F*ck and Run

Even if Gerard was the last person in all of New York city to realize it was fucking Valentine's day, he recovered from such a crashing realization with grace. He wondered what the man working the counter in the small corner store must’ve thought about the series of emotions that played across his face as it hit him. First came shock. Then terror. Followed by Panic. All chased by calm, cool determination.
If anything, Frank couldn’t know Gerard had spaced on the most romantic day of the year. Gerard had to figure out how to make it look like he knew what the fuck he was doing, and fast. He spun around in search of a vegan-friendly valentine for Frank. First, he perused the candy aisle, picking up a few heart-shaped boxes and inspecting their ingredient lists. He could guess that milk chocolate probably wasn’t vegan. Candy hearts felt too half-assed. Jelly beans didn’t make any fucking sense.
Abandoning candy, Gerard glanced around in search of the greeting cards. It took him less than a second to give up on that idea. While it was possible that Frank wouldn’t notice, anyone else who knew Gerard would know that he always drew his own cards. Gerard could just hear Mikey’s cruel laugh in his head.
It was then that the wolfish urges overrode Gerard’s anxiety. He followed his nose, chasing the smell of roses. Without even meaning to he ended up in front of a series of bouquets, all in different states of presentability. If Gerard had to guess, he’d say most boyfriends had purchased their bouquets earlier in the day because there really wasn’t much left to choose from. Most of the remaining bouquets that had all their petals intact came in unnatural, offensive shades of neon. Gerard experimentally leaned forward, sticking his nose into an arrangement of cartoonishly blue carnations. The smell of the dye that had been soaked into the ends of the petals made his stomach turn. They probably wouldn’t have the same effect on Frank, but Gerard would’ve almost rather shown up empty-handed than give Frank something so… colorful. His eyes landed on an arrangement of particularly wilted pink roses and his heart sunk.
For a moment Gerard considered trying another store. There had to be several other places that sold flowers in the 3 or 4 blocks he’d have to walk to get to the restaurant where Frank was probably already waiting for him. Pressed for time, he gave the flowers in front of him one last glance. His eyes fell on a bouquet of white lilies. They were still well hydrated. Their smell wasn’t off-putting. They had all their petals. Those were pretty low standards for flowers, Gerard supposed, but they would have to do.
Gerard grabbed them, frowning as the ends of the stems dripped onto the linoleum flooring, and carefully carried them to the counter to pay for them. Their wrapping crinkled loudly, alerting everyone around him of their presence. He could feel eyes on him in all directions and it made him a million times more self-conscious than he already seemed to be.
“Almost forgot, eh?” the man behind the counter chuckled through his thick accent, “Very pretty. Your girlfriend will love.”
Gerard was so engulfed in the stress of getting to Frank on time, he didn’t even bother correcting the guy. He’d even forgotten that he had originally come into the store to buy cigarettes. Flashing the cashier a polite smile, he handed over a few bills and silently took the flowers with him.
The rain had picked up while he had been inside the corner store. Gerard wasn’t really aware of his own legs moving. It was more like he was floating along or perhaps vibrating. He was certainly nervous enough to travel by the shaky vibrations reverberating out of his chest. Passing strangers eyed Gerard curiously. He made a point to glare at them but it was hard to look menacing with a giant bouquet under his arm. If he squared his shoulders the way he wanted to he might crush the flowers and then it would all be for nothing.
Gerard didn’t have anything nice to say about what he considered to be a bullshit, corporate holiday put in place to sell candy and cards, but if Frank was into it, Gerard would play along. He could complain about the greeting card industry at a later time, when he wasn’t in immediate danger of fucking up his shot at a place in Frank’s heart.
Were cut flowers even vegan? Gerard only thought to ask himself such a question once he was less than a block from the restaurant. Frank ate dead plants all the time, but the plants under Gerard’s arm hadn’t died for culinary purposes... Gerard knew very little about cut flowers or veganism. Again, the thought of calling Mikey crossed his mind… but he could just picture Mikey’s cruel laugh in his head. He didn’t want to be refreshed on what that sounded like.
A million things were running through Gerard’s head. Was he supposed to kiss Frank hello? Was he supposed to reach for Frank’s hand at dinner? What were they supposed to talk about? Should he ask Frank about his day or should he let Frank do the talking? If Gerard managed to fuck this up somehow, he’d never fucking forgive himself.
The universe was already working against him. His clothes were already starting to feel uncomfortable against his over-sensitive skin, even though he’d only had them on for a little over an hour. The rain had brought the temperature of the air down considerably, but even so he was burning up. He could taste bile in the back of his throat. It was too soon for him to be so consumed by the moon.
Instead of looking at the numbers on the buildings, Gerard began to operate on scent. He could smell Frank from half a mile away. He wove through the cocktail of smells that the people on the bustling Manhattan street left, following the thin trail of his beloved punk. If there weren’t so many fucking people on the sidewalk, Gerard would just close his eyes and follow Frank on scent alone. His smell grew stronger and stronger with every step Gerard took until it overpowered the blends of cheap cologne, sex, roses, and booze.
When Gerard finally looked up, there Frank was.
Gerard’s first thought was that he had somehow gotten the time wrong and was incredibly late because Frank had a huge frown plastered across his face. He had tucked himself under an awning to avoid the worst of the rain, but even still he was dripping wet. The hood of his sweatshirt hung heavily over his hair, clinging to his forehead. He looked uncomfortable and dismal. A cigarette was clamped between his fingers, though he didn’t appear to be actually smoking it.
“Frank, hey!” Gerard called, closing the distance between himself and the punk by wrapping an arm around Frank. He tried his best to hide the bouquet behind his back, as Frank hugged him. He was sure the crinkling paper gave him away.
“Hey Gerard.” Frank mumbled back, burying his face in the crook of Gerard’s neck. The water almost immediately soaked into Gerard’s coat. He could feel the cool dampness leaching into his clothes everywhere their bodies touched. It was almost soothing, given the way he was burning up.
With Frank suddenly so close, Gerard almost forgot himself. Frank just smelled too fucking good. Gerard could barely contain his urge to just… rip him to shreds. The urge didn’t even really make any sense, but it was all-consuming. It took every ounce of Gerard’s willpower to not rub himself all over Frank.
When Gerard pulled back, Frank was still frowning... Something clearly wasn’t right. He wouldn’t even look Gerard in the eye.
“So, um, these are for you.” Gerard said, handing Frank the bouquet. It was dark enough that there was no way Frank could see the way his face was burning up.
“Oh, you didn’t have to…” Frank trailed off, accepting the flowers and smiling weakly, “These are… nice. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Gerard said, feeling a small amount of relief wash over him. Frank was still fucking tense, but at least the flower plan hadn’t blown up in his face. ‘Nice’ was better than… not nice. Gerard could work with ‘nice.’
“Well, um, shall we?” Frank asked, lifting a dripping arm up towards the door to the restaurant.
Gerard hesitated because Frank was hesitating. They stared at one another, both trying (and failing) to appear neutral about the whole thing.
“We don’t have to… if you don’t want to.” Frank tested.
“No. I… I want to do this.” Gerard said, aiming at reassuring.
“Okay.” Frank nodded.
Gerard followed behind Frank as he shouldered into the restaurant.
It was total sensory overload the moment they were inside. Without fresh air, the awful cocktail of flowers and perfumes and alcohol and hormones that had been haunting Gerard on the sidewalk was a thousand times worse. He could practically smell how bad everyone in the room wanted to fuck each other. It made him want to leave and immediately throw up and die.
