sharp pang of sympathy. He softened his tone when he asked a second time.
“How did he hurt you, Frank? It’s okay, you won’t ever see him again. We’ll protect you. Just tell me, how did he hurt you?”
“He-”
**********
- 36 minutes
Frank pushed the glass door open with his hip, hands full with his paycheck, bus pass, wallet, house keys, driver’s license, cell phone, and bits of pocket lint. He was already trying to do the math in his head: how much could he keep in his savings account, how much could he afford to spend on groceries, and how much of the pitiful remnants would go towards his long overdue student loans. He dumped all of his shit onto the narrow counter and fished out a deposit slip.
He didn’t notice the person who came in after him until he felt the slight brush against his arm. Frank looked over; the man had a scarf wound around his neck, pulled all the way up to his nose, and he huddled into his jacket like he was cold. Frank was in a t-shirt and ripped jeans; it was a little chilly inside the bank, but outside it was almost uncomfortably warm for Jersey at this time of year. The dude’s long black hair looked like it hadn’t been washed or brushed in days.
Frank looked back down at his own paper and continued to fill it out. He noticed the guy beside him was wearing gloves. Maybe he was sick or something. Or a leper. Or a vampire. Frank rolled his eyes and told himself to shut up. He gathered his stuff and got in line. A moment later, the man stepped into place behind him. Frank forced himself not to turn around and stare. The guy was just too weird to let slide.
He and the other guy went up to tellers side by side and Frank was too focused on his own affairs to realize what was happening until the girl helping Vampire Dude screamed. Frank whipped around; Vampire Dude was holding a fucking gun.
“Oh, fuck,” he whispered, then dropped to the ground with everybody else when Vampire-Now-Bank-Robber Dude fired a shot into the air.
***
- 10 minutes
The teller had apparently hit a silent alarm when the dude-now known as Gee-handed her the note, because there was a cacophony of sirens and helicopters outside. Gee wanted half a million dollars. Frank thought the amount was kind of low, considering the economy these days. He would’ve asked for, like… five million. Ten. Something to give him some negotiating room. But maybe Gee had other plans.
Frank hadn’t moved since the shots rang out. He was on his stomach with his fingers laced behind his head, just like everyone around him. There was a girl crying near the door, and a couple of guys whispering to each other at the other end of the room. The bank employees were all beneath their desks.
Gee was sitting on the counter, his feet swinging just above Frank’s head, and not doing anything. Waiting. Finally, one of the tellers’ phones rang.
“That’ll be for me,” Gee said. “I’ll put it on speakerphone for you. I’m all for honesty between us.”
Frank wasn’t sure if Gee was talking to the teller or everyone else. He turned his head and glanced up.
“Hello?” Gee asked casually.
“This is Special Agent Bob Bryar of the FBI. Who am I speaking to?”
“Call me Gee. Are you the guy who can make things happen for me, Bob?”
“I sure hope so, Gee. Tell me what’s going on in there.”
“I’m holding up a bank.”
Frank rolled his eyes. He could practically hear Agent Bryar doing the same. “Is anybody hurt?”
“Hey, guys, anyone hurt?” Gee asked the room. Nobody replied besides the one girl near the door whimpering. “Doesn’t seem like it. And if they are, it’s not my fault yet.”
“You should know, Gee, that unless you negotiate with me and nobody gets hurt, you’re not coming out of that bank alive,” Bryar replied.
Gee hopped off the counter. “We’ll see about that,” he said simply, and hung up the phone. His feet were inches from Frank’s face. His shoes were scuffed, and the bottoms of his jeans were frayed. Gee squatted down and cocked his head, hazel eyes glinting with amusement. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Frank. And don’t call me ‘kid’,” Frank answered stiffly, fixing Gee with a glare.
“Hi, Frank. I’m Gee. You’re coming with me.” Gee grabbed the duffel bag full of cash with one hand and Frank’s wrist with the other, yanking him to his feet. “Where’s your cell phone?” Gee asked.
Frank stared at him with wide-eyed innocence.
“C’mon, Frankie, I know you have one, I saw it earlier. Get it out and smash it.”
“What? No!” Frank objected shrilly.
Gee let go of Frank’s arm to grab his gun, which he then leveled at Frank’s forehead. “Smash your phone and empty your pockets, Frank, I’m not going to tell you again.”
Frank dumped everything out of his pockets and stomped on his phone until the keypad and screen both crunched under his heel. He stared at the gun. He wasn’t familiar enough with them to know whether the safety was on or off, or if it was cocked, or what that even fucking meant. Gee didn’t exactly seem like the most stable person on the planet, and it looked far too easy for his finger to slip on that trigger.
“Do you have a car?”
Frank shook his head. “I take the bus,” he said quietly.
“Fine. Take the money. Come with me.” Gee handed Frank the duffel and put his free hand on the back of Frank’s neck. With the other, he pressed the gun against Frank’s cheek. Frank’s heart felt like it was about to explode, it was beating so fast.
Gee guided him to the front door and ordered him to stand against the glass with his hands in the air, and then he told one of the bank employees to get that detective on the phone.
“Hey, Bob,” he said, once the call was patched through. “I’ve got a hostage. His name is Frank and he’s coming with me. Introduce yourself to Agent Bob, Frankie.”
Gee held the phone up for him. “Hi, Bob,” Frank said. He scanned the crowd of police officers and FBI guys, trying to pick out this agent.
“You okay, Frank?” Bob asked. Frank nodded and hoped Bob could see him. “I’m gonna help you, okay? You’re gonna be okay.” Gee took the phone away.
“Me and Frankie are leaving now. If anyone tries to shoot at me, or stop us, or basically piss me off in any way, I’ll kill him. Got it?”
Bob must have understood, because Gee hung up the phone and started dragging Frank to the back exit. They paused in the middle of the room for Gerard to shout, “Who’s got a car parked on the street?”
A guy offered up his keys and resumed cowering against the wall.
“Once we leave, the police are going to come in here and save the day, so don’t do anything stupid like try to follow me. Nice meeting you all, and have a pleasant day!”
Gee steered Frank to the door and pushed the gun up against his throat. “Okay, Frankie,” he murmured, his voice muffled through the scarf, “let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
***
+ 12 minutes
Gee kept Frank in front of him until they reached the car and instructed him to get in the driver’s seat. Gee passed him the keys, trained the gun on Frank’s head, and buckled in. Frank followed his lead.
“Um…”
“What?”
“I can’t drive a stick,” Frank admitted meekly.
“It’s not that hard,” Gee mumbled. “Just go.”
Frank tentatively started the engine and tried to pull out of the parking space, only to have the transmission grind and crunch disturbingly. He immediately let go of the wheel and held his hands in the air.
“Shit,” Gee hissed. “Move over. Switch with me, c’mon.”
They climbed over each other and switched seats, Gee fumbling with the gun and the steering wheel while Frank tried to twist his way into the right position.
“Don’t try anything, okay?” Gee asked him. He waited for Frank’s nod and then stuck the gun back in his jacket pocket. They sped off down the street towards the turnpike.
***
+ 42 minutes
Gee had finally taken off his gloves and scarf. He was paying a fair amount of attention to the road, but he kept glancing over at Frank warily. Gee’s face was kind of unremarkable; his skin was clear and very pale, and his teeth were relatively straight, if rather small. Frank sat pressed against the passenger-side door and stared at him. They hadn’t driven all that far because Gee doubled back a few times and went in circles, and Frank was still familiar with the area.
He finally got up the courage to ask, “Where are you taking me?”
Gee grinned; the effect was somewhat frightening. “I’ve got a place for us to stay tonight,” he answered, “but we have to make a pit-stop first.”
Frank wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that, and he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. He glared at Gee for a few minutes, but Gee didn’t seem to mind, so he turned to fume at the dashboard instead. He tried to guess at how fast the car was going; he could just undo his seatbelt, open the door, and jump out. He probably wouldn’t die.
Frank moved one hand to the seatbelt buckle. He’d have to be quick.
Gee moved one hand into his pocket. He pulled out the gun and placed it carefully in his lap.
“You don’t want to leave before things get exciting, do you?” Gee asked casually.
Frank wedged both hands beneath his thighs and mumbled, “I’ve had enough excitement for one day.”
***
+ 1 hour
Gee finally pulled the car into a spot along the street. Frank couldn’t see why they would stop at any of the surrounding stores: a bike repair shop, a candle shop, a restaurant that didn’t open until evening, and a jewelry store. Unless maybe Gee wanted to rob the jewelry store. He picked up the gun.
“Get out. Don’t worry, we haven’t been followed. We’re going for a little walk.”
Frank reluctantly stepped out onto the sidewalk and waited for Gee to join him. Gee stuffed the gun back into his pocket and took Frank’s hand.
“C’mon, sweetie,” he cooed.
“What the fuck?” Frank asked shrilly.
Gee leaned in close to whisper in Frank’s ear. “Listen, Frankie,” he said, “it doesn’t really matter if you like it or not. You’re going to play along, got it?”
“Yeah,” Frank sighed, “I got it.”
Gee squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek. “This way,” he continued happily, leading Frank down the sidewalk. The street wasn’t very populated, and they only got a few looks, which Frank interpreted as disgust at them playing a gay couple in the middle of Jersey. They walked for a few blocks, then crossed the street. Gee stopped in front of a building with blacked-out windows and a discreet sign on the door.
“No fucking way,” Frank groaned.
“Shut up, Frankie,” Gee sing-songed. It was a sex shop. Gee pushed open the door.
Predictably, Gee led him to the far wall, which had a display with several kinds of handcuffs. Some were padded or lined with fuzzy materials, others were metal with complicated locks, and still others were thick and clunky, like real shackles. Gee pointed out a few different styles and said, “Which one do you want, baby?”
Frank glanced around, but not only was the store deserted, it was also the one place such pet names wouldn’t be considered weird. He turned to Gee. “Why are you doing this?” he whispered pleadingly. “Just let me go, please, I won’t say anything.”
“Pick one or I’ll pick for you,” Gee shot back. He raised an eyebrow. “I’m giving you a choice here, Frankie; I suggest you take advantage of it.”
Frank pointed to a pair of padded, faux-leather cuffs. They looked the most comfortable. Gee plucked two sets from the rack.
“Take these to the check-out; I’ll be there in a minute,” Gee said quietly. “Trust me, Frankie, you don’t want to run off. Bad things might happen if you do.”
Frank swallowed. “What kind of things?”
“You don’t want anybody to die, do you?”
His eyes widened and he shook his head quickly. “I’ll wait for you.”
“Good boy.” Gee gave him a nudge in the right direction and headed down a different aisle. When they met up at the counter, Gee was carrying a box of latex gloves and, to Frank’s dismay, a blindfold and a gag. Gee smiled at the cashier as he put the items down and nudged Frank’s side. “You’re not allergic to latex, are you, baby?”
Frank shook his head, chancing a glance at the cashier. She just looked bored.
“Is this all together?” she asked easily. Gee nodded and handed over a few bills to pay.
“Get the bag, sweetie,” Gee said when she’d finished. Frank’s face burned and he didn’t look at the girl as he took the paper bag from her hands. Gee guided him towards the door with a firm hand at his lower back. Frank kept his head down.
“Which do you think is more conspicuous in a sex shop, Frankie,” Gee murmured, taking Frank’s hand as they walked down the street. “A happy gay couple, or one man who obviously doesn’t want to be there and another man forcing him? It’s a legitimate question. What do you think?”
“I think you’re fucking crazy,” Frank hissed. He wrenched his arm out of Gee’s grasp and took several steps away. “What the fuck do you want with me?”
“You really want to argue with the guy who’s got a gun in his pocket?” Gee asked coldly.
“You’re a fucking lunatic!” Frank cried. “You don’t need me. I won’t tell. I’m done with this shit, I’m leaving.”
Gee’s arm shot out, blocking Frank’s path. He crowded Frank against the brick storefront and leaned in close. “You’ll leave when I say you can fucking leave,” he spat.
Frank whipped the bag around, aiming for Gee’s stomach, but Gee just took a step to the side and stepped on Frank’s foot, hard enough that Frank hunched over in pain. While he was down, Gee grabbed a handful of Frank’s hair with one hand and his gun with the other. Frank felt the cold metal pressed against his neck and he froze. Gee’s hand loosened slightly in his hair. Frank’s heart raced. The street was nearly deserted; Gee could pull the trigger and kill him, and nobody would even notice until they stumbled over his body.
“I’m sorry,” he said shakily. His voice was breathier than he’d intended; he couldn’t force out enough sound.
