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Married In My Mind

The Spins

How far into a complete emotional breakdown are you if you find the serenity you’ve been chasing for weeks in the crook of your half-asleep, drunk best friend’s neck? Have you reached some point of no return if you don’t even care that said 'best friend' smells like a combination of sweat, tequila, ash trays, and honestly... a little bit like puke?

Things had just been so chaotic for so long. I’d forgotten what it was like to just close my eyes and shut my brain off. I nuzzled against the warm skin of Frank’s neck and breathed him in. It wasn’t the first time I’d had a faceful of Frank’s partied-out, post-show smell. He was grosser than gross but the familiarity of it was somehow incredibly comforting.
I could hear him wheezing from chain-smoking one too many cigarettes. His breath came soft and strained, with wordless, hissing rasps.
There was no way that laying with his back flat against the tiles could be anywhere near comfortable. I supposed he was too drunk to notice or care. There was something innocent about the pose when you couldn’t see how bloodshot his eyes were.
For the briefest of moments I wondered how the fuck I was going to eventually move him to his bed. I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough to lift his drunken dead weight off the bathroom floor but it seemed rude to leave him on the bathroom floor all night. Then again, if he was as drunk as I thought he was, his proximity to the toilet would maybe pay off in the long run.

My ears were still ringing like crazy from the show. The unignorable buzz soundtracked the silence of Frank’s apartment. His quiet wheezing and the faint hum of the refrigerator in the other room were the only sounds. Every now and then they were interrupted by a stifled yawn escaping my lips, or the sound of water rushing through the pipes in the wall beside us.
It was like the building around us had it’s own biorhythms. It would sigh or stretch out until it’s joints clicked. It was probably exhausted. It never got breaks from being an apartment building... just like I never got breaks from being Gerard Way, frontman and expert instigator of drama and destruction, both digital and physical.
“How long have we been laying here?” Frank asked hoarsely, cutting the silence.
“Uh, I dunno... Maybe 20 minutes?” I mused, slowly pulling my face away from his neck, “Why?”
“It feels like it’s been centuries.” He said, heaving a deep sigh. He coughed when his lungs protested against the sharp intake of breath.
“Always a poet.” I offered sarcastically.
“I could… write you a haiku about how my leg is falling asleep...” he slurred.
“Yeah my arm has been asleep for awhile now.” I commiserated, letting out a breathy laugh.
“I don’t wanna get up though...” He said.
“Me neither.” I agreed.
The longer I laid there, the longer I could ignore reality.
“You’re just so warm.” He said, trying to shift closer to me, “And you smell good.”
“I seriously fucking doubt that.” I laughed.
“No,” he argued, “It’s your hair... it’s all sweet and chemically. What did you put in it?”
“I don’t know.” I yawned, “Bert did my hair earlier…”
He didn’t respond to that. The residual distaste for Bert seemed to follow him, even in his alcohol-induced delirium.
“Do you want me to start the shower? Might sober you up…” I suggested.
He didn’t have a response to that either. I glanced up at him to see if he’d fallen asleep again. He was awake though. His brow was furrowed in confusion as he stared back at me with tired, glassy eyes.
“I mean, I- I won’t be-” I stuttered out quickly, “I won’t be joining you.”
“Oh… uh. Yeah. I knew that.” He said, rolling out of my arms and trying to get up.
I had to scramble to my feet and grab him to stop him from keeling over and hitting his head against the sink.
“Careful.” I chuckled, wrapping an arm around him helping him up. He blinked at me with a dazed look as he leaned back against the sink.
Once it looked like he wasn’t in immediate danger of hitting his head again, I spun around and busied myself turning the knobs in the shower. The sound of the water gushing out cut the peaceful silence.
When I turned back around, Frank was pulling his shirt off. I tried not to stare at his bare skin. I did try. But I just couldn’t stop my eyes from roaming over every inch of exposed flesh. He crossed his arms and shivered. I couldn't tell if the gesture was out of self-consciousness or just an attempt to keep warm.
The colors in the tattoos on his arms contrasted vividly with the black linework on his chest. It was... fucking beautiful. Every inch of him was fucking beautiful. My breath caught in my throat as the gravity of how alone we were set in. How in love we were. How alone and in love and not kissing we were. As my eyes raked over his tattoos I couldn't help but think about them under the spray of the shower. They looked brighter when his skin was wet and……
When my eyes finally met his, I offered him an awkward, lopsided smile. He'd definitely caught me staring at him. I prayed he was too drunk to really process it. Instead of saying anything about it though, he just raised an eyebrow. I couldn’t tell if he was daring me to touch him, or silently asking me to just leave the fucking room already.
“I’d kiss you if my mouth wasn’t so gross right now.” he offered hoarsely, answering all my unasked questions.
“It’s the thought that counts.” I offered, smiling nervously.
Against better judgement I found myself leaning forward. He tried to flinch away but, given my sobriety, I was much quicker than him. I caught his face in my hands and pressed a careful kiss to his cheek. When I pulled away he just stared at me with the same sad, vacant, glassy eyes.
The shower water had finally warmed and the bathroom was starting to fill up with steam.
“Gerard, I-” he mumbled.
“I’ll just uh… I’ll be in the other room.” I interrupted, swallowing hard and walking backwards towards the door. We stared at each other in silence as I crossed the small bathroom.
I tore my eyes away when he lowered his hands and started on his belt buckle. I let myself out of the bathroom as quickly as possible. I had a lot of fucking self control but I didn’t have that much self control.

