R U Mine?

It's seven AM, and Gerard really doesn't remember the paragraph in the 'Terms And Conditions On Boyfriending With Frank Iero' that explained why exactly must he wake up at sorrowful hours of the day whenever Frank decides that driving to Trenton at like -70 degrees would be a fun thing to do.

He's currently riding shotgun, with a sulk on his face and earphones plugged so deep inside his head he thinks his brains might explode every second. Of course he texted Brendon and Patrick to inform them of this great, newfound injustice he's obliged to endure, but, come on- Brendon would rather have his left pinky chopped off than take Gerard's side in a stupid argument between him and his boyfriend.

Besides, not like Gerard ever has a point, right? I mean, he understands it's New Year's Eve [even though it's morning, again], but like, they didn’t exactly sleep much last night and he basically had, like, two hours of nap time. Is that fair? [Now imagine him yelling really loud.] Is it, is it really?

There's such a thing as 'organization' and Gerard isn't quite certain when it actually happens, but he's pretty sure it's somewhere close to not two seconds before doing something.

It's not like he could've kept his mouth shut, anyway, because that's definitely not on Gerard Way's list of priorities and it's gotten him to the point where he and Frank haven't spoken a word since Gerard screamed at him and called him an asshole this morning. And it would be wrong to say Gerard regrets it, even though he kind of does. He's cold and going through a caffeine-detox, and all he really wants is a hug and a 'we'll sleep when we get there' from his beloved boyfriend whom he hates so much right now.

He's kind of taken aback when the car suddenly stops, but then he realizes it's just because there's a gas station here. It's quiet for a few seconds, just creaking of car tires numbly stretching Gerard's forehead apart with headache and shutting the whole world around him off for a few seconds. He feels his phone buzz from his pocket, but he pays it no mind because he's tired and he has this feeling at the back of his head that Frank really wouldn't appreciate that anyway.

"Are you still mad at me?" And yeah, Frank's voice sounds kind of down and his hands look like they're really cold and stiff to touch, but that's only because Gerard is too much of a drama queen to look at him in the eye. It's so weird, like, he knows there's literally nothing to be mad about and that's probably the exact reason he doesn't want to give in now- because he doesn't fucking want to admit that he's wrong.

Frank waits for an answer, but it's not like his nerves are made out of Rapunzel's hair and braided tight enough to endure Gerard's idiocy. And maybe that's the actual cross he has to carry- the fact that he can't even tell Gerard he's being a moron because he'll probably hate himself seventy thousand times more than he'd ever get annoyed by Gerard’s stupid behavior.

And Frank doesn't want to think about it anymore because it fucks with his head, so he just grabs his smokes and opens the door, slamming it shut right into Gerard's ears- almost as if he wants it to speak for him.

*

Gerard's fingers are sore as he types the reply to a message Brendon sent him, nothing important, really- some shit about Gerard being too much of a diva for Frank to handle- and he kind of hates himself for hating Brendon at that moment because he took Frank's side. Maybe it's true, maybe Gerard does act like a spoiled brat sometimes and he's not sure why, but it bugs him that people don't understand him even though he doesn't even understand himself. Hell, that doesn't even make sense, and even though Frank probably knows that Gerard's 'you woke me up at six AM' lash-out was simply there for no reason.

It's a thing for Gerard, he fucks even the most perfect shit up and he's never sure why or how. Maybe it's just him being an idiot like usual, and maybe it means something- maybe he really should just move away from people and spare them his entire existence.

Frank comes back exactly fifteen long minutes later, eight cigs lighter and not even slightly relieved. He's tired, just like Gerard, annoyed- by Gerard- too, but he knows he has to do this. Gerard doesn't understand and Frank's aware of that, but it's not time to reveal anything just yet and it's slightly driving him insane. He really fucking wants to end all this, tell Gerard why the hell he had to wake up at six this morning because he's pretty sure that's all Gerard's asking for. He wishes he could just hug him so he isn't cold anymore; tell him he loves him even though he's a giant asshole who never actually thinks before having a tantrum.

And maybe that's all Gerard Way actually needs- someone to tell him it's okay.

*

The rest of the drive is silent but Gerard somehow feels as if he’s defrosted a little, like the tension in the air isn’t as thick and hard to swallow as it was before. It’s a good thing, naturally, but he’s just really anxious for no apparent reason- every fight they have always feels like the end of the world and that notion just makes him twitchy all over.

When they enter the city, Gerard still has no idea where they’re going and what they’re doing, but when Frank suddenly takes a few turns and goes deeper into the suburbs, Gerard gets a feeling that where he’s taking him is kind of important. Then he hates himself even more, but doesn’t let his brain process the thought because it’ll turn him into an even worse mash of self-loathing and general sad-badger mode.

Frank pulls up a few minutes later in a neighborhood which looks like the white house just randomly took a shit everywhere: everything’s in order- white picket fences, peach walls and perfect gardens and Gerard’s kind of scared because he knows Frank’s version of a perfect home looks more like a batcave than this.

“Where are we?” he queries, and it seems for a moment that Frank’s genuinely surprised Gerard decided to talk to him.

“Trenton, NJ.” And then a smirk plays around the corner of his mouth, and Gerard starts rolling his eyes so hard he ends up laughing. Frank looks at him questioningly, but Gerard just jumps across to his seat, almost kicking himself in the balls while doing so, and hugs Frank so tight his eyes might just pop out of his skull from the pressure.

“But no, seriously, where are we?” Gerard says a few moments later, lifting his head up to look into Frank’s eyes.

“See that peach-colored house over there?” he points his finger somewhere behind Gerard.

Gerard rolls his eyes. “Like, every house in this goddamn neighborhood is peach-colored.”

“The one with the green windows.”

And yes, Gerard does see it now. Probably because it’s the house closest to the car and it looks just slightly different than most of the others- it feels kind of more modest, even though it’s still pretty fancy and classy-looking. “Yeah?”

“That’s my mom’s house.”

Notes

hello everyone, my name is miles lane and it's time for the sequel *claps hands* of you're so dark *claps hands*

i missed you like loads. i rlly hope people are gonna read this. because like, ysd's had so many people and i just really want y'all to be here with me again.

now, i'm just gonna not and yes

this is like 'gay fanfiction; the unexpected journey' or something.
yeah i'm going, i'm going

see ya soooon

xomls