Gee bent down and kissed the top of his head. “Very good. When I say, you’re going to stand up, and we’re going to walk to the car. We’ll get the money, then find a car you can drive. You’re going to get in the driver’s seat, I will get in the passenger seat, and we’re going to get out of here. Understand?”
“Yeah.”
“I need you, Frank. I don’t want to kill you. But if you act up again, I will not hesitate to hurt you. I just need you alive, for now. I don’t care if you’re beat up.”
“Okay.”
“Alright,” Gee said, his voice cheerful again. “Let’s go.”
***
+ 7 hours
Frank had lost track of the roads. The one they were on now was long and straight, and Frank was zoning out. He yawned and glanced at his captor. They hadn’t spoken in nearly an hour, and before that, Gee had only broken the silence to give Frank directions.
They’d been driving for long enough that Frank felt it time to ask where they were going. He thought it was an okay question. He was the one driving, after all.
Gee gave him a suspicious look, but answered, “A motel. We’ll be there in about half an hour.”
Frank didn’t want to sink into silence again. “What town?”
“I’ll tell you when we’re closer.”
Frank waited a moment before speaking again. This time he was pleading. “Talk to me, please. I’m going to fall asleep at the wheel.”
“Oh,” Gee said, sounding surprised. Frank looked over at him; he sat up straighter. “I can talk.”
***
+ 10 hours
Gee had him park two blocks past a dingy little motel, and then they doubled back and went straight to one of the rooms. Frank made a mental note of the room number in case he could contact the police or something. Maybe scream out the window, “Help, I’m being held hostage by a head case in room 36!” In a place like this, though, Frank didn’t think anyone would come to his rescue.
Frank sat down on the bed-there was only one, and Frank had pretty much resigned himself to having sex with this guy; why else would he still be a hostage? Gee didn’t seem to want to ransom him, not that anyone would even pay-and watched cautiously as Gee took a backpack out of the closet and started laying things out on the floor. A stack of blank envelopes, a roll of stamps, a Lisa Frank folder with unicorns on the front.
“Come down here,” Gee said when he finished. Frank sat down on the floor next to Gee, in the middle of the semicircle of supplies. Gee handed him a pair of latex gloves and a pen, and then fished out a crumpled list of addresses from his backpack.
“You’re addressing the envelopes. Put a stamp on them and put ‘em in a pile over here, okay?”
“Um, okay. Why?”
“Because.”
“That’s not a reason, dumbass,” Frank snapped, clicking the pen viciously.
“Listen, motherfucker, I’m the one in charge here, so you do what I say, got it?”
Frank grumbled something that he hoped passed for a response and started copying the list. He was angry enough that he was indenting the paper with the pen, and his letters were uncharacteristically spiky. He was probably lowering any chance he had of getting his handwriting recognized by the police or something. He didn’t even know if they looked at things like handwriting. He should’ve watched more cop shows on TV.
Gee put on a pair of gloves as well and began sorting the money into equal piles. He folded up a typed letter from the Lisa Frank folder to go with each one. They looked the same, though Frank was never quick enough to read them.
When nearly an hour had passed, Gee looked up sharply, his eyes narrowed on Frank. “You must be hungry,” he said, which wasn’t what Frank was expecting at all. “I didn’t even think,” he continued. “I didn’t eat anything before, ‘cause of the nerves, and then it was all just kind of fast, so… but you must be starving. I might have-”
“I’m not,” Frank broke in quickly. “And I’m vegetarian. But I’m not hungry.” He didn’t think he could keep anything down if he did eat. He was a nervous wreck.
“Oh. Got the envelopes done?”
Frank nodded towards the stack he’d finished. “I didn’t know what to put for a return address.”
“Blank is fine. We’ll stick ‘em in the mail tomorrow. I’m just gonna go to the bathroom. Don’t… do anything stupid,” Gee said casually. He pushed himself to his feet and gave Frank a hard look before going into the bathroom. He left the door open a crack.
Frank sat stupidly on the floor for a moment before it dawned on him that he could just leave. The door was locked from the inside; Gee was in the bathroom; the gun was on the bed. Frank glanced at the bathroom door and rose slowly, silently. He was halfway to the front door when he realized it would probably be a good idea to take the gun.
He tip-toed back towards the bed, but as soon as he passed through the beam of light coming from the bathroom, the door swung open and Gee barreled into him. They fell onto the bed, and then Gee yanked Frank up and slammed him into the wall by his shirt collar. He pinned Frank there, knee grinding into Frank’s thigh, and grabbed for Frank’s wrists.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Frankie?” Gee hissed.
“Let me go!” Frank cried. He thrashed around, trying to get free, but Gee just sandwiched him against the wall. “Let me go or I’ll scream.”
Gee chuckled. “No one will care.”
“You don’t need me! Let me go!” Frank shouted. He pounded his fist against the wall, hoping someone would hear him, though with his luck, the next room was probably empty.
Gee took a step back. Surprised, Frank stumbled and fell to the floor; he hadn’t realized how much Gee had been holding him upright. Frank scrambled to his feet and made a dash for the gun. Gee cut him off with a knee to Frank’s stomach, sending him to the floor again, coughing and gasping for air.
“And you wonder why I don’t trust you,” he said breathlessly. He pushed Frank onto his back and buckled one of the cuffs securely around Frank’s left wrist. “I think we’re done for tonight.” He dragged Frank over towards the bed. “I don’t think I want you in bed with me,” he muttered. “You’ll probably kick me or something.”
Frank struggled as Gee hooked the cuffs around the foot of the bed, but with one hand already tied and the other tight in Gee’s hand, there wasn’t much he could do to resist. He kicked out at Gee every time he walked by and stepped over Frank, but then Gee climbed into bed and turned out the lights, and there wasn’t anything more for Frank to fight.
***
+ 21 hours
Frank woke up sore from sleeping on the floor with his arms locked at a strange angle, and he could feel a bruise on his ribs throbbing. The shower was running, and the bathroom door was cracked open again.
“Gee?” he called. “Hello?”
A moment later, Gee poked his head out of the bathroom. The shower hadn’t turned off, and his hair was still dripping. He smiled when he met Frank’s eyes.
“Oh, good, you’re up! I’ll be out in a second.”
Gee disappeared again and Frank yanked at the cuffs around his wrists, thinking that maybe, in the light of day, he’d have better luck wiggling out of them, but no, they were locked tight. All Frank managed to do was pinch a nerve and he cradled his hand helplessly for a minute.
Gee found him like that and knelt down, appearing concerned. “What happened?” he asked kindly.
“Nothing,” Frank replied stubbornly, lifting his chin in defiance.
“Well, okay,” Gee said brightly, giving Frank a grin. “I was thinking about Waffle House for breakfast, what do you say? Ready to get out of here?”
“Uh,” Frank hedged, “could I take a shower first?”
“Oh, yeah, sure!”
Frank sighed gratefully when Gee pulled the handcuff key out from beneath his shirt, where it was hanging around his neck by a thin chain. Gee stroked his thumb thoughtfully over the redness around Frank’s wrists when he unlocked them, but didn’t say anything.
“I’ll pack up,” he said, pushing Frank towards the bathroom. “Don’t take too long, I’m hungry.”
After washing his hair and body with the little soaps and bottles provided by the motel, Frank sat down in the shower and let the hot water pound on his back. The fucking motel had better water pressure than his own damn apartment. He wrapped his arms around his knees and pulled them to his chest. Maybe Gee would get frustrated with him and just leave him here.
“Frank?” Gee called, pounding on the door. “You didn’t drown, did you? Come on, let’s go!”
Frank reluctantly twisted the taps from hot to cold, until he started to shiver, and then turned the water off. He didn’t move from the tiny bathtub, though, and a moment later, Gee came in and opened the curtain.
“Frank,” he said, “come on.”
Frank looked up at him blankly.
“Frank,” Gee repeated sternly. “Get up.” Frank pushed himself to his feet. Gee grabbed his upper arm and yanked him out of the bathroom. “Put your clothes on and let’s go,” Gee ordered, tossing Frank’s jeans at him while Frank just stood in the middle of the room, naked, dripping wet, and shivering so hard his teeth were chattering.
***
+ 22 hours
Frank sat in the corner seat of their booth and stared out the window, keeping his expression carefully neutral while Gee attempted to start a conversation. When the waitress finally came to take their order, Gee asked for eggs, bacon, pancakes, and coffee. The waitress turned to Frank, and he looked back at her, bewildered. He hadn’t even looked at the menu.
Across the table, Gee clenched his teeth and kicked Frank’s shin. “Order whatever you want, Frank,” he muttered.
“Do you have vegan pancakes?” Frank asked uncertainly.
“No,” she replied shortly.
“Uh. A salad?”
She rolled her eyes and said, “Sure, honey.”
“Vegan?” Gee asked, once she had gone.
“Yeah,” Frank mumbled, and hoped Gee would leave it at that. He was already feeling sick to his stomach, and he didn’t want to get into all the things that turned him towards veganism.
When their food came, Frank hardly touched his. He pushed his fork around his plate nervously, glancing out the window and down at his lap.
“Frankie,” Gee began quietly. “You need to eat something, okay? You haven’t eaten at all since yesterday. I don’t want you to pass out or anything.”
Frank munched obligingly on a slice of cucumber. Gee continued acting cheerful and pleasant, but Frank kept thinking of how it could all turn on him, if he said or did the wrong thing. Gee might kill somebody. Gee might kill him.
Gee smiled at him and nodded at his plate, and Frank took an actual bite of his salad, stomach twisting as he forced himself to swallow it.
***
+ 25 hours
Gee drove them around until he spotted a payphone at a gas station. He parked next to it and told Frank to get out of the car. Outside, he asked if Frank wanted anything from the convenience store, and Frank shook his head, twisting his hands in the hem of his t-shirt.
“Come with me, then,” Gee said, and pulled him into the phone booth. It wasn’t big, and Frank was pressed into the corner with Gee right against him. He felt a little faint, like he was being slowly suffocated.
Gee picked up the phone and dialed a number he knew by heart, and Frank was close enough that he could hear someone pick up.
“Hey, Mikey,” Gee said softly, “it’s me.”
“Gerard, what the fuck?” the person, Mikey, squawked. “What the fuck did you do?”
“Shh,” Gee-Gerard?-hissed into the phone, glancing quickly at Frank. “Does anyone know anything yet?”
“No,” Mikey answered. “I’ve been watching the news, too.”
“I haven’t had any trouble,” Gee said. “And I’ve had Frank with me the whole time.”
“Frank? That guy? You still have him?” Mikey asked shrilly, and Gee sighed.
“Yeah, he’s here. He’s fine. Aren’t you fine, Frank?”
Frank, eyes wide and scared, nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he echoed.
“He says he’s fine,” Gee said into the phone. “I wanted to see how you are. Are you okay, Mikey? Seriously.”
Mikey lowered his voice to answer and Frank couldn’t really make out the words. Gee made a few “mmhmm,” and “huh” noises while Mikey talked. Eventually, though, he started to sound angry. Frank watched his face closely.
“You have to know-” he said stiffly.
“I don’t care,” Frank heard Mikey reply.
“I did this for you!” Gee finally cried. “It’s all going in the mail today, you’ll be finished with all of that shit as long as you keep your fucking nose clean and mind your own fucking business. I did this all for you, Mikey.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” Mikey shouted back. “I could have done it on my own.”
Gee banged his fist against the glass and said, “I know I’m a shitty brother, just let me fucking fix this so you can get on with your life!”
“By ruining yours?” Mikey replied coldly.
“You did so much for me, Mikey. I want to help you, that’s all. You helped me.”
Frank couldn’t hear Mikey’s answer, though he was now very interested, and Gee hung up the phone without saying anything more.
“C’mon,” he muttered to Frank, tugging at his wrist, “we have to go.”
***
+ 26 hours
It took them longer to find a public mailbox without going to a post office. Frank was sure they weren’t even in New Jersey anymore. Gee had Frank mail all the letters they’d prepared the night before, and once they were all in the mailbox, Gee sighed and seemed to deflate.
“What happened with Mikey?” Frank asked carefully. “How are you helping him?”
“He was in trouble, and now he’s not,” Gee replied shortly.
“What kind of trouble?”
Gee whirled on him and Frank cowered against the side of the car. “The kind you’ll be in if you don’t shut up and mind your own fucking business.”
“I’m sorry,” Frank breathed.
Gee softened and said, “Get in the car, we’re leaving.”