The dark hallway was several degrees cooler. The transition from steamy bathroom to dark, silent hallway helped me calm the fuck down. I leaned against the door and tried to normalize my breathing.
He didn’t lock the door after I left, I noted. I could hear the slide of the metal shower curtain hooks against the bar they hung from. I closed my eyes and tried to not think about Frank and his stupid, perfect tattoos under the warm spray.
After another moment of pained silence I took a deep breath and started in search of a place as far from the bathroom as possible. I wanted to leave the apartment altogether, but I’d promised Frank I wouldn’t. Of course, it wasn’t like he’d even remember I’d promised.
I ended in the kitchen somehow. I’d just meant to pass through, but I almost had a fucking heart attack when I turned on the lights and saw the fucking paint…
The light blue splatters coating the ceiling caught my attention first. The spray patterns reminded me of blood splatters. The floor itself was a mess of white and blue smears. The way the paint blended in some places suggested that there had been something of a struggle. The fridge had a few white handprints smeared onto the front. The cabinets, the stove, and the microwave all had flecks of blue and yellow speckling across their surfaces. There was one big, angry splash of dark green across the counter top. The green trailed it's way to the edges of the counter and even spilled into the sink.
I ran my fingers over the cold, smooth green paint. I expected to find the color on my fingertips when I pulled my hand away but the paint was completely dry.
I got a glass of water from the incredibly colorful sink and sat on the floor in the middle of the kitchen, admiring the mess. I tried to pick out which splatters were Jamia’s doing and which ones were Frank’s.
A few loud thuds echoed from the bathroom as Frank… dropped shampoo bottles, presumably? I briefly considered getting up to investigate. The last thing I needed was my rhythm guitarist drunkenly slipping and cracking his skull open on his bathroom tiles. Spending all night in the hospital was the last thing I wanted to do after the way my day had gone.
After the way the last few weeks had gone.
It hadn’t occurred to me until then that I’d left him without a change of clothes. There was no way I was letting him put the clothes he’d been wearing back on. I wasn’t even sure if there had been a towel in the bathroom. I quickly got to my feet and made my way to Frank’s room to find something for him to wear.
It had been a little while since I’d been in Frank’s room. Now that the post-show exhaustion had really settled in, the sight of his bed made the thought of sleep incredibly appealing. Especially the thought of sleep in Frank’s bed.
I found myself bitterly considering the way our evening could’ve gone. How we could’ve spent a longer time kissing in the back of Ray’s car, or left the party together and gone back to his place and kissed in the shower until the water ran cold. We could've made love on the paint splattered kitchen floor and fallen asleep on his couch. The alternatives were endless.
The sight of his bed suddenly only served to sadden me. If we couldn’t get concert halls and afterparties right, how would we ever get a date right? And if we couldn’t get a date right, how would we ever get a relationship right?
I grabbed the first clean clothing-items I could find and turned on my heels to find wherever it was that Frank kept extra towels...
I ended up walking right into Frank and almost knocking him over. An inhuman squeak of terror escaped his lips as he stumbled backwards, clutching the towel around his waist. He quickly recovered and shot me a confused look.
“Sorry, I was just about to bring you these.” I said, shoving the clean clothes into his arms and stepping past him.
“I’m gonna shower off and um… crash on the couch.” I continued, feeling myself blush as I walked further away from him, “Let me know if you need anything. Glass of water. Cup of sugar…”
“Gerard, wait.” He commanded.
I spun around and faced him, keeping my eyes above his waist-level. If I looked down I’d be so screwed. The color had returned to his cheeks some. His eyes were still tired and glassy, but there was an alertness to them.
“What?” I asked.
“Just wait a second.” He said evenly, “You don’t have to crash on the couch, if you don’t want. You could-”
“What happened to the whole ‘date first’ thing?” I interrupted.
“I take it back.” he said, “What difference does one night make anyways?”
“If we’re going to do this, I want to do it right.” I insisted, “Wasn’t that your thought-process, anyways?”
“I mean I guess, but...” He shrugged, brushing his damp hair out of his eyes, “At the show you told Ray you don’t care about any of this anymore and now we’re alone and all of a sudden you care again?”
“It’s not that.” I shot back.
“Then what is it?” Frank asked, letting the pile of clothes he’d been holding fall to the ground, “What the fuck is your hang up this time?”
It was hard to take anything he said seriously when he was slurring his speech, completely naked and dripping wet.
“You’re drunk. We can talk about this in the morning.” I sighed.
“I just want to wake up next to you.” Frank countered, “I wanted that before I got drunk. Don’t act like you don’t already know that.”
“Okay. Fine.” I huffed stubbornly, turning back towards the bathroom.

