Fic: Promises, Promises (Don’t Send Me Back In 30 Days) [part 3]
title: Promises, Promises (Don’t Send Me Back In 30 Days)
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.
part 1
part 2
part 3
**********
+ 23 days
“That was the first time we made love. We really connected that night,” Frank explained. “That’s when I really knew he loved me back.”
“Why do you love him, Frankie?”
“I need him,” Frank said softly.
“Frankie, I think…” Ray began. “I think you may have misjudged your relationship. Do you understand what I mean?”
“No.”
“Gerard kidnapped you.”
“Yes.”
“He held you hostage, Frank. You did what he ordered you to do.”
“Yes.”
Ray hesitated. “Because you were with him for so long,” he said slowly, “I think you forgot what it was like to be on your own.” Frank was shaking his head before Ray had even finished. “You disagree?”
“I didn’t forget. I couldn’t forget. Gerard can’t even make me forget that.”
“Maybe not your life, but I’m talking about how you lived it, Frank. You made your own choices, you lived on your own, you had a job and friends.”
“I made bad choices,” Frank shot back angrily. “I didn’t want to live alone. I had a shitty job and I didn’t have friends. I didn’t have anything. Gerard gave me all of that.”
“Gerard turned you into a slave,” Ray cried. He instantly regretted it. He’d shocked Frank into silence. The look on his face was one of betrayal.
“I thought you understood,” he whispered.
Ray nodded. “I do. It’s you who doesn’t understand.”
***
Ray couldn’t stay with the kid; he was getting too attached. It hurt his head to think about all the ways that bastard abused Frank, and it hurt his heart to think that Frank was brainwashed enough to believe he wanted it. The federal interview room was creepy enough, so dissimilar from his own office, and Ray made a mental note that he should take more sanity breaks in the future. It was times like these that Ray wished he smoked.
Bob was outside smoking, though. Ray sighed and went over to keep him company.
“What’s up?” Bob asked. “You were interviewing Frank, right?”
“Yeah,” Ray said sadly. He leaned against the brick wall and crossed his arms.
“Can you tell me?”
“He’s fucked up,” Ray said. “He’s in love with Gerard. He thinks he is, anyway.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me.”
“I wish.”
“Gerard kidnapped him. He… He raped him. Didn’t he?”
“Frank claims he wanted it. He says he even instigated it a lot of the time. There’s no way he’ll testify against Gerard for anything.”
“God-fucking-dammit,” Bob muttered. He dropped his cigarette and stomped on it. “What the hell is wrong with him?”
Ray sighed again. “Have you ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome?” he asked. Bob shook his head. “It’s when a hostage and his captor form some kind of emotional bond during their time together. Sometimes it manifests as what the hostage believes to be love.”
“What the fuck-”
“It’s the same sort of thing you see in abusive relationships. The abused one makes excuses every time the bastard hits them or threatens them, because they believe it’s all out of love.”
“That’s not right,” Bob said sharply.
“I know.”
“Frank’s fucking brainwashed?”
“That’s all I can see,” Ray replied, nodding.
“I’m going to kill that fucking son of a bitch.”
Ray put a hand on Bob’s arm. “He’s guilty as hell, okay,” he murmured. “No judge or jury is going to let him off. He’s going to jail.”
“I want him to fucking pay,” Bob said vehemently.
“He will.”
Bob kicked the wall, and Ray could see the pain flicker across his face. It didn’t seem to relieve the frustration, though; random bursts of violence never did. “I’m going to talk to him.”
**********
+ 21 days
Frank was nervous about going to Gerard’s apartment. They’d been back in Jersey for a whole day already, but they’d stayed in the motel the entire time. This felt like their first test, whether they’d really get away with it. Frank didn’t know how Gerard planned on staying here; Frank didn’t have any friends, but he did have people who would recognize him.
“It’ll be fine,” Gerard assured him again. “You’re the only one they know. They never got my name or what I look like, so they don’t have any reason to be looking at my place. Trust me.”
Frank smiled at him. “I do trust you.”
Gerard shook his head in mock exasperation, but he was smiling too. “Shut the fuck up,” he said.
They pulled up to the building and parked on the street, close to the entrance. Frank glanced around. “Are there always cars around here?”
“Yeah, Frankie, calm down. There’s not a good parking lot, so we just use the street. It’s fine. Nobody’s going to pounce on us.”
Frank sighed and got out of the car. The street was deserted. Gerard was probably right. He was usually right. Frank followed him to the door, which Gerard opened with one of his keys.
“Elevator to the left,” Gerard murmured, nudging Frank in the right direction.
“Nice place. You have an elevator.”
“Building code, I think,” Gerard replied, grinning. “You like elevators?”
“Not really,” Frank said. “I’m claustrophobic. But I don’t like climbing stairs.”
They went in and Gerard crowded Frank against one of the walls. “Claustrophobic, huh?”
Frank took a deep breath, his chest flush with Gerard’s, and nodded.
“Fourth floor,” Gerard whispered.
“Hmm?”
“Push the button, Frankie.”
Frank reached to the left and jabbed at the button until number 4 lit up. His stomach lurched when the rickety elevator began to rise. Gerard bracketed Frank’s head with his arms, trapping him against the wall, but Frank actually didn’t mind. He was close enough to smell Gerard’s breath. He wanted Gerard to kiss him, because he couldn’t make the first move.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened with a rush of fresh air. Gerard stepped out and didn’t wait for Frank to follow.
When they reached the door numbered 428, Gerard waved his key-ring and Frank waited for him to unlock it. He had to admit he was excited to see Gerard’s place. Gerard seemed excited to show it to him, too.
“Go in,” Gerard said, opening the door.
Frank took the first step over the threshold and stopped short. There was a small balcony immediately opposite the front door, and a kitchen with a real stove, and a lumpy couch with a blanket thrown over the back. It was a million times better than Frank’s apartment already.
Gerard came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Frank’s waist. He squeezed tightly and bit Frank’s earlobe. “Bedroom’s to the right.”
Frank looked at the door, which was open just a crack, and saw the end of Gerard’s bed. But there was something moving in there. Frank tensed and grabbed Gerard’s wrist.
“What-”
“Gerard.”
“Stop-”
“Gerard, shh.”
The door inched open with a loud creak and Gerard froze.
“There’s someone in there,” Frank whispered unnecessarily.
“There’s a fire escape out on the balcony. Run when I say. Understand?” Gerard breathed. Frank didn’t answer. “Do you understand me? Do as I fucking say, Frankie.”
He waited for Frank’s nod and let him go, pushing him further into the room. Closer to the fire escape.
“Hey,” Gerard shouted. “Who’s in there? Come on, don’t try to fucking mess with me.”
He reached into his pocket for his gun and slowly approached the door.
“Come the fuck out of there,” Gerard said warningly.
The door swung open and a guy in a suit raised a gun and aimed it at Gerard. “FBI, don’t fucking move, you son of a bitch.”
“Frank-” Gerard said quickly. The blonde FBI guy took a step closer. “Go!”
“Stop!” cried the agent.
Frank ignored him and ran to the door. It took him a few seconds of struggling to yank the sliding door open, and then he threw himself out onto the balcony. The fire escape was to his immediate left, but on the other side of the railing. Beneath him were four stories of thin air.
“Oh, fucking fuck!” he shouted. He looked back in and saw Gerard on the floor. The blonde guy was racing towards him. “Shit!”
Frank made up his mind and swung one leg over the railing. He felt sick. Gerard was inside, hurt, maybe dead, and he was about to fall to his own death by pavement-splatter. He closed his eyes and reached for the escape ladder, leaning much farther than he was comfortable with.
Something yanked him back. He fell to the metal grating and felt his palms scrape open and start to bleed. The FBI agent was beside him, holding tight to Frank’s t-shirt.
“Stop!” he shouted. “I’m trying to help you!”
“Let me go!” Frank screamed. He pushed himself to his feet and ran at the door, but missed. The blonde guy slammed into him and the glass door shattered. Frank fell forwards. He had time to think, This is going to hurt, and then he was on the ground again, this time with shards of glass scattered beneath him.
His leg was on fire-it was probably scraped all to hell-and there were tiny pinpricks of pain all over his body. The blonde guy was groaning, half on top of Frank.
Frank looked up and saw Gerard there. “Get up, get up,” he said quickly, reaching for Frank’s hand. “Fucking hurry, come on.”
Gerard hoisted Frank partway up, and then nearly dropped him when Frank screamed again, this time in pain. His leg was more than scraped up, he finally realized. There was a big-ass piece of glass sticking out of his thigh.
“Fuck!” Gerard cried. “Can you walk? Come on!”
They hobbled towards the front door, but of course they didn’t make it very far. The blonde guy had gotten up, and Frank and Gerard weren’t very hard to catch. The three of them tumbled to the floor again in a tangled heap, each of them shouting curses at the other.
“Don’t even fucking think about moving,” the blonde guy finally said, pointing his gun at Gerard. Gerard had apparently lost his own gun, so he didn’t move. Frank did move, but only to curl his body protectively over the piece of glass sticking out of his leg. He felt sick.
He glanced back at the balcony. There was a thick trail of blood from the shattered door to where they sat, and Frank’s leg was completely soaked.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Ow.” Then his head felt weird and fuzzy and he slumped sideways.