***
+ 30 hours
Frank sat cross-legged on the bed with his hands cuffed in his lap. He fiddled with the chain, but didn’t make an effort to try and get himself free. Gee was across the room, chatting with Mikey on the cheap laptop they’d bought earlier in the day. Gee was smiling, and that made Frank feel a little better about his situation. If Mikey made Gee angry, Frank would have to deal with the fallout.
Frank was too far away to read whatever was on Gee’s screen, but every now and then he caught glimpses of a site logo he recognized. He sighed and looped the handcuff chain around one of his feet, utterly bored.
“Want to watch TV?” Gee asked, and Frank shrugged. Gee didn’t turn the TV on. Frank sighed again.
“I’ll order a pizza,” Gee said a few minutes later. “You hungry?”
Frank shrugged again. He flopped backwards on the bed and sighed, staring at the ceiling.
The pizza came about half an hour later. Gee stood up to answer the door, and he stuck the gun in his pocket. “You say a word to this guy and I’ll shoot you,” he warned, and waited for Frank’s nod before opening the door.
Gee paid with cash. The delivery guy gave Frank a weird look-probably because he was wearing handcuffs, Frank realized belatedly-but Frank just stared back at him defiantly. He was glad when the man finally left and Gee joined him on the bed. The pizza was vegetarian with no cheese.
Frank smiled at Gerard. They ate in silence, and when the pizza was gone, Gee turned the television on and found a Star Wars marathon.
***
+ 34 hours
Bored with the movie, bored with sitting on the bed, bored with staying in the stupid motel room all day, Frank asked Gee, “Why did you even take me with you?”
“You have pretty lips,” Gee answered casually, not even looking away from the TV. Frank stared at him.
“I what?”
“I like your lips.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
“Why-”
“Shut up, Frank.”
Frank sighed again, but he really couldn’t concentrate on the movie after that. He kept looking over at Gee, but Gee never looked back at him. If Gee wanted to use him for sex, why hadn’t he done anything yet? Maybe Gee had been waiting for tonight, though he didn’t seem to be in any particular rush. He was pretty engrossed in Darth Vader’s badassery, actually. Frank bit his lip and watched Gee watch the movie.
Nothing happened at all. When it was over, Gee turned off the television. Frank stared at him, but he still wasn’t making any move on Frank. Gee got up to turn off the computer and the desk lamp, and then the overhead light, but then he just sat back down on the bed, backlit by the bedside lamp. He was mostly in shadow, but the light was crawling across his face and glinting in his eyes.
“What?” he asked, presumably because Frank had been staring intently at him for the past five minutes.
“I get it, okay?” Frank muttered. “Can we just get it over with?”
“What?” Gee asked again, and he looked genuinely confused, a little wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows as he frowned.
“I get it,” Frank repeated, “I understand.”
Realization seemed to dawn and Gee began to smile. “You really don’t.”
“I understand enough,” Frank replied soberly. Gee raised his eyebrows and the wrinkle disappeared. “You want I should blow you?”
Gee did a hilarious double-take.
“I’ll do it.”
“Why?” Gee asked. “Are you trying to trick me into something?”
“You won’t hurt me if I suck you off, right?” Frank asked, hoping like hell he already knew the answer.
He breathed out a quiet sigh of relief when Gee replied, “Okay.”
Frank slid off the bed and onto his knees, wobbling a bit as he tried to balance with his hands cuffed together in front of him. He licked his lips and looked up at Gee. After only a few seconds’ deliberation, Gee scooted forward on the bed and started to unbutton his jeans. Frank stared at the quick, practiced motions of Gee’s fingers and his mouth went dry. He was suddenly very nervous.
“How do I know you’ll keep your word?” Frank asked shakily.
Gee paused with both hands over the bulge in his crotch and Frank still didn’t look up. Gee finally reached out and tilted Frank’s head up with a firm hand under his chin. He waited until Frank met his eyes before speaking. “My name’s Gerard Way, and I stole that money to save my little brother’s life from a handful of angry loan sharks.”
Frank blinked. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting.
“I didn’t plan on kidnapping you, but once I saw your face at that bank, I couldn’t get you out of my head. You’re right, Frankie, I wanted you. I still do. And now I have you, and you’re going to suck my dick because it’s what I want you to do, and I get what I want from you. Got it?”
Frank nodded. Gee-Gerard-lifted his hips off the bed and forced the tight jeans down his thighs. Frank helped him push the denim to the floor, and when Gerard spread his legs, Frank moved between them and pulled the tip of Gerard’s cock into his mouth.
Gerard put one hand on the back of Frank’s head and used the other to brace himself on the bed. “Go down,” he ordered, and gave Frank a slight push. Frank slowly lowered his head, taking more of Gerard’s dick into his mouth until he didn’t think any more would fit, and Gerard kept that gentle pressure at the base of Frank’s skull so he couldn’t move back.
“More,” Gerard said. Frank made a muffled, panicked noise in his throat and Gerard pushed him down farther. Frank felt like his mouth couldn’t possibly open up any more; he was going to choke, and Gerard’s other hand came around and grabbed the chain holding Frank’s wrists together. He pulled it tight, so Frank couldn’t flail his hands around, and he pushed Frank down forcefully.
“Swallow,” he said, and Frank huffed out a quick, labored breath through his nose and swallowed around Gerard’s cock. His throat opened just enough, and Frank still felt like he was choking, but it was easier to manage. He held himself down-Gerard held him down-for a few agonizingly long seconds before Frank spluttered and jerked his head back, desperate for air.
He chanced a quick glance up at Gerard’s face and found him smirking. “Good boy,” Gerard murmured. “Ever done this before?”
“Yeah,” Frank replied, his voice rough. He’d gone down on guys before, yes, but never like this. He decided not to mention that. Gerard’s hand was loose and gentle at the nape of his neck and Frank felt Gerard playing with his hair, but then Gerard moved his hand up to Frank’s skull and guided him down again.
Frank went with less fuss and Gerard didn’t push him quite as far. It was easier for Frank to establish a rhythm, and Gerard wasn’t trying to force it, which helped. He even seemed to hold himself back from pushing into Frank’s mouth. Frank didn’t know why, but he was grateful nonetheless.
His mouth was wet with spit, all the way down to his chin, and Frank’s focus narrowed to Gerard’s dick and the muffled little noises Gerard was trying to hide. He wanted to make this good for Gerard, and so what if he didn’t have a whole lot of practice, he still wanted to do his best and keep Gerard happy, satisfied.
Frank’s hands were going a little tingly from where the cuffs dug into his skin, and Gerard didn’t let up. His fingers tightened and tangled in Frank’s hair, a nagging distraction, and he finally pulled Frank up and off, both of them breathing heavily.
“Wha…” Frank asked, or tried to. His throat felt raw and abused, and there was an excessive amount of spit clinging to his lips; his whole face felt wet and sticky. He had to force himself to open his eyes fully and look up at Gerard’s face.
“I want to fuck you, Frankie,” Gerard replied breathlessly. “I want to come in your ass.”
“But I-”
“Get up,” Gerard commanded. He yanked on the chain of the handcuffs, pulling Frank awkwardly to his feet, and steered him onto the bed. Frank didn’t have the breath to object before Gerard was tugging Frank’s jeans off his legs and his shirt up over his head.
There was a tedious few moments while Gerard unlocked the handcuffs from around Frank’s wrists, but then he just looped one set around one corner bedpost and locked him back up, then fastened the second set of cuffs around the other bedpost, so that Frank was lying spread-eagled on his back. He was stretched enough that he could barely move his arms, and he could feel the cuffs pressing against the veins in the underside of his wrists with every pulse of his heart.
Gerard kicked his pants the rest of the way off and knelt between Frank’s spread thighs. He reached forward and stroked his fingertips across Frank’s cheek, down to his chin, and then between his lips, three fingers at once. “Get them wet,” he said, and held Frank’s jaw open while Frank licked and sucked.
His eyes eventually slipped closed, and Frank’s focus narrowed to Gerard’s hand in his mouth, like it had been before with Gee’s leaking cock. Gerard’s fingers fucked his mouth for what felt like several minutes before Gerard took them out and dragged them down Frank’s naked chest and stomach, leaving a wet, rapidly cooling trail in their wake.
Gerard didn’t touch Frank’s cock, and Frank was glad. He hadn’t consciously acknowledged the fact that he was hard, that whatever Gerard had done to him was turning him on, and as much as he wanted to come, he didn’t want Gerard to acknowledge it either. He wanted Gerard to ignore him, really: do what he needed to do. Frank didn’t even need to be involved; he just needed to do what Gerard ordered of him. It was that simple. This wasn’t about him at all.
Gerard’s wet fingertips circled Frank’s entrance, smearing spit along the cleft of his ass, and Frank pressed back against him.
“You’ve done this before, too,” Gerard said knowingly, and Frank opened his eyes to see Gerard smirking.
He pressed two fingers into Frank’s ass without further warning. Frank’s shoulders tensed, stretched more than was comfortable, but he ignored the ache and concentrated on relaxing and letting Gerard in. It took several of Gerard’s slow thrusts for Frank to get comfortable with the intrusion; he didn’t want to think about how long it had been since he’d been laid. Gerard eventually added his third finger, and by then, Frank was bearing down and muttering wordless encouragements. He could feel the flush of embarrassment on his face, but he pushed it from his mind and hoped Gerard didn’t notice.
After that, Gerard didn’t spend much more time prepping him. He withdrew his fingers and lined up his cock, and then pushed in without pause. Frank opened his eyes, inhaling sharply. Gerard leaned over him, a smug, lazy grin sliding over his face. Frank could see the keys to the handcuffs outlined beneath the shirt Gerard was still wearing. He’d put the keys back on the chain around his neck, where Frank couldn’t get to them. Frank watched them for a moment, how they moved as Gerard rocked his body forward, then gave up and looked back at Gerard’s face.
“Fuck, fuck, Frankie,” he murmured. “Yeah.”
“Gee,” Frank whispered. He trailed off into an indecipherable groan and arched his back, arms straining against the cuffs.
“Frankie, look at me,” Gerard said. “Frankie, listen to me.”
Frank forced himself to obey, locking his gaze on Gerard’s. Gerard smiled at him, but it was less comforting than before, more suited to the man who’d taken him hostage.
“Nobody knows you exist anymore, Frankie,” Gerard began in a smooth, quiet voice. Frank couldn’t look away, transfixed by the powerful intensity in Gerard’s eyes. “Nobody cares, Frankie. Nobody’s coming after you.”
Frank wanted to object, but he couldn’t find his voice. He went limp and Gerard leaned down, thrusting deep inside him with a groan.
“You know what that means, Frankie? You know what that means?”
Frank shook his head. Gerard pulled out, almost all the way out, and paused. His next thrust was steady and hard and deep, and when he was buried in Frank’s body, he caught Frank’s chin in his hand and whispered, “That means you’re mine.”
Frank closed his eyes. Gerard let him go and resumed the constant, slow pace he’d built up. Frank arched up off the mattress, ignoring the pull at his wrists, and let out a low, shaky moan. His dick was throbbing and dribbling precome onto his stomach, and he just wanted to come, he wanted Gerard to come, he wanted something to build up and finish, because that slow rhythm was maddening and completely unsatisfying.
“You want to come, Frankie?” Gerard asked, as if reading Frank’s mind. Frank nodded, thrashing his head up and down frantically, and he felt Gerard lean low over him again. “No,” Gerard said, his voice crystal clear and calm. “I won’t let you.”
“No,” Frank whined. “No, please.”
“You’re mine, Frankie,” Gerard said. “I’m gonna come in your ass, and you get nothing, because you don’t deserve anything yet.”
“No, Gee, please,” Frank cried. Gerard picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming shallower, and Frank could feel Gerard’s arms shaking with exertion.
“You have to… earn it,” Gerard explained between labored breaths. “Earn it, Frankie… Oh, fuck. Fuck, Frank, fuck.”
Gerard pushed in deep and came inside him, barely able to hold himself up. Frank wrenched his eyes open to watch Gerard’s face. After a moment Gerard opened his eyes, too, and they stared at each other for a few long seconds. Gerard’s normally hazel eyes were so dark, his pupils blown wide, that Frank could barely distinguish any emotion in them.
Gerard pulled out of him and reached over to the nightstand in the same motion. Frank didn’t see what he picked up until Gerard was tying it around his head. Some kind of fabric, a folded bandana or something, maybe the scarf Gerard wore to the bank-Frank didn’t think it was the blindfold Gerard had bought-tied securely over Frank’s eyes, effectively blocking out all the light in the room.