Instead, he followed behind Frank and a nice, festively-dressed waitress who lead them deeper into the pits of Valentine's day hell. Gerard felt like an animal being shoved into a small cage as he slid into the booth seat across the table from Frank. The flowers he’d brought laid on the table between them, which did little to settle Gerard’s nerves. The restaurant was completely packed. Every table around them was occupied by individuals all in different stages of dinner.
Gerard stole a glance up at Frank as the waitress placed menus and glasses of water in between them. He saw the same tension he was feeling reflected in Frank’s eyes.
“How was your day?” Gerard asked conversationally. If Frank wasn’t going to tell him what was wrong, Gerard was just going to pretend nothing was wrong until Frank brought it up.
He held out his hand, palm facing up, hoping Frank would take it as a sign he wanted to hold hands.
“It was… Um, Gerard, listen,” Frank said, clearing his throat, “Can I tell you something?”
“Yeah, sure.” Gerard said, trying to remain neutral.
Frank wouldn’t meet Gerard’s eyes and it was seriously starting to freak him the fuck out.
“So… I kind of can’t believe myself,” Frank said, pausing to gaze at something somewhere behind Gerard, “But this morning, when I asked you to have dinner with me I had no idea it was, you know, February Fourteenth…”
“You mean you didn’t know it was Valentine's day today?” Gerard asked, a small unavoidable laugh escaping his lips.
“Don’t laugh.” Frank moaned. “No. I had no fucking idea.”
“It’s okay.” Gerard said, “I didn’t know either.”
“But you got me flowers?” Frank pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
“Do you have any idea how many places between here and the nearest subway platform sell flowers?” Gerard explained encouragingly, “A lot.”
Frank bit his lip in thought. He glanced down at the flowers and then looked back up at Gerard.
“I guess I don’t understand what’s so bad about this?” Gerard asked, “I mean, you’ve got a lot going on right now. It’s okay to forget stuff.”
“It’s not that.” Frank said.
“Then what is it, Frankie?” Gerard pressed, “What’s going on with you?”
“I just had a bad day.” Frank offered cryptically.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Gerard asked.
“This isn’t really the place.” Frank said, lowering his eyes and sort of curling up in on himself.
Gerard was already sort of at a loss for how formal dates were supposed to go, but he was pretty sure this was all wrong. He didn’t know what to do or say, so he just stared blankly at Frank, waiting for him to say something.
“There’s no reason we can’t just… pretend it’s not valentine’s day?” Gerard tried when Frank still wasn’t talking, “If that would help?”
Frank shook his head.
The waitress came by and asked if she could take their order. Gerard politely told her they’d need a bit more time. Neither of them had looked at the menus. Frank didn’t seem to even care what was on them.
“Please talk to me, Frank.” Gerard said, once the waitress was gone, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s not your problem, it’s mine.” Frank said.
“Make it my problem.” Gerard pleaded, “I want to help you.”
“You can’t. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had, Gerard.” Frank snapped, and it was like Gerard had hit the venom jackpot, it came pouring right out of Frank.
“This morning I walked into a meeting and walked out with three new interns to babysit, so I have to figure out how to find time to train them.” Frank said, rolling his eyes, “And then I don’t know if you remember that drummer my friend Vicky was fucking, but the dude fucking overdosed on heroin in his hotel room last night, so I have to plan a benefit party for the rest of his band and mourn his death and help her through it all at the same time. She’s been calling me all day. And on top of all that, I’m soaking wet, and I still have nowhere to live. Look, I don’t mean to bore you with the details. Today sucked. But what I’ve realized through everything is that I don’t have time for this. At all.”
“This?” Gerard asked.
“This.” Frank repeated, “Us.”
“Oh.” Gerard breathed.
“Look…” Frank sighed, “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea here. I really- I- ”
Gerard’s heart sank as Frank tripped over his own words. Frank smiled at him weakly, then.
“I don’t care if you don’t have time for us.” Gerard offered, clearing his throat and locking eyes with Frank, “Listen, I know I’m maybe not the most experienced in this kind of thing, but isn’t the whole point of a relationship to be there for the other person? Through the good and the bad? Frank, I can be that. I want to be that for you. If you’d just let me-”
“I don’t think you understand, Gerard.” Frank interrupted. This time it was Frank who looked away.
“I don’t trust you...” Frank went on softly, “I mean, In some ways I do, but in other ways I just… fucking don’t. And I can’t go into something… more serious… if I feel like this. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
Gerard supposed he sort of deserved to hear it, but it still hurt like all hell. The look Frank was giving him was like piercing daggers. There were no accusations or judgements in his eyes. It was just helpless, unfiltered honesty.
“There’s no rush, Frank. It doesn’t have to be now or never.” Gerard said, “I know what I want from this, but it’s okay if you don’t. I can wait for you... until you’re sure about this. Nothing about us has ever been conventional, anyways.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be sure, Gerard.” Frank countered morosely, “When we’re not together… When we’re not together, I’m always thinking about what you’re doing… Who you’re with… It’s not healthy and I’d love to stop… but it’s not going to just go away. I don’t think it ever will.”
Frank glanced back over at Gerard. Tears pricked his eyes as he tried to smile at Gerard.
The waitress walked passed them again. Now that Frank was crying she’d probably figured out they still weren’t ready to order. Gerard had lost his appetite anyways.
“If we’re… whatever we are now. Whatever this is. You can’t hurt me. If you’re out with someone else, it isn’t cheating, it’s just… you being you.” Frank explained.
Gerard was beyond shocked. A million questions overloaded his already overloaded brain all at once. The first emotion that hit was anger, because Frank had accused him of something he’d never do. He tried to keep the feeling at bay, but God, was it hard to control. He’d never thought of himself as untrustworthy. He’d never been the type to be unfaithful. If he was in a relationship, he was in it all the way. He wanted Frank and only Frank. It hurt to realize Frank didn’t see that.
“I know how awful this sounds…” Frank went on, “I’m just trying to be honest. With Turner dying- Talking to Vicky today I realized… life’s just too fucking short for this.”
Gerard nodded. He got it. There were a million reasons Frank didn’t belong with him, but the reason Frank had decided to focus on didn’t even scratch the surface.
“Oh God, It’s not even you that’s ruining this date right now… it’s me.” Frank sighed, “I’m so fucking sorry… I have to go.”
And just like that Frank was sliding out of the booth and walking away from the table.
Gerard hesitated for a moment before slapping a twenty on the table, grabbing the flowers, and hightailing it out of the restaurant after Frank.
“Frank, wait!” Gerard called, ignoring the onlookers still waiting to get into the awful nightmare of a restaurant.
Frank spun around as soon as Gerard called him.
“What?” Frank groaned, wiping his eyes on his wet sleeve. He gave Gerard this defeated pleading look, begging him to go away.
“Frank…” Gerard pleaded, “I haven’t kissed anyone else… since… since Mikey tried to set us up. I haven’t even thought about anyone else since then. I swear to you.”
“It’s not about that, Gerard.” Frank sighed.
“Then what is it about?” Gerard asked incredulously, “Please just explain it to me, Frank. I want to fix this. I…”
The L-word was on the tip of Gerard’s tongue. It was maybe the worst possible timing, but he was so frustrated, so hurt, maybe if he could admit he loved Frank it would be enough to make Frank stop looking at him like that.
“I don’t have time right now, Gerard.” Frank said shaking his head, “I know there’s stuff you haven’t told me. I know you have secrets. You’re allowed to have secrets. It’s not that. It’s just... I don’t have time for them. Not right now. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it.”
Gerard glanced around at all the people staring at him. He could’ve just come right out with it. He could’ve told Frank what he was…
But he didn’t.
Frank gave him another five seconds to come clean, before sighing and saying,
“I gotta go.”
And then he was walking away from Gerard.