***
+ 23 days
The agent who brought them in introduced himself at the hospital as Bob Bryar, who Frank vaguely remembered talking to on the phone that first day. Gerard had been taken somewhere else, probably straight to jail, and Frank was stuck getting his leg stitched up with a police guard. Agent Bryar had apparently been searching for him. Frank didn’t know whether to be flattered that he actually mattered to this guy, or to be annoyed about finally getting caught.
He got Gerard caught. Gerard was in jail or somewhere equally unpleasant, and it was Frank’s fault. Frank still felt like he was going to throw up, and it wasn’t just from the painkillers. He’d been there a day and a half already, and everything was just getting worse.
“Hey, Frank,” Bob said gently. “How do you feel?”
“Sick.”
“It’s just the painkillers,” Bob assured him. “The doctor said your cut isn’t too bad, and you’ll be released in just a little while. Okay?”
“Okay,” Frank replied dumbly. His brain wasn’t working and he didn’t like it. He worried about himself, and then felt selfish for doing so. He worried about Gerard.
“I need you to give a statement when we get back. Can you do that, Frank?”
“Okay.”
“There will be someone there to help you. He’s a doctor, a psychiatrist. Is that okay?”
Frank didn’t want to answer questions. He wanted to find Gerard. He wanted to go back to Gerard’s nice apartment and sleep. “Okay,” he said. He didn’t care.
***
The interview room Bob put him in was really boring and slightly creepy. There was a one-way mirror along one wall; Frank faced away from it.
It wasn’t long before the door opened and a man came in with a notebook and a tape recorder. He had a suit jacket over a plain blue t-shirt and jeans, and he had curly hair that hung almost to his shoulders. He didn’t look like a doctor.
“Frank Iero?”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Doctor Ray Toro, I’m the psychiatrist. Will you talk with me?”
Frank shrugged. “Okay.”
“You can call me Ray. Can I call you Frank?”
“Sure. Ray.”
“What were you doing at the bank?”
That was a stupid question. Frank stared at him. “I was depositing my paycheck.”
“Did you know Gerard before he took you? Had you met him anywhere before?”
Frank’s eyes widened and he shook his head.
“So it was the first time you’d ever seen him?”
Frank nodded.
“How did he hurt you?”
Frank’s jaw dropped slightly. “What?”
“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?”
No, Frank thought. No, please. “He-” Oh god, Gerard.
“It’s okay, take your time,” Ray said gently.
Gerard never hurt him. Gerard loved him. Gerard was going to keep him. Gerard was in a federal prison because of him. Frank felt nauseous again. He hunched over the table and breathed deeply through his mouth. “He didn’t hurt me.”
Ray looked down at his folder at some pictures Frank couldn’t really see. He looked disbelieving. “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 said again. Those were that agent’s fault. Or that creepy shop clerk. Gerard never hurt him.
“How did you get hurt, then?”
“He didn’t-” Frank insisted.
“Okay. It wasn’t Gerard. Frank, will you please tell me how you cut your leg?” Ray asked slowly.
“I scraped it,” Frank replied.
“On what?”
“A piece of glass.”
Ray nodded and wrote something in his book. “How did it happen?”
“I fell through a glass door,” Frank said. Ray should know this, unless Bryar was lying about him. What if they thought Gerard cut him? That wasn’t his fault, not at all.
Ray took out a few photos and put them on the table between them. Frank recognized his body not by how it looked, but by his tattoos. The actual arms and legs didn’t even look like his.
“How did you get these bruises, Frank?”
Frank shook his head. If it weren’t for the tattoos, he would flat out not believe the photos were of him. He’d never seen himself this way. Was this how Gerard saw him? Mottled colors and soft skin?
“These are photos of you, Frank,” Ray said, as if he’d read Frank’s mind. Frank shook his head again. “Tell me how you got hurt, Frankie. Explain it to me.”
“He gave me them,” Frank answered numbly.
“He gave you the-Gerard gave you the bruises? Tell me, Frankie.” Frank nodded and looked down at his hands. “Frankie, tell me about Gerard.”
**********
+ 23 days
“Alright, you son of a bitch,” Bob exclaimed, bursting through the door with enough force that it slammed and bounced against the wall. Brian stared at him. Across the table, Gerard looked equally bewildered.
“Bryar,” Brian began slowly. “Sit down.”
Bob shot him an angry look and pounded his fist down on the metal table. Gerard jumped, but he just met Bob’s gaze and stared right back. Brian almost rolled his eyes. They did not have time for a fucking staring contest right now.
“You motherfucking bastard,” Bob continued vehemently. “What the hell did you do to him?”
Gerard shook his head. “What the hell?”
“What did you do to Frank?”
Gerard’s expression smoothed into a blank mask and he looked straight ahead. Brian raised his eyebrows at his partner. “I’m not saying anything without a lawyer.”
“Yeah, we get it,” Brian said, and actually did roll his eyes. It was only the sixth time Gerard had repeated that exact sentence, and his lawyer still hadn’t shown up.
Bob sat down in the chair next to Brian and leaned far across the table, getting into Gerard’s face. “You fucking brainwashed him. What did you do?”
Gerard continued to stare blankly at the wall past their heads. “I’m not saying anything without a-”
“Without your lawyer, yeah, shut the fuck up,” Brian muttered. He could only take so much. Bob, apparently, had a much lower threshold.
“Did you fuck him?” Bob asked. It was a tone Brian hadn’t heard in a long time, and if he didn’t know better, he’d think Bob was jealous. But it was Bob’s protective voice, which he used when he needed to stand up for the little guy. The little guy, in this case, being Frank.
“I’m not saying-”
“Shut. The fuck. Up,” Brian said, cutting him off.
“He can’t have wanted it in the beginning,” Bob continued angrily. “You forced him, I know you did. What did you do, did you beat him first? Did you tie him down? What did you do to him?”
“I’m not-”
“Oh my god,” Brian shouted over Gerard’s monotone. “If I have to tell you again I’m going to punch you in the face.”
Gerard fell silent and ground his teeth together, still staring past them and avoiding eye contact.
“You fucking raped him,” Bob hissed. Brian saw both his hands clench into fists, and he almost wanted to cover them with his own hands and make Bob calm down, but Gerard needed a good punch in the face. “You raped him, and you kept doing it until he broke down and claimed he liked it-”
“I gave him what he fucking wanted!” Gerard yelled, finally meeting Bob’s gaze.
Brian sat back in his chair. Maybe all they needed to do was get Gerard mad enough to talk.
“You tricked him into wanting it-”
“I didn’t fucking trick him into anything,” he said in a low voice. “I gave him what he needed.”
“And what’s that?” Brian asked, nodded his head slightly in Gerard’s direction. Bob continued to stare Gerard down.
Gerard took a deep, slow breath, and when he exhaled, he resumed staring at the spot on the wall, silent and avoiding them.
“He was scared of you. He was an innocent kid, you fucking son of a bitch-” Bob muttered.
“I think that’s all for the moment,” Brian said, and preemptively grabbed Bob’s arm to lead him out of the interview room.
**********
+ 25 days
Frank trudged up the stairs to his fifth-floor apartment only to find that someone else was living there. They called the landlord, Matt Cortez, who told them to send Frank back down.
“There’s people living in my apartment,” Frank said plainly, when he and Matt were safely inside Matt’s place. “Why are there people living in my apartment?”
Matt twisted his hands together nervously. “You were already a month late on your rent…”
“Did you think I was dead?”
“I kept the place for a week and a half, Frank. But I needed the money. I’m really sorry?”
“What about my stuff?”
Matt guided him to the couch and sat him down. “Most of it’s in the basement. I didn’t know what to do with it, and I wasn’t going to do anything until I knew for sure if you were…” he trailed off awkwardly.
“What am I supposed to do?” Frank asked him. He didn’t know. He was tired. His body ached. He missed Gerard, and Gerard was in jail. Gerard probably wasn’t thinking of him, unless it was to blame him for putting Gerard in jail in the first place. Frank wanted to curl up and sleep for the next year, or maybe just cry. It’d been far too long since he’d had a good cry.
“I’m sorry,” Matt said, and he sounded more sincere. “You can stay here, if you want. Until you find somewhere to live.”
Frank leaned over until he fell onto his side on the couch, then pulled his knees up to his chest. His leg hurt a lot, still. He felt miserable.
“I don’t have a job,” Frank admitted quietly. “They sent me a letter saying I was fired. And I don’t have a place to live. I don’t have any money.”
“You can stay here, Frankie,” Matt said gently. He knelt next to the couch and rubbed Frank’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay. At least you’re back, though. Safe and sound. That’s good, right?”
Frank shook his head. “No.”
***
+ 26 days
Matt helped him look through apartment listings, but there was nothing Frank could afford, and he didn’t have a job, so he wasn’t going to be able to afford anything anytime soon. Matt directed him to the job ads, but Frank either wasn’t qualified enough or he was overqualified with his two years of college.
Frank thought of Gerard every other minute, it seemed like. He hoped Gerard didn’t hate him. He wasn’t sure he could stand it if Gerard did hate him. He felt awful for putting Gerard in that position, for getting him caught. But Bryar wouldn’t let Frank see him and make sure he was okay.
Frank wished he had someone to call. None of his friends were even his friends anymore. Matt was the only person who gave a damn about him, and he was sleeping on Matt’s couch and eating Matt’s food and just generally being a nuisance.