“Comfy?” Gerard asked.
Frank turned towards his voice by instinct. “Yeah,” he replied, though he wasn’t sure why. His arms were stretched painfully wide and he couldn’t see. He’d just been fucked raw and Gerard hadn’t let him come. His dick was still hard and aching. He wasn’t comfortable at all.
Gerard leaned over him and kissed his lips quickly, not even enough for Frank to taste him. “Good boy,” he whispered. “You’re okay. Sleep now.”
“Gee?” Frank asked, timid even to his own ears. He flapped his hands in the cuffs uselessly.
“Sleep now, Frankie.”
Frank felt Gerard get up off the bed and close himself into the bathroom. He heard the shower run, and a long time later, the white noise let him sink into an uneasy sleep.
***
+ 44 hours
When he woke up, Frank realized three things in this order: he was still naked, but covered by a blanket; Gerard wasn’t touching him or lying next to him; he couldn’t move his feet. His arms were tingly and his shoulders ached, but Frank ignored that. He also couldn’t open his eyes, but he hadn’t really been expecting to, after last night.
His legs were crossed at the ankles and bound by some kind of fabric, maybe an extra sheet or a towel. Frank twisted and turned as much as he was able, but he couldn’t work his feet loose. His arms were spread too far to be any use; he couldn’t even dislodge the blindfold.
Basically, he couldn’t move at all.
Frank licked his chapped lips and asked, in a horribly sleep-roughened voice, “Gee?” There was no reply. No sound at all. Frank tried again. “Gee? Gerard?”
He fell silent and listened for any muffled movements, rustles of fabric, or Gerard breathing. All he could hear was a maid vacuuming a few rooms away and a brief ring of ambulance sirens outside. Frank began to panic.
“Gerard?” he cried. “Gerard?”
He was alone. Tied up on a bed, locked in a seedy motel room, and alone.
“No, no, no, no, no,” Frank mumbled, feeling the thick ache in his throat growing. “Gee, please, no, no, don’t do this, please…” He couldn’t stop himself from crying, and he couldn’t move to wipe away the tears that escaped the blindfold. There wasn’t even a ticking clock to give Frank an idea of how long Gerard had been gone. Time stretched on.
***
+ 47 hours
Frank couldn’t fall asleep again, but he drifted into a blank doze. He wouldn’t allow himself to keep thinking about Gerard. He had no concept of time, and his thoughts ran around in circles, neither comforting nor useful.
The sound of the lock clicking open was surprisingly loud in the silent room and Frank flinched. He turned his head toward the noise. He heard the door open and someone-he assumed it was Gerard-walked in. He followed the person’s progress around the room but didn’t say anything. Neither did the intruder. Frank was helpless, naked and tied to a bed; he hoped it was Gerard.
“Gee?” he asked.
The rustling of whatever the person was doing stopped. It took four footsteps for the person to reach the bed, and the mattress dipped as they climbed on. Frank held his breath for a few seconds and nothing happened.
He broke. He mumbled a stream of “Gee” and “please” and “don’t”, and he was ashamed to feel tears he couldn’t control dampening the blindfold again.
Gerard peeled away the fabric-and it was Gerard, Frank was relieved to finally see-and gently wiped the tears from Frank’s cheeks. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes had a glint of amusement that Frank didn’t understand.
“It’s okay,” Gerard whispered.
“Don’t do that,” Frank replied. “Don’t leave me.”
Gerard did smile, then. He stroked his thumb down Frank’s cheek, brushing over his lips briefly and then repeating the motion.
“Will you untie me, please?” Frank asked. Gerard nodded and untied the sheet from around Frank’s ankles, then leaned over him and unlocked the cuffs. Frank’s arms were shaking and weak, but he reached up and clung to Gerard’s neck. “Don’t leave me, please don’t, please…”
Gerard’s hair was clean and smelled like apples. He wrapped his arms around Frank’s back and lifted him upright. Frank grabbed a handful of Gerard’s black t-shirt in his fist and held on tight.
“Shh, shh,” Gerard soothed, “it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m back, I’m here. Shhh, Frankie, shhh. It’s okay.”
Gerard held him until he stopped crying. He wiped Frank’s face again and smiled at him.
“Where were you? Why did you leave?”
“Shopping,” Gerard replied brightly. “I bought you things. And breakfast! Are you hungry?”
Frank nodded dumbly, eyes wide. Gerard hopped off the bed and returned with a take-out Styrofoam box of pancakes and fruit salad. “I found a place that makes vegan pancakes,” Gerard said. “It took a while, but here they are. Do you like pancakes?”
“You got me vegan pancakes?”
“Oh! Fork. Here you go.” Frank took the fork and stared at him. “Go ahead,” Gerard prompted. “I ate while I was out. Let me show you what I bought.”
Gerard went back to his collection of shopping bags and started rifling through them, searching for something. Frank took a bite of his pancakes. They were still hot. They were also much better than the microwavable shit Frank usually ate for breakfast, when he ate breakfast at all.
“I didn’t know your sizes, so I had to guess, but I think these will work…” Gerard said. When he turned around, he was holding a purple shirt and a black skirt that looked like it belonged in Frank’s old high school.
“Is that a skirt?” Frank asked, though it obviously was, and Gerard obviously meant for him to wear it. Gerard nodded. “Why did you get me a skirt?”
“Your face is all over the news, Frankie. You probably made the paper, too, but I didn’t have a quarter to spare.”
“So?”
“We have to get out of this room, Frankie. You need a disguise,” Gerard explained. “Eat your pancakes.”
Frank took another bite, and with his mouth full, asked, “What about you?”
“Nobody ever saw my face. Don’t worry; by the time I’m done, you won’t even recognize yourself. I went to school in drag, once. Nobody recognized me except my brother.” Gerard tossed the clothes onto the bed. “Finish your breakfast. We have to get you dressed and then check out by eleven.”
***
+ 2 days
Gerard let him take a shower by himself, though he did insist on leaving the bathroom door open, and when Frank emerged wearing just a towel around his waist, Gerard smiled at him.
“I’ll help you get dressed,” he said. Frank nodded.
First came the padded bra, which was the most uncomfortable thing Frank had ever worn. He held still while Gerard tightened the straps and pushed the small cups into the right position. Gerard told him they could buy something to stuff it with later if Frank needed it. Frank doubted very much that he would really need anything of the sort, but he kept quiet.
Gerard then helped him into a pair of black stockings, which he said would work for now. Frank asked what that meant.
“If we keep doing this, you’ll have to shave your legs. It’s just easier,” Gerard explained, and held up the skirt.
Frank rolled his eyes and stepped in. Gerard pulled it up to his waist and buttoned it as tight as it would go, but it still slipped down a few inches when Gerard let go.
“You’re smaller than I thought,” Gerard muttered to himself.
“Hey!”
“It’s not an insult! Shut up and put this on.”
Gerard handed him the shirt and Frank pulled it on over his head. It had a V-neck, but it wasn’t low enough to make it obvious that Frank didn’t really have breasts. There was a purple and blue pattern on the front, and when Gerard positioned him in front of the mirror, Frank saw that the design gave the illusion that he actually had curves.
“Nice shirt, huh?” Gerard asked rhetorically. He grinned and Frank gave him a weak smile in reply. “Okay, hair and makeup.”
Gerard didn’t really do much to Frank’s hair besides brush it and just let it fall and curl however it wanted. Frank worried about the makeup, though. He’d experimented with eyeliner before, and he’d once tried on an ex-girlfriend’s lipstick, but Gerard had a whole makeup kit with brushes and colors and things Frank didn’t even know what to do with.
Gerard brushed powder over his cheeks and eyes, and outlined his lips with a pencil. He put on mascara and the eyeliner, and Frank watched his tongue poke out from between his teeth as he concentrated. Last was lipstick, which tasted like cherries.
“Okay,” Gerard finally said. “Look.”
He backed away and gave Frank room to look in the mirror. Frank really did feel like he was looking at a different person, a girl, through a window. His eyes looked brighter and bigger with the makeup, and with the clothes Gerard had picked out, none of which covered Frank’s tattoos, he just looked like a punk chick.
“Wow…” he breathed.
“I know, right? You’re a pretty girl, Frankie.”
Frank felt very conspicuous when they left the room. He went with Gerard to return the room key to the office, and the fat guy at the desk gave Frank a very obvious once-over. Frank stepped into Gerard’s shadow. Gerard cheerfully waved goodbye and led Frank to his car.
“You want to drive, or should I?”
“You,” Frank replied quietly. He pulled at the hem of his skirt; it felt way too short, skimming his thighs. Frank wasn’t sure he even could drive in the clunky heels Gerard had given him.
“Alright. Don’t freak out, okay? I still have the gun.”
“I know.”
Gerard smiled. “Good boy.”
**********
+ 23 days
“How did he hurt you, Frank? It’s okay, you won’t ever see him again. We’ll protect you. Just tell me, how did he hurt you?”
“He-” Frank stopped short, apparently fumbling for words.
“It’s okay, take your time,” Ray encouraged. He wondered if touching Frank’s hands-clenched into tight fists on top of the table-would be the right move. The boy looked like he could use the comfort.
“He didn’t hurt me,” Frank finally finished.
Ray looked down at his folder. Besides the bruises around Frank’s wrists and arms that he could see with his own eyes, there were photos of others: various bruises and abrasions from Frank’s back to his thighs; a much larger, yellowing bruise on his stomach; a gash on his upper thigh that had been bleeding profusely when Bob finally picked him up.
Perhaps Frank had been traumatized enough that he wasn’t even aware. Ray decided not to touch him.
“Frank,” he said, “you have bruises all over your body and a deep cut on your leg. How did you get those?”
“He didn’t hurt me,” Frank repeated sternly.
“How did you get hurt, then?”
“He didn’t-”
“Okay. It wasn’t Gerard. Frank, will you please tell me how you cut your leg?” Ray asked carefully.
“I scraped it,” Frank replied.
“On what?”
“A piece of glass.”
Ray nodded and made a note of that. “How did it happen?”
“I fell through a glass door.”
Maybe that particular wound really had been an accident, then. Ray remembered Bob mentioning chasing Frank and Gerard through a broken door. He flipped back to the other pictures and set them on the table for Frank to see.
“How did you get these bruises, Frank?”
Frank shook his head.
“These are photos of you, Frank,” Ray said gently. Frank shook his head again and wouldn’t meet Ray’s eyes. “Tell me how you got hurt, Frankie. Explain it to me.”
“He gave me them,” Frank said.
“He gave you the-Gerard gave you the bruises? Tell me, Frankie.” Frank nodded and looked down at his hands. Ray wondered what he’d said that made Frank answer him, and he replayed the conversation in his head. He’d called Frank Frankie. He hadn’t asked, he’d commanded. It was a subtle difference in normal conversation, but it must have been the key to how Gerard treated him.
Ray felt awful for manipulating the poor kid, but he had to know. “Frankie, tell me about Gerard.”
**********
part 2
pairing: Frank/Gerard
rating: NC-17
words: 26,300
prompt: Stockholm Syndrome
warning: Strong non-con/dub-con scenes; potential squicks and triggers. Stockholm Syndrome; non-con/dub-con sex (oral and penetrative); Dominance/submission; bondage (handcuffs); forced cross-dressing/feminization; criminal activity; violence; blood/bruising; handwaving elements of the American justice system.
summary: “Sources on our investigative team say this was a bank robbery gone wrong, and that, when faced with a police task force surrounding the building, the suspect grabbed the nearest person and is now holding that young man at gunpoint as he makes his getaway.”
disclaimer: this is an AU, so it’s obviously not true. I don’t own any of the people involved, and I’m not making any profit from this. Also, my knowledge of the justice system is pretty limited, so take everything in that regard with a grain of salt.
a/n: Written for the bandom_hc challenge. Extra special thanks to my betas! Especially giddy_london, who is always amazingly helpful and articulate to the extreme (if I can satisfy a person with an English degree, then I’m happy!), and will ramble at me about characterization and plot for hours. And tuesdaysgone, who caught everything I still missed and has really awesome attention to detail. ♥ Thanks to everyone who encouraged me during the challenge when I seriously thought I wasn't going to make it, and thanks to philosiraptors, who wanted this fic in the first place. I hope it lives up to your expectations! :)
part 1
part 2
part 3
**********
+ 1 hour
Mikey wasn't in the habit of watching the news channels during the day; he preferred MTV or Cartoon Network in the mornings, before all the high-budget drama shows came on, but since he’d moved back into his mom’s house, she was exercising her parental rights of controlling the television.
