Stockholm. Prologue.Water sloshed inside the kettle. From the kitchen, Frank could see into the living room; the place where linoleum met carpet and where the flashing lights from the television set illuminated the couch. The back wall. Gerards passive, sleepy face. Frank turned on the gas burner.Stockholm. Prologue. in Fanfiction Epic Challenge More Like This
Gerard chewed on his thumbnail in the other room, visible through the large, wooden walk way. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees. Frank said nothing. He watched condensation gather on the kettles metal surface, beginning around the middle and then dripping down and hissing in the fire. Like tears or sweat. He picked up the tea kettle by the black handle, gritting his teeth together and listening to the SSSS of the water against the hot metal. Like piss. He set the kettle back down and crossed his arms, leaning against the counter.
Franks insides knotted, then rose and fell in a movement that reminded him of a swing set.
Stockholm. 4.There became something serene about the darkness of the enclosure. With his body curled into a ball, knees against chest and tip of thumb in mouth, he was like a child in the womb, listening to the sounds of the outside as if he was hearing them through the amniotic fluid he had long since experienced. Through the walls, he could hear Gerard shifting through foodstuffs or flicking on the television early in the morning. In his space- Franks space- he could listen, but not experience. It was a place of safety. He sometimes wished Gerard would assume that he was asleep and not knock on the door so he could continue to count the times his heart made thumping noises in the cage of his ribs.Stockholm. 4. in Fanfiction Epic Challenge More Like This
The swelling in his wrist had been reduced to nothing by the time Sunday morning had arrived. Gerard had let him sleep through the evening of Saturday and even until the next morning, delicately rapping his prominent knuckles on the wooden door. If he had slept in the bedroom or the living
Stockholm. 9.I wanna know something.Stockholm. 9. in Fanfiction Epic Challenge More Like This
It was the closest to a command that he would ever get. Beggars are not choosers and captives are not commanders; at best theyre lucky puppets if their strings are around their wrists and ankles instead of their necks, and theyre even luckier if their puppeteers dont decide to grind them up into firewood. So when Frank stood in the small, dark space between their two bedrooms, that couple of feet between where he stood and where Gerard stood, he was either feeling remarkably lucky or particularly stupid because puppets do not make demands of anyone. Even if they are particularly privileged.
At that point it was probably a little after ten, feeling more like midnight with the snow and the cold and the sleepy sluggishness that came with mid-western winter. Frank felt a little bit like he was about to go into hibernation. Gerard yawned and turned around, all silhouette and no features in the lack of light. Sleepily he asked, Y
Stockholm. 10.Mornings with Gerard smelled like pancakes, or sometimes fried eggs or waffles or even nothing because they were just going to have cereal, and sounded like the glass sound of plates on plates and birds singing their romances. His fingers stretched across the bed, bending over the ninety-degree angles where the edges of the bed were, his body spread like starfish across the mattress so it took up nearly the whole space. The shades were drawn and Frank could only tell because the back of his closed eyelids were blood-vessel red; a soaked-up pool of his own saliva was cool and wet on the corner of his mouth. In the kitchen a metal pan made oily sizzling sounds.Stockholm. 10. in Fanfiction Epic Challenge More Like This
Frank bent and extended his middle finger, moving it as if petting the sheets, stroking the place where Gerard had once been. And even though the other man was only in the other room he felt vacant; an empty hotel room, a table for one in an old café, garnished with a glass vase holding a single, half-wilted brown and yellow
Stockholm. 5.Within the week, Frank's wrist had healed, the pain down to only a dull soreness when he twisted it too far or moved it at too much of an angle too quickly, and he unwrapped the bandages, scratching at the skin that had been horridly itching in the only place he couldn't scratch. His nails on the discomfort felt only slightly less pleasurable than sex. The bruising on his nose had started to fade, also, and he was looking just about back to normal. Gerard made a point to ask him frequently if he needed aspirin or something to help him sleep. He was acting more like an overbearing, over concerned mother than someone willing to kidnap a stranger for the sake of not being lonely.Stockholm. 5. in Fanfiction Epic Challenge More Like This
Being able to stay in his room while Gerard went to work during the day was another freedom Frank was having no trouble getting accustomed to. And while he had never actually "enjoyed" spending seven or so hours a day in an old, cramped closet, it had sort of become a part of him. He even found a small amount of
Stockholm. 12.Franks hand shot out in front of his body. No, Im not a hostage! Dont shoot him! Gerards open hands moved up to the side of his head and he slowly took a step back, his neck bent, his head down. The man with the gun, slightly taller than Gerard, kept the gun on him; Frank was smart enough to know he wasnt going to shoot, but his heart still pounded like a hummingbirds, nervous nausea threatening to bring vomit up his throat.Stockholm. 12. in Fanfiction Epic Challenge More Like This
The man stood with his legs apart, steadying himself, and he told Gerard to get on the ground. If youre not a hostage, then what are you? he asked, and it was mostly rhetorical. He glanced back at Gerard who had not moved. I said GET ON THE GROUND!