Frank slept a lot.
***
+ 27 days
Frank had to admit that Matt was a nice guy, really. It wasn’t his fault he’d had to find new tenants. Frank felt bad for taking advantage of his hospitality now, and he felt bad for falling behind on his rent before. He just felt bad all the time, for everything.
He kept having dreams about Gerard.
None of them were good dreams.
Frank tossed and turned on Matt’s old, lumpy couch. Even after a month of motel beds, Frank couldn’t get comfortable. There was nothing to distract him from his thoughts, and he always, always wound up thinking of Gerard as he fell asleep. A lot of the time it was a stark, vivid memory of Gerard telling him to handcuff himself if Gerard forgot. Frank almost wished he could. Maybe it would keep his mind off his worries.
His stomach twisted every time he pictured Gerard in a cell. It wasn’t fair. Gerard had tried so hard to keep them safe, and then Frank had ruined it all. And yet, Frank was the one sleeping on a couch while Gerard was stuck in jail.
He woke up one night with tears on his cheeks and Matt petting his shoulder, saying, “Frankie, Frankie, it’s okay, wake up, man. You’re okay, you’re in my apartment, remember?”
Frank couldn’t remember the details of his dream. He turned his back to Matt and rubbed his face on Matt’s scratchy blanket.
“Go away,” he mumbled. He felt bad when Matt did, though. Matt was a nice guy. He was only trying to help.
When he was alone again, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”
***
+ 28 days
Matt took him down to the basement to sort through his things. There was shockingly little there; most of his furniture had come with the apartment. It was depressing, seeing his entire life stuffed into three boxes and a suitcase.
He just didn’t feel connected to any of his belongings anymore, though. Spending so much time on the road hadn’t made him miss the clutter, and now that he had access to all of his junk again, he found he didn’t really want it.
The first box had all Frank’s sheets and towels, and a pillow with a tear in the side and the stuffing coming out.
There was a box just of clothes: mostly t-shirts and ripped jeans, a pair of slacks that had only been worn to job interviews, and two stained white dress shirts. There was a jacket that didn’t match the slacks, and a jean jacket that was almost torn in half, along with a stack of sweaters and cardigans. Frank didn’t count the handful of socks and underwear.
The last box had letters, a few photos of his parents and friends, Frank’s various official documents, two first aid kits and an almost-empty bottle of anti-nausea drugs, a full pack of cigarettes, and a CD player with a short pile of CDs. He didn’t have a TV, but he owned a ton of DVDs anyway, for whenever he had enough money to buy a TV.
He popped the last two pills in the bottle, hoping it would calm him down. There was really nothing he cared about. He stuffed the first aid kits, photos, and paperwork into the box with his clothes and stuffed the cigarettes into his pocket. Everything else could go to Goodwill, or maybe he could try to sell it.
Gerard’s voice popped into his head. Something about Mikey.
Frank put the CDs and DVDs into a separate pile.
***
Matt was hesitant about Frank borrowing his car, especially when Frank made the excuse of visiting a friend, but he gave Frank the keys anyway. Frank looked Mikey up in the phone book; he wasn’t very far away. It was almost funny that he’d never met Mikey or Gerard before.
He rang the doorbell and wrung his hands nervously. He had no idea what Mikey even looked like, or if this was the right house.
A guy about Frank’s age answered the door. Everything about him was thin: his t-shirt, his jeans, his glasses, his waist. He didn’t really look like Gerard, but there were enough similarities to tell Frank he had the right person.
“Mikey?” he asked.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Frank.”
Mikey shrugged. “Do I know you?”
Frank opened his mouth but couldn’t think of how to explain. “Gerard-”
“You’re Frank,” Mikey said suddenly. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Why are you here?”
Frank shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Gerard said you liked stupid horror movies.”
“Yeah, so?”
“I have some.”
“Okay…”
“I want to give them to you.”
“Oh,” Mikey said again. “Come in?”
***
Mikey gave him a soda and a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips, and they sat down to watch one of Frank’s movies. They both threw out comments as they watched, and it was almost like talking with Gerard, but other than that, they were both quiet.
“Why are you here?” Mikey asked as the credits rolled. “Am I supposed to apologize or something?”
“No!” Frank shook his head quickly. “No, no, nothing like that. I just… came to see if you wanted my movies and CDs. I don’t want them anymore.”
“Why me?” Mikey asked suspiciously.
“Because… Because Gerard’s my only friend and you’re his brother, and he loves you so much.”
“It’s not my fault he-”
“No. He did it to take care of you. He’s just… kind of amazing, and… I miss him.”
Mikey crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at Frank, but he didn’t look anything but curious.
“What happened between you and my brother?”
“I love him,” Frank whispered. “The shrink with the FBI thinks I’m crazy, but I swear it’s true.”
“Did he say he loved you?” Mikey asked.
“No. He probably hates me, now. I put him in jail.”
“He put himself in jail,” Mikey said dismissively. “When I visited him, he told me he loves you.”
Frank perked up. “He said that?”
“Mostly. He doesn’t like to use that word, but I could tell.”
Frank stared at Mikey. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked quietly.
“Because you look really sad about it, and he was really sad about you. He thought they might’ve changed your mind or something. But you didn’t, and I don’t think you should be all broken up about it. Gerard still loves you.”
Frank slid off the couch and sat at Mikey’s feet. He felt like a kid at story time. “What did he say?”
Mikey shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. “It was really sappy. Something about being really happy about you wanting him, and he liked giving you what you needed, because he needed it too, or something lame and romantic like that.”
“Mikey,” Frank began, “do you think there’s any way he can get out of jail?”
“He said there’s no way. He didn’t confess or anything, but everyone knows it was him,” Mikey explained, his brow creasing. “Are they going to make you testify?”
Frank shook his head. “The shrink said I wouldn’t be helping. If they just let me explain-”
“They’ll think you’re a crazy person,” Mikey interrupted smoothly.
Frank looked down at his hands and picked at a hangnail. “Do you think… Mikey, do you think there’s any way we could get him out?”
***
+ 29 days
He ate breakfast with Matt and stuffed almost everything he owned into his backpack.
“I’m leaving,” he called to Matt.
“You want dinner later? I can order a pizza or something.”
“No.” Frank put a twenty dollar bill on the coffee table. It had been a lucky find, stuffed in the pocket of a pair of jeans. “You don’t have to keep anything this time.”
“What?” Matt asked. He came into the room. Frank was already at the door.
“You were really nice to me, even when I was a flake and couldn’t pay you. And you let me stay on your couch.”
“Frank, what’s going on?” He caught sight of the twenty. “Frank…”
“You don’t have to keep anything, this time. I have everything I need.”
“Where are you going?”
Frank shrugged. “I’ll figure it out.”
Matt shook his head. “Don’t do this, Frankie. You can stay, you’re not in the way…”
“I need to go,” Frank replied simply. “Thanks for being nice to me.”
***
Ray made him sit in the very back of the courtroom. He couldn’t even see Gerard, unless Gerard was standing up. If he leaned to the right, practically into Ray’s lap, he could catch a glimpse of the back of Gerard’s head.
Watching the proceedings nearly gave Frank a panic attack, though. When he started to feel like he was going to puke, Ray took him out to the hallway for some fresh air, and then he wouldn’t let Frank back inside.
An hour or so after Ray was called in to testify, the doors opened and everyone came pouring out. Frank tried to push his way in, but Gerard was already gone. Ray and Bob found him and pulled him out of the crowd.
“What happened?” Frank asked hurriedly.
“We don’t know the sentence yet, but I think it went well,” Bob replied. Ray watched Frank with a worried expression.
“I wanted to be there. I wanted to see him.”
“No,” Ray broke in. “You were almost hyperventilating in the back row, there’s no way any of us would let you get close to him.”
“It was just the trial and everything, making me nervous,” he said to Ray. “I wanted to see how he was reacting to all the things he did.” Frank put on his best innocent face and looked at Bob. “Please, can I talk to him? Alone?” he asked, and when Bob began to shake his head, Frank added, “I can see how much he hurt me, now. I just want to ask for an apology. He won’t do it with anyone else there, but maybe if it’s just me, if he sees the damage he’s done to me… maybe then, he’ll give me what I need.”
“And what’s that?” Bob asked, visibly wavering.
“Closure,” Frank answered, glancing sideways at Ray, who nodded encouragingly.
“I think it might be a good thing. It makes sense,” Ray put in quietly, “for Frank to at least try to put his whole ordeal behind him, and regain some amount of control. It’s good that he’s taking those steps.”
Bob exchanged several pointed glances with Ray, but then he nodded and mumbled something about finding the officer who had Gerard in his custody. Five minutes later, Bob returned and led Frank and Ray to the door of an office. Bob squeezed Frank’s shoulder encouragingly, but Ray only frowned.
“We’re right here,” he said. “Shout if you need us.”
“I doubt he’ll try to hurt you, considering there’s cops all over this place,” Bob added. “But be careful, Frankie.”
Frank nodded, took a deep breath, and opened the door. He slipped inside, closing it quickly behind him, and saw Gerard sitting at the far end of a conference table, cuffed hands clasped in front of him and his hair hanging messily in his face.