Donna wasn’t actually in the kitchen at that moment, but her habits were rubbing off on Mikey and he didn’t mind flipping to the local news station while he poured himself a bowl of cereal. He suffered through the sports and weather, waiting for the entertainment news, but there wasn’t anything Mikey hadn’t already read online. The cycle began again at ten o’clock, starting with the breaking news, and suddenly Mikey was very glad he hadn’t changed the channel. He froze with his spoon halfway to his mouth, dripping milk and soggy Cocoa Puffs onto the table.
“…hostage situation has developed at the Bank of America in Belleville, New Jersey. The authorities have released this photo of the perpetrator, but they haven’t identified the man yet, as he hasn’t given his name to the police.”
The screen was filled with a blurry, black and white security camera screenshot of a man in a long black jacket and gloves, with a striped scarf tied around the lower half of his face. He was turned towards the camera, but his eyes were hidden by a mess of dark hair.
“Shit,” Mikey breathed. He dropped his spoon and turned up the volume.
“Sources on our investigative team say this was a bank robbery gone wrong, and that, when faced with a police task force surrounding the building, the suspect grabbed the nearest person and is now holding that young man at gunpoint as he makes his getaway. The hostage’s name has not yet been released to the media. All of the hostages at the bank appear to be unharmed…”
“Oh, shit, Gerard.”
**********
+ 23 days
“How did he hurt you?”
“What?” The boy’s eyes were wide and frightened, and Ray felt a sharp pang of sympathy. He softened his tone when he asked a second time.
“How did he hurt you, Frank? It’s okay, you won’t ever see him again. We’ll protect you. Just tell me, how did he hurt you?”
“He-”
**********
- 36 minutes
Frank pushed the glass door open with his hip, hands full with his paycheck, bus pass, wallet, house keys, driver’s license, cell phone, and bits of pocket lint. He was already trying to do the math in his head: how much could he keep in his savings account, how much could he afford to spend on groceries, and how much of the pitiful remnants would go towards his long overdue student loans. He dumped all of his shit onto the narrow counter and fished out a deposit slip.
He didn’t notice the person who came in after him until he felt the slight brush against his arm. Frank looked over; the man had a scarf wound around his neck, pulled all the way up to his nose, and he huddled into his jacket like he was cold. Frank was in a t-shirt and ripped jeans; it was a little chilly inside the bank, but outside it was almost uncomfortably warm for Jersey at this time of year. The dude’s long black hair looked like it hadn’t been washed or brushed in days.
Frank looked back down at his own paper and continued to fill it out. He noticed the guy beside him was wearing gloves. Maybe he was sick or something. Or a leper. Or a vampire. Frank rolled his eyes and told himself to shut up. He gathered his stuff and got in line. A moment later, the man stepped into place behind him. Frank forced himself not to turn around and stare. The guy was just too weird to let slide.
He and the other guy went up to tellers side by side and Frank was too focused on his own affairs to realize what was happening until the girl helping Vampire Dude screamed. Frank whipped around; Vampire Dude was holding a fucking gun.
“Oh, fuck,” he whispered, then dropped to the ground with everybody else when Vampire-Now-Bank-Robber Dude fired a shot into the air.
***
- 10 minutes
The teller had apparently hit a silent alarm when the dude-now known as Gee-handed her the note, because there was a cacophony of sirens and helicopters outside. Gee wanted half a million dollars. Frank thought the amount was kind of low, considering the economy these days. He would’ve asked for, like… five million. Ten. Something to give him some negotiating room. But maybe Gee had other plans.
Frank hadn’t moved since the shots rang out. He was on his stomach with his fingers laced behind his head, just like everyone around him. There was a girl crying near the door, and a couple of guys whispering to each other at the other end of the room. The bank employees were all beneath their desks.
Gee was sitting on the counter, his feet swinging just above Frank’s head, and not doing anything. Waiting. Finally, one of the tellers’ phones rang.
“That’ll be for me,” Gee said. “I’ll put it on speakerphone for you. I’m all for honesty between us.”
Frank wasn’t sure if Gee was talking to the teller or everyone else. He turned his head and glanced up.
“Hello?” Gee asked casually.
“This is Special Agent Bob Bryar of the FBI. Who am I speaking to?”
“Call me Gee. Are you the guy who can make things happen for me, Bob?”
“I sure hope so, Gee. Tell me what’s going on in there.”
“I’m holding up a bank.”
Frank rolled his eyes. He could practically hear Agent Bryar doing the same. “Is anybody hurt?”
“Hey, guys, anyone hurt?” Gee asked the room. Nobody replied besides the one girl near the door whimpering. “Doesn’t seem like it. And if they are, it’s not my fault yet.”
“You should know, Gee, that unless you negotiate with me and nobody gets hurt, you’re not coming out of that bank alive,” Bryar replied.
Gee hopped off the counter. “We’ll see about that,” he said simply, and hung up the phone. His feet were inches from Frank’s face. His shoes were scuffed, and the bottoms of his jeans were frayed. Gee squatted down and cocked his head, hazel eyes glinting with amusement. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Frank. And don’t call me ‘kid’,” Frank answered stiffly, fixing Gee with a glare.
“Hi, Frank. I’m Gee. You’re coming with me.” Gee grabbed the duffel bag full of cash with one hand and Frank’s wrist with the other, yanking him to his feet. “Where’s your cell phone?” Gee asked.
Frank stared at him with wide-eyed innocence.
“C’mon, Frankie, I know you have one, I saw it earlier. Get it out and smash it.”
“What? No!” Frank objected shrilly.
Gee let go of Frank’s arm to grab his gun, which he then leveled at Frank’s forehead. “Smash your phone and empty your pockets, Frank, I’m not going to tell you again.”
Frank dumped everything out of his pockets and stomped on his phone until the keypad and screen both crunched under his heel. He stared at the gun. He wasn’t familiar enough with them to know whether the safety was on or off, or if it was cocked, or what that even fucking meant. Gee didn’t exactly seem like the most stable person on the planet, and it looked far too easy for his finger to slip on that trigger.
“Do you have a car?”
Frank shook his head. “I take the bus,” he said quietly.
“Fine. Take the money. Come with me.” Gee handed Frank the duffel and put his free hand on the back of Frank’s neck. With the other, he pressed the gun against Frank’s cheek. Frank’s heart felt like it was about to explode, it was beating so fast.
Gee guided him to the front door and ordered him to stand against the glass with his hands in the air, and then he told one of the bank employees to get that detective on the phone.
“Hey, Bob,” he said, once the call was patched through. “I’ve got a hostage. His name is Frank and he’s coming with me. Introduce yourself to Agent Bob, Frankie.”
Gee held the phone up for him. “Hi, Bob,” Frank said. He scanned the crowd of police officers and FBI guys, trying to pick out this agent.
“You okay, Frank?” Bob asked. Frank nodded and hoped Bob could see him. “I’m gonna help you, okay? You’re gonna be okay.” Gee took the phone away.
“Me and Frankie are leaving now. If anyone tries to shoot at me, or stop us, or basically piss me off in any way, I’ll kill him. Got it?”
Bob must have understood, because Gee hung up the phone and started dragging Frank to the back exit. They paused in the middle of the room for Gerard to shout, “Who’s got a car parked on the street?”
A guy offered up his keys and resumed cowering against the wall.
“Once we leave, the police are going to come in here and save the day, so don’t do anything stupid like try to follow me. Nice meeting you all, and have a pleasant day!”
Gee steered Frank to the door and pushed the gun up against his throat. “Okay, Frankie,” he murmured, his voice muffled through the scarf, “let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
***
+ 12 minutes
Gee kept Frank in front of him until they reached the car and instructed him to get in the driver’s seat. Gee passed him the keys, trained the gun on Frank’s head, and buckled in. Frank followed his lead.
“Um…”
“What?”
“I can’t drive a stick,” Frank admitted meekly.
“It’s not that hard,” Gee mumbled. “Just go.”
Frank tentatively started the engine and tried to pull out of the parking space, only to have the transmission grind and crunch disturbingly. He immediately let go of the wheel and held his hands in the air.
“Shit,” Gee hissed. “Move over. Switch with me, c’mon.”
They climbed over each other and switched seats, Gee fumbling with the gun and the steering wheel while Frank tried to twist his way into the right position.
“Don’t try anything, okay?” Gee asked him. He waited for Frank’s nod and then stuck the gun back in his jacket pocket. They sped off down the street towards the turnpike.
***
+ 42 minutes
Gee had finally taken off his gloves and scarf. He was paying a fair amount of attention to the road, but he kept glancing over at Frank warily. Gee’s face was kind of unremarkable; his skin was clear and very pale, and his teeth were relatively straight, if rather small. Frank sat pressed against the passenger-side door and stared at him. They hadn’t driven all that far because Gee doubled back a few times and went in circles, and Frank was still familiar with the area.
He finally got up the courage to ask, “Where are you taking me?”
Gee grinned; the effect was somewhat frightening. “I’ve got a place for us to stay tonight,” he answered, “but we have to make a pit-stop first.”
Frank wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that, and he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. He glared at Gee for a few minutes, but Gee didn’t seem to mind, so he turned to fume at the dashboard instead. He tried to guess at how fast the car was going; he could just undo his seatbelt, open the door, and jump out. He probably wouldn’t die.
Frank moved one hand to the seatbelt buckle. He’d have to be quick.
Gee moved one hand into his pocket. He pulled out the gun and placed it carefully in his lap.
“You don’t want to leave before things get exciting, do you?” Gee asked casually.
Frank wedged both hands beneath his thighs and mumbled, “I’ve had enough excitement for one day.”
***
+ 1 hour
Gee finally pulled the car into a spot along the street. Frank couldn’t see why they would stop at any of the surrounding stores: a bike repair shop, a candle shop, a restaurant that didn’t open until evening, and a jewelry store. Unless maybe Gee wanted to rob the jewelry store. He picked up the gun.
“Get out. Don’t worry, we haven’t been followed. We’re going for a little walk.”
Frank reluctantly stepped out onto the sidewalk and waited for Gee to join him. Gee stuffed the gun back into his pocket and took Frank’s hand.
“C’mon, sweetie,” he cooed.
“What the fuck?” Frank asked shrilly.
Gee leaned in close to whisper in Frank’s ear. “Listen, Frankie,” he said, “it doesn’t really matter if you like it or not. You’re going to play along, got it?”
“Yeah,” Frank sighed, “I got it.”
Gee squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek. “This way,” he continued happily, leading Frank down the sidewalk. The street wasn’t very populated, and they only got a few looks, which Frank interpreted as disgust at them playing a gay couple in the middle of Jersey. They walked for a few blocks, then crossed the street. Gee stopped in front of a building with blacked-out windows and a discreet sign on the door.
“No fucking way,” Frank groaned.
“Shut up, Frankie,” Gee sing-songed. It was a sex shop. Gee pushed open the door.
Predictably, Gee led him to the far wall, which had a display with several kinds of handcuffs. Some were padded or lined with fuzzy materials, others were metal with complicated locks, and still others were thick and clunky, like real shackles. Gee pointed out a few different styles and said, “Which one do you want, baby?”
Frank glanced around, but not only was the store deserted, it was also the one place such pet names wouldn’t be considered weird. He turned to Gee. “Why are you doing this?” he whispered pleadingly. “Just let me go, please, I won’t say anything.”
“Pick one or I’ll pick for you,” Gee shot back. He raised an eyebrow. “I’m giving you a choice here, Frankie; I suggest you take advantage of it.”
Frank pointed to a pair of padded, faux-leather cuffs. They looked the most comfortable. Gee plucked two sets from the rack.
“Take these to the check-out; I’ll be there in a minute,” Gee said quietly. “Trust me, Frankie, you don’t want to run off. Bad things might happen if you do.”
Frank swallowed. “What kind of things?”
“You don’t want anybody to die, do you?”
His eyes widened and he shook his head quickly. “I’ll wait for you.”
“Good boy.” Gee gave him a nudge in the right direction and headed down a different aisle. When they met up at the counter, Gee was carrying a box of latex gloves and, to Frank’s dismay, a blindfold and a gag. Gee smiled at the cashier as he put the items down and nudged Frank’s side. “You’re not allergic to latex, are you, baby?”
Frank shook his head, chancing a glance at the cashier. She just looked bored.
“Is this all together?” she asked easily. Gee nodded and handed over a few bills to pay.