The post-show shower was my undoing. The countless hours of sweat and cigarette smoke slid off of my skin. I could breathe easier.
I was alarmed at first when I glanced down and saw that the water circling the drain was a greyish brown, then I remembered I’d dyed my hair the night before. When I glanced down at myself I could see the bleeding dye running down my pale chest.
I leaned against the cool tiles and ran my hands all over myself to wipe away the dye. I don’t know if it was my bad day or the idea that Frank had been completely naked in the same shower just moments before but my hand ended up on my dick.
Frank’s words before the show flooded my brain as I bit back a sigh.

“You fucking belong to me. You wrote it yourself.”

It seemed wrong on about eight hundred different levels to be touching myself in Frank’s shower. The door wasn’t even locked. But somehow the thought of how wrong it was only served to turn me on more. I bit back a groan as I gave myself a committal squeeze.
I let my mind slip into thoughts of Frank: his lips at my neck, the way he’d pushed me against Ray’s car earlier, his unholy moans, and the slide of his cock against my hip that one time we’d...
I didn’t realize how loud I was panting until I heard it echoing in my ears. I immediately felt myself blush. If Frank had heard it would be so… fucking awkward.
I could hear his rebuttal in my head, half joking, half sincere, “Oh, you won’t fuck me but you’ll jack off in my shower?”
I was too far along to stop though. I bit hard into my lower lip to reduce the heated whimpers. I should’ve just invited Frank into the shower with me. He probably would’ve happily given me a hand. Literally. The thought of Frank’s um, assistance was enough to make me lose my cool. I let out a loud, pleasured sigh as I came all over my hand.
I rinsed myself off under the spray as I tried to even out my breathing. My body was buzzing with adrenaline. It was like I was overly aware of every inch of myself. The warm water running over my chest was a stark contrast to the cool tiles against my back. I felt light and heavy at the same time. Empty and full.
I shut off the water and listened, standing perfectly still as the droplets of water rolled down my spine. There was no sound coming from beyond the door to the bathroom.
On shaky legs, I stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel off the rack. In my rush to get clothes for Frank, I hadn’t grabbed anything for myself - not that anything of his would fit me really. There was no way I was putting my clothes from the show back on. I quickly dried off and wrapped the towel around my waist.
The apartment beyond the bathroom was dark, silent and a little chilly. Frank’s chances of hearing me were greater if he’d been so quiet. I nervously tiptoed towards his room, feeling myself blush like crazy.
I breathed easier once I’d crept through the doorway and found him passed out on his bed. He’d managed to get a pair of boxers on before he’d crashed and burned. He still had his damp towel draped over his shoulders.
I tiptoed over to his laundry basket and picked up what felt like a shirt. I was much more comfortable after I’d pulled on a sweatshirt and pair of his shorts. My mind was still buzzing with everything, but my body had finally given up. I felt heavy and weak.
I sauntered back over towards the bed and carefully pulled the wet towel off of Frank. He twitched in his sleep but didn’t seem to wake.
Before crawling over him to crash out beside him, I gave it a second thought. Instead of joining him, I leaned over, pecked his cheek, pulled a blanket over him, and started my silent journey towards the couch.
The couch seemed a thousand times more comfortable than normal. Though, that was probably just the exhaustion talking. I pulled a small blanket over my shoulders and buried my face in the smell of Frank’s sweatshirt. I blacked out with buzzing ears and a buzzing heart. Not even my racing thoughts could keep me awake.
~

