GRAYVERSE

"What do you mean you went to go see him? Without me?"

Mikey leans across the kitchen counter, a disturbed look of irritation and disbelief set hard into his face. Gerard shuffles his weight, folding his arms across his chest. He hates having to be like this around his brother. Secretive. Evasive. It can hardly be helped though, even if Gerard doesn't want to act this way. But for Christ's sake - Mikey's shirt is pink. "Does it matter?" He stares at his younger brother, equally pissed off. They both hold a strong glare together for a moment, before Gerard opens his mouth again. "I wanted to see if he was okay, is that a crime?"

A low growl threatens to trip from Mikey's lips. "You could have at least told me."

Gerard scoffs, shaking his head. "We are not talking about this," he waves a hand, as if he can just flick his brother away. "Last time I checked, I was to blame for this. It's my fault, Mikey. I'm trying to do something about it."

"Just because you nearly killed that kid doesn't mean you have to do this alone!" Mikey raises his voice, a small hint of sincerity in his clearly agitated tone. He pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. "Look - Gerard. We're supposed to look out for each other. Right? That's what you told me after Grandma died. So let me help, please."

The younger Way stops, waiting for Gerard's reply. A ghost of 'we don't talk about Grandma' hangs in the air, but when Gerard sterns his gaze, the threat runs scarse.

"Frank," Gerard murmurs. Mikey opens his mouth to say something, but stops. A sigh falls from Gerard's tired face. "His name is Frank."

Mikey frowns. "Like, Donnie Darko Frank?"

For a moment, Gerard gives Mikey a slight nod of approval. Then, he casts his eyes elsewhere and stares at the ground, before flickering back up to Mikey's framed hazel orbs. "Look, that's not the point." Again, Gerard dismisses Mikey's words and the atmosphere grows tense. "He's my friend."

A quick pause. Mikey looks confused. "Friend?" He tries the word, but figures it tastes like venom. "Gerard, this isn't a chick-flick. You don't just run a guy over and then-"

"And then what, Mikey?" Gerard leans forward, cutting him off. "See fucking rainbows and decide you're in love? I said he's my friend, Mikes. Not my fucking wife."

With a fed up sigh, Gerard leaves it at that. He feels exasperated, wanting nothing more than to sleep. Mikey is left on his own in the kitchen, and Gerard decides that he'll retreat to his room until the storm blows over.

He finds a pack of cigarettes, and pulls one out before daintily pushing it between his lips. After scavenging his pockets for a lighter, Gerard realizes that he hasn't had a smoke since he'd seen red. It's a surprise to him that he's managed to go so long without the familiar rush of nicotine scraping down his throat. Caffeine is a whole different story.

A push of his thumb, and the flame sparks into life. A swirl of orange, yellow and blue. Gerard finds himself staring. He appears amazed, even entranced by the dancing flicker of light, lost in it's radiance until his thumb becomes sore and he accidently lets it go out. "Fuck," he whispers, and doesn't hesitate as he sparks it back up. Instead of sitting back and enjoying the scenery, he brings it to the tip of his cigarette and feels the burn reach his lips on the initial inhale.

This was just one new experience of many. Gerard is still adjusting to the new sights, and like a child, he manages to become fascinated by even the smallest of things. He realizes that he never wants to lose this new view on the world, and knows what he has to do to protect it. It's simple; just make sure that idiot Frank doesn't get himself killed. If he's alive, then so are the colors.

With this thought in his head, for the second time in two days, Gerard casts a weary eye to his desk. Despite this new supposed 'inspiration', he can't draw. He can't paint. Maybe it's just a quick phase, but Gerard is at a creative dead-end. Earlier that day he had tried to sketch a quick character profile of Vanya, but found that the violin girl was lacking personality within the drawing that Gerard would usually manage to give to his creations. With a blunt sigh, he lets himself collapse onto his bed as he tries to close his eyes; a pathetic attempt to quickly drift off.

It doesn't work, and Gerard is left with his head buzzing and his stomach twisting. He can't seem to stop thinking. No matter what he does or how he tries to occupy himself, it's always there. Nagging away at him. Urging him to go back to the hospital.

But visitor hours are over now, and it would only aggravate Mikey further. Gerard has no idea if Frank still wants to see him, but they'd both decided they were friends, right? He can only hope that the strange boy understood what he'd even meant.

Bored, Gerard starts to think about the mystery surrounding Frank's past. The doctor had hinted that the young teen had never been taught things of simple nature, but when Gerard had met him, he seemed to be a smart kid. In his own way, of course. He'd frowned and been confused at a simple handshake, yet he appeared intellectual within how he spoke. Maybe the doctor was wrong. Maybe Frank was just a normal kid who'd gotten caught up in an accident, and amnesia is now stubbing his brain from being able to work properly.

After another long hour, Gerard realizes that he misses Frank. This stupid bond that Gerard doesn't even necessarily want, is making him feel pathetic. It makes him feel whiny, clingy, maybe even desperate. His thoughts still haven't managed to cross from the line of innocent, to lustful though. This makes him feel slightly more comfortable, as it feels more like he is supposed to protect Frank, rather than fuck him senseless into the side of his car.

With another resignated sigh, Gerard rolls over and closes his eyes again. He thinks about the coffee he gets to drink when he wakes up in the morning, and falls asleep with a smile on his face.

//

He still dreams in black and white.