“Get the bag, sweetie,” Gee said when she’d finished. Frank’s face burned and he didn’t look at the girl as he took the paper bag from her hands. Gee guided him towards the door with a firm hand at his lower back. Frank kept his head down.
“Which do you think is more conspicuous in a sex shop, Frankie,” Gee murmured, taking Frank’s hand as they walked down the street. “A happy gay couple, or one man who obviously doesn’t want to be there and another man forcing him? It’s a legitimate question. What do you think?”
“I think you’re fucking crazy,” Frank hissed. He wrenched his arm out of Gee’s grasp and took several steps away. “What the fuck do you want with me?”
“You really want to argue with the guy who’s got a gun in his pocket?” Gee asked coldly.
“You’re a fucking lunatic!” Frank cried. “You don’t need me. I won’t tell. I’m done with this shit, I’m leaving.”
Gee’s arm shot out, blocking Frank’s path. He crowded Frank against the brick storefront and leaned in close. “You’ll leave when I say you can fucking leave,” he spat.
Frank whipped the bag around, aiming for Gee’s stomach, but Gee just took a step to the side and stepped on Frank’s foot, hard enough that Frank hunched over in pain. While he was down, Gee grabbed a handful of Frank’s hair with one hand and his gun with the other. Frank felt the cold metal pressed against his neck and he froze. Gee’s hand loosened slightly in his hair. Frank’s heart raced. The street was nearly deserted; Gee could pull the trigger and kill him, and nobody would even notice until they stumbled over his body.
“I’m sorry,” he said shakily. His voice was breathier than he’d intended; he couldn’t force out enough sound.
Gee bent down and kissed the top of his head. “Very good. When I say, you’re going to stand up, and we’re going to walk to the car. We’ll get the money, then find a car you can drive. You’re going to get in the driver’s seat, I will get in the passenger seat, and we’re going to get out of here. Understand?”
“Yeah.”
“I need you, Frank. I don’t want to kill you. But if you act up again, I will not hesitate to hurt you. I just need you alive, for now. I don’t care if you’re beat up.”
“Okay.”
“Alright,” Gee said, his voice cheerful again. “Let’s go.”
***
+ 7 hours
Frank had lost track of the roads. The one they were on now was long and straight, and Frank was zoning out. He yawned and glanced at his captor. They hadn’t spoken in nearly an hour, and before that, Gee had only broken the silence to give Frank directions.
They’d been driving for long enough that Frank felt it time to ask where they were going. He thought it was an okay question. He was the one driving, after all.
Gee gave him a suspicious look, but answered, “A motel. We’ll be there in about half an hour.”
Frank didn’t want to sink into silence again. “What town?”
“I’ll tell you when we’re closer.”
Frank waited a moment before speaking again. This time he was pleading. “Talk to me, please. I’m going to fall asleep at the wheel.”
“Oh,” Gee said, sounding surprised. Frank looked over at him; he sat up straighter. “I can talk.”
***
+ 10 hours
Gee had him park two blocks past a dingy little motel, and then they doubled back and went straight to one of the rooms. Frank made a mental note of the room number in case he could contact the police or something. Maybe scream out the window, “Help, I’m being held hostage by a head case in room 36!” In a place like this, though, Frank didn’t think anyone would come to his rescue.
Frank sat down on the bed-there was only one, and Frank had pretty much resigned himself to having sex with this guy; why else would he still be a hostage? Gee didn’t seem to want to ransom him, not that anyone would even pay-and watched cautiously as Gee took a backpack out of the closet and started laying things out on the floor. A stack of blank envelopes, a roll of stamps, a Lisa Frank folder with unicorns on the front.
“Come down here,” Gee said when he finished. Frank sat down on the floor next to Gee, in the middle of the semicircle of supplies. Gee handed him a pair of latex gloves and a pen, and then fished out a crumpled list of addresses from his backpack.
“You’re addressing the envelopes. Put a stamp on them and put ‘em in a pile over here, okay?”
“Um, okay. Why?”
“Because.”
“That’s not a reason, dumbass,” Frank snapped, clicking the pen viciously.
“Listen, motherfucker, I’m the one in charge here, so you do what I say, got it?”
Frank grumbled something that he hoped passed for a response and started copying the list. He was angry enough that he was indenting the paper with the pen, and his letters were uncharacteristically spiky. He was probably lowering any chance he had of getting his handwriting recognized by the police or something. He didn’t even know if they looked at things like handwriting. He should’ve watched more cop shows on TV.
Gee put on a pair of gloves as well and began sorting the money into equal piles. He folded up a typed letter from the Lisa Frank folder to go with each one. They looked the same, though Frank was never quick enough to read them.
When nearly an hour had passed, Gee looked up sharply, his eyes narrowed on Frank. “You must be hungry,” he said, which wasn’t what Frank was expecting at all. “I didn’t even think,” he continued. “I didn’t eat anything before, ‘cause of the nerves, and then it was all just kind of fast, so… but you must be starving. I might have-”
“I’m not,” Frank broke in quickly. “And I’m vegetarian. But I’m not hungry.” He didn’t think he could keep anything down if he did eat. He was a nervous wreck.
“Oh. Got the envelopes done?”
Frank nodded towards the stack he’d finished. “I didn’t know what to put for a return address.”
“Blank is fine. We’ll stick ‘em in the mail tomorrow. I’m just gonna go to the bathroom. Don’t… do anything stupid,” Gee said casually. He pushed himself to his feet and gave Frank a hard look before going into the bathroom. He left the door open a crack.
Frank sat stupidly on the floor for a moment before it dawned on him that he could just leave. The door was locked from the inside; Gee was in the bathroom; the gun was on the bed. Frank glanced at the bathroom door and rose slowly, silently. He was halfway to the front door when he realized it would probably be a good idea to take the gun.
He tip-toed back towards the bed, but as soon as he passed through the beam of light coming from the bathroom, the door swung open and Gee barreled into him. They fell onto the bed, and then Gee yanked Frank up and slammed him into the wall by his shirt collar. He pinned Frank there, knee grinding into Frank’s thigh, and grabbed for Frank’s wrists.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Frankie?” Gee hissed.
“Let me go!” Frank cried. He thrashed around, trying to get free, but Gee just sandwiched him against the wall. “Let me go or I’ll scream.”
Gee chuckled. “No one will care.”
“You don’t need me! Let me go!” Frank shouted. He pounded his fist against the wall, hoping someone would hear him, though with his luck, the next room was probably empty.
Gee took a step back. Surprised, Frank stumbled and fell to the floor; he hadn’t realized how much Gee had been holding him upright. Frank scrambled to his feet and made a dash for the gun. Gee cut him off with a knee to Frank’s stomach, sending him to the floor again, coughing and gasping for air.
“And you wonder why I don’t trust you,” he said breathlessly. He pushed Frank onto his back and buckled one of the cuffs securely around Frank’s left wrist. “I think we’re done for tonight.” He dragged Frank over towards the bed. “I don’t think I want you in bed with me,” he muttered. “You’ll probably kick me or something.”
Frank struggled as Gee hooked the cuffs around the foot of the bed, but with one hand already tied and the other tight in Gee’s hand, there wasn’t much he could do to resist. He kicked out at Gee every time he walked by and stepped over Frank, but then Gee climbed into bed and turned out the lights, and there wasn’t anything more for Frank to fight.
***
+ 21 hours
Frank woke up sore from sleeping on the floor with his arms locked at a strange angle, and he could feel a bruise on his ribs throbbing. The shower was running, and the bathroom door was cracked open again.
“Gee?” he called. “Hello?”
A moment later, Gee poked his head out of the bathroom. The shower hadn’t turned off, and his hair was still dripping. He smiled when he met Frank’s eyes.
“Oh, good, you’re up! I’ll be out in a second.”
Gee disappeared again and Frank yanked at the cuffs around his wrists, thinking that maybe, in the light of day, he’d have better luck wiggling out of them, but no, they were locked tight. All Frank managed to do was pinch a nerve and he cradled his hand helplessly for a minute.
Gee found him like that and knelt down, appearing concerned. “What happened?” he asked kindly.
“Nothing,” Frank replied stubbornly, lifting his chin in defiance.
“Well, okay,” Gee said brightly, giving Frank a grin. “I was thinking about Waffle House for breakfast, what do you say? Ready to get out of here?”
“Uh,” Frank hedged, “could I take a shower first?”
“Oh, yeah, sure!”
Frank sighed gratefully when Gee pulled the handcuff key out from beneath his shirt, where it was hanging around his neck by a thin chain. Gee stroked his thumb thoughtfully over the redness around Frank’s wrists when he unlocked them, but didn’t say anything.
“I’ll pack up,” he said, pushing Frank towards the bathroom. “Don’t take too long, I’m hungry.”
After washing his hair and body with the little soaps and bottles provided by the motel, Frank sat down in the shower and let the hot water pound on his back. The fucking motel had better water pressure than his own damn apartment. He wrapped his arms around his knees and pulled them to his chest. Maybe Gee would get frustrated with him and just leave him here.
“Frank?” Gee called, pounding on the door. “You didn’t drown, did you? Come on, let’s go!”
Frank reluctantly twisted the taps from hot to cold, until he started to shiver, and then turned the water off. He didn’t move from the tiny bathtub, though, and a moment later, Gee came in and opened the curtain.
“Frank,” he said, “come on.”
Frank looked up at him blankly.
“Frank,” Gee repeated sternly. “Get up.” Frank pushed himself to his feet. Gee grabbed his upper arm and yanked him out of the bathroom. “Put your clothes on and let’s go,” Gee ordered, tossing Frank’s jeans at him while Frank just stood in the middle of the room, naked, dripping wet, and shivering so hard his teeth were chattering.
***
+ 22 hours
Frank sat in the corner seat of their booth and stared out the window, keeping his expression carefully neutral while Gee attempted to start a conversation. When the waitress finally came to take their order, Gee asked for eggs, bacon, pancakes, and coffee. The waitress turned to Frank, and he looked back at her, bewildered. He hadn’t even looked at the menu.
Across the table, Gee clenched his teeth and kicked Frank’s shin. “Order whatever you want, Frank,” he muttered.
“Do you have vegan pancakes?” Frank asked uncertainly.
“No,” she replied shortly.
“Uh. A salad?”
She rolled her eyes and said, “Sure, honey.”
“Vegan?” Gee asked, once she had gone.
“Yeah,” Frank mumbled, and hoped Gee would leave it at that. He was already feeling sick to his stomach, and he didn’t want to get into all the things that turned him towards veganism.
When their food came, Frank hardly touched his. He pushed his fork around his plate nervously, glancing out the window and down at his lap.
“Frankie,” Gee began quietly. “You need to eat something, okay? You haven’t eaten at all since yesterday. I don’t want you to pass out or anything.”
Frank munched obligingly on a slice of cucumber. Gee continued acting cheerful and pleasant, but Frank kept thinking of how it could all turn on him, if he said or did the wrong thing. Gee might kill somebody. Gee might kill him.
Gee smiled at him and nodded at his plate, and Frank took an actual bite of his salad, stomach twisting as he forced himself to swallow it.
***
+ 25 hours
Gee drove them around until he spotted a payphone at a gas station. He parked next to it and told Frank to get out of the car. Outside, he asked if Frank wanted anything from the convenience store, and Frank shook his head, twisting his hands in the hem of his t-shirt.
“Come with me, then,” Gee said, and pulled him into the phone booth. It wasn’t big, and Frank was pressed into the corner with Gee right against him. He felt a little faint, like he was being slowly suffocated.
Gee picked up the phone and dialed a number he knew by heart, and Frank was close enough that he could hear someone pick up.
“Hey, Mikey,” Gee said softly, “it’s me.”
“Gerard, what the fuck?” the person, Mikey, squawked. “What the fuck did you do?”
“Shh,” Gee-Gerard?-hissed into the phone, glancing quickly at Frank. “Does anyone know anything yet?”
“No,” Mikey answered. “I’ve been watching the news, too.”
“I haven’t had any trouble,” Gee said. “And I’ve had Frank with me the whole time.”
“Frank? That guy? You still have him?” Mikey asked shrilly, and Gee sighed.
“Yeah, he’s here. He’s fine. Aren’t you fine, Frank?”
Frank, eyes wide and scared, nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he echoed.
“He says he’s fine,” Gee said into the phone. “I wanted to see how you are. Are you okay, Mikey? Seriously.”
Mikey lowered his voice to answer and Frank couldn’t really make out the words. Gee made a few “mmhmm,” and “huh” noises while Mikey talked. Eventually, though, he started to sound angry. Frank watched his face closely.