When I opened my eyes, light was streaming in through the windows. I squeezed my eyes shut against the glow of the morning sun.
Everything hurt. Every muscle. Every joint. It didn’t even make sense to feel pain in some of the places I felt pain.
It was typical to feel this way the morning after performing as hard as I had. What wasn’t typical was the immense weight on my chest. When I tried to stretch out my arms, I found I couldn’t really. It didn’t take me long to realize it wasn’t a pillow-sized weight, but rather a Frank-sized weight.
I should’ve known. Between Frank’s nightmares and his proclivity towards alcohol-induced insomnia, there was no way he would’ve slept through the night.
It was actually... ridiculously sweet. I’d fucking missed waking up like that. I wrapped my arms around him and breathed him in. He smelled like laundry and shampoo and Frank. I ran my fingers through his hair and listened to his slow breathing.
It seemed like an hour or so of laying there had passed. Stiffly laying under the dead weight of my small rhythm guitarist quickly grew uncomfortable and on top of that, I seriously had to pee.
“Frank.” I whispered, nudging him gently.
A tiny, helpless sound escaped his lips, but instead of waking up he just shifted in my arms and wrapped himself around me in a way that was much harder to escape.
“Frankie.” I tried again, running my fingers through his hair. “I gotta get up.”
“No.” He groaned, nuzzling his face against my side.
“Please Frank.” I whined. “I gotta-”
“Why are we even on the fucking couch?” He interrupted weakly.
I slept on the couch because I was trying to respect your wishes.” I explained.
“My wishes?” he laughed breathily.
“You said I couldn’t come home with you.” I pointed out.
“Yeah well… clearly you didn’t listen.” He yawned, “So you shoulda just slept in my bed while you were busy… disrespecting my wishes or whatever. You fucking nerd.”
“You were drunk. How the fuck was I supposed to know if you’d be cool with it or not?” I sighed, trying to wrestle my way out from under him.
“Gerard. I’m never gonna not be cool with this.” he said, hugging me tighter.
“You seemed pretty adamant about it yesterday.” I grumbled, finally freeing myself of his drowsy constraints and sliding off the couch. I landed on the floor with a loud thud. Every muscle protested against all the sudden movement.
“Come back.” he whined, rolling over and nuzzling against the space on the cushions where I’d been laying. Having fallen asleep with his hair still wet, it was sticking up all over the place. His eyes were still puffy and red. He still looked completely wrecked.
Date first.” I offered in a mocking tone.
“Hey don’t be like that.” Frank cooed, “I’m way too hungover for this.”
“Exactly,” I sighed, lifting myself off of the floor, “You’re hungover. Not drunk, anymore. And I’m not even supposed to be here.”
“Wait a minute… are you leaving?” he asked incredulously.
“Well yeah…” I shrugged, taking a few steps away from the couch. I hadn’t had any intentions of leaving, but I liked making him think I was planning on it.
“Gerard… you don’t have anywhere to be today. Get back here right now.” he demanded, raising his hand and weakly attempting to grab at me.
“Yeah, but you have somewhere to be today.” I said.
“Where the fuck do I have to be?” Frank complained.
“Did you forget the part where you smashed your guitar last night?” I asked.
“I have other ones.” He countered, “And even if I didn’t, you could go to the music store with me anyways. We could make a date of it. Two birds. One stone. ”
“Romantic.” I laughed.
“Shut up! I’d serenade you after... on the beach or something.” he grumbled, grabbing a pillow and weakly tossing it in my direction.
“You know it’s Winter, right?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.
“What the fuck do you want, then?” Frank asked, “You want me to take you to dinner like a nice Italian gentlemen? Or do you want to go to a show together so we can play tonsil hockey in the mosh pit? What if I pick you up in my car and take you for a late-night drive to make out point?”
I quickly realized he was describing scenarios from my fics. A blush crept over my cheeks as he smirked at me.
“Fuck you.” I gasped.
“Date first.” He sighed, rolling his eyes.
I spun on my heels and headed for the bathroom where I’d left my sweatshirt from the night before. After relieving my unnaturally full bladder, I dug my sweatshirt out from under the rest of my dirty clothes and pulled it over the sweatshirt of Frank’s I was already wearing. It was far from clean, but it would have to do until I got home.
“Are you gonna fucking walk home?” Frank asked incredulously from his spot on the couch.
“Uh… yeah. I guess?” I called out, voice echoing against the bathroom walls. “I could take the bus, too.”
“It’s winter, remember?” He chuckled, “At least let me give you a ride.”
“Can you even drive?” I asked.
“Probably shouldn’t.” he admitted. His voice no longer sounded so far away.
I turned to find him leaning against the bathroom door, staring at me with a small smile.
“Take a nap with me.” he said softly.
“Frank-”
“We can argue all you want once I’ve had a few more hours of sleep.” he interrupted.
“I don’t want to argue with you.” I countered, shaking my head.
“Liar.” Frank tutted, grabbing my arm and leading me towards his room. I followed helplessly, biting my lip in apprehension.
“You fucking love arguing with me.” he said as we passed through the doorway. He let go as he dropped down onto the bed.
I pulled my second sweatshirt off and laid down beside him. The way he was looking at me made it hard to breathe. I stared back at him helplessly as he grabbed the edge of the blankets and slung them over me with his arm.
“When I woke up without you next to me, I thought I’d really fucked up.” He said softly, pulling me closer.
“I’m surprised you even remember that far into the night.” I said, feeling my heart thud in my chest. I wasn’t sure why getting so close made me so nervous. We were lying face-to-face. Our faces were inches apart. Was it freaking him out that our faces were inches apart?
“Most of the stuff I remember about last night is about you.” he said slowly.
“Can I ask you something?” I asked, trying to focus on a poster on the wall behind him instead of on his lips or his pretty, tired eyes.
“Anything.” He said.
“Well, like, what did Bert say to you…?” I asked, swallowing hard, “Yknow, before the show?”
“Oh.” Frank breathed, “That… Well, basically…”
He paused and laid back on the pillows.
“He said...” Frank tried again, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow, “He said if I didn’t get my shit together he’d go after you himself… And that if you didn’t want him, he’d make a point to find someone you did want…”
He linked our fingers together under the blankets and started to stroke the back of my hand with his thumb as he talked.
“That was why he kissed you during our set, I’m guessing?” He continued, “He was trying to make a point.”
“Oh.” I mumbled.
“My turn to ask a question.” Frank said, turning his head to glance over at me.
“Uh. Sure.” I nodded.
“Last night, before the show, I told you I loved you and you didn’t say it back…” he explained, “And so I was wondering if you still…”
“I couldn’t say anything. You told me to shut up.” I offered defensively. He must’ve not remembered the drunken ‘I love you’s we’d shared in the bathroom later on in the night. I couldn’t blame him for that.
“Oh. So you… don’t then? Or you do?” He asked nervously.
“Do what?” I teased.
“You’re really gonna make me say it out loud?” He sighed.
I nodded.
“Do you still love me?” He asked.
“I still love you.” I said, feeling my heart flutter like crazy.
He brought my hand up to his mouth and placed a single gentle kiss on the back.