Gerard thought about chasing after Frank, but he didn’t. He couldn’t.
Frank didn’t want him to. Not like Gerard had hoped.

Gerard tried not to make any inhuman sounds as he turned on his heels and shuffled down the street towards the subway. Frank’s scent followed after him for blocks and blocks, serving as a torturous reminder that things could’ve gone differently.
He thought through all the times he could’ve just told Frank how he felt. All the times he could’ve told Frank what he was… Maybe if Gerard had told him, they’d still be sitting there, having dinner. Gerard wondered if there was a parallel universe where Frank and Gerard ended up together and went out to dinner together every valentine’s day.
Gerard clutched the flowers tightly, fighting tears. He didn’t know what their conversation meant in the long run. He assumed it meant he wouldn’t be seeing much of Frank anymore. The idea made him sick to his stomach.
He hadn’t realized Frank didn’t trust him, though he supposed he should’ve known. It wasn’t something he really knew how to fix. He needed advice, almost as much as he needed to take his clothes off. The emotional impulse send the lycanthropic side effects into overdrive. He pulled off his coat and let the light rain soak right into his clothes. Gerard was thankful for the rain. Most people couldn’t tell the difference between tears and rain, especially in the dark.
He wasn’t really looking where he was going and bumped into a man walking arm in arm with a small blonde woman.
“Hey, watch it man!” the guy muttered angrily under his breath.
Gerard turned and glared at the guy, letting out a horrifying rip of a growl.
The guy looked genuinely frightened by the sound.
Gerard had taken satisfaction in scaring the couple at first, but after he’d walked another twenty feet, he just felt like a monster. He was a monster, after all. An unlovable monster.

He flagged down a cab, still fighting the urge to turn and run after Frank. Frank’s scent was still wafting down the street. It was faint now, but it was still there. Gerard could still pick him out, out of the hundreds of other people. Maybe it was because the scent was still fresh in his mind, but maybe it was more. Maybe no one would ever get to Gerard the way that Frank could.

Traffic in the city was miserable. The rain picked up, making it almost impossible to see through the windshield. Gerard’s cab driver went nice and slow as a safety pre-caution. After awhile, he couldn’t have gone fast if he wanted to as cabs piled up bumper to bumper. There was a river of brakelights beside the river forming in the gutters. If Gerard hadn’t been so busy picking apart the pieces of him that someone might find ‘untrustworthy’ he might’ve enjoyed the poeticism of a rainy valentine’s day. It didn’t help that he was also extremely worried that Frank had gotten caught in the worst of it. He couldn’t stop thinking about how Frank was out there somewhere. He couldn’t stop wondering what was going through Frank’s head.
He couldn’t figure out why Frank hadn’t canceled their date altogether. Surely, he’d had plenty of time to do it.
But Gerard knew Frank. Frank had probably changed his mind thirty times between realizing what day it was and arriving outside of the restaurant.
Maybe things would be different in the morning. Gerard remembered how destructive and reckless he’d been when he lost his grandmother. Death made people do crazy things.
Gerard didn’t blame Frank. Sure, he thought Frank was being irrationally paranoid about Gerard’s intentions… But Gerard couldn’t deny he’d given Frank plenty of things to be irrationally paranoid about in the first place. It was his fault.
No matter how he looked at it, it was all his fault.

After what felt like a thousand years, Gerard made it home. He stripped off his rain soaked clothes and arranged Frank’s flowers in one of his grandmother’s old vases, with some sugar water to keep them fresh.
The entire apartment smelled like Frank. Gerard almost wanted to curl up in bed and just breathe it in, hold onto it for as long as it would last. The smell was usually so comforting to Gerard, but now it only made him want to cry more.
After setting the vase of flowers on the small table by his front door, he tried calling Frank, unsurprised when he got no answer. Biting his lip, listening through Frank’s voicemail greeting, he decided on leaving a message.

“If you ever change your mind,” Gerard said into his phone, “I’ll always want you...”

He figured honesty was the best policy. That was what his grandmother had always taught him. Making such a declaration over the phone had felt cowardly. Gerard hadn’t been able to admit it to Frank’s face, and somehow he could admit it over the phone, completely naked and pacing in his kitchen.
Another twenty minutes of pacing around his apartment waiting for Frank to call him or show up or something, Gerard couldn’t take it any more. Frank had picked the worst possible night to dump him. The moon was ripping him apart enough as it was. He didn’t need Frank ripping apart the rest of him.
Everything about his apartment reminded him of Frank. Frank’s scent was everywhere. His stuff was everywhere. It was torture.
Gerard let out a half-howl, half-moan as he reached for his phone again.
He caved and called Mikey, surprised by how quickly Mikey answered.
“What’s up?” Mikey asked.
“Can I come over?” Gerard asked.
“You’re supposed to be with Frank.” Mikey pointed out.
“Not anymore.” Gerard sighed, “Or maybe ever again.”
“Huh…” Mikey hummed, “Well, my girlfriend is on tour so I’m not doing shit tonight... come over.”

As soon as Gerard was standing on the subway platform, it occurred to him that maybe staying at home would’ve been better. If Frank changed his mind and came looking for Gerard, Gerard wouldn’t be home.
As he watched the train pull into the platform, the wolfish rage took over again. If Frank thought he was untrustworthy, Gerard could show him untrustworthy. If that was honestly what Frank thought, Gerard felt he was under no obligation to wait up for him.
~

Mikey Way seemed completely unphased by the sniffling, puffy-eyed, rain soaked three-quarters-of-a-man that appeared in his doorway.
He did what any younger brother ought to do: He cracked the bottle of whiskey he’d been saving for a rainy day, put on some music, and laid down on the floor next to his mess of an older brother. He kept quiet while Gerard talked.
At first, Gerard’s mood seemed to worsen as he went over the details of his miserable date. He seemed to work through the worst of it as he talked. He really thought Frank had him all wrong but it seemed ridiculous to be mad about it at all when Frank was sort of right because Gerard had secrets after all. But Frank didn’t know about them but oh m a y b e h e d i d.
Gerard had taken one of Frank’s flowers with him in case he ran into the punk again. He was checking his phone every five minutes to make sure he hadn’t missed any calls and it was starting to drain the battery.
Mikey almost wished he’d put a bet on it. Seeing his brother so worked up over a fucking boy was a sight he never thought he’d see. Gerard seemed to wear himself down, and it was only when he’d grown tired of repeating himself that Mikey chose to speak.