“Gerard…” Frank whispered. His voice cracked. Gerard looked so sad. He lifted his head at the sound of Frank’s voice with a surprised, grateful expression.
“Frank?” he asked hopefully. “Frankie?”
Frank was around the conference table in seconds; he dropped to his knees next to Gerard’s chair and pulled him down for a kiss. “I missed you so much,” he said in between gasps for air. Gerard’s hands circled Frank’s neck, high up with his thumbs brushing gently over the corners of Frank’s jaw. Frank melted into his touch.
“What did they say to you, Frankie, what did they do? Are you okay?”
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Frank assured him quickly. “I couldn’t stop worrying about you.” He brushed Gerard’s hair away from his eyes and asked, hesitantly, “Are you okay?”
Gerard smiled sadly and whispered, “I shouldn’t have kept you.”
“No!” Frank gasped. “No, Gee, please don’t say that. I love you.”
“They’re going to put me away, Frankie. Lock me up and throw away the key. I won’t be able to… to take care of you, to give you what you need anymore. I’m sorry, Frankie, I’m so fucking sorry, but I… They won’t let me see you.”
Gerard looked so heartbroken that Frank had to kiss him again. He petted Gerard’s hair to soothe him. “It’s okay,” he said.
“I promised you something,” Gerard replied stiffly. “I may never have said it out loud, but everything I did… It was all a promise to take care of you, and now I can’t.”
“Come with me to the window,” Frank said, trying to hide his wide, happy smile at Gerard’s words. They were so much more than a meager declaration of love, they were a commitment. He took Gerard’s hand and squeezed once. “I’m yours, Gee, don’t worry about me.”
“I have to worry about you.”
Frank tugged him to the window and parted the blinds. The room overlooked the back parking lot, and there, parked beside the dumpsters, was Gerard’s mother’s car. Gerard gasped. “What?”
Mikey was leaning against the hood, arms crossed and sunglasses covering half of his face, with a lit cigarette dangling from one hand. Frank reached into his pocket and a button on his phone. Across the parking lot, Mikey jumped to attention and answered.
“Straight ahead, second floor,” Frank murmured. “Do you see us?”
“Frank,” Gerard began seriously. “What are you doing?”
“I need you,” Frank told him. “But Mikey made me realize how much you need me, too. So we’re rescuing you.”
Gerard shook his head. Frank glared at him.
“No, listen, Gerard. I fucking love you. Please, just let me do this for you.”
It took a long, tense moment, but Gerard finally gave him a short nod. “Yes.”
In no time at all, Mikey had the window open and was helping Gerard climb out onto the roof of the car. Once on the ground, Mikey reached into the back seat and took out a pair of wire cutters to free Gerard from the Flexicuffs. He looked up at Frank while Mikey set to work.
“You’ve got this all figured out.”
Frank nodded. He swung his leg over the window and prepared to jump onto the car.
“Wait!” Gerard said suddenly. “Wait for me.”
Mikey finally cut the plastic cuffs open and Gerard climbed back up onto the roof, not even bothering to be quiet. He reached for Frank, fingers brushing Frank’s calf. Frank lifted his other leg to the windowsill and lowered himself down as far as he could, and then Gerard grabbed his waist and caught him, breaking his fall. The cut on his thigh throbbed, but it wasn’t too bad. Frank had to concede that simply landing on the car would’ve hurt like a bitch.
“Okay?” Gerard whispered, holding Frank against him.
“Yes,” Frank whispered back. “Thanks.”
Gerard squeezed his hip and helped him down to the ground. He looked at Mikey. “Are we just leaving, then?”
“Get in,” Mikey said. Frank and Gerard both slid into the backseat, and Gerard noticed Frank’s backpack. He raised his eyebrow at Frank.
“Mikey packed you a suitcase.”
Gerard nodded and put his hand on the back of Frank’s neck. Frank tilted his head forward slightly, pressing back into the touch, and Gerard idly fiddled with Frank’s hair while Mikey drove.
Mikey got out of the car to hug Gerard when they reached the bus station. Frank saw his mouth move as he whispered in Gerard’s ear, but he deliberately didn’t try to eavesdrop. Gerard wrapped his arms tightly around his brother and kissed his cheek.
“Thanks,” Gerard said. Mikey nodded.
He then turned to Frank and pulled him in. Frank was thrown off, but he hugged Mikey back.
“I’m glad he found you,” Mikey whispered to him.
“Me too,” Frank murmured. He caught Gerard’s eye over Mikey’s shoulder.
They got on a bus headed for North Carolina. Gerard ushered Frank into the window seat and put their bags in the rack above them, then scooted in next to him.
“What else does your plan include?” he asked in a low voice.
Frank shrugged. “It’s up to you.” He could tell Gerard had something in mind, and Frank was ready to let Gerard take charge again.
“We’re getting off in Virginia.”
“And after that?”
“We’ll go west.”
Frank smiled. “I’ve never been out west.”
***
+ 30 days
From the bus station in Richmond, Gerard bought tickets to Cincinnati and they hopped on another bus. He murmured to Frank that they would eventually need a car.
“I can’t keep buying bus tickets,” he said, glancing around at the other passengers with frustration. “It’s too easy to be recognized.”
They stopped at a motel. The carpet was dingy and stained, and there was one bed. Frank smiled. He sat down cross-legged on the bed while Gerard looked through his suitcase.
“Wait here,” he said, and went into the bathroom.
Once Gerard had closed the door, Frank unzipped his backpack and dug around in the bottom for the handcuffs he’d bought before they left Jersey. There were padded ones, like the kind they’d used before, but Frank had also found a pair of metal ones and another pair made of faux leather. He also pulled out a blindfold mask like the one Gerard had used on him before, and a thin, simple, black collar with a silver buckle. He put them all on the bed where Gerard would see them as soon as he came out of the bathroom and waited.
When he did finally come out, Gerard’s hair was cut short and bleached white. Frank stared at him. Gerard nodded. “You’re next,” he said, and beckoned for Frank to come to him.
Gerard decided to leave Frank’s hair long, but he held up a bottle of black dye. Frank took off his clothes and bent over the sink. Gerard’s hands were gentle as he massaged the dye into Frank’s hair, careful to keep it out of his eyes, and when he rinsed the dye out, he combed his fingers through the long hair that clung to Frank’s cheek and smiled.
“Pretty,” he said, and Frank beamed at him. Gerard scrubbed a towel over Frank’s head.
“I brought something for you,” Frank said nervously. He bit his lip and tilted his head toward the door. Gerard gestured for Frank to lead the way out.
Gerard spotted the handcuffs immediately, and he curled his hand possessively around Frank’s shoulder. Frank felt his nails digging in and he kept perfectly still, waiting for Gerard to decide.
“You bought these?” he asked.
“For you,” Frank whispered.
“Turn around,” Gerard ordered. He turned Frank and walked him backwards until his legs hit the edge of the bed.
“I love you,” Frank blurted out.
“Are you sure?” Gerard asked calmly.
“Yes.”
“What do you want from me, Frankie?”
Frank licked his lips and smiled. He looked up and met Gerard’s eyes. “Anything.”
Gerard smirked at him. “What does that mean to you?”
“Whatever you want it to mean,” Frank answered smoothly. “I want anything you’ll give me. I’ll take anything from you. For you.”
Gerard put his hand flat on Frank’s chest. He inhaled as Gerard slid his hand up to Frank’s throat, then tilted his head up when Gerard moved to his jaw. He closed his eyes.
Gerard kissed him.
It was perfect. Frank relaxed into Gerard’s touch and into the kiss, opening his mouth for Gerard’s tongue. He moved with Gerard’s hand and held still when Gerard finally broke the kiss and pulled back. He left his hand tenderly circling Frank’s throat.
“Stop planning everything,” Gerard said softly. “Stop thinking. Stop worrying. I’m in charge now.”
Frank nodded. Gerard took a step closer, crowding him against the bed. Gerard’s t-shirt brushed Frank’s stomach, almost tickling, and he smiled.
“Get on the bed,” Gerard murmured. “Arms over your head, eyes closed. Don’t move.”
Frank sat down and hurried to arrange himself how Gerard wanted him. He closed his eyes and stretched his arms up until his knuckles brushed the wall. He listened to Gerard moving around the bed, taking off his shirt and jeans. He heard the muffled clatter of Gerard moving the handcuffs to the nightstand.
The cuffs that Gerard buckled around Frank’s wrists were the familiar padded ones, and Frank gave them an experimental tug, pulling the chain taut, then relaxed his hands, palms up. He kept his eyes closed. He could feel the heat of Gerard leaning over him and he arched his back, searching for him.
“I told you not to move,” Gerard said sharply. He put his hand flat on Frank’s chest and pushed him down. His hand slid up and he brushed his thumb over the prominent angle of Frank’s collarbone. Frank tilted his head back and bared his throat for Gerard. He could almost sense what was coming next.
Gerard slid the collar under Frank’s neck and buckled it at his throat. The pressure was enough that it went tight when he swallowed, and he could feel his own pulse jumping. Gerard hooked one finger underneath it and tugged a little.
“Look at me.”
Frank opened his eyes.
Gerard was staring down at him, hazel eyes glinting. He looked really different without the long, dark hair framing his face, almost more suited to his role. He was captivating.
“I take care of what’s mine, Frankie,” he said.