“You have to know-” he said stiffly.
“I don’t care,” Frank heard Mikey reply.
“I did this for you!” Gee finally cried. “It’s all going in the mail today, you’ll be finished with all of that shit as long as you keep your fucking nose clean and mind your own fucking business. I did this all for you, Mikey.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” Mikey shouted back. “I could have done it on my own.”
Gee banged his fist against the glass and said, “I know I’m a shitty brother, just let me fucking fix this so you can get on with your life!”
“By ruining yours?” Mikey replied coldly.
“You did so much for me, Mikey. I want to help you, that’s all. You helped me.”
Frank couldn’t hear Mikey’s answer, though he was now very interested, and Gee hung up the phone without saying anything more.
“C’mon,” he muttered to Frank, tugging at his wrist, “we have to go.”
***
+ 26 hours
It took them longer to find a public mailbox without going to a post office. Frank was sure they weren’t even in New Jersey anymore. Gee had Frank mail all the letters they’d prepared the night before, and once they were all in the mailbox, Gee sighed and seemed to deflate.
“What happened with Mikey?” Frank asked carefully. “How are you helping him?”
“He was in trouble, and now he’s not,” Gee replied shortly.
“What kind of trouble?”
Gee whirled on him and Frank cowered against the side of the car. “The kind you’ll be in if you don’t shut up and mind your own fucking business.”
“I’m sorry,” Frank breathed.
Gee softened and said, “Get in the car, we’re leaving.”
***
+ 30 hours
Frank sat cross-legged on the bed with his hands cuffed in his lap. He fiddled with the chain, but didn’t make an effort to try and get himself free. Gee was across the room, chatting with Mikey on the cheap laptop they’d bought earlier in the day. Gee was smiling, and that made Frank feel a little better about his situation. If Mikey made Gee angry, Frank would have to deal with the fallout.
Frank was too far away to read whatever was on Gee’s screen, but every now and then he caught glimpses of a site logo he recognized. He sighed and looped the handcuff chain around one of his feet, utterly bored.
“Want to watch TV?” Gee asked, and Frank shrugged. Gee didn’t turn the TV on. Frank sighed again.
“I’ll order a pizza,” Gee said a few minutes later. “You hungry?”
Frank shrugged again. He flopped backwards on the bed and sighed, staring at the ceiling.
The pizza came about half an hour later. Gee stood up to answer the door, and he stuck the gun in his pocket. “You say a word to this guy and I’ll shoot you,” he warned, and waited for Frank’s nod before opening the door.
Gee paid with cash. The delivery guy gave Frank a weird look-probably because he was wearing handcuffs, Frank realized belatedly-but Frank just stared back at him defiantly. He was glad when the man finally left and Gee joined him on the bed. The pizza was vegetarian with no cheese.
Frank smiled at Gerard. They ate in silence, and when the pizza was gone, Gee turned the television on and found a Star Wars marathon.
***
+ 34 hours
Bored with the movie, bored with sitting on the bed, bored with staying in the stupid motel room all day, Frank asked Gee, “Why did you even take me with you?”
“You have pretty lips,” Gee answered casually, not even looking away from the TV. Frank stared at him.
“I what?”
“I like your lips.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
“Why-”
“Shut up, Frank.”
Frank sighed again, but he really couldn’t concentrate on the movie after that. He kept looking over at Gee, but Gee never looked back at him. If Gee wanted to use him for sex, why hadn’t he done anything yet? Maybe Gee had been waiting for tonight, though he didn’t seem to be in any particular rush. He was pretty engrossed in Darth Vader’s badassery, actually. Frank bit his lip and watched Gee watch the movie.
Nothing happened at all. When it was over, Gee turned off the television. Frank stared at him, but he still wasn’t making any move on Frank. Gee got up to turn off the computer and the desk lamp, and then the overhead light, but then he just sat back down on the bed, backlit by the bedside lamp. He was mostly in shadow, but the light was crawling across his face and glinting in his eyes.
“What?” he asked, presumably because Frank had been staring intently at him for the past five minutes.
“I get it, okay?” Frank muttered. “Can we just get it over with?”
“What?” Gee asked again, and he looked genuinely confused, a little wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows as he frowned.
“I get it,” Frank repeated, “I understand.”
Realization seemed to dawn and Gee began to smile. “You really don’t.”
“I understand enough,” Frank replied soberly. Gee raised his eyebrows and the wrinkle disappeared. “You want I should blow you?”
Gee did a hilarious double-take.
“I’ll do it.”
“Why?” Gee asked. “Are you trying to trick me into something?”
“You won’t hurt me if I suck you off, right?” Frank asked, hoping like hell he already knew the answer.
He breathed out a quiet sigh of relief when Gee replied, “Okay.”
Frank slid off the bed and onto his knees, wobbling a bit as he tried to balance with his hands cuffed together in front of him. He licked his lips and looked up at Gee. After only a few seconds’ deliberation, Gee scooted forward on the bed and started to unbutton his jeans. Frank stared at the quick, practiced motions of Gee’s fingers and his mouth went dry. He was suddenly very nervous.
“How do I know you’ll keep your word?” Frank asked shakily.
Gee paused with both hands over the bulge in his crotch and Frank still didn’t look up. Gee finally reached out and tilted Frank’s head up with a firm hand under his chin. He waited until Frank met his eyes before speaking. “My name’s Gerard Way, and I stole that money to save my little brother’s life from a handful of angry loan sharks.”
Frank blinked. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting.
“I didn’t plan on kidnapping you, but once I saw your face at that bank, I couldn’t get you out of my head. You’re right, Frankie, I wanted you. I still do. And now I have you, and you’re going to suck my dick because it’s what I want you to do, and I get what I want from you. Got it?”
Frank nodded. Gee-Gerard-lifted his hips off the bed and forced the tight jeans down his thighs. Frank helped him push the denim to the floor, and when Gerard spread his legs, Frank moved between them and pulled the tip of Gerard’s cock into his mouth.
Gerard put one hand on the back of Frank’s head and used the other to brace himself on the bed. “Go down,” he ordered, and gave Frank a slight push. Frank slowly lowered his head, taking more of Gerard’s dick into his mouth until he didn’t think any more would fit, and Gerard kept that gentle pressure at the base of Frank’s skull so he couldn’t move back.
“More,” Gerard said. Frank made a muffled, panicked noise in his throat and Gerard pushed him down farther. Frank felt like his mouth couldn’t possibly open up any more; he was going to choke, and Gerard’s other hand came around and grabbed the chain holding Frank’s wrists together. He pulled it tight, so Frank couldn’t flail his hands around, and he pushed Frank down forcefully.
“Swallow,” he said, and Frank huffed out a quick, labored breath through his nose and swallowed around Gerard’s cock. His throat opened just enough, and Frank still felt like he was choking, but it was easier to manage. He held himself down-Gerard held him down-for a few agonizingly long seconds before Frank spluttered and jerked his head back, desperate for air.
He chanced a quick glance up at Gerard’s face and found him smirking. “Good boy,” Gerard murmured. “Ever done this before?”
“Yeah,” Frank replied, his voice rough. He’d gone down on guys before, yes, but never like this. He decided not to mention that. Gerard’s hand was loose and gentle at the nape of his neck and Frank felt Gerard playing with his hair, but then Gerard moved his hand up to Frank’s skull and guided him down again.
Frank went with less fuss and Gerard didn’t push him quite as far. It was easier for Frank to establish a rhythm, and Gerard wasn’t trying to force it, which helped. He even seemed to hold himself back from pushing into Frank’s mouth. Frank didn’t know why, but he was grateful nonetheless.
His mouth was wet with spit, all the way down to his chin, and Frank’s focus narrowed to Gerard’s dick and the muffled little noises Gerard was trying to hide. He wanted to make this good for Gerard, and so what if he didn’t have a whole lot of practice, he still wanted to do his best and keep Gerard happy, satisfied.
Frank’s hands were going a little tingly from where the cuffs dug into his skin, and Gerard didn’t let up. His fingers tightened and tangled in Frank’s hair, a nagging distraction, and he finally pulled Frank up and off, both of them breathing heavily.
“Wha…” Frank asked, or tried to. His throat felt raw and abused, and there was an excessive amount of spit clinging to his lips; his whole face felt wet and sticky. He had to force himself to open his eyes fully and look up at Gerard’s face.
“I want to fuck you, Frankie,” Gerard replied breathlessly. “I want to come in your ass.”
“But I-”
“Get up,” Gerard commanded. He yanked on the chain of the handcuffs, pulling Frank awkwardly to his feet, and steered him onto the bed. Frank didn’t have the breath to object before Gerard was tugging Frank’s jeans off his legs and his shirt up over his head.
There was a tedious few moments while Gerard unlocked the handcuffs from around Frank’s wrists, but then he just looped one set around one corner bedpost and locked him back up, then fastened the second set of cuffs around the other bedpost, so that Frank was lying spread-eagled on his back. He was stretched enough that he could barely move his arms, and he could feel the cuffs pressing against the veins in the underside of his wrists with every pulse of his heart.
Gerard kicked his pants the rest of the way off and knelt between Frank’s spread thighs. He reached forward and stroked his fingertips across Frank’s cheek, down to his chin, and then between his lips, three fingers at once. “Get them wet,” he said, and held Frank’s jaw open while Frank licked and sucked.
His eyes eventually slipped closed, and Frank’s focus narrowed to Gerard’s hand in his mouth, like it had been before with Gee’s leaking cock. Gerard’s fingers fucked his mouth for what felt like several minutes before Gerard took them out and dragged them down Frank’s naked chest and stomach, leaving a wet, rapidly cooling trail in their wake.
Gerard didn’t touch Frank’s cock, and Frank was glad. He hadn’t consciously acknowledged the fact that he was hard, that whatever Gerard had done to him was turning him on, and as much as he wanted to come, he didn’t want Gerard to acknowledge it either. He wanted Gerard to ignore him, really: do what he needed to do. Frank didn’t even need to be involved; he just needed to do what Gerard ordered of him. It was that simple. This wasn’t about him at all.
Gerard’s wet fingertips circled Frank’s entrance, smearing spit along the cleft of his ass, and Frank pressed back against him.
“You’ve done this before, too,” Gerard said knowingly, and Frank opened his eyes to see Gerard smirking.
He pressed two fingers into Frank’s ass without further warning. Frank’s shoulders tensed, stretched more than was comfortable, but he ignored the ache and concentrated on relaxing and letting Gerard in. It took several of Gerard’s slow thrusts for Frank to get comfortable with the intrusion; he didn’t want to think about how long it had been since he’d been laid. Gerard eventually added his third finger, and by then, Frank was bearing down and muttering wordless encouragements. He could feel the flush of embarrassment on his face, but he pushed it from his mind and hoped Gerard didn’t notice.
After that, Gerard didn’t spend much more time prepping him. He withdrew his fingers and lined up his cock, and then pushed in without pause. Frank opened his eyes, inhaling sharply. Gerard leaned over him, a smug, lazy grin sliding over his face. Frank could see the keys to the handcuffs outlined beneath the shirt Gerard was still wearing. He’d put the keys back on the chain around his neck, where Frank couldn’t get to them. Frank watched them for a moment, how they moved as Gerard rocked his body forward, then gave up and looked back at Gerard’s face.
“Fuck, fuck, Frankie,” he murmured. “Yeah.”
“Gee,” Frank whispered. He trailed off into an indecipherable groan and arched his back, arms straining against the cuffs.
“Frankie, look at me,” Gerard said. “Frankie, listen to me.”
Frank forced himself to obey, locking his gaze on Gerard’s. Gerard smiled at him, but it was less comforting than before, more suited to the man who’d taken him hostage.
“Nobody knows you exist anymore, Frankie,” Gerard began in a smooth, quiet voice. Frank couldn’t look away, transfixed by the powerful intensity in Gerard’s eyes. “Nobody cares, Frankie. Nobody’s coming after you.”
Frank wanted to object, but he couldn’t find his voice. He went limp and Gerard leaned down, thrusting deep inside him with a groan.
“You know what that means, Frankie? You know what that means?”
Frank shook his head. Gerard pulled out, almost all the way out, and paused. His next thrust was steady and hard and deep, and when he was buried in Frank’s body, he caught Frank’s chin in his hand and whispered, “That means you’re mine.”