“Can I ask another question?” I asked.
He nodded, lips grazing over my skin.
“Would any of this had ever happened if I hadn’t fucked everything up so much?”
“What do you mean?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
“If I hadn’t written all that, and then gotten it exposed, and then relapsed, and then made you think I was with Bert… would we be laying here together right now?”
“How can you ask me something like that? That was so many ‘and’s.” Frank groaned.
“I don’t know, but I’m still asking.” I argued, “Be honest. Would you have ever fucking noticed that I liked you if things hadn’t happened this way?”
No.” he offered simply. “No, I don’t think I would have noticed. But I have a question. Would you have ever have just fucking told me how you felt like a normal person?”
I didn’t have a rebuttal prepared for that one.
Be honest.” He mocked, “Because I read what you wrote. You wrote like, hundreds of thousands of words about us instead of just telling me. How long did all of that even take you? Months? Years? Do you have any idea how many chances you had to tell me how you felt? Do you know how many times we were alone together? Where you could have just-”
“That was more than one question.” I interrupted, feeling myself blush like crazy, “And besides, are you really trying to tell me you would’ve just been cool with it if I got you alone and said I’d read something about you getting turned into a vampire and sucking my blood? And that I couldn’t stop thinking about you sucking on my neck after that? Would you have really been cool with that? Because If memory serves you fucking flipped out when you found out about all of this.”
What we were doing was far from taking a nap. We were both sitting up in the bed now, glaring at each other.
“I admit I may have panicked a little…” Frank said slowly.
“A little.” I repeated sarcastically.
“Okay. I flipped out.” Frank agreed, “But you could’ve done things differently too.”
“Why would I want to?” I asked, “I have you now! I just wanted to know if I could’ve had you any other way... And I think you’ve answered my question...”
I stared down at my hands and tried not to think about the awful silence. I didn’t wanna know what expression Frank’s face was even making.
….
.
…..
..
…..
“I feel like an asshole for not noticing, Gerard. I really do.” Frank said softly, after what felt like an eternity. “But I don’t even know how the fuck I’m supposed to make it up to you? All I can think to do is just make sure I’m the best fucking boyfriend you’ve ever had... but I’m not even sure if that’s gonna give you the closure you need.”
“You need someone like Bert,” He continued, “Who wants to show you off to everyone instead of cowering behind a guitar. You deserve that someone. And I fucking want to be that someone, but with the label and everything… I don’t know. We wouldn’t just be letting each other down. We’d be letting the band down. And Brian. And the label… Everything we worked for.”
“I know.” I sighed, keeping my head down.
“I just… I want both, yknow?” He asked. “Why can’t I be with you and keep our band too? Bob’s cool with it. Ray’s cool with it. And you know Mikey doesn’t give a shit...”
“We’ll figure something out.” I shrugged. “I’m fine with sneaking around for now…”
I couldn’t bring myself to look up at Frank, even when he fell silent again.