Frank nodded, not breaking eye contact. He held his breath waiting for Gerard’s next words.
“You’re mine.”
fin.
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.
part 1
part 2
part 3
**********
+ 23 days
“That was the first time we made love. We really connected that night,” Frank explained. “That’s when I really knew he loved me back.”
“Why do you love him, Frankie?”
“I need him,” Frank said softly.
“Frankie, I think…” Ray began. “I think you may have misjudged your relationship. Do you understand what I mean?”
“No.”
“Gerard kidnapped you.”
“Yes.”
“He held you hostage, Frank. You did what he ordered you to do.”
“Yes.”
Ray hesitated. “Because you were with him for so long,” he said slowly, “I think you forgot what it was like to be on your own.” Frank was shaking his head before Ray had even finished. “You disagree?”
“I didn’t forget. I couldn’t forget. Gerard can’t even make me forget that.”
“Maybe not your life, but I’m talking about how you lived it, Frank. You made your own choices, you lived on your own, you had a job and friends.”
“I made bad choices,” Frank shot back angrily. “I didn’t want to live alone. I had a shitty job and I didn’t have friends. I didn’t have anything. Gerard gave me all of that.”
“Gerard turned you into a slave,” Ray cried. He instantly regretted it. He’d shocked Frank into silence. The look on his face was one of betrayal.
“I thought you understood,” he whispered.
Ray nodded. “I do. It’s you who doesn’t understand.”
***
Ray couldn’t stay with the kid; he was getting too attached. It hurt his head to think about all the ways that bastard abused Frank, and it hurt his heart to think that Frank was brainwashed enough to believe he wanted it. The federal interview room was creepy enough, so dissimilar from his own office, and Ray made a mental note that he should take more sanity breaks in the future. It was times like these that Ray wished he smoked.
Bob was outside smoking, though. Ray sighed and went over to keep him company.
“What’s up?” Bob asked. “You were interviewing Frank, right?”
“Yeah,” Ray said sadly. He leaned against the brick wall and crossed his arms.
“Can you tell me?”
“He’s fucked up,” Ray said. “He’s in love with Gerard. He thinks he is, anyway.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me.”
“I wish.”
“Gerard kidnapped him. He… He raped him. Didn’t he?”
“Frank claims he wanted it. He says he even instigated it a lot of the time. There’s no way he’ll testify against Gerard for anything.”
“God-fucking-dammit,” Bob muttered. He dropped his cigarette and stomped on it. “What the hell is wrong with him?”
Ray sighed again. “Have you ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome?” he asked. Bob shook his head. “It’s when a hostage and his captor form some kind of emotional bond during their time together. Sometimes it manifests as what the hostage believes to be love.”
“What the fuck-”
“It’s the same sort of thing you see in abusive relationships. The abused one makes excuses every time the bastard hits them or threatens them, because they believe it’s all out of love.”
“That’s not right,” Bob said sharply.
“I know.”
“Frank’s fucking brainwashed?”
“That’s all I can see,” Ray replied, nodding.
“I’m going to kill that fucking son of a bitch.”
Ray put a hand on Bob’s arm. “He’s guilty as hell, okay,” he murmured. “No judge or jury is going to let him off. He’s going to jail.”
“I want him to fucking pay,” Bob said vehemently.
“He will.”
Bob kicked the wall, and Ray could see the pain flicker across his face. It didn’t seem to relieve the frustration, though; random bursts of violence never did. “I’m going to talk to him.”
**********
+ 21 days
Frank was nervous about going to Gerard’s apartment. They’d been back in Jersey for a whole day already, but they’d stayed in the motel the entire time. This felt like their first test, whether they’d really get away with it. Frank didn’t know how Gerard planned on staying here; Frank didn’t have any friends, but he did have people who would recognize him.
“It’ll be fine,” Gerard assured him again. “You’re the only one they know. They never got my name or what I look like, so they don’t have any reason to be looking at my place. Trust me.”
Frank smiled at him. “I do trust you.”
Gerard shook his head in mock exasperation, but he was smiling too. “Shut the fuck up,” he said.
They pulled up to the building and parked on the street, close to the entrance. Frank glanced around. “Are there always cars around here?”
“Yeah, Frankie, calm down. There’s not a good parking lot, so we just use the street. It’s fine. Nobody’s going to pounce on us.”
Frank sighed and got out of the car. The street was deserted. Gerard was probably right. He was usually right. Frank followed him to the door, which Gerard opened with one of his keys.
“Elevator to the left,” Gerard murmured, nudging Frank in the right direction.
“Nice place. You have an elevator.”
“Building code, I think,” Gerard replied, grinning. “You like elevators?”
“Not really,” Frank said. “I’m claustrophobic. But I don’t like climbing stairs.”
They went in and Gerard crowded Frank against one of the walls. “Claustrophobic, huh?”
Frank took a deep breath, his chest flush with Gerard’s, and nodded.
“Fourth floor,” Gerard whispered.
“Hmm?”
“Push the button, Frankie.”
Frank reached to the left and jabbed at the button until number 4 lit up. His stomach lurched when the rickety elevator began to rise. Gerard bracketed Frank’s head with his arms, trapping him against the wall, but Frank actually didn’t mind. He was close enough to smell Gerard’s breath. He wanted Gerard to kiss him, because he couldn’t make the first move.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened with a rush of fresh air. Gerard stepped out and didn’t wait for Frank to follow.
When they reached the door numbered 428, Gerard waved his key-ring and Frank waited for him to unlock it. He had to admit he was excited to see Gerard’s place. Gerard seemed excited to show it to him, too.
“Go in,” Gerard said, opening the door.
Frank took the first step over the threshold and stopped short. There was a small balcony immediately opposite the front door, and a kitchen with a real stove, and a lumpy couch with a blanket thrown over the back. It was a million times better than Frank’s apartment already.
Gerard came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Frank’s waist. He squeezed tightly and bit Frank’s earlobe. “Bedroom’s to the right.”
Frank looked at the door, which was open just a crack, and saw the end of Gerard’s bed. But there was something moving in there. Frank tensed and grabbed Gerard’s wrist.
“What-”
“Gerard.”
“Stop-”
“Gerard, shh.”
The door inched open with a loud creak and Gerard froze.
“There’s someone in there,” Frank whispered unnecessarily.
“There’s a fire escape out on the balcony. Run when I say. Understand?” Gerard breathed. Frank didn’t answer. “Do you understand me? Do as I fucking say, Frankie.”
He waited for Frank’s nod and let him go, pushing him further into the room. Closer to the fire escape.
“Hey,” Gerard shouted. “Who’s in there? Come on, don’t try to fucking mess with me.”
He reached into his pocket for his gun and slowly approached the door.
“Come the fuck out of there,” Gerard said warningly.
The door swung open and a guy in a suit raised a gun and aimed it at Gerard. “FBI, don’t fucking move, you son of a bitch.”
“Frank-” Gerard said quickly. The blonde FBI guy took a step closer. “Go!”
“Stop!” cried the agent.
Frank ignored him and ran to the door. It took him a few seconds of struggling to yank the sliding door open, and then he threw himself out onto the balcony. The fire escape was to his immediate left, but on the other side of the railing. Beneath him were four stories of thin air.
“Oh, fucking fuck!” he shouted. He looked back in and saw Gerard on the floor. The blonde guy was racing towards him. “Shit!”
Frank made up his mind and swung one leg over the railing. He felt sick. Gerard was inside, hurt, maybe dead, and he was about to fall to his own death by pavement-splatter. He closed his eyes and reached for the escape ladder, leaning much farther than he was comfortable with.
Something yanked him back. He fell to the metal grating and felt his palms scrape open and start to bleed. The FBI agent was beside him, holding tight to Frank’s t-shirt.
“Stop!” he shouted. “I’m trying to help you!”
“Let me go!” Frank screamed. He pushed himself to his feet and ran at the door, but missed. The blonde guy slammed into him and the glass door shattered. Frank fell forwards. He had time to think, This is going to hurt, and then he was on the ground again, this time with shards of glass scattered beneath him.
His leg was on fire-it was probably scraped all to hell-and there were tiny pinpricks of pain all over his body. The blonde guy was groaning, half on top of Frank.
Frank looked up and saw Gerard there. “Get up, get up,” he said quickly, reaching for Frank’s hand. “Fucking hurry, come on.”
Gerard hoisted Frank partway up, and then nearly dropped him when Frank screamed again, this time in pain. His leg was more than scraped up, he finally realized. There was a big-ass piece of glass sticking out of his thigh.
“Fuck!” Gerard cried. “Can you walk? Come on!”
They hobbled towards the front door, but of course they didn’t make it very far. The blonde guy had gotten up, and Frank and Gerard weren’t very hard to catch. The three of them tumbled to the floor again in a tangled heap, each of them shouting curses at the other.
“Don’t even fucking think about moving,” the blonde guy finally said, pointing his gun at Gerard. Gerard had apparently lost his own gun, so he didn’t move. Frank did move, but only to curl his body protectively over the piece of glass sticking out of his leg. He felt sick.
He glanced back at the balcony. There was a thick trail of blood from the shattered door to where they sat, and Frank’s leg was completely soaked.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Ow.” Then his head felt weird and fuzzy and he slumped sideways.
