R U Mine?

“He's an old friend of mine,” Frank says as he leads Gerard, by the hand, through the lonely city streets. Everything looks golden and smells like snow even though the sky is clear, and it’s cold- so cold your feet feel like they might turn to ice and fall off- but Gerard still feels kind of warm inside.

“You went to high school together?” he asks, absentmindedly, skimming his eyes over the cheesy town décor and wondering why nobody puts Christmas lights up in Belleville. It doesn’t even look like Christmas there, not really, and it makes Gerard feel good when he sees that Frank’s hometown doesn’t hold the same vibe. This town breathes the same way Frank does- gentle, but with a smile.

“Unfortunately,” Frank laughs, and Gerard doesn’t get the joke but he smiles anyway because it doesn’t matter. It never does.
At times like these it feels like he’s missing out on something, something big- he feels way too ignorant and way too young to comment. He wasn’t there and he doesn’t know and it bothers him even though it shouldn’t. “You’re being too quiet. Is something wrong?”

Frank notices way too many things and Gerard isn’t quite sure how he feels about that, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t appreciate it right now. It’s not like Frank can do anything about it, because this is just Gerard being stupid like always, and it’s all in his head and it doesn’t fucking matter- it never fucking does. “No, I’m just enjoying the atmosphere here.”

Frank doesn’t say anything for a few moments but then he stops, and Gerard does, too, because his hand is in Frank’s and he isn’t planning on getting lost in an unfamiliar town on New Year’s Eve. He curses himself for being a mood-kill because that’s all he ever is, and he hates himself for it, even though other people don’t necessarily but it’s not like it’s important, nothing is, and sometimes it feels like there are too many things Gerard ignores just because he’s in denial.

“Come here,” Frank pulls him in for a hug, and he doesn’t resist even though he wants to, because Frank is too kind and he’s just being a stupid, teenage white girl. “I’m sorry if this is too much for you. I can take you home if you want to. I mean- I understand if you don’t feel comfortable here.”

And Gerard can’t help but to sniffle and tug him closer by the collar, because Frank can be such a fucking idiot sometimes. “It’s not that, not really. To be honest, this is the most beautiful place anyone has ever taken me, and I’m glad it was you who did it. I’m just being stupid, forget about it.”

“No,” Frank says, soft. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Gerard sighs loudly, into Frank’s shoulder. “It’s just that- ... I feel kind of- … I feel like an intruder here. I don’t know why. I feel so young and stupid and naïve- it’s like there’s this huge chunk of your life I will never be a part of. I’m seven years younger than you, for fuck’s sake, and I feel like everyone knows that. It’s like they’re all pointing their finger at me and telling me it’s wrong.”

Frank’s grip gets tighter, but his words are still calm, and warm, and Gerard is pretty sure his head would already be swimming if he didn’t keep it that way. “There’s also a huge chunk of my life that you are, and you will be a part of. Nobody else, just you.”

“That does make me feel a little bit better. I sometimes think you’re too optimistic for me.” Gerard’s head is still in Frank’s shoulder but he knows he’s doing the eye-roll thing. It’s like a disease- everyone who spends time around Gerard is bound to get infected by the eye-roll virus. And it never goes away.

“I’m not, not really. You bring out the optimist in me.”

And Gerard can’t help but to let out a watery chuckle at that. “You fucking cheese.” When Frank starts laughing at his extremely creative remark, Gerard kisses his neck gently. “Let’s go to the park.”

*

It’s nearly midnight, the lighting in the park is shitty, and the fog is so thick that everything looks more like it belongs in Silent Hill than anything else. Gerard likes it, though, even though it’s still really cold, but he feels too free to care.

It’s like everything around them is in some sort of glass bubble and they know it can break any time, but it still doesn’t matter because now, in this moment, there’s only the two of them. The grass is basically non-existent while the soil is firm underneath the soles of Gerard’s ratty old Vans, and everything looks like it’s frozen in time and space while they’re just letting it happen.

Frank’s grip is strong and the fingers of Gerard’s left hand are freezing against Frank’s knuckles, but he’s paying it no mind because he feels warm enough to just let everything happen. His feet are insecure but Frank looks stable enough for the both of them, and Gerard can’t believe that he still makes him weak on the knees. He’s pretty sure that he’d catch him if he fell, since it’s basically been a tradition in their relationship from the start. And Gerard remembers it all even though it feels like forever ago.

Their foreheads are bumped together and Gerard’s breathing isn’t steady even though he wants it to be, and the only things he can feel are the grip and the air and the look. His movements are uncoordinated, but he knows that Frank’s got it covered, and he can’t help but to wonder if he’s ever really looked back before and realized how fucking lucky he feels. Frank would tell him he’s a moron, now, but this is probably the only situation when Gerard wouldn’t agree with him, not completely, because, even though it’s corny as fuck and the sole thought gives him stomach cockroaches, it’s the first time he can take a look at his life and say that he likes it. And it feels good.