.
.
….
.

“I want to kiss you right now.” he said eventually, sliding his fingers under my chin and tilting my head up, “But I’m afraid to…”
“Why?” I asked, staring into his tired, brown eyes.
“Cause if I start, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.” He said softly.
“I’ll make sure you stop.” I promised.
It wasn’t a lie but it was definitely an empty promise. I leaned forward and pressed my lips firmly against Frank’s. He kissed back carefully, sweetly, tangling his hands in my hair and pulling me closer.
It wasn’t until his lips parted that I really understood Frank’s concerns. Now that we’d started, I had no interest in stopping. His lips were so soft and warm. His breath, sweet. His hands, careful.
“I thought you said you’d stop me.” Frank gasped, pulling away.
“I…. Um. Sorry.” I breathed.
“Oh god,” He whispered, flopping back against the pillows, “The room’s spinning and I have no idea if it’s you or the hangover.”
I curled up beside him and wrapped an arm around his middle.
“Probably both.” He said softly.
“You should try and sleep this off, Frankie.” I said, feeling incredibly awkward.
“Mmm, alright.” He hummed, “Just promise you won’t try to leave again.”
“I’m clearly not qualified to make promises right now.” I said, hugging him tighter.
He let out a breathy laugh, and that was it before he drifted off to sleep.
~