***
+ 23 days
The agent who brought them in introduced himself at the hospital as Bob Bryar, who Frank vaguely remembered talking to on the phone that first day. Gerard had been taken somewhere else, probably straight to jail, and Frank was stuck getting his leg stitched up with a police guard. Agent Bryar had apparently been searching for him. Frank didn’t know whether to be flattered that he actually mattered to this guy, or to be annoyed about finally getting caught.
He got Gerard caught. Gerard was in jail or somewhere equally unpleasant, and it was Frank’s fault. Frank still felt like he was going to throw up, and it wasn’t just from the painkillers. He’d been there a day and a half already, and everything was just getting worse.
“Hey, Frank,” Bob said gently. “How do you feel?”
“Sick.”
“It’s just the painkillers,” Bob assured him. “The doctor said your cut isn’t too bad, and you’ll be released in just a little while. Okay?”
“Okay,” Frank replied dumbly. His brain wasn’t working and he didn’t like it. He worried about himself, and then felt selfish for doing so. He worried about Gerard.
“I need you to give a statement when we get back. Can you do that, Frank?”
“Okay.”
“There will be someone there to help you. He’s a doctor, a psychiatrist. Is that okay?”
Frank didn’t want to answer questions. He wanted to find Gerard. He wanted to go back to Gerard’s nice apartment and sleep. “Okay,” he said. He didn’t care.
***
The interview room Bob put him in was really boring and slightly creepy. There was a one-way mirror along one wall; Frank faced away from it.
It wasn’t long before the door opened and a man came in with a notebook and a tape recorder. He had a suit jacket over a plain blue t-shirt and jeans, and he had curly hair that hung almost to his shoulders. He didn’t look like a doctor.
“Frank Iero?”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Doctor Ray Toro, I’m the psychiatrist. Will you talk with me?”
Frank shrugged. “Okay.”
“You can call me Ray. Can I call you Frank?”
“Sure. Ray.”
“What were you doing at the bank?”
That was a stupid question. Frank stared at him. “I was depositing my paycheck.”
“Did you know Gerard before he took you? Had you met him anywhere before?”
Frank’s eyes widened and he shook his head.
“So it was the first time you’d ever seen him?”
Frank nodded.
“How did he hurt you?”
Frank’s jaw dropped slightly. “What?”
“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?”
No, Frank thought. No, please. “He-” Oh god, Gerard.
“It’s okay, take your time,” Ray said gently.
Gerard never hurt him. Gerard loved him. Gerard was going to keep him. Gerard was in a federal prison because of him. Frank felt nauseous again. He hunched over the table and breathed deeply through his mouth. “He didn’t hurt me.”
Ray looked down at his folder at some pictures Frank couldn’t really see. He looked disbelieving. “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 said again. Those were that agent’s fault. Or that creepy shop clerk. Gerard never hurt him.
“How did you get hurt, then?”
“He didn’t-” Frank insisted.
“Okay. It wasn’t Gerard. Frank, will you please tell me how you cut your leg?” Ray asked slowly.
“I scraped it,” Frank replied.
“On what?”
“A piece of glass.”
Ray nodded and wrote something in his book. “How did it happen?”
“I fell through a glass door,” Frank said. Ray should know this, unless Bryar was lying about him. What if they thought Gerard cut him? That wasn’t his fault, not at all.
Ray took out a few photos and put them on the table between them. Frank recognized his body not by how it looked, but by his tattoos. The actual arms and legs didn’t even look like his.
“How did you get these bruises, Frank?”
Frank shook his head. If it weren’t for the tattoos, he would flat out not believe the photos were of him. He’d never seen himself this way. Was this how Gerard saw him? Mottled colors and soft skin?
“These are photos of you, Frank,” Ray said, as if he’d read Frank’s mind. Frank shook his head again. “Tell me how you got hurt, Frankie. Explain it to me.”
“He gave me them,” Frank answered numbly.
“He gave you the-Gerard gave you the bruises? Tell me, Frankie.” Frank nodded and looked down at his hands. “Frankie, tell me about Gerard.”
**********
+ 23 days
“Alright, you son of a bitch,” Bob exclaimed, bursting through the door with enough force that it slammed and bounced against the wall. Brian stared at him. Across the table, Gerard looked equally bewildered.
“Bryar,” Brian began slowly. “Sit down.”
Bob shot him an angry look and pounded his fist down on the metal table. Gerard jumped, but he just met Bob’s gaze and stared right back. Brian almost rolled his eyes. They did not have time for a fucking staring contest right now.
“You motherfucking bastard,” Bob continued vehemently. “What the hell did you do to him?”
Gerard shook his head. “What the hell?”
“What did you do to Frank?”
Gerard’s expression smoothed into a blank mask and he looked straight ahead. Brian raised his eyebrows at his partner. “I’m not saying anything without a lawyer.”
“Yeah, we get it,” Brian said, and actually did roll his eyes. It was only the sixth time Gerard had repeated that exact sentence, and his lawyer still hadn’t shown up.
Bob sat down in the chair next to Brian and leaned far across the table, getting into Gerard’s face. “You fucking brainwashed him. What did you do?”
Gerard continued to stare blankly at the wall past their heads. “I’m not saying anything without a-”
“Without your lawyer, yeah, shut the fuck up,” Brian muttered. He could only take so much. Bob, apparently, had a much lower threshold.
“Did you fuck him?” Bob asked. It was a tone Brian hadn’t heard in a long time, and if he didn’t know better, he’d think Bob was jealous. But it was Bob’s protective voice, which he used when he needed to stand up for the little guy. The little guy, in this case, being Frank.
“I’m not saying-”
“Shut. The fuck. Up,” Brian said, cutting him off.
“He can’t have wanted it in the beginning,” Bob continued angrily. “You forced him, I know you did. What did you do, did you beat him first? Did you tie him down? What did you do to him?”
“I’m not-”
“Oh my god,” Brian shouted over Gerard’s monotone. “If I have to tell you again I’m going to punch you in the face.”
Gerard fell silent and ground his teeth together, still staring past them and avoiding eye contact.
“You fucking raped him,” Bob hissed. Brian saw both his hands clench into fists, and he almost wanted to cover them with his own hands and make Bob calm down, but Gerard needed a good punch in the face. “You raped him, and you kept doing it until he broke down and claimed he liked it-”
“I gave him what he fucking wanted!” Gerard yelled, finally meeting Bob’s gaze.
Brian sat back in his chair. Maybe all they needed to do was get Gerard mad enough to talk.
“You tricked him into wanting it-”
“I didn’t fucking trick him into anything,” he said in a low voice. “I gave him what he needed.”
“And what’s that?” Brian asked, nodded his head slightly in Gerard’s direction. Bob continued to stare Gerard down.
Gerard took a deep, slow breath, and when he exhaled, he resumed staring at the spot on the wall, silent and avoiding them.
“He was scared of you. He was an innocent kid, you fucking son of a bitch-” Bob muttered.
“I think that’s all for the moment,” Brian said, and preemptively grabbed Bob’s arm to lead him out of the interview room.
**********
+ 25 days
Frank trudged up the stairs to his fifth-floor apartment only to find that someone else was living there. They called the landlord, Matt Cortez, who told them to send Frank back down.
“There’s people living in my apartment,” Frank said plainly, when he and Matt were safely inside Matt’s place. “Why are there people living in my apartment?”
Matt twisted his hands together nervously. “You were already a month late on your rent…”
“Did you think I was dead?”
“I kept the place for a week and a half, Frank. But I needed the money. I’m really sorry?”
“What about my stuff?”
Matt guided him to the couch and sat him down. “Most of it’s in the basement. I didn’t know what to do with it, and I wasn’t going to do anything until I knew for sure if you were…” he trailed off awkwardly.
“What am I supposed to do?” Frank asked him. He didn’t know. He was tired. His body ached. He missed Gerard, and Gerard was in jail. Gerard probably wasn’t thinking of him, unless it was to blame him for putting Gerard in jail in the first place. Frank wanted to curl up and sleep for the next year, or maybe just cry. It’d been far too long since he’d had a good cry.
“I’m sorry,” Matt said, and he sounded more sincere. “You can stay here, if you want. Until you find somewhere to live.”
Frank leaned over until he fell onto his side on the couch, then pulled his knees up to his chest. His leg hurt a lot, still. He felt miserable.
“I don’t have a job,” Frank admitted quietly. “They sent me a letter saying I was fired. And I don’t have a place to live. I don’t have any money.”
“You can stay here, Frankie,” Matt said gently. He knelt next to the couch and rubbed Frank’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay. At least you’re back, though. Safe and sound. That’s good, right?”
Frank shook his head. “No.”
***
+ 26 days
Matt helped him look through apartment listings, but there was nothing Frank could afford, and he didn’t have a job, so he wasn’t going to be able to afford anything anytime soon. Matt directed him to the job ads, but Frank either wasn’t qualified enough or he was overqualified with his two years of college.
Frank thought of Gerard every other minute, it seemed like. He hoped Gerard didn’t hate him. He wasn’t sure he could stand it if Gerard did hate him. He felt awful for putting Gerard in that position, for getting him caught. But Bryar wouldn’t let Frank see him and make sure he was okay.
Frank wished he had someone to call. None of his friends were even his friends anymore. Matt was the only person who gave a damn about him, and he was sleeping on Matt’s couch and eating Matt’s food and just generally being a nuisance.
