Gerard's POV

"...And I open the door to see him dragging a heater into the bathroom behind him," I chuckle. I'm sitting at my desk in front of the open laptop, watching Frank through the screen. My own camera is covered with a post-it note, showing him nothing but black from my side of the call, but I can clearly see the wide smile plastered across his face. The screen moves as I speak, his entire computer shaking on his lap as he laughs. "So he's plugging it in, right outside the shower with the fucking curtain open, and I'm just like, 'Mikey, what the hell are you doing!?' and he just looks at me with this completely blank expression and says, 'I'm cold...'" Frank's shaking his head, laughing his ass off at the story of my brother I'm relaying to him. I can't seem to look away from his lips, completely mesmerized by the way they curve upward. The small silver hoop that reflects the light in a rather attractive manner, catching and holding my attention.

"He sounds great," Frank says, the giggles dying down so there's just the contagious grin stretching across his flawless features. He bites down, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and running his teeth over the pink flesh. The simple gesture has a bright blush forming on my cheeks and I'm once again grateful that he can't see me.

Still, I nod. "He is. He's my best friend." I laugh once and look down at the comic book-- my comic book-- half hidden in the clutter on my desk, and pull it forward to study the white and rust-colored cover. "He's always been really supportive of me. My parents weren't too enthused when I went to art college instead of getting a 'real' degree. But Mikey... he didn't care. He practically signed my name on the college application and sent it in for me. When we were younger, he would always steal my comics, whatever half-finished shit sketches I had done at the time, and read them. I would find him asleep in his room with my notebook on his chest." I laugh again and look up. I realize I'm ranting, undoubtedly about something Frank doesn't give two fucks about. But when my eyes meet his through the computer screen, he's just nodding silently. He actually looks interested, and I sigh. "He was so excited when I told him Shaun's shop was actually selling one of my books. He's gonna flip his shit when I tell him I got the last two copies today. The rest sold out."

Frank's hazel eyes widen and another smile graces his cupid-bow lips. "Whoa, seriously? Gee, that's fuckin' amazing!" I can feel another blush light up my face with the nickname and grin as well.

"Thanks," I mumble coyly.

Frank shakes his head, glancing away from the camera and shrugging shyly. "I saw a lot of your other stuff before," He says, and I know he's referring to before I deactivated my Twitter. "It's incredible. Some of it has a Doom Patrol feel to it almost. It's awesome."

I feel my own eyes widen at his comment and find myself gaping at the computer screen, kind of surprised. "You read Doom Patrol?"

Frank scoffs and nods fervently. "Hell yes I read Doom Patrol."

I bite down on my lip to hold back any response because, well this man is my soul mate. No doubt about it. Frank laughs, shrugging again. "Anyway, I guess I'm just jealous. I wish I had some talent like yours. My drawings consist of stick figures and cartoon dicks."

I grin and shake my head, knowing he can't see me but still feeling the need to disagree. "You're one of the most talented people I've ever not met," I say, chuckling and earning a small smirk from him as well. "I mean, who cares if you can't draw? You're the best freaking guitarist I've ever seen. You just get so absorbed in the music, it's like it's a part of you. And your voice," I let out a heavy breath and make this "ughhh" sound. "Fuck, don't even get me started on your voice."

Frank's lips are pressed into a smile, like he's trying to hold back the grin, and I can't be sure if I'm imagining the pink that lights up his cheeks and neck. He laughs nervously and his tongue sweeps across his bottom lip.

"And that song..." I continue curiously. "I've never heard it before."

Oh, that is a definitely a blush this time. He averts his gaze, like not staring at a black screen could somehow make me unsee the red flashing across his face. "Yeah," He says, his voice soft and modest. "I wrote it."

"Wow." I don't really have any other response to that. Simply... Wow. It amazes me that this beautiful human can be so absolutely talented as well. It's not fair; How can he obtain both beauty and skill and I only barely have the latter? "It's so dark," I finally say. "But it's got like this overlying amour. Like, it's so destructive and romantic. It's... Wow."

Frank laughs and smirks at me. "Thanks. I um... Wrote it about someone special." He immediately bites down on his lip, as if regretting his words, but they're already out there and hanging between us like a noose.

"Oh," I say, and I can't explain the sadness that knots in my stomach. Betrayal, almost, but not quite. Disappointment. "Well, they're lucky to have somebody like you." I fake a smile, more for my own benefit than for his. But it's returned with nothing more than a frown on his end. I decide I don't like seeing him frown.

"Actually, they don't know that it's about them," He explains and looks down at his lap, again avoiding my gaze. But he chuckles once. "They would probably be creeped out if they knew if was really about them. And I don't want to scare them away again."

'Again.' The word sticks with me and I feel the ball of disappointment in my stomach loosen, replaced with the uneasy feeling of hope. The single word gives me all I need to believe he is talking about me. I imagine Frank thinking of me, lying in bed or curled up on the couch, with a journal clutched in his hands. I imagine my face floating through his head as he scribbled the lyrics down, amongst other images such as being curled up on the couch together. No internet barrier, no one-way Skype call between us. His lips on mine. Those fucking lips...

I clear my throat, trying to clear my head of those thoughts. Frank was not thinking of me when he wrote that song. Maybe he was talking about Jamia. We had talked about her a little bit, towards the beginning of this call, which had now reached a length of four hours and seventeen minutes. They had dated for awhile, Frank told me, but broke up because they were better off as friends. Best friends, he specified. Perhaps for Frank, it went beyond that. Perhaps he had written that song for Jamia as a way to confess his feelings indirectly. There was no way he could have written it about me. Still, the thought of his mind on me as he wrote down those heart wrenching lyrics made my stomach twist anxiously.