“Gerard, white lilies are what you give to someone who is mourning, not...” Mikey paused to break into laughter, “Not Frank.”
“That’s hardly relevant.” Gerard pointed out crossly.
“Lighten up.” MIkey said, still wheezing.
“I can’t, Mikey.” Gerard sighed, “I… I fucking love him.”
“He loves you, too...” Mikey said encouragingly, “Probably. Most likely.”
“You’re not helping.” Gerard grumbled, blowing a few delicate smoke rings at the ceiling.
“You guys just had a fight. I know you’ve never stuck around with someone long enough to fight with them, but it happens, Gee.” Mikey offered, “You’ll get through it.”
“We didn’t fight, he dumped me.” Gerard pointed out crossly.
“Did he say the words, ‘I never want to see you again?’” Mikey asked, “Did he say, ‘Gerard Way, you and I are over?’”
“Well, no…” Gerard mused, “But he-”
“Then he probably wants to see you again, Gerard.” Mikey assured, “He just needs space. Everyone’s going pretty crazy over Turner ODing. Our entire office was a shit show today.”
“I know…” Gerard said, “I just… I wish he wanted me around? I wish he thought of me as a person he could come to with this sort of thing. If it had been me, I would’ve wanted him around, you know?”
“The one thing I don’t get is... why didn’t he just cancel your dinner plans? Seriously. Like, what kind of sadistic asshole makes someone trek all the way out to a bougie restaurant in the rain on the most unpleasant day of the year, just to… do that?” Mikey mused.
“He seemed genuinely conflicted about it.” Gerard sighed, “But that’s probably my fault, too. If I was just… a good person… he wouldn’t have anything to be conflicted about.”
“Okay, fuck that.” Mikey protested, “You’re fucking stupid and you mess things up sometimes, but that doesn’t mean you’re not a good person.”
“Frank doesn’t think I’m a good person.” Gerard said.
“Did he explicitly say that?” Mikey asked warily.
“No, but he used every possible synonym he knows.” Gerard said, reaching for the bottle of whiskey between them and tilting it against his lips, “But, no, he didn’t say that.”
“He probably thinks you’re a good person.” Mikey suggested, grabbing the bottle from Gerard and taking a swig.
“Do you think he knows… what I am?” Gerard asked hesitantly, stubbing out his cigarette and lighting another one. It had to be the twentieth time he’d asked.
“I don’t see how he could.” Mikey said, setting the bottle down, “But it definitely sounds like he’s onto you.”
“Yeah.” Gerard agreed.
“You should just tell him.” Mikey suggested.
“Now?” Gerard asked.
“Why not now?” Mikey echoed.
“I don’t want to make things any more complicated than they already are.” Gerard said.
“Honest question. How is not telling him less complicated than telling him?” Mikey laughed.
“It just… is.” Gerard said.
“If he finds out and he doesn’t like it… he kind of has every right to break up with you for real.” Mikey pointed out.
“I know.” Gerard sighed, “I know.”
“So tell him.” Mikey said.
“He said he didn’t have time for it right now.” Gerard mused morosely, “I’m not going to chase him anymore. I’ll... wait until he wants to talk to me again.”
“You’ll just find more reasons not to tell him once you’re talking again.” Mikey pointed out.
“If we ever talk again.” Gerard laughed bitterly.
“Whatever Gerard. Don’t tell him, then. It’s your funeral…” Mikey sighed, reaching for the whiskey again.
~

Gerard stayed at Mikey’s for a few nights, uninterested in returning to his Frank-scented apartment.
Gerard had made Mikey hand-deliver the single, wilted white lily to Frank’s desk the day after Valentine’s day. Mikey had said he’d brought it into work, only to find that Frank had called out. Frank called out the day after that and the day after that as well.
Gerard tried calling him a few times, always getting his voicemail. He’d basically memorized Frank’s stupid professional voicemail about leaving a call-back number, about “keepin’ it rockin.’”
Frank didn’t call him back. Not the next day or the day after that or the day after that.

It was maybe a dick move, but after a few days, Gerard decided he’d try to catch Frank at the bar, where he worked on Thursday nights. After his shift at the art store, Gerard had gone home and dressed in all black, sprayed himself lightly with his most seductive cologne he owned, and even fussed with a bit of hair product.
His cleanly shaven face felt clammy in the biting winter air, he wrapped his scarf tighter around his face as he made his way to the bar.
It was warm inside the bar. The smell of alcohol and businessmen flooded Gerard’s senses.
He noticed immediately. Frank’s scent was not mixed into the concoction.
He made his way to the counter to ask about Frank, only to learn he’d called out.

Mixed in with the disappointment and hurt and anger, Gerard was starting to grow worried. He couldn’t figure out where Frank had gone or why. Even if they were over for good, that hardly seemed like a reason to disappear the way that Frank had.
After leaving Frank’s bar empty-handed, Gerard decided it was finally time to start sleeping in his own apartment again. Mikey’s girlfriend had returned from tour and Gerard wanted to give them space.
The moon rose as Gerard made his way home. He was burning up by the time he got inside his apartment. As soon as he’d pulled off his winter clothes, he opened as many windows he could. Airing out his apartment when it was 20 degrees outside wasn’t among his smarter decisions, but the chill actually seemed to subdue the burn rippling under his skin.
Pinching his nose, Gerard wandered around his apartment, collecting things that belonged to Frank and putting them all in a big cardboard box. He changed his sheets. He changed his pillowcases. He stripped the covers off of his couch cushions and threw them in a bag to take to the laundromat when he had time.
The place still smelled like Frank, more than anything else, but it was certainly less overwhelming than it had been.
Satisfied, Gerard curled up in bed and pulled the blankets over his head.
Love was exhausting and required too much cleaning.
~

When Gerard woke up the next morning, there were piles of melting snow in his apartment. He hadn’t meant to leave the windows open overnight. He thought he’d get up at some point to use the bathroom or get a glass of water or something, but he’d managed to sleep all through the night.
He spent the first hour of the day cleaning up the puddles that had formed. He hoped no one in the neighboring apartment buildings was looking out their windows, because they would’ve had a hard time piecing together what the naked man in the apartment across the street was doing with all of his windows open in the middle of February.
One nice thing about not having Frank around was he could do whatever he wanted without having to explain shit. That was, quite possibly, the only perk of dating someone of his own kind. Mikey had made efforts to find werewolf dating sites. They existed, it turned out, but they were used almost exclusively by creepy straight werewolves, looking to prey on freshly-turned, inexperienced females. Naturally, those guys were of no interest to Gerard.

The white lilies sat in Gerard’s grandmother’s vase by the door, wilting more and more every day. He’d changed out their water and added vodka after reading that it would keep them fresh for longer. He had plans to drink the other 99% of the bottle when he got home from his shift at the art store.
Though after his shift ended, he found he had a few missed calls from Mikey. It turned out the record label was throwing a party that evening, and while Frank had planned the event, he wasn’t likely to show up. No one had seen him all week.
Mikey wanted Gerard to come. No surprises there.
Gerard took the subway back to his apartment, not sure if he wanted to go to the party or not. What was worse? Wallowing in self pity, vodka and the lingering scent of his former un-lover? Or going out somewhere with his brother and his brother’s girlfriend, with the small chance he’d run into Frank while he was on the verge of coming apart at the seams?
The more he thought about it, the more obvious it became that Gerard should go, even if it was just for an hour or so.
He performed a similar ritual to the one he’d performed the night before. All black. Soft spray of cologne. Tousling his hair with product.
He felt wild, but he looked tame enough, he supposed.