Frank slept a lot.
***
+ 27 days
Frank had to admit that Matt was a nice guy, really. It wasn’t his fault he’d had to find new tenants. Frank felt bad for taking advantage of his hospitality now, and he felt bad for falling behind on his rent before. He just felt bad all the time, for everything.
He kept having dreams about Gerard.
None of them were good dreams.
Frank tossed and turned on Matt’s old, lumpy couch. Even after a month of motel beds, Frank couldn’t get comfortable. There was nothing to distract him from his thoughts, and he always, always wound up thinking of Gerard as he fell asleep. A lot of the time it was a stark, vivid memory of Gerard telling him to handcuff himself if Gerard forgot. Frank almost wished he could. Maybe it would keep his mind off his worries.
His stomach twisted every time he pictured Gerard in a cell. It wasn’t fair. Gerard had tried so hard to keep them safe, and then Frank had ruined it all. And yet, Frank was the one sleeping on a couch while Gerard was stuck in jail.
He woke up one night with tears on his cheeks and Matt petting his shoulder, saying, “Frankie, Frankie, it’s okay, wake up, man. You’re okay, you’re in my apartment, remember?”
Frank couldn’t remember the details of his dream. He turned his back to Matt and rubbed his face on Matt’s scratchy blanket.
“Go away,” he mumbled. He felt bad when Matt did, though. Matt was a nice guy. He was only trying to help.
When he was alone again, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”
***
+ 28 days
Matt took him down to the basement to sort through his things. There was shockingly little there; most of his furniture had come with the apartment. It was depressing, seeing his entire life stuffed into three boxes and a suitcase.
He just didn’t feel connected to any of his belongings anymore, though. Spending so much time on the road hadn’t made him miss the clutter, and now that he had access to all of his junk again, he found he didn’t really want it.
The first box had all Frank’s sheets and towels, and a pillow with a tear in the side and the stuffing coming out.
There was a box just of clothes: mostly t-shirts and ripped jeans, a pair of slacks that had only been worn to job interviews, and two stained white dress shirts. There was a jacket that didn’t match the slacks, and a jean jacket that was almost torn in half, along with a stack of sweaters and cardigans. Frank didn’t count the handful of socks and underwear.
The last box had letters, a few photos of his parents and friends, Frank’s various official documents, two first aid kits and an almost-empty bottle of anti-nausea drugs, a full pack of cigarettes, and a CD player with a short pile of CDs. He didn’t have a TV, but he owned a ton of DVDs anyway, for whenever he had enough money to buy a TV.
He popped the last two pills in the bottle, hoping it would calm him down. There was really nothing he cared about. He stuffed the first aid kits, photos, and paperwork into the box with his clothes and stuffed the cigarettes into his pocket. Everything else could go to Goodwill, or maybe he could try to sell it.
Gerard’s voice popped into his head. Something about Mikey.
Frank put the CDs and DVDs into a separate pile.
***
Matt was hesitant about Frank borrowing his car, especially when Frank made the excuse of visiting a friend, but he gave Frank the keys anyway. Frank looked Mikey up in the phone book; he wasn’t very far away. It was almost funny that he’d never met Mikey or Gerard before.
He rang the doorbell and wrung his hands nervously. He had no idea what Mikey even looked like, or if this was the right house.
A guy about Frank’s age answered the door. Everything about him was thin: his t-shirt, his jeans, his glasses, his waist. He didn’t really look like Gerard, but there were enough similarities to tell Frank he had the right person.
“Mikey?” he asked.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Frank.”
Mikey shrugged. “Do I know you?”
Frank opened his mouth but couldn’t think of how to explain. “Gerard-”
“You’re Frank,” Mikey said suddenly. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Why are you here?”
Frank shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Gerard said you liked stupid horror movies.”
“Yeah, so?”
“I have some.”
“Okay…”
“I want to give them to you.”
“Oh,” Mikey said again. “Come in?”
***
Mikey gave him a soda and a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips, and they sat down to watch one of Frank’s movies. They both threw out comments as they watched, and it was almost like talking with Gerard, but other than that, they were both quiet.
“Why are you here?” Mikey asked as the credits rolled. “Am I supposed to apologize or something?”
“No!” Frank shook his head quickly. “No, no, nothing like that. I just… came to see if you wanted my movies and CDs. I don’t want them anymore.”
“Why me?” Mikey asked suspiciously.
“Because… Because Gerard’s my only friend and you’re his brother, and he loves you so much.”
“It’s not my fault he-”
“No. He did it to take care of you. He’s just… kind of amazing, and… I miss him.”
Mikey crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at Frank, but he didn’t look anything but curious.
“What happened between you and my brother?”
“I love him,” Frank whispered. “The shrink with the FBI thinks I’m crazy, but I swear it’s true.”
“Did he say he loved you?” Mikey asked.
“No. He probably hates me, now. I put him in jail.”
“He put himself in jail,” Mikey said dismissively. “When I visited him, he told me he loves you.”
Frank perked up. “He said that?”
“Mostly. He doesn’t like to use that word, but I could tell.”
Frank stared at Mikey. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked quietly.
“Because you look really sad about it, and he was really sad about you. He thought they might’ve changed your mind or something. But you didn’t, and I don’t think you should be all broken up about it. Gerard still loves you.”
Frank slid off the couch and sat at Mikey’s feet. He felt like a kid at story time. “What did he say?”
Mikey shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. “It was really sappy. Something about being really happy about you wanting him, and he liked giving you what you needed, because he needed it too, or something lame and romantic like that.”
“Mikey,” Frank began, “do you think there’s any way he can get out of jail?”
“He said there’s no way. He didn’t confess or anything, but everyone knows it was him,” Mikey explained, his brow creasing. “Are they going to make you testify?”
Frank shook his head. “The shrink said I wouldn’t be helping. If they just let me explain-”
“They’ll think you’re a crazy person,” Mikey interrupted smoothly.
Frank looked down at his hands and picked at a hangnail. “Do you think… Mikey, do you think there’s any way we could get him out?”
***
+ 29 days
He ate breakfast with Matt and stuffed almost everything he owned into his backpack.
“I’m leaving,” he called to Matt.
“You want dinner later? I can order a pizza or something.”
“No.” Frank put a twenty dollar bill on the coffee table. It had been a lucky find, stuffed in the pocket of a pair of jeans. “You don’t have to keep anything this time.”
“What?” Matt asked. He came into the room. Frank was already at the door.
“You were really nice to me, even when I was a flake and couldn’t pay you. And you let me stay on your couch.”
“Frank, what’s going on?” He caught sight of the twenty. “Frank…”
“You don’t have to keep anything, this time. I have everything I need.”
“Where are you going?”
Frank shrugged. “I’ll figure it out.”
Matt shook his head. “Don’t do this, Frankie. You can stay, you’re not in the way…”
“I need to go,” Frank replied simply. “Thanks for being nice to me.”
***
Ray made him sit in the very back of the courtroom. He couldn’t even see Gerard, unless Gerard was standing up. If he leaned to the right, practically into Ray’s lap, he could catch a glimpse of the back of Gerard’s head.
Watching the proceedings nearly gave Frank a panic attack, though. When he started to feel like he was going to puke, Ray took him out to the hallway for some fresh air, and then he wouldn’t let Frank back inside.
An hour or so after Ray was called in to testify, the doors opened and everyone came pouring out. Frank tried to push his way in, but Gerard was already gone. Ray and Bob found him and pulled him out of the crowd.
“What happened?” Frank asked hurriedly.
“We don’t know the sentence yet, but I think it went well,” Bob replied. Ray watched Frank with a worried expression.
“I wanted to be there. I wanted to see him.”
“No,” Ray broke in. “You were almost hyperventilating in the back row, there’s no way any of us would let you get close to him.”
“It was just the trial and everything, making me nervous,” he said to Ray. “I wanted to see how he was reacting to all the things he did.” Frank put on his best innocent face and looked at Bob. “Please, can I talk to him? Alone?” he asked, and when Bob began to shake his head, Frank added, “I can see how much he hurt me, now. I just want to ask for an apology. He won’t do it with anyone else there, but maybe if it’s just me, if he sees the damage he’s done to me… maybe then, he’ll give me what I need.”
“And what’s that?” Bob asked, visibly wavering.
“Closure,” Frank answered, glancing sideways at Ray, who nodded encouragingly.
“I think it might be a good thing. It makes sense,” Ray put in quietly, “for Frank to at least try to put his whole ordeal behind him, and regain some amount of control. It’s good that he’s taking those steps.”
Bob exchanged several pointed glances with Ray, but then he nodded and mumbled something about finding the officer who had Gerard in his custody. Five minutes later, Bob returned and led Frank and Ray to the door of an office. Bob squeezed Frank’s shoulder encouragingly, but Ray only frowned.
“We’re right here,” he said. “Shout if you need us.”
“I doubt he’ll try to hurt you, considering there’s cops all over this place,” Bob added. “But be careful, Frankie.”
Frank nodded, took a deep breath, and opened the door. He slipped inside, closing it quickly behind him, and saw Gerard sitting at the far end of a conference table, cuffed hands clasped in front of him and his hair hanging messily in his face.
“Gerard…” Frank whispered. His voice cracked. Gerard looked so sad. He lifted his head at the sound of Frank’s voice with a surprised, grateful expression.