Gerard is in a wasteland. A long dirt road winds through it, leading up to a small gray church in the midst of the desert. The air shimmers, melting before Gerard's eyes. It bends around the building, creating the illusion of water surrounding it. He can't move. Everything feels so surreal, and Gerard wonders if it is supposed to hold any form of significance. It feels pointless. After what feels like only a few minutes of burning in this place, Gerard opens his eyes and finds himself in his dark, tiny room. He finds his cell phone and recognizes that it's nearly 11 AM. Without sparing a second thought to think about what he had just imagined, he jogs upstairs and starts the coffee machine.

As he'd promised himself last night, he makes the perfect brew and takes it back down to his room. He drinks. He showers. He gets dressed. He shaves.

Something about yesterday puts a distinct bounce in Gerard's step. He's smiling and he seems genuinely happy, which freaks Mikey out as his brother is completely sober. After the younger brother put up with Gerard's nauseous cheerful attitude for about an hour, he decided to confront him.

"I'm just in a good mood, Mikes," Gerard replies as Mikey interrogates him over a late lunch.

"But you just... nearly killed a guy," Mikey decides to point out, but Gerard only rolls his eyes and chuckles.

Mikey had expected him to snap under that. "Sure, I nearly killed someone," Gerard drawls in a casual tone, hand gestures and all. "But I've made peace with it. We're friends, Mikey. Me and Frank got along real well when I saw him yesterday. I'm thinking of going back tomorrow."

It's the smug, dream-like smile that Gerard has plastered to his face that Mikey scowls at. Maybe Gerard is having some kind of an epiphany over this. He hasn't touched a drop of alcohol, and it didn't take much for Mikey to work out that the bitter liquid had been the root of all of this. Maybe Gerard is changing. Maybe it is for the better.

Still, he wears a frown and ends up slumping off into his room.

Gerard finds himself lonely without his brother nagging at him, and picks up the phone to call Ray. He thinks they can get together over some pizza and play some video games for a few hours. Giddy with some kind of unrecognizable excitement, he fidgets after Ray says that he'll be over at six, and Gerard is left waiting in anticipation. Once he hears a knock at the door, he jumps up and lets his best friend in.

"So I heard about you running some kid over?" Ray remarks, lifting an eyebrow as Gerard leads him into the living room. He kicks over a pile of trash on the way, and tries to shove a pair of dirty underwear under the couch before Ray can catch a glimpse.

"Uh, yeah." Gerard seems distracted and moves forward to turn the television on. "I did."

Ray - as good of a friend as he is - only nods, and decides not to press further into the subject. Gerard is grateful, but a small part of him wants to talk about Frank. He wants to talk about the color and the feelings inside of him and how chocolate brown his eyes are, and basically Gerard wants to be a sixteen year old girl hosting a slumber party. But he keeps his mouth shut.

"Fuck," he gasps once the video game bursts into life. "Jesus Christ man, the fucking graphics."

Ray gives him a confused glance. Gerard's eyes jerk over to his best friend and he tries to cover what he'd just said. They are playing Resident Evil, a game they've beaten and played together countless times. It's only now that Gerard can truly appreciate the gushing red blood that spurts out of Leon's head whenever the chainsaw dude catches up to him.

Ray lets out a chuckle as he smashes through a zombie's skull. "The graphics? I dunno man, they're a little 2005. You played any of those Quantic Dream games? The fucking graphics in those man, holy crap."

The older man says nothing, and continues to plow though the wave of cannibals. His concentration deepens the further they progress into the game, but it's not on trying to stay alive. Gerard is just watching all the pixels dance before his eyes, changing color. A burst of green explodes over the screen as he blows up a zombie with a grenade. A moment later, a chick with an axe lodged into her neck grabs him from behind and he's hacked to pieces as she devours the last of his HP.

"Dammit," Gerard hisses, as Ray's character had died long ago and now they were being left with 'YOU ARE DEAD' splattered across the 42". He throws his wii-remote into a pillow and leans back to take a slice of pizza.

"What the hell has gotten into you, man?" Ray asks, instantly picking up on Gerard's strange behavior.

"Me - what? No. Nothing. I'm great!" Gerard grins, far too happy to have just been eaten alive by monsters.

A flash of a smirk covers Ray's face. "Is Gerard happy because he finally saw pink when he kissed Bertie?" His voice is a high coo, and Gerard scowls, pulling a face of disgust.

"No," he begins to argue. "Wh-why would you think that? C'mon, man. We all know Mikey is the only one lucky enough to get laid by his color chick. Jesus - my life isn't some bad romantic comedy. Fra-" he shuts his mouth and gulps. Fuck.

Ray is frowning.

He tilts his head to the side, his crazy hair jostling with the movement. "Fra... nchesca? Frankie? Francine? Fra... I can't think of any other names. Franny? Dude, did you...?"

"No!" Gerard yelps, completely aware of how ridiculous he is acting. "I mean no. I didn't see pink when I kissed Bert and I didn't see any chicks called Franny. I- how do you even know about that?" Swiftly, he does his best to avert the subject of Frank.

Ray straightens himself up slightly, and places his own wii-remote to his left. "It came up in passing when he told me about the kid you ran over."

Gerard rolls his eyes, trying to seem unphased by the bringing up of the accident. He looks at Ray. Brown hair, brown eyes, dark stubble. He's seeing colors right now, but he still can't tell even his best friend about them. He feels a snag of guilt inside his stomach.

Always the fucking guilt.

Notes

sorry guys, it was a bit of a filler. more frank will be coming up soon, dw

xofeb