After few hours of laying beside Frank in his dark bedroom while he slept off the worst of his hangover I was itching for a cup of coffee. Once I was sure he was asleep, I got up in the interest of making myself a cup, only to find that Frank was completely out of coffee. He’d told me not to leave, but I was going to be useless for the show later if I didn’t start caffeinating.
I puttered around his kitchen for a little while, looking for anything that might have caffeine in it. Black tea bags. Energy drinks in the fridge. Anything.
The colors of the paint splatter were much more magnificent in the daylight.

I fished my phone out of the pocket of my jeans, laying on the floor in the bathroom and called Mikey.
He picked up by the time I’d wandered back into the colorful massacre that was Frank’s kitchen.
“Mikey.” I hissed, not waiting for him to say anything, “I need your help.”
“With what?” He asked. It sounded like he was eating something. I could hear little muffled crunches on his end of the call.
“I need you to bring coffee over to Frank’s place.” I said.
“I have no interest in watching you guys make out.” He offered indifferently.
“First of all, we’re not making out. He’s asleep.” I huffed, “Second of all, please.
“How does Frank like his coffee?” Mikey sighed.
“Um, I can’t remember but I think he might be too hungover for coffee…” I trailed off.
“I’m not too hungover for coffee.” Frank said from across the room, startling the crap out of me.
“I heard that. He says he’s not too hungover for coffee.” Mikey said. “The fuck are you calling me for? Go get coffee with your boyfriend. And bring some to the venue with you later.”
“But-” I started.
“Don’t be late for soundcheck.” Mikey interrupted, dropping the call.
I spun around to face Frank, who was still in just his boxers, as he got himself a glass of water and swallowed some pills for what I imagined to be a killer headache.
“I’m never drinking again.” He groaned as he leaned against the sink.
“Oh, it can’t be that bad.” I scoffed.
“I’m fairly certain you know exactly how bad this feels.” Frank offered back, raising an eyebrow.
Coffeeeee.” I groaned, ignoring his comment. “Coffee fixes everything.”
“Fine.” He sighed, “I’ll go get dressed.”
~