“Frank?” he asked hopefully. “Frankie?”
Frank was around the conference table in seconds; he dropped to his knees next to Gerard’s chair and pulled him down for a kiss. “I missed you so much,” he said in between gasps for air. Gerard’s hands circled Frank’s neck, high up with his thumbs brushing gently over the corners of Frank’s jaw. Frank melted into his touch.
“What did they say to you, Frankie, what did they do? Are you okay?”
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Frank assured him quickly. “I couldn’t stop worrying about you.” He brushed Gerard’s hair away from his eyes and asked, hesitantly, “Are you okay?”
Gerard smiled sadly and whispered, “I shouldn’t have kept you.”
“No!” Frank gasped. “No, Gee, please don’t say that. I love you.”
“They’re going to put me away, Frankie. Lock me up and throw away the key. I won’t be able to… to take care of you, to give you what you need anymore. I’m sorry, Frankie, I’m so fucking sorry, but I… They won’t let me see you.”
Gerard looked so heartbroken that Frank had to kiss him again. He petted Gerard’s hair to soothe him. “It’s okay,” he said.
“I promised you something,” Gerard replied stiffly. “I may never have said it out loud, but everything I did… It was all a promise to take care of you, and now I can’t.”
“Come with me to the window,” Frank said, trying to hide his wide, happy smile at Gerard’s words. They were so much more than a meager declaration of love, they were a commitment. He took Gerard’s hand and squeezed once. “I’m yours, Gee, don’t worry about me.”
“I have to worry about you.”
Frank tugged him to the window and parted the blinds. The room overlooked the back parking lot, and there, parked beside the dumpsters, was Gerard’s mother’s car. Gerard gasped. “What?”
Mikey was leaning against the hood, arms crossed and sunglasses covering half of his face, with a lit cigarette dangling from one hand. Frank reached into his pocket and a button on his phone. Across the parking lot, Mikey jumped to attention and answered.
“Straight ahead, second floor,” Frank murmured. “Do you see us?”
“Frank,” Gerard began seriously. “What are you doing?”
“I need you,” Frank told him. “But Mikey made me realize how much you need me, too. So we’re rescuing you.”
Gerard shook his head. Frank glared at him.
“No, listen, Gerard. I fucking love you. Please, just let me do this for you.”
It took a long, tense moment, but Gerard finally gave him a short nod. “Yes.”
In no time at all, Mikey had the window open and was helping Gerard climb out onto the roof of the car. Once on the ground, Mikey reached into the back seat and took out a pair of wire cutters to free Gerard from the Flexicuffs. He looked up at Frank while Mikey set to work.
“You’ve got this all figured out.”
Frank nodded. He swung his leg over the window and prepared to jump onto the car.
“Wait!” Gerard said suddenly. “Wait for me.”
Mikey finally cut the plastic cuffs open and Gerard climbed back up onto the roof, not even bothering to be quiet. He reached for Frank, fingers brushing Frank’s calf. Frank lifted his other leg to the windowsill and lowered himself down as far as he could, and then Gerard grabbed his waist and caught him, breaking his fall. The cut on his thigh throbbed, but it wasn’t too bad. Frank had to concede that simply landing on the car would’ve hurt like a bitch.
“Okay?” Gerard whispered, holding Frank against him.
“Yes,” Frank whispered back. “Thanks.”
Gerard squeezed his hip and helped him down to the ground. He looked at Mikey. “Are we just leaving, then?”
“Get in,” Mikey said. Frank and Gerard both slid into the backseat, and Gerard noticed Frank’s backpack. He raised his eyebrow at Frank.
“Mikey packed you a suitcase.”
Gerard nodded and put his hand on the back of Frank’s neck. Frank tilted his head forward slightly, pressing back into the touch, and Gerard idly fiddled with Frank’s hair while Mikey drove.
Mikey got out of the car to hug Gerard when they reached the bus station. Frank saw his mouth move as he whispered in Gerard’s ear, but he deliberately didn’t try to eavesdrop. Gerard wrapped his arms tightly around his brother and kissed his cheek.
“Thanks,” Gerard said. Mikey nodded.
He then turned to Frank and pulled him in. Frank was thrown off, but he hugged Mikey back.
“I’m glad he found you,” Mikey whispered to him.
“Me too,” Frank murmured. He caught Gerard’s eye over Mikey’s shoulder.
They got on a bus headed for North Carolina. Gerard ushered Frank into the window seat and put their bags in the rack above them, then scooted in next to him.
“What else does your plan include?” he asked in a low voice.
Frank shrugged. “It’s up to you.” He could tell Gerard had something in mind, and Frank was ready to let Gerard take charge again.
“We’re getting off in Virginia.”
“And after that?”
“We’ll go west.”
Frank smiled. “I’ve never been out west.”
***
+ 30 days
From the bus station in Richmond, Gerard bought tickets to Cincinnati and they hopped on another bus. He murmured to Frank that they would eventually need a car.
“I can’t keep buying bus tickets,” he said, glancing around at the other passengers with frustration. “It’s too easy to be recognized.”
They stopped at a motel. The carpet was dingy and stained, and there was one bed. Frank smiled. He sat down cross-legged on the bed while Gerard looked through his suitcase.
“Wait here,” he said, and went into the bathroom.
Once Gerard had closed the door, Frank unzipped his backpack and dug around in the bottom for the handcuffs he’d bought before they left Jersey. There were padded ones, like the kind they’d used before, but Frank had also found a pair of metal ones and another pair made of faux leather. He also pulled out a blindfold mask like the one Gerard had used on him before, and a thin, simple, black collar with a silver buckle. He put them all on the bed where Gerard would see them as soon as he came out of the bathroom and waited.
When he did finally come out, Gerard’s hair was cut short and bleached white. Frank stared at him. Gerard nodded. “You’re next,” he said, and beckoned for Frank to come to him.
Gerard decided to leave Frank’s hair long, but he held up a bottle of black dye. Frank took off his clothes and bent over the sink. Gerard’s hands were gentle as he massaged the dye into Frank’s hair, careful to keep it out of his eyes, and when he rinsed the dye out, he combed his fingers through the long hair that clung to Frank’s cheek and smiled.
“Pretty,” he said, and Frank beamed at him. Gerard scrubbed a towel over Frank’s head.
“I brought something for you,” Frank said nervously. He bit his lip and tilted his head toward the door. Gerard gestured for Frank to lead the way out.
Gerard spotted the handcuffs immediately, and he curled his hand possessively around Frank’s shoulder. Frank felt his nails digging in and he kept perfectly still, waiting for Gerard to decide.
“You bought these?” he asked.
“For you,” Frank whispered.
“Turn around,” Gerard ordered. He turned Frank and walked him backwards until his legs hit the edge of the bed.
“I love you,” Frank blurted out.
“Are you sure?” Gerard asked calmly.
“Yes.”
“What do you want from me, Frankie?”
Frank licked his lips and smiled. He looked up and met Gerard’s eyes. “Anything.”
Gerard smirked at him. “What does that mean to you?”
“Whatever you want it to mean,” Frank answered smoothly. “I want anything you’ll give me. I’ll take anything from you. For you.”
Gerard put his hand flat on Frank’s chest. He inhaled as Gerard slid his hand up to Frank’s throat, then tilted his head up when Gerard moved to his jaw. He closed his eyes.
Gerard kissed him.
It was perfect. Frank relaxed into Gerard’s touch and into the kiss, opening his mouth for Gerard’s tongue. He moved with Gerard’s hand and held still when Gerard finally broke the kiss and pulled back. He left his hand tenderly circling Frank’s throat.
“Stop planning everything,” Gerard said softly. “Stop thinking. Stop worrying. I’m in charge now.”
Frank nodded. Gerard took a step closer, crowding him against the bed. Gerard’s t-shirt brushed Frank’s stomach, almost tickling, and he smiled.
“Get on the bed,” Gerard murmured. “Arms over your head, eyes closed. Don’t move.”
Frank sat down and hurried to arrange himself how Gerard wanted him. He closed his eyes and stretched his arms up until his knuckles brushed the wall. He listened to Gerard moving around the bed, taking off his shirt and jeans. He heard the muffled clatter of Gerard moving the handcuffs to the nightstand.
The cuffs that Gerard buckled around Frank’s wrists were the familiar padded ones, and Frank gave them an experimental tug, pulling the chain taut, then relaxed his hands, palms up. He kept his eyes closed. He could feel the heat of Gerard leaning over him and he arched his back, searching for him.
“I told you not to move,” Gerard said sharply. He put his hand flat on Frank’s chest and pushed him down. His hand slid up and he brushed his thumb over the prominent angle of Frank’s collarbone. Frank tilted his head back and bared his throat for Gerard. He could almost sense what was coming next.
Gerard slid the collar under Frank’s neck and buckled it at his throat. The pressure was enough that it went tight when he swallowed, and he could feel his own pulse jumping. Gerard hooked one finger underneath it and tugged a little.
“Look at me.”
Frank opened his eyes.
Gerard was staring down at him, hazel eyes glinting. He looked really different without the long, dark hair framing his face, almost more suited to his role. He was captivating.
“I take care of what’s mine, Frankie,” he said.
Frank nodded, not breaking eye contact. He held his breath waiting for Gerard’s next words.
“You’re mine.”
fin.