Gerard took the train downtown to meet Mikey and his girlfriend at another bar in the neighborhood so they could all walk over together.
Mikey and Alicia, it turned out her name was, did a spectacularly awful job at not making Gerard feel like a third wheel. They held hands while the three of them talked about how stupid valentine’s day was. Gerard eyed Mikey suspiciously, wondering if he’d filled his girlfriend in on the misery that was Gerard’s lovelife. He supposed he appreciated their attempts at making him feel better. He did feel better, sort of, after Alicia told him a long story about a time she’d been dumped on Valentine’s day. They ordered a round of shots in commiseration.
Gerard liked Alicia. She was sweet and thoughtful, and a thousand times more fun than Mikey. He liked the way they balanced each other out.
Gerard had a nice buzz going by the time they headed over the party. As they neared the bar, Gerard’s heart leapt into his throat. He could smell Frank all the way down the block.
For a split second he thought about ditching. Mikey wouldn’t be happy about it, but Gerard could run about a thousand times faster than Mikey on any given day.
Gerard kept moving forward though. It wasn’t like he was going to the party to ambush Frank, Frank just happened to be there. That was how he justified it in his head. Frank just didn’t have time for Gerard, so Gerard could pretend he didn’t have time for Frank either. They could be in the same room without any problems. Gerard was certain of it. If Frank wanted him to leave, Gerard would.
Gerard kept his eyes on the floor as he waded through the crowd towards the counter to order a round of drinks for the three of them.
As the bartender made his way over to Gerard, Gerard realized he recognized the guy in a vague sort of way.
“Hi Gerard.” the guy said, smiling sweetly.
“Uh, hi?” Gerard replied slowly.
His hair was different, but he was coated in the same glittery makeup. This was the same bartender from the last label party Gerard had attended. The one Gerard had flirted with in front of Frank.
“I suppose I don’t expect you to remember me.” The guy said.
“Oh, no, I remember you. You’re hair’s just different.” Gerard said, “Ryan, right?”
“You like?” Ryan asked, running a hair through his short, styled hair.
“It’s nice.” Gerard said.
“Well shit, my barber must’ve really fucked up then.” Ryan laughed.
“No, sorry. I’m just…” Gerard faltered.
“You’re fine. I’m just giving you shit. What can I get you?” Ryan asked, leaning forward on the bar.
“Three shots of Jameson.” Gerard said.
“You’re not fucking around tonight. Fighting with Frank again?” Ryan asked.
“They’re not all for me.” Gerard laughed, “And uh, fighting would be the polite way of putting it, I suppose...”
“That must be why he hired me again.” Ryan mused, “We used to work together at this place on the lower east side so he knows all about how good I am. But he stopped using me for stuff like this? He was sort of mad at me over… well, you know.”
“You failed to mention you two knew each other.” Gerard pointed out incredulously.
“Silly me.” Ryan smirked.
Gerard glared at Ryan then. If Frank and Ryan knew each other that sort of explained why he’d been all over Gerard that night...
“Anyways, three Jameson it is…” Ryan sighed, lifting himself off the bar and spinning around to grab a bottle off the shelf.
Gerard left his cash on the bar and carried Ryan’s expertly poured shots back to the table Mikey and Alicia had found. The room was more solemn than seemed appropriate for a party, Gerard noted. Mikey hadn’t been joking when he’d said everyone was shaken up by the drummer’s death. People were smiling, but no one was laughing. No one was yelling. They were sombre, controlled.
When Gerard got back to the table, Mikey was gone.
“He saw someone in some band he’s obsessed with.” Alicia explained with a knowing smirk before Gerard could even ask.
“I don’t know what I was expecting.” Gerard laughed.
“More for me.” Alicia said, sliding the extra shot towards herself.
It was then that Gerard saw Frank across the room. He was talking to some girl Gerard didn’t recognize. They were smiling, leaning in to exchange words with one another as their eyes scanned the crowd.
“Earth to Gerard.” Alicia said.
“Sorry, what?” Gerard asked.
“I asked what you were looking at.” Alicia said, “What could possibly be more important than taking this shot with me?”
Gerard grabbed the small glass off the table and clinked it against Alicia’s, knocking it back.
“Oh wait. Is that Frank?” Alicia asked.
“That’s Frank.” Gerard nodded, exhaling away the burn of the whiskey.
“Mikey wasn’t kidding. He’s hot.” Alicia commented, “Good job, Gerard.”
“Thanks?” Gerard said, trying not to think too much on his own brother describing Frank as ‘hot.’
“You should go talk to him.” Alicia said.
“No I shouldn’t.” Gerard said, “He looks… happy.”
And Frank did look happy. He looked great. He had a huge smile plastered across his face. The dark circles had faded from under his eyes. He’d fashioned his hair up in this douchey half-mohawk thing that Gerard sort of hated almost as much as he loved.
Gerard was sort of mad that Frank looked so happy. He’d been so worried. It hardly seemed fair that Frank could be so happy when Gerard had been so miserable.
“He looks happy to you?” Alicia asked, “He just looks drunk to me...”
“I’m not here to ruin his night.” Gerard said, “I only came here because I wanted to hang out with you and Mikey. And besides Mikey said Frank wouldn’t even be here. It’s not my fault he’s here.”
“Gerard,” Alicia laughed, “Why wouldn’t someone show up to a party they planned? That doesn’t make any sense. Mikey must’ve been fucking with you.”
“He wouldn’t.” Gerard said.
Alicia just shot him a sympathetic, knowing look.
“I’m going to get us another round of shots.” Alicia sighed, “Maybe if I get you drunk enough you’ll go talk to him.”
Gerard put his head down, trying to make himself as small and unnoticeable as possible as he waited for Alicia to return with more shots. He was grateful she was the one to go up to bar this time. He couldn’t face Ryan again. He should’ve known Frank would be there, looking good, and having a great time without Gerard.
He had to have known Frank would be there. He must’ve just been in denial about it. He had to have known how torturous it would be to see Frank again.
Alicia returned with two shots for each of them. Gerard downed them as quickly as his turning stomach could handle.
They settled into a conversation about getting revenge on exes. It turned out that she, too, was a visual artist, who usually dated visual artists. One time, after a guy had dumped her, she took all his expensive, fancy oil paints and squirted them all over his vintage muscle car. While Gerard appreciated Alicia’s dark sense of humor, he also sort of feared for the eventuality of her breakup with Mikey. The idea of someone pouring out all his expensive paints made him feel sick. Then again, that might’ve been the whiskey.
Gerard was still reeling over the reality that Frank and Ryan knew each other. How had Frank never mentioned it? He realized that his statements outside the restaurant the other night had been sort of untrue. He’d never kissed Ryan, but he’d certainly thought about going home with
him. ..
Gerard’s vision was starting to swim a little bit, and that was how he knew he needed to go home. He still couldn’t figure out where Mikey had gone off to, but he was used to Mikey disappearing at functions like this, and honestly, talking to Alicia had been therapeutic in this strange, sweet, undeniable sort of way.
“So are you gonna go talk to him now?” Alicia asked, sipping on a glass of water.
“No, actually, I think I need to get out of here.” Gerard said. He looked up to where Frank had been standing before. He was long gone now.
“You’re no fun.” Alicia pouted.
“I get that a lot.” Gerard laughed, “Anyways, I gotta go talk to the bartender, but then I think I’m gonna take off.”
“I’ll go find Mikey...” Alicia grumbled, sliding out of her chair, “Thanks for hanging out with me.”
They exchanged hugs and phone numbers before parting ways, promising they’d hang out again sometime, Mikey or no Mikey. They both knew that hanging out with Mikey was often about the same as hanging out without Mikey.
Gerard made his way over to the bar, this time glancing around to make sure Frank wasn’t anywhere near.
“Gerard.” Ryan said fondly, as soon as he noticed Gerard standing there, “What can I do for you? Another round?”
“No, ahm, actually. I wanted to buy a drink… for Frank.” Gerard said, sliding a bill onto the counter.
“Well, that’s about the last thing he needs right now.” Ryan laughed, “But I’d be happy to take your money… Do you want me to relay any messages?”
“No.” Gerard said, “In fact, I’d prefer if you didn’t mention seeing me at all.”
“You sure have strange tactics, Gerard.” Ryan said, “I’d love to get into your head… figure out how you get guys like Frank so worked up over you.”
“Next time I see you around, we’ll talk.” Gerard promised, smiling weakly.
“Alright.” Ryan winked, “Take care.”