"Play it for me," I say suddenly, not even realizing the words until they're out of my mouth. "Please? Will you play the song for me?"

Frank looks shocked and unsure for a long moment and I regret asking. What if it was something personal? If he had written the song for Jamia, maybe he didn't feel comfortable playing it for some random guy over Skype. But if it had been so personal, he wouldn't have posted it on YouTube. After a dreadful silence, Frank nods. "Alright," He smiles. "Fine. But on one condition." I wait, watching the grin on his face grow as he bites his lip again. "You look at me. Or rather... You let me look at you. You take off whatever you have blocking the camera and you talk to me. Face to face."

I feel my breath catch in my throat and hesitate. "I don't know..." I mutter quietly.

"Come on," Frank groans, but his voice softens and he looks directly at the camera, his eyes catching mine and making my heart stutter. "I want to see your face, Gerard. Please?"

Unsure, I reach out. I can see my hand physically shaking and will it to steady. My fingertips graze over the square yellow piece of paper and, agonizingly slow, I pull it away. I can see my own face appear in the corner of the page, reflecting back the pale skin and tangled mess of hair, the dark circles around my eyes where I've been lacking sleep. My pink lips move into a thin line and I switch to watching Frank. I wait for him to stand up, for the screen to go blank, for him to go back to wanting nothing to do with me. But instead of any of that, he just stares. "Hi," I say, offering a small smile.

"Wow..." Frank's response is quiet and I shift under the gaze. He grins. "You know, I think I could get used to seeing your face." And then he shoves the computer off of his lap, much to my relief since he could now plainly see the red lighting up my cheeks. The laptop is tilted at an awkward angle, facing the rest of the room. I focus on Frank as he shuffles off into the distance, finding the guitar that I recognize from the previous YouTube video. When he comes back, he slings the strap on over his shoulder before letting the guitar hang around his back and putting a small green pick between his teeth. He shifts the laptop onto another surface, probably a coffee table, and angles it down to face the couch. He sits down, crossing his legs and cradling the guitar in his lap. "That good?" He wonders, glancing at me.

I nod, swallowing hard. He grins and situates the instrument again, strumming a few chords before he actually starts. It's different this time with no second guitar and no drums backing him, but it's even more perfect than the first time I heard the song. The notes hit me first, soft and sure, and soon after his voice drifts in. His voice is rugged, raw and desperate as he belts out the lyrics that are already imprinting into my brain, burning there like a brand. I find myself smiling, watching him as he watches me. Sometimes, his eyes close and he seems lost in the music, letting it take over him, and then he remembers he's playing for someone and looks at me again. When the last note plays and his voice fades off, he smiles nervously and pulls the guitar off over his head, setting it on the couch next to him and dragging the laptop back into his lap. "So what did you think?"

"You're amazing," I say, before the words register and I blush again. "I mean... Um... The song. It was amazing. And your playing, it was..." I sigh, giving up on making myself sound like less of a creep and shrug. "You're amazing," I repeat.

Frank looks down shyly and smirks. "Thanks." He bites down on his lip and his eyes meet mine through the screen once more. "You know, that song... I actually wrote it for--"

The sound of Morrissey interrupts his words and he tilts his head to one side, arching an eyebrow. I groan, fumbling through the mess on my desk until I find my cell phone. Pulling it free from the clutter, I see Mikey's name flashing across the screen. Why the hell is he calling me now? It's... I glance at the time in the corner of the computer screen and realize it's nearly two in the morning. I answer the call, pressing it to my ear and sighing. "Hey, Mikes," I say.

"Did you go out like I told you to?" My brother's interrogation begins immediately and I roll my eyes. "Don't kill me, but I called Bob and told him to stop screwing with your love life. He said he would fix everything. What did he do? Did he fuck it up even more? Is your boy-toy talking to you again?"

I sigh heavily at the term 'boy-toy.' "Yes, I went out. And I'm not going to kill you, but uh..." I glance back at Frank who is silently watching me in amusement. "I'm kinda busy right now. Can I call you later?"

"Oh. My. Damn," Mikey exclaims, and I can practically hear the realization in his voice. "You're talking to him right now, aren't you? Frank? You're talking to him!"

"Shut up, Michael!" I say and spin around in the chair, turning my back to Frank and hoping he can't hear Mikey's excited voice through the computer. "Yes, I am. Are you happy?"

"Gee?" I hear Frank's voice behind me and turn in the chair again to see him smirking. I lower the phone, ignoring my brother's probing to focus on the boy through the screen. "It's getting late, so I'm gonna go to bed." I can feel my face fall. I don't want to hang up yet. I'm not ready. Oh wow, I sound clingy. But Frank just chuckles and adds, "Don't frown. You're too pretty to frown." Oh. Shameless flirting. "I... Um... had fun tonight. Can I call you again tomorrow?"

My eyes widen in surprise. He wants to talk to me again. Tomorrow. I nod, managing to form words. "Yeah. Yeah, definitely."

"Awesome." Frank grins again, relief seeming to settle on his features. "So I'll see your face tomorrow. Night, beautiful." He then winks, leaving me breathless, speechless, staring at a black screen, and completely forgetting that my brother is still on the phone.

The last thing I do that night before curling up in bed is log onto Twitter, reactivating my account.

Notes