One-shots

It was way too dark for a summer sky.

The clouds rolled in at five AM, Gerard heard them while he was making coffee in the kitchen. He looked messy, pajama bottoms hung low on his hips as he was leaning over the microwave; doors closed so that the hideous beeping wouldn't wake Frank up. He had a headache but it was nothing caffeine wouldn't fix- he's spent the entire night drawing bat anatomy with Frank's head on his chest, silence interrupted only by a few 'go to sleep's here and there.

Frank knows him and he knows how he works, it's just pen on paper at ungodly hours of the morning because his head is buzzing with all these ideas, and thoughts that would never even be able to manifest without the creative outlet. Sometimes they're too clear and Gerard starts overthinking- it's too much, too dark, too powerful and way too morose for his state of mind- those nights he refuses to draw and lets Frank's fingers comb through his hair to help him fall asleep.

They as a whole have never been too certain about things and Gerard still thinks it's ridiculous to say he has a 'life partner' because that makes him think of business deals and expensive cars rather than stargazing and kissing during horror movie marathons. It makes him feel old and he refuses to accept that, it's just too much- too much time spent dwelling instead of doing and every time he remembers that he can't afford to function by 'rinse and repeat' anymore he wants to bang his head against something solid. He wants to do it hard so it hurts, bleeds out in the carpet and sends a wave out to the oncoming storm- wants it to scab and sting so Frank can disinfect it, call him an idiot, and then push him down against that same carpet and kiss him until he can't smell the blood anymore.

"You have to stop doing this," he hears behind himself, a voice groggy and a bit unfocused. It's steady in pace, low in volume and rough in texture- Gerard always says it feels kind of like waves humming across unsteady oceans and messing up the calm currents passing by. Frank laughs at that, each and every time, and kisses the back of his hand as if to say he fell in love with him all over again.

"Was drawin'," Gerard mumbles, gnawing at his thumb- he can feel the rip of the skin when he scrapes it too hard with his front teeth. "Didn't mean to wake you up."

"You know that's not the point," Frank says, and Gerard hears it when the first raindrop falls on the window behind him. The sky is a milky gray, as if someone threw some dirt on it to make it more saddening. "You're sleep-deprived."

Gerard rolls his eyes, grabbing the coffee mug and focusing his eyes on the window rather than Frank's bed hair, all brown and soft, curling just above his ears and making his tired eyes look even bigger than they already were. He's wearing a white t-shirt and it fits the mood so well, arms bare, tats exposed- Gerard hates it how much he loves Frank first thing in the morning. "I'll sleep tonight. I promise."

Gerard focuses his eyes back onto Frank and he's smiling- just a bit, it's not even in his lips but he's beautiful; barely-there stubble across his jawline, tattooed fingers scratching at the back of his head. "Good."

Gerard comes closer and hands Frank the mug, listening to his gulps with his nose in the crook of Frank's neck. His hands are somewhere on Frank's back, digits over his spine; Gerard sees the contrast of his own hair against the shirt, glowy black and plain white just like they belong. The strand disappears from his sight then because Frank's other hand tucks it behind his ear, and it's all so warm and distracting that he doesn't even notice it when the first cloud rolls and hits, rain melting into the sidewalk around their building.

Frank sighs, short, and puts the mug away to bring Gerard's face closer to his own. Gerard barely has time to smile before he's kissing him, all brushes and no urgence, lips sweet with morning coffee and the lack of bitterness Frank's cigarettes leave behind all the time. It's so close to bliss and it's almost like Gerard can feel the rain falling on them like the first time Frank kissed him, lips wet and and cheeks cold, clothes drenched like the city around them was that night. He remembers the glow of the lip ring Frank's pulled out a few months ago, the way Frank smiled when Gerard told him how he wanted the moment never to pass.

They've come a long way since then, he thinks, through fights and move out-s and phone calls after phone calls which all started with the question 'is this thing even worth it?'. And Gerard remembers how he cried the night he said no to that question but three months later Frank called him up for coffee in the middle of a thunderstorm and asked him if he could kiss him like he did the first time- and Gerard let him. It was that night that Frank told him he never wants nobody else, even if that means the rain would never stop.

Gerard smiles into the kiss and Frank pulls away with a soft 'what is it?', Gerard's hands still on his neck. "I just... I wish it could rain like this forever."

And Frank kisses him again, because he knows exactly what he means.

Notes

four months? quarter of a year? pardonnez moi. i hope you still rememeber me.
as you can probably tell, my writing hasn't been all that good lately. i suppose inspiration is hardest to catch in the summer. anyways. i hope you've been doing well while i was gone.

- miles