Gerard slipped out of the bar without being seen. He stepped into the shadows outside to light his cigarette. He exhaled, feeling himself sober in the freezing air.
People were crowded around in little groups, smoking outside of the bar wherever they could find refuge from the winter winds. Gerard listened to their conversations as he took a much-needed drag.
“L.A. is better for comics, but New York is better for zines.” some girl was saying. Gerard sort of agreed but he couldn’t fully focus on his eavesdropping. He could smell Frank on the breeze. Frank had to have been around recently. Perhaps he’d just left. Perhaps he was-
“Gerard?” a familiar voice slurred.
Gerard’s heart sank. He looked up to find Frank staring at him. His eyes were glazed over. His stupid hairdo had flattened out. He smelled like alcohol and pot and hair product and Frank. And Oh God, Gerard was going to come undone.
“I didn’t know you’d be here.” Frank said, stepping right into Gerard’s space and frowning at him curiously.
“I was just leaving.” Gerard offered, looking away. He knew if he looked at Frank for too long he’d be totally fucked.
“You don’t have to.” Frank offered quickly, “If you don’t want to, I mean.”
“I sort of have somewhere I’ve got to be...” Gerard offered cryptically. He knew it was a dick move to lie, but he was saying it before he could stop himself.
“Oh. Nevermind then.” Frank said neutrally.
“Have you seen Mikey around?” Gerard asked, “I wanted to say goodbye but I can’t seem to find him...”
“He was out here a little while ago.” A girl beside Frank piped up.
Gerard glanced up in the direction of her voice.
“This is my friend Jamia, by the way.” Frank said, waving a hand at the girl he’d been chatting with earlier in the evening.
“I think we’ve met before.” Jamia said, smiling at Gerard, “Briefly. Some other label function.”
“You work for the label, too?” Gerard asked.
Jamia nodded. The way she was smiling at him politely left Gerard unnerved. If she knew who he was and what he meant to Frank, shouldn’t she have been glaring instead of smiling?
This was the exact situation Gerard had wanted to avoid. He couldn’t make sense of the stiff politeness. He was too drunk, too wild for this.
“Um, I could help you find him.” Frank said, biting his lip.
“Alright.” Gerard agreed. He didn’t really need help finding his younger brother. Gerard could just call him if it was emergent. He supposed he could run from this situation. He was good at that. He could outrun anyone, if he really wanted. Anyone but Frank, apparently.
“Wait, Frank, give me your cigarettes.” Jamia said as Frank took a step towards the door to the bar.
Frank dug in his pocket and sloppily handed Jamia his pack, rolling his eyes at her as he pushed Gerard into the shadows.
Gerard followed Frank back into the bar. While the warmth was welcome, the cocktail of cocktails wafting off of the crowd inside made Gerard sick to his stomach.
Frank led them through the main room and down a hallway with a sign saying it lead to the bathrooms. As they were passing the men’s room, the door squeaked loudly as it opened.
Mikey took one glance between Gerard and Frank, smirked, and fluidly moved passed them, back towards the bar.
“Found him.” Gerard commented.
“Yeah, well, uh… can I… talk to you for a second?” Frank asked hesitantly, “Before you leave?”
“Alright.” Gerard nodded.
Frank grabbed Gerard’s arm and pulled him into the bathroom. Gerard was somewhat apprehensive to follow, especially when he saw the state of the place. The walls were covered in graffiti. The floor was damp with what Gerard prayed was the melted slush everyone had walked in from the streets and not piss. It certainly smelled like the latter.
“What’s up?” Gerard asked when the door swung shut behind them.
“I miss you.” Frank slurred, leaning into Gerard.
“You sure have a funny way of showing it.” Gerard laughed bitterly. It felt so fucking good to have Frank touching him, Gerard almost forgot himself for a moment. He let his eyes flutter closed and breathed Frank in, wrapping his arms around him to pull him closer. He tried not to hug Frank too tight, but Frank was nuzzling his face in Gerard’s coat.
He was more confused than anything else. He cursed himself for not just staying at home and avoiding Frank completely. He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, holding each other in the filthy bathroom, but he didn’t question it.
“Why haven’t you been taking my calls, Frankie?” Gerard asked, squeezing Frank tighter, “Where have you been?”
“I’ve been busy...” Frank slurred, “Thinking, you know?”
“No. I don’t know.” Gerard said.
“Everything is so fucked up.” Frank said, “Literally everything. I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to go back...”
“Calling me back would’ve been a fucking great start.” Gerard said, “I’ve been so fucking worried about you.”
“I’m sorry.” Frank slurred.
He tilted his head up and pressed his lips against Gerard’s all sloppy and sweet. Gerard wanted to fight him, but he was only human. Mostly human, anyways. Frank was so good he made Gerard’s head spin. His lips were so soft, so warm, so familiar and comforting. Gerard would’ve been cool with just dying right then and there.
“Take me home with you.” Frank demanded softly, blowing warm alcohol breath on Gerard’s face.
“Frank-” Gerard protested.
“Please, Gerard.” Frank pleaded, “Everything is so terrible. You’re the only thing that’s good anymore.”
Gerard wanted to point out how untrue that sentiment was, but the way Frank was clutching at his coat had him convinced.
Gerard groaned in uncertainty and lust as Frank dragged his teeth over Gerard’s neck.
“Alright.” Gerard said, kissing Frank carefully.
“I just have to go close out my tab, wait for me outside?” Frank asked, stumbling back.
Gerard nodded helplessly. He was so fucked. Frank backed out of the bathroom first. Gerard spun to check his hair in the mirror before following after. He didn’t like to look at himself too much when he was feeling so wild. Taking in his own feral state had a tendency to amplify everything he was feeling. It was unpleasant to confirm that he looked as crazy as he felt.
Gerard shouldered his way through the crowd back to the outside, half-heartedly looking to catch another glimpse of Mikey as he went.
Jamia was still standing outside. She looked up when she heard the door open. She smiled at Gerard and looked back down at her borrowed cigarette.
Gerard leaned against the outside wall of the bar next to her and lit a cigarette of his own.
“We overdid it...” she commented, “I think he needed to blow off some steam though.”
“Frank, you mean?” Gerard asked.
“Who else?” Jamia asked, taking a drag off her cigarette.
“He um, he said something about going home with me.” Gerard said, “But I know how drunk he is. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea… I’m not like that.”
“I know you’re not. You’re related to Mikey Way, for christ’s sake.” Jamia laughed. Her eyes were as glassy as Frank’s, but she seemed much more together than Frank did somehow. Years of experience, maybe?
“Still, thanks for saying that.” Jamia added, “You’re a good guy, Gerard.”
“I don’t know about that.” Gerard sighed.
“Can I ask you something though?” Jamia asked.
“Sure. Anything.” Gerard nodded, fussing with his hair. He wanted to make sure he looked as good as possible before Frank came back.
“Do you love him?” Jamia asked.
“...I do.” Gerard said.
He wasn’t sure he was supposed to admit it to a friend of Frank’s, but it just came out so easily. What was the use in lying, anyways? When he looked over at Jamia, she smiled at him warmly.
“Good...” Jamia commented, “I think he needs that right now.”
Gerard wanted to ask what she meant but he heard the bar’s door squeak open behind them. Frank leaned against Gerard, resting his head on Gerard’s shoulder.
“Will you be able to get home okay by yourself, J?” Frank asked.
“Always.” Jamia smirked.
It all felt too good to be true. Frank blew his friend a kiss goodbye and then they were alone, walking to the next intersection in hopes of flagging down a cab back to Gerard’s place. They walked arm and arm, mostly because Frank couldn’t walk straight.
Frank didn’t say much while they were walking, so Gerard didn’t either. He was too afraid any words he might say would shatter any desire Frank had to stay with him. He could feel Frank shivering against him, which made the situation all too real.
Eventually they made it to the corner and Gerard stepped into the road to flag down a cab. A car pulled over almost immediately and they crawled into the back seat.
Gerard rattled off his cross-streets and wrapped an arm around Frank to help him warm up.
“I’m glad you came out tonight…” Frank said, leaning into Gerard.
“I tried to catch you at work last night.” Gerard admitted, “You weren’t there.”
“I was still getting over a cold.” Frank said, “I’ve been sick since… since I was dumb enough to walk to Jamia’s in the rain the other night.”
There had been a certain nasally quality to Frank’s voice that Gerard had assumed was the result of drinking and smoking, but now he noticed that Frank did still sound sick sort of.
When Gerard looked over at him he was staring out the window. He’d planned on not mentioning the other night. He was glad Frank had been the one to mention it first.
Frank turned to look over at Gerard. Their eyes met, first. Their lips soon followed. Frank wrapped his arms around Gerard’s neck and parted his lips, greedily inviting Gerard in. This had to be some terrible breach in the promise he’d literally just made to Jamia, but he told himself he still had completely and total control over himself. He was kissing Frank because he wanted to, not because he couldn’t stop himself. Frank was infinitely drunker than Gerard, but Gerard had drank quite a lot himself. Right and wrong were sort of blurring together in an unpleasant sort of way.
The familiarity of Frank’s mouth, of the small lusty sounds his throat produced when he was on Gerard like this, of their situation… it was everything Gerard needed. The past days of loneliness and confusion were all worth it if the end result was this.
“I’ve thought about this so much.” Frank breathed, “I want you so bad.”
Gerard silently prayed that the driver wasn’t listening to them. He’d considered himself a pretty decent person for a cab driver to have to deal with picking up on any given night since he’d moved to the city. He typically waited to get to someone’s apartment before kissing the fuck out of them. And Frank was seriously fucking with Gerard’s cab karma. He seemed intent on jumping right down Gerard’s throat. Literally.