He didnt and Frank could see it coming. Gerard had lost all his color, becoming storms and rain instead of summer and sky. He withdrew the gun, just a small, silver handgun, from the deep pocket of his jeans, the one Frank f
Stockholm. 13. End.Franks sister sat next to him on the couch in the living room of his mothers home, where it was decided that he would be staying until his treatments were done, holding his rough hand in her dainty one, her nails manicured and painted with a light, translucent pink. She smelled like a flowery perfume and it was giving him a headache. He could have said something about it, but he didnt. It just wasnt worth it.Stockholm. 13. End. in Fanfiction Epic Challenge More Like This
Six months after his abduction he was seeing two therapists, detailing to the both of them about how he lived with Gerard. He kept his promise to himself and didnt tell them about kissing Gerard and his odd desire for a relationship with him, but he divulged to them about Gerard kissing him only to change the subject quickly. It felt too personal.
His father came in the living room and ruffled Franks hair playfully, just like he used to do when Frank was a kid, and they both smiled at each other. The week before hed gotten his hair
Stockholm. 11.Morning came and Frank found himself not wanting to leave Gerard's room, likening to sense of security and comfort to being a child, warm in his bed, on a day his mother let him stay home from school sick. Gerard left for work as he usually did, looking tired and grey and Frank couldn't help but guiltily speculate that maybe it was his fault. Before Gerard left, they didn't hug or kiss or show any sign of affection other than their usual goodbyes. Tiny worms of worry wriggled like an infestation of maggots inside him and he prayed that something would go right soon so they could leave the tension and aggression behind.Stockholm. 11. in Fanfiction Epic Challenge More Like This
The window in Frank's bedroom was still nailed shut, either because Gerard, after all that time, didn't trust Frank enough to pull them out or more simply had just not gotten around to it. When he pressed his hand against the window, a silhouette of warmth appeared around his hand. Winter was coming full force and there would probably be even more snow. At that moment th
Stockholm. 8.Gerard wiped the blood from Franks cheek with a blue washcloth soaked in warm water, his face expressionless, if not a little somber. Frank held onto the edges of the bathroom sink, head bowed, not wanting to look at the disfigurement the swelling had caused to the side of his face. With the cloth between his fists, Gerard wrung the water out into the sink and rinsed it again.Stockholm. 8. in Fanfiction Epic Challenge More Like This
Do you know why I put you in there? he asked monotonously, as if he didnt expect a correct answer or even an answer at all. He pushed Franks bangs out of his face and wiped his forehead gently. Muttering to himself he added quietly, m gonna need to get you some ice
Frank didnt answer, he just clutched to edges of the sink as if the glue holding him together might dissolve and the fragmented pieces of him would slip apart. Everything was so horribly fragile, so thin and empty and delicate. He shook his head at the question, his throat sore fr
Stockholm. 2.When Frank was about seven years old he was introduced by a neighbor to his favorite series of books. Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark was a collection of horror stories, all contained in three thick volumes. Each volume had a cover embellished with a moderately disturbing image drawn in splattered black ink; and Frank, being obsessed with fear and addicted to adrenalin, ate that shit up by the fist-full.Stockholm. 2. in Fanfiction Epic Challenge More Like This
On weekends, when his mom told him he could stay up to nine o clock (but no later), hed tuck the book under his arm, along with one of his dads heavy-duty metal flashlights, and pull his blankets over his head in a make-shift fort. In the harsh, yellow light he frightened himself with stories about rabid rats mistaken for dogs, and spiders that burst out of young girls faces. While the kids down the street were at home reading Harry Potter with their mommies and daddies, Frank was looking at pictures of corpses with their mouths torn off. H