And when the fireworks start to crack the sky open, Frank doesn’t talk. He leans in even though he knows how chapped Gerard’s lips are from the cold, and Gerard isn’t quite sure why Frank always ignores how he reeks of coffee, but he supposes it’s the same reason as for why Gerard chooses to cuddle Frank even when he hasn’t showered in three days and smells way too much like cigarettes and old pajamas.

It’s pretty abstract, because the pressure he feels is never gone, but he doesn’t want to pull all his hair out when Frank is around, and if he does- it’s not for long. And he doesn’t understand it because being an introvert used to be his thing and he never needed anyone to keep him from going insane but it’s become too crucial way too fast. He isn’t sure if he wants to stop it but sometimes he likes being this version of himself because it feels true, but if he ponders over it for longer the only thing he does is make himself sad because him and Frank were never designed to last. And maybe they are a match made by God himself because He likes to screw people over, and maybe they are perfect for each other as Patrick says but the world doesn’t care about that. The world cares about boundaries and restrictions and Gerard can’t seem to stop fucking thinking about that.

But he decides to fuck it off, if just for tonight, because he’s decided a long time ago that he doesn’t belong to the world anymore. He belongs here, in this little, foggy park while the person he loves is holding him close and kissing him softly because that’s all he’ll care about at the end of the day. He sometimes thinks too much about what people would say but it’s only because he’s afraid it might drive him away from the things he wants and right now all he wants is this, and he almost punches himself in the face because he isn’t enjoying it while he still can.

He pulls away reluctantly. “Take me home?”

“To Belleville?” Frank’s brow is furrowed, and Gerard smiles at the way he looks like when he’s confused.

“No,” he kisses him again, “to your home.”

And then Frank is smiling, too.

*

The contrast of the dark red sheets and Gerard’s skin is stark, and the way Frank’s arm that’s wrapped around his waist is just adding texture to it is enough to make Gerard feel lightheaded, since the pattern of his tattoos fits perfectly with the combination. Sometimes Gerard wonders if this is all there is to it, because even though it probably can’t be better he knows it can be worse, and he hates the fact that he still has this sickening feeling inside of his gut even at times when he should be at his happiest.

“Pretend like it doesn’t exist,” Frank says quietly into his ear, kissing down his neck and nuzzling his face into the back of Gerard’s shoulder. “I know why you’re tense. Pretend like none of it is real. This is real, here, right now. The future doesn’t exist until you create it.”

And Gerard’s head hurts, but he smiles anyway, and he can’t help but to feel understood because Frank really does know him too well. “You know, I sometimes like to fantasize about what the ideal future would be like.”

He can feel Frank’s smile against his skin, and his light stubble is tickling him but he doesn’t mind. “Something small. Cozy. Ours, with loads of shitty posters around the walls that would make the entire place look like it’s owned by fourteen year olds.”

Gerard chuckles, “You’d hate me because I’d always leave the windows open. I like it when it rains. But I’d make it up to you by making you pancakes every Sunday morning.”

Frank all but moans silently, kissing the patch of skin that’s closest to his mouth, “I’d never let you leave the bed in the morning. And when you’d finally manage to get up, you’d make me get up, too, because you’d want me to fuck you in the shower.”

Gerard rolls his eyes, “Like you’d mind.”

“Not in the slightest,” Frank giggles.

"And every afternoon you'd come home from work you'd talk about how shitty the kids were and how they don't care about literature at all, and then I'd agree and you'd ask me what I did today and then I'd show you the stupid comic book ideas I'd get that day. And you'd tell me they're brilliant because you always do.
And then we'd order takeout and lie around on the couch, watching Will & Grace and making out like teenagers. And then you'd take my hand and lead me to bed, and then you'd make love to me, slow, and tell me you love me as I'm falling asleep. And tomorrow would be the same, and every other day, too. And it'd be our little cycle of perfection, just that."

"And it wouldn't matter that it's just that, not really, because I don't think I'd miss anything. I wouldn't want anything else," Frank says, and his voice sounds croaked, wrecked, like it broke somewhere mid-sentence.

“I’m so scared,” Gerard admits. He turns around, then, and Frank’s face expression mirrors his own thoughts as he’s staring into his eyes. He’s trying to find something to reassure himself there, but when it fails, he just settles on ignoring it. Denial is shit but pain is even worse and he can’t deal with that right now. So, instead of saying anything, he just kisses Frank gently.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Frank says and lets Gerard curl into his side. He kisses his temple, and Gerard whispers an ‘I love you’ before closing his eyes. When his breathing steadies, and Frank can feel his heartbeat slow down, he sighs loudly and bites his lip. “I love you, too.”

Notes

i'm sorry, i suck major [metaphorical] dick. i'd write this a long time ago but a really harsh writer's block hit me like a week ago and i couldn't do anything abt it. i hope this isn't too shitty, though.

in other news, i got my laptop fixed so i don't have to write in notepad anymore [writing actual chapters there is HORRIFIC]. i really wanna start a band, you have no idea. i'm p sure none of you lives around me [sinj, croatia? do you live there? no? thought so.] and hulk sadddddd.

i also have a new tumblr blog and it'd be really rad if we followed each otherrrrr. <3

signing off,

xomls