Gerard was so fucking thankful when they finally got to his apartment. He tipped the driver heftily, praying it would make up for Frank’s fucking mouth.
Mouth-fucking seemed to be exactly what was on Frank’s agenda. They took the stairs up to Gerard’s apartment, saying nothing, fingers laced. Frank kissed Gerard all over as he fumbled to get the top lock on his apartment door open.
They left the lights off as they kicked off their shoes and pulled their coats off, still kissing frantically. Or, trying to, anyways. It was hard to be graceful when they were drunk and in a hurry. Frank pulled Gerard towards the bedroom in the dark. It hurt to think that Frank had spent enough time in Gerard’s apartment to navigate it so perfectly in the dark. The thought led Gerard to thinking about how Frank should’ve been coming back to Gerard’s place tonight anyways. And every other night for that matter. That was what Gerard wanted.
Frank was still sort of shivering as soon as they got to the bed. Gerard was trying to cover as much of his neck as possible with his mouth to get him warmer.
“Didn’t you want to talk?” Gerard asked in between greedy kisses.
“We can talk later, Gee, I want your fucking fingers.” Frank insisted softly, grabbing the hem of Gerard’s shirt to silently beg him to take it off.
“Frankie-” Gerard protested, trying his best to slow them down. He was so fucking fragile. Every inch of his body was craving more of Frank, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew they needed to slow the fuck down. He took Frank’s hands in his own so he couldn’t do any more damage to Gerard’s already fragile willpower.
It seemed almost rude to have teased Frank this way. All Gerard had meant to do was corner him.
And Frank was certainly cornered… lying defenselessly on his back with his hands caught in Gerard’s. Gerard had him half-pinned to the mattress, though Frank seemed to have no interest in going anywhere anyways.
Gerard could barely see him in the darkness. A small amount of light poured in through the windows. It was just the faintest orange glow from the street lamps below, but it was enough for Gerard to make out the outlines of Frank’s face. His dark eyes. The round curve of his nose. The way his lips parted with his desperate breaths.
“You’re so fucking good with your hands.” Frank whispered.
“Thank you.” Gerard said, kissing the tip of Frank’s nose.
Frank blinked at Gerard through his half-lidded eyes.
“You said you’d been thinking…” Gerard prompted, lifting one of Frank’s hands to his mouth to press his lips against it.
“I tend to do that...” Frank said blankly.
“When we were back at the bar,” Gerard reminded gently, speaking against Frank’s inked fingers, “You said you’d been thinking.”
“I have.” Frank sighed.
“Care to share your thoughts?” Gerard pressed.
Frank blinked at Gerard for a moment. He was sliding his thumb over Gerard’s bottom lip, biting his own like he wasn’t sure what to say.
“I want you to come back.” Gerard added, “I don’t want to be away from you like this anymore.”
Gerard knew there was no use in pleading with Frank when he was this drunk. It was cowardly to admit what he wanted when they had both been drinking. Cowardly and pathetic.
“I’m gonna throw up...” was all Frank said.
At first he thought it was just Frank’s way of expressing distaste for Gerard’s affection, but when he really looked at Frank’s face, he saw that the punk really did look sick. He was all pale. A huge discomforted frown had spread across his face.
Gerard helped Frank up and practically carried him to the bathroom. He sat on the cool tiles beside Frank as he leaned over the toilet and started to wretch.
He’d mostly gotten a handle on himself now that Frank wasn’t kissing him, wasn’t begging for things Gerard was more than happy to offer. Everything felt different now that they were bathed in the warm light of the bathroom. It was too real. Too much. His ex-boyfriend wasn’t supposed to be drunk and mopey on his bathroom floor.
Gerard could call him that now because that was what he was. A former flame. Someone he’d been with and was technically, for all intents and purposes, no longer with. An ex.
“Why did you let me drink so much?” Frank groaned. He looked like he was about to cry.
“I didn’t let you drink anything.” Gerard pointed out, trying to hide the bitterness behind his words.
“Oh. Right... This is all Jamia’s fault.” Frank said, wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand, “We started drinking at like… three? four? In the afternoon? Who the fuck does that?”
“Can I get you anything?” Gerard asked sympathetically, “Glass of water?”
“Would it be cool if I took a shower?” Frank asked hoarsely.
Gerard nodded and wordlessly lifted himself off of the floor and turned on the shower, adjusting to what he thought might be a comfortable temperature so Frank wouldn’t have to figure it out in his miserable state.
“I’ll go get you a towel.” Gerard said, sliding out of the bathroom and closing the door behind him.
The apartment was dark and quiet outside of the bathroom. Gerard had adjusted to the sound of the water moving through the pipes and hitting the bottom of the bath tub. The absence of the sound felt wrong somehow. His eyes hadn’t totally adjusted to the light yet either. He grabbed a spare towel out of one of the closets in the hall and returned to the bathroom.
Frank was already in the shower when Gerard stepped back into the bathroom. Gerard glanced at the shower curtain through its foggy reflection in the mirror. Frank’s shape was darker than it should’ve been. It didn’t add up. Gerard looked around at the tiled floor and realized he didn’t see a pile of clothes anywhere. Frank had gotten in the shower with all his clothes on.
“Um, Frank?” Gerard asked.
“Gerard…” Frank echoed.
“I’m just gonna… leave this on the sink, okay?” Gerard said.
Frank popped his head out from behind the shower curtain. His hair was dripping onto the floor. Gerard could see the soaking hem of his t-shirt.
“Will you get in with me?” he asked.
Gerard hesitated for a moment before pulling back the shower curtain and stepping into the tub. As soon as he was under the warm spray, Frank was wrapping himself around Gerard’s neck. It was hard to tear his focus from the sensation of his clothes leaching the moisture out of Frank’s. The wet warmth was uncomfortable at first, but as soon as Gerard’s clothes were thoroughly soaked, the feeling became neutral, secondary. The way Frank was pressed against him took precedence over the weirdness. Gerard was realistically too tired, both physically and emotionally, to pop another boner, but here he was, already half-hard all over again.
“I thought this was what you wanted...” Frank said.
“Thought what was what I wanted?” Gerard asked, wrapping his arms around Frank and closing his eyes.
“I thought it might be a turn-on for you… you know, if we ran into each other randomly and I came home with you.” Frank explained, “Sort of like we were strangers or something.”
It was in that moment that Gerard realized he’d created an entirely new monster for himself to fight, and it was one he didn’t know how to manage at all. Frank thought Gerard craved the anonymity of hooking up with strangers. Frank wanted to give Gerard that fantasy.
“I don’t want to be with strangers, Frank.” Gerard said, “I want to be with you.”
“Why me?” Frank slurred.
“Because I’m fucking in love with you...” Gerard said, hugging Frank tighter, “I… God, I love you so fucking much, Frank.”
“Oh…” Frank mumbled, nuzzling against Gerard’s wet shirt.
Gerard wasn’t sure why he was surprised when Frank didn’t say it back. Frank probably hadn’t even really heard him. His timing was all wrong.
He tried to keep his cool, reminding himself that making sure Frank didn’t have fucking alcohol poisoning was more important than his own stupid feelings.
They stayed there, holding each other under the spray in silence until the water started to run cold.
“Stay here a minute.” Gerard commanded, leaving Frank huddled under the ever-cooling stream of water. He had only grabbed one towel before getting in, after all.
He pulled off his wet shirt, threw it in the sink, and wrapped the one towel around his shoulders.
A wet trail followed after Gerard as he wandered into the hall to get a second towel for Frank. When he returned to the bathroom again he heard the wet slap-thud of some piece of Frank’s clothing hitting the bottom of the tub.
“Let me get you some dry clothes...” Gerard said, looking away as he shoved the towel into Frank’s reach behind the shower curtain. It took Frank a few painstaking seconds to grab it from Gerard.
Gerard deserted the bathroom, and headed for his own room, quickly stripping off the rest of his wet clothes and pulling on the first clean, dry t-shirt and boxers he could find. He turned on the light so that he could dig around in his drawers to find the same attire for Frank. He pulled out his oldest, softest, most worn-in Misfits shirt.
He was about to return to the bathroom with the dry garments when he heard the wet pitter-patter of Frank’s footsteps coming towards his room. He held his breath as Frank wandered into the room with the other towel wrapped around his waist, looking bleary-eyed and exhausted. He wordlessly crossed the room and collapsed onto Gerard’s bed.
It was crazy to Gerard that Frank seemed so comfortable in Gerard’s space. If it had been Gerard in Frank’s space he would’ve been stiffer, more cautious. But then again, that probably had more to do with the fact that Frank had consumed more alcohol than Gerard, and he hadn’t admitted to being in love with anyone, as far as Gerard knew.
Gerard tossed Frank the dry clothes and wandered out of the room to get Frank a glass of water. His hallway was covered in small puddles from the strange shower they’d shared. He trailed the water into the kitchen, and then back into his bedroom. By the time he returned to his room again, Frank had passed out. He was hugging the clothes Gerard had gotten out for him, instead of wearing them. He’d lazily pulled a blanket over his shoulders and curled up into a little ball.
Gerard turned off his light and crawled into bed beside Frank, wrapping an arm around Frank’s middle to pull him closer.
If Gerard had been lost on how to fix things before, he was certainly lost on them now. He decided he’d take Frank out for breakfast in the morning, somewhere quiet, too far north of the city for the hipsters and the socialites. Somewhere they could be alone, while Gerard explained everything. He’d tell Frank he loved him when Frank was sober enough to actually hear him. He’d lay it all out and let Frank decide.
“No more secrets, Frankie...” Gerard promised softly, carding his fingers through Frank’s hair.
~*~*~*~*

