needles ? frerard

some content may be triggering.

"What?" Gerard asks sharply.

"Give me.. one good reason... wh-why I shouldn't slit my wrists right now." Frank repeats slowly, patronizingly.

"Where are you?" Gerard stands up and throws a 20 down on the table. "Get a cab." He says to the other two before dashing out of the restaurant, clutching the phone to his ear.

Mikey sighs.

"The hell was that about?" Pete asks.

"I'm assuming it's about Frank. This isn't the first time he's done that."

"Oh."

"Mhm. I know they love each other and all, but Jesus, they're a catastrophe. I mean, Gee barely talks to me anymore. He had to go through the steps again... Frank has almost died. Like, twice, or something like that. It's just... Frank has a lot of problems and I think Gerard is trying to solve them all at once, and he doesn't care about the toll it's taking on him."

Gerard rushes to his car and scrambles for his keys, his phone held between his head and his shoulder.

"I can't think of a-any fucking reason n-not to." Frank muses.

"Because a lot of people care about you and need you." The black-haired man replies desperately.

"Ooh, let's count! Th-There's you. You who blames me, the r-rape victim, for b-being scared I'll be r-raped."

Tears well up in Gerard's eyes.

"There's my p-parents, but they probably think their f-f-f-faggot son died a long time ago... and that's about it."

"Frankie, please..." Gerard begs. "I can't lose you."

"Yes you can."

"No, I can't. Just stay with me, please. I promise we can get through this. Are you hurt?"

"Physically? N-Not yet. I'm just a burden, Gerard. You'll be better off without me."

Gerard can barely breathe. His hands are shaking.

"You aren't a burden, I promise. Frank, we can figure this out. We can get past it. Please. I love you so much, don't do this."

"Frank?"

The other line is silent.

"Frank, please. Say something." His voice wavers.

"...Frank?" Gerard is quiet, realizing his worst fear might've come true.

He muffles his sob with the back of his hand. The road is blurred with tears but he somehow makes it home a few minutes later. Gerard is hoping that maybe Frank just hung up, or left his phone in the other room instead of continuing their conversation. Maybe the battery died, or he lost service.

Gerard unlocks the door with trembling hands. "Frank?"

He goes for their room first, but a flash of red catches his eye. He turns to his right.

Gerard can barely hear himself scream at what he sees.

So much blood. You don't think people have that much blood, they tell you in school but it doesn't seem like that much until you see it. And he's tiny. There shouldn't be that much blood in someone so small but it's spilling out of his arm and onto the floor. Gerard falls to his knees with a wet thud, landing in the pool of red. It immediately soaks through his jeans and paints the ghostly pale skin on his hand. "Frankie-" He sobs brokenly as the entire world crumbles around him. Frank is on his side, his bloody arm extended in front of him and his other arm beside his. You can see the inside of his forearm, all the stuff that's supposed to be sheltered by his skin except now it's not. Now there's an opening, a smooth-edged gash that reveals his veins, veins, veins and his tendons. He's limply gripping a razor blade, the double-sided kind with the design cut out of the middle. Gerard gently shakes him. "Frank, please..." He cries, hoping that maybe he's still alive.