Frank closed his eyes. Gerard let him go and resumed the constant, slow pace he’d built up. Frank arched up off the mattress, ignoring the pull at his wrists, and let out a low, shaky moan. His dick was throbbing and dribbling precome onto his stomach, and he just wanted to come, he wanted Gerard to come, he wanted something to build up and finish, because that slow rhythm was maddening and completely unsatisfying.
“You want to come, Frankie?” Gerard asked, as if reading Frank’s mind. Frank nodded, thrashing his head up and down frantically, and he felt Gerard lean low over him again. “No,” Gerard said, his voice crystal clear and calm. “I won’t let you.”
“No,” Frank whined. “No, please.”
“You’re mine, Frankie,” Gerard said. “I’m gonna come in your ass, and you get nothing, because you don’t deserve anything yet.”
“No, Gee, please,” Frank cried. Gerard picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming shallower, and Frank could feel Gerard’s arms shaking with exertion.
“You have to… earn it,” Gerard explained between labored breaths. “Earn it, Frankie… Oh, fuck. Fuck, Frank, fuck.”
Gerard pushed in deep and came inside him, barely able to hold himself up. Frank wrenched his eyes open to watch Gerard’s face. After a moment Gerard opened his eyes, too, and they stared at each other for a few long seconds. Gerard’s normally hazel eyes were so dark, his pupils blown wide, that Frank could barely distinguish any emotion in them.
Gerard pulled out of him and reached over to the nightstand in the same motion. Frank didn’t see what he picked up until Gerard was tying it around his head. Some kind of fabric, a folded bandana or something, maybe the scarf Gerard wore to the bank-Frank didn’t think it was the blindfold Gerard had bought-tied securely over Frank’s eyes, effectively blocking out all the light in the room.
“Comfy?” Gerard asked.
Frank turned towards his voice by instinct. “Yeah,” he replied, though he wasn’t sure why. His arms were stretched painfully wide and he couldn’t see. He’d just been fucked raw and Gerard hadn’t let him come. His dick was still hard and aching. He wasn’t comfortable at all.
Gerard leaned over him and kissed his lips quickly, not even enough for Frank to taste him. “Good boy,” he whispered. “You’re okay. Sleep now.”
“Gee?” Frank asked, timid even to his own ears. He flapped his hands in the cuffs uselessly.
“Sleep now, Frankie.”
Frank felt Gerard get up off the bed and close himself into the bathroom. He heard the shower run, and a long time later, the white noise let him sink into an uneasy sleep.
***
+ 44 hours
When he woke up, Frank realized three things in this order: he was still naked, but covered by a blanket; Gerard wasn’t touching him or lying next to him; he couldn’t move his feet. His arms were tingly and his shoulders ached, but Frank ignored that. He also couldn’t open his eyes, but he hadn’t really been expecting to, after last night.
His legs were crossed at the ankles and bound by some kind of fabric, maybe an extra sheet or a towel. Frank twisted and turned as much as he was able, but he couldn’t work his feet loose. His arms were spread too far to be any use; he couldn’t even dislodge the blindfold.
Basically, he couldn’t move at all.
Frank licked his chapped lips and asked, in a horribly sleep-roughened voice, “Gee?” There was no reply. No sound at all. Frank tried again. “Gee? Gerard?”
He fell silent and listened for any muffled movements, rustles of fabric, or Gerard breathing. All he could hear was a maid vacuuming a few rooms away and a brief ring of ambulance sirens outside. Frank began to panic.
“Gerard?” he cried. “Gerard?”
He was alone. Tied up on a bed, locked in a seedy motel room, and alone.
“No, no, no, no, no,” Frank mumbled, feeling the thick ache in his throat growing. “Gee, please, no, no, don’t do this, please…” He couldn’t stop himself from crying, and he couldn’t move to wipe away the tears that escaped the blindfold. There wasn’t even a ticking clock to give Frank an idea of how long Gerard had been gone. Time stretched on.
***
+ 47 hours
Frank couldn’t fall asleep again, but he drifted into a blank doze. He wouldn’t allow himself to keep thinking about Gerard. He had no concept of time, and his thoughts ran around in circles, neither comforting nor useful.
The sound of the lock clicking open was surprisingly loud in the silent room and Frank flinched. He turned his head toward the noise. He heard the door open and someone-he assumed it was Gerard-walked in. He followed the person’s progress around the room but didn’t say anything. Neither did the intruder. Frank was helpless, naked and tied to a bed; he hoped it was Gerard.
“Gee?” he asked.
The rustling of whatever the person was doing stopped. It took four footsteps for the person to reach the bed, and the mattress dipped as they climbed on. Frank held his breath for a few seconds and nothing happened.
He broke. He mumbled a stream of “Gee” and “please” and “don’t”, and he was ashamed to feel tears he couldn’t control dampening the blindfold again.
Gerard peeled away the fabric-and it was Gerard, Frank was relieved to finally see-and gently wiped the tears from Frank’s cheeks. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes had a glint of amusement that Frank didn’t understand.
“It’s okay,” Gerard whispered.
“Don’t do that,” Frank replied. “Don’t leave me.”
Gerard did smile, then. He stroked his thumb down Frank’s cheek, brushing over his lips briefly and then repeating the motion.
“Will you untie me, please?” Frank asked. Gerard nodded and untied the sheet from around Frank’s ankles, then leaned over him and unlocked the cuffs. Frank’s arms were shaking and weak, but he reached up and clung to Gerard’s neck. “Don’t leave me, please don’t, please…”
Gerard’s hair was clean and smelled like apples. He wrapped his arms around Frank’s back and lifted him upright. Frank grabbed a handful of Gerard’s black t-shirt in his fist and held on tight.
“Shh, shh,” Gerard soothed, “it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m back, I’m here. Shhh, Frankie, shhh. It’s okay.”
Gerard held him until he stopped crying. He wiped Frank’s face again and smiled at him.
“Where were you? Why did you leave?”
“Shopping,” Gerard replied brightly. “I bought you things. And breakfast! Are you hungry?”
Frank nodded dumbly, eyes wide. Gerard hopped off the bed and returned with a take-out Styrofoam box of pancakes and fruit salad. “I found a place that makes vegan pancakes,” Gerard said. “It took a while, but here they are. Do you like pancakes?”
“You got me vegan pancakes?”
“Oh! Fork. Here you go.” Frank took the fork and stared at him. “Go ahead,” Gerard prompted. “I ate while I was out. Let me show you what I bought.”
Gerard went back to his collection of shopping bags and started rifling through them, searching for something. Frank took a bite of his pancakes. They were still hot. They were also much better than the microwavable shit Frank usually ate for breakfast, when he ate breakfast at all.
“I didn’t know your sizes, so I had to guess, but I think these will work…” Gerard said. When he turned around, he was holding a purple shirt and a black skirt that looked like it belonged in Frank’s old high school.
“Is that a skirt?” Frank asked, though it obviously was, and Gerard obviously meant for him to wear it. Gerard nodded. “Why did you get me a skirt?”
“Your face is all over the news, Frankie. You probably made the paper, too, but I didn’t have a quarter to spare.”
“So?”
“We have to get out of this room, Frankie. You need a disguise,” Gerard explained. “Eat your pancakes.”
Frank took another bite, and with his mouth full, asked, “What about you?”
“Nobody ever saw my face. Don’t worry; by the time I’m done, you won’t even recognize yourself. I went to school in drag, once. Nobody recognized me except my brother.” Gerard tossed the clothes onto the bed. “Finish your breakfast. We have to get you dressed and then check out by eleven.”
***
+ 2 days
Gerard let him take a shower by himself, though he did insist on leaving the bathroom door open, and when Frank emerged wearing just a towel around his waist, Gerard smiled at him.
“I’ll help you get dressed,” he said. Frank nodded.
First came the padded bra, which was the most uncomfortable thing Frank had ever worn. He held still while Gerard tightened the straps and pushed the small cups into the right position. Gerard told him they could buy something to stuff it with later if Frank needed it. Frank doubted very much that he would really need anything of the sort, but he kept quiet.
Gerard then helped him into a pair of black stockings, which he said would work for now. Frank asked what that meant.
“If we keep doing this, you’ll have to shave your legs. It’s just easier,” Gerard explained, and held up the skirt.
Frank rolled his eyes and stepped in. Gerard pulled it up to his waist and buttoned it as tight as it would go, but it still slipped down a few inches when Gerard let go.
“You’re smaller than I thought,” Gerard muttered to himself.
“Hey!”
“It’s not an insult! Shut up and put this on.”
Gerard handed him the shirt and Frank pulled it on over his head. It had a V-neck, but it wasn’t low enough to make it obvious that Frank didn’t really have breasts. There was a purple and blue pattern on the front, and when Gerard positioned him in front of the mirror, Frank saw that the design gave the illusion that he actually had curves.
“Nice shirt, huh?” Gerard asked rhetorically. He grinned and Frank gave him a weak smile in reply. “Okay, hair and makeup.”
Gerard didn’t really do much to Frank’s hair besides brush it and just let it fall and curl however it wanted. Frank worried about the makeup, though. He’d experimented with eyeliner before, and he’d once tried on an ex-girlfriend’s lipstick, but Gerard had a whole makeup kit with brushes and colors and things Frank didn’t even know what to do with.
Gerard brushed powder over his cheeks and eyes, and outlined his lips with a pencil. He put on mascara and the eyeliner, and Frank watched his tongue poke out from between his teeth as he concentrated. Last was lipstick, which tasted like cherries.
“Okay,” Gerard finally said. “Look.”
He backed away and gave Frank room to look in the mirror. Frank really did feel like he was looking at a different person, a girl, through a window. His eyes looked brighter and bigger with the makeup, and with the clothes Gerard had picked out, none of which covered Frank’s tattoos, he just looked like a punk chick.
“Wow…” he breathed.
“I know, right? You’re a pretty girl, Frankie.”
Frank felt very conspicuous when they left the room. He went with Gerard to return the room key to the office, and the fat guy at the desk gave Frank a very obvious once-over. Frank stepped into Gerard’s shadow. Gerard cheerfully waved goodbye and led Frank to his car.
“You want to drive, or should I?”
“You,” Frank replied quietly. He pulled at the hem of his skirt; it felt way too short, skimming his thighs. Frank wasn’t sure he even could drive in the clunky heels Gerard had given him.
“Alright. Don’t freak out, okay? I still have the gun.”
“I know.”
Gerard smiled. “Good boy.”
**********
+ 23 days
“How did he hurt you, Frank? It’s okay, you won’t ever see him again. We’ll protect you. Just tell me, how did he hurt you?”
“He-” Frank stopped short, apparently fumbling for words.
“It’s okay, take your time,” Ray encouraged. He wondered if touching Frank’s hands-clenched into tight fists on top of the table-would be the right move. The boy looked like he could use the comfort.
“He didn’t hurt me,” Frank finally finished.
Ray looked down at his folder. Besides the bruises around Frank’s wrists and arms that he could see with his own eyes, there were photos of others: various bruises and abrasions from Frank’s back to his thighs; a much larger, yellowing bruise on his stomach; a gash on his upper thigh that had been bleeding profusely when Bob finally picked him up.
Perhaps Frank had been traumatized enough that he wasn’t even aware. Ray decided not to touch him.
“Frank,” he said, “you have bruises all over your body and a deep cut on your leg. How did you get those?”
“He didn’t hurt me,” Frank repeated sternly.
“How did you get hurt, then?”
“He didn’t-”
“Okay. It wasn’t Gerard. Frank, will you please tell me how you cut your leg?” Ray asked carefully.
“I scraped it,” Frank replied.
“On what?”
“A piece of glass.”
Ray nodded and made a note of that. “How did it happen?”
“I fell through a glass door.”
Maybe that particular wound really had been an accident, then. Ray remembered Bob mentioning chasing Frank and Gerard through a broken door. He flipped back to the other pictures and set them on the table for Frank to see.
“How did you get these bruises, Frank?”
Frank shook his head.
“These are photos of you, Frank,” Ray said gently. Frank shook his head again and wouldn’t meet Ray’s eyes. “Tell me how you got hurt, Frankie. Explain it to me.”
“He gave me them,” Frank said.
“He gave you the-Gerard gave you the bruises? Tell me, Frankie.” Frank nodded and looked down at his hands. Ray wondered what he’d said that made Frank answer him, and he replayed the conversation in his head. He’d called Frank Frankie. He hadn’t asked, he’d commanded. It was a subtle difference in normal conversation, but it must have been the key to how Gerard treated him.
Ray felt awful for manipulating the poor kid, but he had to know. “Frankie, tell me about Gerard.”
**********
part 2