Frank awoke to a stabbing pain in the front of his skull. His mouth was dry and he was sore all over. But it was warm and dark and soft. Too soft to be Jamia’s couch.
For a moment he thought he was in Gerard’s room. After blinking for a couple seconds, he realized he was in Gerard’s room.
He sat up quickly and immediately regretted it. His stomach lurched violently and his vision grew hazy. He held his breath as he glanced over, confirming that, to his horror, Gerard was fast asleep in the bed beside him.
Frank tried to work through what he remembered of the day before as he waited for the nausea to pass. He remembered going to the party with Jamia. He remembered drinking with Jamia. He remembered the part where Jamia had spotted Gerard at the party. He remembered… kissing Gerard in the bathroom. But that was as far as his memory went. The rest, he could kind of piece together without the fine details. What other reason could there be for waking up naked in Gerard’s bed with damp hair? They had obviously hooked up. Frank had probably said a bunch of stupid shit he couldn’t take back. Gerard would probably start hating him the second he woke up.

It was selfish, but Frank’s next thought was that he didn’t have to face the situation that awaited him if he didn’t want to. He slid out of the bed as quietly as possible, reaching for the t-shirt and boxers hanging off the edge of the bed. He tried not to groan at the shooting pain in his head as he tiptoed across the room. Gerard didn’t seem to stir, even as Frank slipped out the door.
Gerard’s apartment was fucking cold. Frank wrapped his arms around himself and shivered as he looked for his clothes from the night before. He found them eventually… in a sad, wet pile on the floor in the bathroom…
Luckily, he found a bunch of his stuff in a large cardboard box by the front door. He slid into a pair of his jeans, and pulled on an old cardigan. As he went through the box, he realized it was almost everything he’d left at Gerard’s. His records were there. His notebook from work. His spare backpack. Everything.
Gerard sure moved on quickly, Frank thought.
The thought vanished immediately as soon as Frank’s eyes landed on the vase of wilting white lilies on the table by the door.
Gerard had kept them. For days. The petals were curled and browning. Some lay dry and shriveled on the surface of the table. The stems were leaning over the edge of the glass like they were trying to escape.
Which, coincidentally, was exactly what Frank intended to do. He bundled up as much as possible, borrowing some sweatshirt of Gerard’s he found hanging on a hook by the door. Whatever he could find that would prevent him from freezing to death that wouldn’t require returning to Gerard’s room would have to do. He slid into his coat, thankful to find that both his wallet and his phone, though dead, were still in his pocket.
He glanced around at the place one more time before slipping out the front door, making sure to turn the lock before closing it behind him so he couldn’t change his mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling in the back of his mind that he was forgetting something, though honestly, he got it every time he left Gerard’s.
~

It was a few hours later that Gerard woke up. Alone.
It didn’t take him long to figure out that Frank was gone. As soon as he’d done a walk-through of his apartment in search of any notes or indications that Frank meant to come back and come up empty-handed, he returned to bed.
The t-shirt and boxers Gerard had tossed to Frank before he’d gone to sleep were missing. They weren’t in the bed anywhere. They weren’t on the floor, either.
Gerard slid out of bed again, only to fish his cellphone out of his coat pocket on the floor by the front door, and return to the warmth of the blankets. He called Frank, not expecting to get an answer. He waited through Frank’s stupid fucking voicemail greeting with a heavy heart.
“I want my fucking Misfits shirt back, asshole.” Gerard growled into the phone.
And then he hung up.

Notes

i haven't updated this cause i was busy writing 'shadows in the parking lot'
(that's an AO3 link. i also posted it to this account if you like MCRFF better. read it! it's better than this garbbbbbageegege.)

i? don't? care? about? anything?

-m