Frank was pissed Gerard hadn't said something to him earlier.
"Gerard.." Frank started as he cleared a path of Gerard's old belongings to get to the kitchen. "..I think we might have to see a professional about cleaning this up."
Gerard was sitting on the tiled floor of his kitchen, clutching a porcelain ladle given to his mother by his aunt. He held it to his chest.
"Are you crazy? I can't part with these! These are my treasures!" Gerard sat rocking himself back and forth, pissed that Frank was touching his treasures.
"Gerard, I think you have a problem." Frank said the words so casually Gerard didn't understand them at first. He'd been ignoring Frank saying things like that for months, ever since Frank had moved in. Frank hated the clutter, but Gerard loved it. It made his house feel cozy. Frank thought it was just messy.
Gerard's favorite things were in his room, which was where Frank was heading to next. Gerard carefully placed the ladle on the makeshift table (made of Chinese food boxes and cardboard) before leaping over the mountain of things he'd been dodging for years. He knew his home like the back of his hand. He liked it that way, comfortable, usual. Why did Frank want to change that?
He almost pushed Frank away from the door to his room before locking himself in it. Frank pounded at the door, demanding entry. Gerard refused.
Frank sighed and leant against the door. "Gerard…"
"NO!" Gerard threw something at the door, causing Frank to step backwards.
"Gerard, you promised me you would try and compromise with me. Maybe we could just get rid of the stuff you don't need?"
"…But I need all of it!" Gerard whimpered.
"Gerard, I'm pretty sure you don't need rotting food."
"But what if I want to make something out of them one day?" Gerard was stalling.
"They're a health code violation, if you don't get rid of them the city will! And then they'll make you leave." Frank was starting to scare Gerard.
Gerard tried to persuade Frank. "Ok how'bout this…if you promise not to tell the city, I'll try and clean up some things, okay?" Frank was getting annoyed.
"How long exactly have been hoard-"
Frank rolled his eyes. "Yes, collecting."
Gerard paused. How long had it been? One, two years tops he thought.
"I dunno, last year maybe?"
"I'm surprised you don't have the bubonic plague yet from all the rotting food in your kitchen. You're gonna get sick Gerard."
"No! My treasures wouldn't do that to me! They love me!"
"They're inanimate objects Gerard! They don't know what they're doing!" Frank almost yelled. He hadn't meant to, but he'd been arguing with Gerard all fucking day. He was pissed.
Gerard was quiet for a minute. He thought carefully about what he was going to say next, before deciding on his answer.
Frank raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean 'no'?"
"NO FRANK, THEY'RE NOT INANIMATE! THEY'RE LIVING THINGS! THEY KNOW ME! THEY UNDERSTAND ME FRANK." Gerard began whimpering, before crying quietly, making sure Frank couldn't hear him.
Frank didn't have it in him to keep arguing with him. Gerard was sick in the head. What was Frank supposed to do? Call a psychiatrist? Gerard would find out and tell Mikey, who would make a big deal about how Frank thought Gerard was crazy and say 'how could you say you love someone but think they're crazy' and bull like that. Frank didn't think Gerard was crazy at all. He just thought that since his brother moved out, Gerard had needed someone-or thing-to keep him company. So he chose objects. Cause they wouldn't leave him like Mikey did. And they especially wouldn't yell at him like Mikey did.
It got silent long enough for Gerard to let out a sob. He tried to force himself to swallow it, but he failed in the end and silenced himself with a pillow. But Frank already heard him.
"Gerard? Gerard I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell! Could I please come in? I'm sorry, honey." Frank hated to see Gerard upset. And he'd been upset for awhile after Mikey left.
Gerard just continued to sob into the pillow, his thin body shaking. He slid down the back of the door, reaching the clothing covered floor. Frank tried to open the door, repeating himself over and over again, 'Gerard I'm sorry, I'm sorry Gerard..'
Gerard finished crying after a few minutes, but they seemed like hours to Frank, whose hands were still fixed around the knob, trying to wedge it open. Gerard caved and stood up, unlocking the door and sitting down next to Frank in the hallway. He wiped his eyes on the hem of his shirt.
"Gerard I'm sorry I said such mean things. I think I'm starting to even like your h-collecting. You don't have to throw anything out, okay?" Frank sat stroking Gerard's hair. Gerard was looking somewhere else. He wasn't focused on Frank. They sat silently like that for awhile before somebody spoke. It was Gerard.
"Let's call someone." His voice shook.
Frank couldn't believe it. "But I thought you liked you're treasures?"
Gerard looked at Frank's shirt. "But I like you more. And if you think something needs to be done about this, than I think-let's do it." He kept his voice monotone, trying his best to not sound weak.
"But honey, all I want is for you to not get sick. You don't have to call a professional. I can just call Ray or something and we'll help get rid of the bad stuff, alright?" Gerard nodded slowly. It would take some time before Gerard would be able to get over his hoarding addiction, but it would take less time if Frank was there to help him.
Gerard looked Frank in the eyes for a split second before locking him in a hug. Frank, surprised, sat there for a second before returning the hug, resting his head on Gerard's chest. He was going to help Gerard through this. He'd get better. Frank would make sure of it.