We ended up in line at a bustling cafe down the street from Frank’s apartment building. Frank had a murderous frown on his face as he stared at the back of the room where a mother was doing little to control her shrieking toddler. I probably would’ve been afraid of the look in his eyes if they weren’t concealed by his ridiculous giant sunglasses.
I’d ended up borrowing some of his clothes. The pair of black jeans he’d lent me were almost impossibly tight. I’d had trouble even getting them on. I felt ridiculous and over-exposed. The large pair of sunglasses he’d given me weren’t doing much to make me feel like I was blending in.
Frank had grabbed my arm without really thinking when we’d stepped into the place. The small, thoughtless gesture made me smile.
We probably looked ridiculous standing there in line, like two hungover, vogue vampires in love.
I ordered us two drip coffees. Frank grabbed both of the cups as the barista slid them across the counter. He was halfway to the door when he realized I wasn’t following him.
“What is it, Gee?” He asked.
“Wait, Frank, there’s a table over there, you wanna sit for a minute?” I asked, nodding my head in the direction of a small table by a fireplace.
“Not particularly. Why? Do you?” He frowned.
“Uh. Yeah… I do.” I said, “But I mean if you don’t…”
“No. Oh god. You’re trying to turn this into a date and I’m already fucking it up.” He groaned.
“It’s not a big deal. We can just go.” I sighed, taking one of the cups from his hands.
“No, Gerard.” He protested, grabbing my arm and leading me towards the table, “I’d fucking love to.”
How were people supposed to act on first dates? What kinds of things were they supposed to talk about? I was suddenly dreading the moments that followed as Frank sat down across from me and smiled.
In my experience, first dates were always awkward. My first date with Frank was no exception.
I reached across the table to grab his hand and quickly recoiled it, deciding it wasn’t an appropriate move. Frank’s head snapped in the direction of the toddler as it started shrieking again.
“Shit, so uh, how is this supposed to go?” He asked, turning back to face me.
“I don’t know.” I sighed. “I guess we should just like… make small talk and if you think the things I say are cool you’re supposed to… kiss me goodbye… or something?”
“I feel kind of on the spot. I can’t think of what to talk about. Oh God… I suck at this.” He whined, crossing his arms on top of the table and burying his face in them.
“Why do you like me, again?” He moaned into the fabric of his coat.
“Here uh...Talk about guitars.” I offered. “What do you like about them? When did you start playing? What was your first-”
“I don’t want to talk about me.” Frank interrupted, popping his head up to frown at me, “You’re not supposed to talk about yourself on a first date. I’m not a fucking asshole.”
“Right. Well… I guess I won’t talk about me either, then.” I mumbled. “What about the show last night?”
“I was there. You were there. You made out with Bert in front of everyone. Ray shredded. I smashed my favorite guitar. Everyone loved it. Next topic...” He shot out, rolling his eyes.
“This isn’t working,” I moaned, “What if we’re just not supposed to… do this? Maybe that’s what the universe is telling us.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Frank laughed, “I’m hungover and you’re over-stressed and this is a busy cafe with screaming children. This place isn’t exactly oozing with romantic vibes.”
“That stuff shouldn’t matter though, Frank.” I argued dejectedly.
“Time out.” Frank smirked, “This place just sucks. I want our first date to be more romantic than this, Gee, come on. Let’s get out of here.”
“Alright.” I nodded, grabbing my coffee cup and following Frank out of the cafe.
“I should take you back to your apartment now anyways.” Frank said, fumbling in his pocket for his keys, “So you can get ready for tonight… But once the show’s over there’s somewhere I’m gonna take you. No fucking after-parties. No Bert McCracken. No screaming children… Just you and me and...”
“I still think we could count whatever that was back there as our first date…” I said, falling in stride with him. “It sucked, but it still counts.”
“I’m not fucking counting it.” Frank mumbled as his lips curled up into a small smile. He took an experimental sip of his coffee to check the temperature and rubbed his hands together to around his coffee cup.
“I’d hold your hand if it wasn’t so fucking cold.” He groaned as we made our way through the parking lot towards his car.
“If this isn’t a date why would you want to hold my hand anyway?” I asked. I grimaced as I realized too late that my words had come out way more bitter than joking.
“Goddammit, Gerard...” Frank groaned, stepping in front of me and staring up at me with a pained expression.
“I was just joking.” I shrugged.
“No you weren’t.” He countered, reaching out and grabbing my hand and tugging me towards his car moodily, “I feel like I’m going to spend the rest of my fucking life trying to convince you I like you.”
I smiled and allowed myself to be pulled along. It was nice to just follow his lead. He seemed to find my apprehension endearing, but I wasn’t sure how long that would last. I was just... so afraid of fucking anything up between us that I couldn’t always trust myself to do things like reach for his hand or ask him to follow me to bed.
He seemed so much more sure of us than I was, which seemed sort of backwards when I thought about it.
I’d been the one who wanted it in the first place, after all.

Notes

hi

yeah....... i know it's been three months. .........
i got locked out of my MCRFF account. B)

-m

Comments

I love this. I've re read it four or five times but never make it to the end. always get caught up. When will there be more?? I need more. I love this.

NOT USED ACCOUNT NOT USED ACCOUNT
11/15/16

Hey, I just wanted to let you know how closely I follow this story. I'm constantly rereading it, I love it so much. Now I'm not trying to rush the writing process, I know how delicate that can be, I jjst really appreciate all your hard work and I get super excited when I see you've updated. :)
Thank you for writing this.

IAmAGhost IAmAGhost
1/14/16

@KayKay
NEVER. HAHHHHHAHAH.
um, no, actually, idk, i'm working on it. i swear.

FRERARD HOTLINE FRERARD HOTLINE
10/1/15

D: when will this be updated?!

KayKay KayKay
9/25/15

@everyone: married in my mind isn't dead it's just taking a little nap. i promise. <3
xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

FRERARD HOTLINE FRERARD HOTLINE
8/15/15