Gerard awoke abruptly, trying to simultaneously remember and forget the nightmare that woke him. He looked down at Frank, still asleep in his arms and was grateful that Frank didn't know the content of his dream.

The dark room offered no help to Gerard as he slowly slid out of the bed, making sure not wake Frank. He quickly dressed neglecting shoes or a shirt, and patted the pocket of his green canvas jacket, ensuring that his cigarettes and lighter were still there. Satisfied, he escaped up to the front porch.

It was at times like this that Gerard wondered why he continued to smoke. Here he was, in the freezing cold of January at three in the morning, all for something that would kill him later in life. However, the forces of nature were against Gerard dying prematurely from lung cancer, as a cold wind prevented his lighter from catching.

"Gee?" A sleep-thick voice said from the doorway and Gerard saw Frank standing there. The beloved Star Wars blanket was wrapped around his shoulders like a cloak and Gerard could see that Frank had on only his boxers underneath the blanket. Immediately, Gerard pulled Frank into his body, helping him warm up. "Why're y'up?" Frank asked. Gerard never realized how thick Frank's accent sounded when he was barely awake.

"I woke up and couldn't fall back asleep," Gerard said. He rubbed Frank's back and the man nuzzled his face into Gerard's bare chest as Gerard added: "Sorry if I woke you."

"S'fine," Frank slurred. Suddenly, keeping his eyes open and not falling asleep was a challenge. "We need t'sleep," Frank added, a yawn punctuating his words.

Gerard agreed with a nod and, before Frank could move away, he picked him up as if Frank were his bride. "God, Frankie, you're so tiny," Gerard whispered, pressing his lips to Frank's forehead as the younger man's arms snaked around his neck. "You're my little pixie boy."

"Mm-hmm," Frank hummed. "M'tired, Gee."

"I know, baby," Gerard said and carried Frank back inside and down to the bedroom. He gently set Frank down on the bed and he burrowed his face in one of Gerard's pillows. Frank always liked how Gerard's pillows smelled like fabric softener, cigarettes, and cheap hair dye— they smelled like Gerard.

Gerard shed his clothes down to his boxers and slid in next to Frank, clasping Frank's hands in his. Frank's hands were always tough with callouses, and they were usually warm, but now they were cold from outside. Gerard kissed Frank's freezing hands and said: "I love you, Frankie."

And even though Frank was too far gone to answer, Gerard knew that he loved him too.

"They hate me," a familiar voice says and suddenly the jumble of reds and blacks and whites snaps into perspective. It shows a man sitting on the white tiles of an unfamiliar bathroom, his back resting against the white porcelain bathtub. The man himself is sharp contrast from the whiteness of the room— dressed in a black suit, white dress shirt, and a black tie loosened to the point of where it almost isn't tied anymore. His black hair hangs limply at his shoulder, partially concealing the phone he has pressed to his pale face. In his other hand, the man is gripping a bottle of something, most definitely alcohol. All around him are shards of glass, a grim reminder of a short burst of anger. "They all hate me," the man sobs again. "Everyone hates me, Brian."

"Nobody hates you, Gerard," a voice says, the sound seemingly seeping through the walls. "Tell us where you are, and you'll be okay."

"My brother..." Gerard whimpers. "My own brother. He hates me Brian, he does!" He raises the bottle to his lips but, before he can drink anything, gags and vomits into the bathtub behind him. The smell alone is enough to set him off, and it does. His eyes water as he faintly hears this Brian character speak again.

"Mikey doesn't hate you, Gerard, he loves you," Brian says. "Where are you? Please, tell us."

"How can anyone love me?" Gerard yells. "I can't do anything unless I'm drunk or high! I pushed him away, Brian! I loved him and I pushed him away from me and now he hates me!"

"Mikey loves you, Gerard, I promise," Brian says, a slight tinge of panic in his words.

"I'm not talking about Mikey!" Gerard cries, his intoxicaed mind already on the page whe wants to be on. "My baby... My pixie boy... He hates me."

"Pixie boy...?" Brian mumbles, then, after a moment says: "Frank loves you, Gerard. He loves you more than anything."

"I ruined his life," Gerard mutters, tears trickling out of his eyes. "He dropped out of college for this band. He had such big plans... And I had to go and ruin them!" Gerard hiccups and successfully takes a drink from the bottle. It tastes horribly bitter and burns his throat as he swallows hard— vodka. Gerard knows that being vodka-drunk is never fun, but he needs something to help drown out the pain. "Fuck, he hates me," Gerard chokes out. "He hates what I've become."

