a couple of red dots are falling to the ground. and so red Frank's eyes are starting to burn in a second, when he pounces at the reckless jerk.
'so you're a faggot too?' he spitted until he lost some of his teeth.
'not more than you' Frank hisses, tucking him on his scapula and punching his nose.
blood spitted like a fountain, but the other guy, who got up and went closer to the fight, was taking more attention. his bloody nose looked so fucking good with his bright red hair that you could become a fag for a moment.
'apologize.' black-headed growls. he stills holding the offender of his... boyfriend?
'sorry, bitch' he loses another tooth.
"the bitch" is giggling. he spits on offender's face, which now is made of blood, saliva and unwitting tears.
'leave him alone, Frank. i guess he has learned his lesson'
Frank smirks, getting up. He grabs his flame's hand and they're leaving.
'anarchy is mother of order' Frank mumbles his favorite phrase. He feels Gerard's hand tightening his palm.
Squat seems empty, and this is kinda weird. Anyways — the leaders of punk gang can afford about a half of a floor in an abandoned building just for themselves. And they can allow themselves not to be shy about anything, and that was enough to make heads spin easily. They are laying on old mattress and Gerard is holding something like a cold compress on his swollen nose. He's encircling Frank's belly and chest tattoos with his fingertips.
'we should send somebody to talk to that Jim or what-was-his-name. I believe he knows more than he speaks about' Gerard says.
'what are you talking about?' Frank sounds tired. His hand drowns in Gerard's soft hair. 'Is this your heightened sense of justice again?'
'this is the only reason why we haven't been killed yet. and this is the only way to be respected among the neighborhood. No offence to your physical force.' red-haired leaves a kiss on Frank's collarbone, right next to crimson hickey. 'it's about the murder of that young woman from 521 street, remember?'
'okay, i'll figure out who'll handle it better than others. i'll think about obtaining some food for some next days also. the guys are on their own, but they stick here not only because of ideology or crazy gigs.'
Gerard closes his eyes, nodding.
'anyways...Gee, you look so fucking good even when your nose's fucked' Frank whispers right to his ear, pulling him closer by grabbing his hair. 'and you know i'm not talking about your appearance only, don't you?'
For Gerard, this is the best thing he could ever hear. He could be the prettiest guy in the world — he doesn't need proofs on being better than most of the girls, even if they're from Sunset Strip. With Frank, he's holding one of the most powerful punk gangs, and a stupid one couldn't handle that. As one who waves they fists around without a sense. Of course, it might be needed sometimes, but also it's needed to share ideology, securing squat and sometimes to get food for everyone.
And these Frank's worlds are the trigger which turns Gerard on. It's enough to have this perfect in his craziness, true and rebel Frank although.
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