Brian then asked, with hesitation: "What have you become, Gerard?"

"A monster."

"Gerard!" Frank's voice seeped through the dream and Gerard's eyes snapped open, bolting upright. He looked around and found himself to be in his bed, in his home, in New Jersey. He then turned to Frank, and saw that his boyfriend had tears running down his face and he was gasping for air.

"Frankie, what's wrong?" Gerard asked, pulling him into his lap. Frank hugged Gerard hard, sobs wracking through his small frame. "Frankie... It's okay, sugar. Calm down and tell me what's wrong."

Frank sniffed and pulled away, grasping Gerard's hands tightly. "I-I woke up 'cause I thought you were s-saying my name," he started, trying to control his sobs. "And you were crying and yelling and I couldn't wake you up you were scaring the hell out of me."

"Frankie, honey, it's okay," Gerard said, rubbing Frank's back comfortingly. "It was just a bad dream." Upon bringing his hand up to brush his sweat-soaked hair out of his faces Gerard encountered tears running down his face.

"Can you t-tell me what it w-was about?" Frank asked.

"Umm..." Gerard started. "Okay. I had relapsed really badly and I kept saying that everyone hated me. I said that nobody loved me and someone named Brian was trying to calm me down and nobody knew where I was and..." Gerard sighed. "I think I trying to kill myself."

Frank hiccuped when Gerard said this, trying to fight the oncoming tears away. "You don't want to relapse, do you?" Frank asked. "Or-or kill yourself?"

"No," Gerard shook his head. "I love you too much to do something like that."

Then, he sighed and said: "It felt like... A warning. Or a premonition or something."

"Do you think so?" Frank asked. He didn't believe the legitimacy of this claim— that the nightmare was a warning— but Gerard seemed to calm down when he admitted it, so Frank had to at least pretend to believe.

"I dunno," Gerard said. "Maybe."

Frank nodded and looked over at the clock, the green numbers displaying 4:08AM. "It's still early," Frank said, wiping his nose on his arm. "Let's go back to sleep."

"What if the dream comes again?" Gerard asked in an onslaught of panic.

"I'll be right here the whole time. And know that I know screaming your name wakes you up..." Frank trailed off and giggled, smiling.

Gerard shifted their position so that Frank was lying on top of him, Gerard's arms around Frank's middle and one of Frank's legs in-between Gerard's. "You have nothing to worry about," Frank said. "I promise."

---

"Where you okay last night?" Donna asked later that morning when her son and his liver came up from the basement. Her younger son had already left for a class, missing his brother by mere minutes. "I heard crying from down there."

"Yeah," Gerard said, sitting down at the table. "Just had a really bad dream. Like, worse than the ones I got in middle school."

"Oh, baby bird, I'm so sorry," Donna cooed, hugging her son. "Did Frankie help you through it?"

"Mama, he's right there," Gerard blushed and accepted the mug of coffee Donna was forcing into his hands. Frank, in the next seat, blushed as well, and tugged on Gerard's slightly over-sized pajama pants Frank was wearing.

Before any of them could utter another word, the phone on the wall started to ring. "If it's those damn telemarketers..." Donna mumbled. "It's 9:30 in the morning, for God's sake."

She picked up the phone and held it up to her face. "Oh, hello," he said, obviously unhappy. After a moment, she said: "What makes you think you have that right?" More silence. "He's my son, too! You can't just toss him to the side because he's 'deviant'."

Frank looked at Gerard and whispered: "Who's she talking to?"

"I have no clue..." Gerard said.

Just then, Donna huffed in frustration and hug the phone back on the wall. "Gerard..." She started. "That was your father. He wants to meet with you."

"No," Gerard said immediately.

"I'm not finished," she said. "His exact words were 'I want to meet with Gerard and his girlfriend'."

"Girlfriend?"

"I think your dad is under the impression that you no longer like men," Donna said nervously. "But I would like for you to try to patch things up with him. Do you have any female friends who'd be willing to pretend to be your girlfriend?"

Gerard thought for a second before saying: "I do. And I think she'd be on board."

"Who is it?" Frank asked. "I want to know who my female counterpart is."

"I used to work with her," Gerard said. "We got fired on the same day. She has tattoos and stuff, like you, and she's actually kinda pretty."

"What's her name?"

"Lindsey. Lindsey Ballato."

Notes

Me, shouting at top volume: I'M ALWAYS A SLUT FOR LYNZ!!!

Y'all knew that I was gonna find a way to bring LynZ into this somehow.

Current mood: