Just Sleep

“It's ok, I'm ok. It'll be fine now. We're good... I'm good. I can do this and...ugh. Fuck.”
Glaring hatefully into the bathroom mirror, Frank rubs sleep from his sticky eyelashes and spits gunky saliva in the sink. His throat burns from puking up his lunch – he just can't seem to keep any food down today - and his neck and shoulders throb with aches and tension. It's too hot to think and his shirt is already damp and sticking to his armpits and back. Turning on the cold faucet he lets the cool water wash over the racing hot pulses in his hands and wrists and whispers a few more words of self-comfort that don't really help at all. He should be happy right now with Gerard back in his life but instead his stomach is doing nervous flip-flops and his mind won't stop replaying the things his mother said last night in the kitchen.
She wants him to see a therapist, or as she put it “someone who can help”, and she thinks he's a cutter and an alcoholic. Worst of all, she thinks Gerard is hurting him and making him drink and cut. She's got it all wrong but he can't seem to find the words to explain himself and he's terrified that she'll do something awful to try and keep him and Gee apart.

Leaning over the sink with a groan, Frank rests his forehead against the cold glass and shuts his heavy eyes in despair. Out of habit his teeth start to chew a fresh sliver of skin out of his quivering lower lip and it tastes like salty nosebleeds. Sucking at the small bubbling wound, he shudders and opens his eyes again as self-hating thoughts run like a freight train through his head. Why the fuck didn't he get rid of that stupid trash can before his mom found it? Why is he always such an idiot? Eighteen years old and he's nothing but a dumb worthless crybaby, so uptight and nervous and broken and ugly... no wonder Gerard hasn't answered any of his texts today. Why would Gee want to talk to an immature waste of space who abandoned him in the park?!

Sighing miserably, Frank scrubs at the creeping tears prickling his eyelids and the blood on his mouth and tries to take a deep breath but he can't. It's too loud in his head and his stomach hurts too much. His hands twitch at his sides and he imagines punching the tiled walls around him until they shatter or his knuckles break and if his mom wasn't lurking downstairs right now he would probably give in to the darkness and smash every surface in this room while screaming his lungs raw. Anything to get the constant storm of panic and tension he's been carrying around with him since Florida out of his bones. Curling the fingers of his right hand into a fist, he allows himself to hit the mirror once, fast and hard, and the shot of pain makes him swear and drop to his knees, on the verge of tears again. Stupid crybaby waste of fucking oxygen!

Sucking at his bruised knuckles, he slumps back against the bathtub and checks his phone for the hundredth time today but there's still no messages from Gerard. No missed calls. He's too scared to send another text only for it to go unanswered and what if he comes across as being too needy? Talk about pathetic. Why is this so fucking hard? Dropping his head into his hands, he chews his lip some more and stares at the patch of linoleum between his feet until it blurs into shadows and dust. The suffocating darkness which grows in his guts whenever he gets scared or sad is destroying every part of him that Gerard made happy yesterday and it makes him want to scream. He desperately wants to crawl back into bed and pass out into a numbing safe sleep, but it's daytime and if he goes to bed now or hides in his room mom will make a big fuss. So the bad thoughts keep swirling around in his brain and he feels more and more miserable and tired and sick... until a new idea hits him out of nowhere and a chill of horror almost makes him vomit again: what if Gerard isn't answering because he hurt himself? What if this time he's DEAD?

**
A loud insistent knocking interrupts Ray's lunch of lukewarm chilli noodles and he stares at his door from the couch, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. Surely Gerard wouldn't come home drunk at two in the afternoon? “Come in,” he calls warily and the door flies open like the hounds of hell are behind it, letting in Frank who looks like he's just run ten blocks. “Is Gerard here?” the teenager pants, his eyes huge and wild. “No, he's gone for a drive. I don't know where,” Ray replies through a mouthful of food, “Are you okay man?”
“Uh huh,” Frank wheezes, disappointment and anxiety flooding his red face, “I just need to see Gee and he's not answering his phone and... and what if he's hurt himself again, Ray? I mean where is he? Why don't you know where he went?!”
“Because he's a grown man and I'm not his mother. Calm down, I'm sure he's fine.”
“Then why won't he text me back?” Frank yells, almost hysterical, “When's he coming home?”
“I don't know. Fuck...” Ray mutters, getting up and carefully approaching his spiralling friend with open arms, “It's okay, Frankie. This is not something you need to panic about, little dude, I promise. You can wait for him here, it's all gonna be fine.”
With dread still screaming in his eyes, Frank anxiously rubs the back of his neck and looks back and forth between Ray and the open door like he can't decide what to do. In the end Ray shuts the door himself and returns to the couch, patting the cushions beside him until the twitchy teenager gives in and sits down with a sigh in a sweaty heap.

For a while the TV is the only sound in the room as Frank catches his breath and wipes his face on his already stained t-shirt. Ray gets up and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, throwing it at his young friend who opens it and takes a long drink without even a nod of thanks.
“Sooooo are you gonna tell me what's wrong?” the older man asks, scraping the last sticky noodles out of his bowl and licking the fork clean. Frank snorts bitterly, and digs some cigarettes and a zippo out of his jeans, quickly lighting up and breathing hot heavy smoke through his scabby lips as his feet tap anxiously on the carpet.
“Anything I can help you with?” Ray prods gently.
“Not unless you can turn back time, Toro. Or, I dunno, make me older or smarter and taller and richer so I could get out of this shithole of a city and live my own life without people who think I constantly need saving or protecting or babying...”
“Is this about your mom, Frankie?”
“Yeah, sort of. It's not just her though. It's me really. I'm the problem. I'm the super-loser nervous wreck who's in love with a suicidal artist and can't even do that right!”
“You mean Gerard?”
“Yeah duh.”
“But you and Gee seemed totally happy yesterday after the pizza place. What happened? Did he threaten to do something bad? Is that why you're so worried about him now?”
“No,” Frank whispers, closing his eyes and dragging burning chemicals into his young lungs, “But I've got this feeling and it won't go away...” Trailing off with a hoarse sniffle he stubs the cigarette out in Ray's empty bowl and curls up on the couch with his face buried in his knees, “I just need to see him, alright? Stop talking to me about this, I can't handle talking right now.”
“Aw come on, Frankie, don't shut down. Lemme help.”
“No! Just leave me alone!”
“Fine, fine, be that way then,” Ray grumbles, getting up and heading to his bedroom to escape the lovesick drama, “I tried.”

**
“Damn, where is that thing?” Gerard mutters to himself, digging around between the seats in the front of Ray's Chrysler in search of his cell phone, “I could've sworn I had it!” When his hands come up empty except for some sand, a few cat hairs (huh?) and a soiled kleenex (ew!), he gives up and steps onto the sidewalk, slamming the car door with a little more force than necessary. The weather is still grossly hot and sunny and the dumpster by the apartment building treats his nose to a wave of boiling garbage stink as he plods up the steps in his black coat and sunglasses like the stubborn goth he is. Ah, the joys of summer in the city. It's much cooler inside and Gerard sags gratefully against the metal walls of the elevator, digging a new comicbook and a bottle of coke out of his bag and opening both before he even gets to Ray's floor. He's lost in the comic's colorful pages by the time he reaches the apartment so he's not prepared for the quivering bullet of warm human that slams into his chest and grabs him in a hug the second he opens the door. “Frankie?” he blurts, spilling sticky cola all over his hand and – alas! - the comic as Frank burrows into his torso and grabs at his coat, gasping something unintelligible into his neck as his shaggy hair smothers Gerard's chin and lips, “What the fuck, Frank, are you okay?!”

“ME? Am I okay?” Frank cries in disbelief, backing up all of two inches as the older man pushes his way into the room so he can close the door. “Yeah,” Gerard says, dashing into the kitchen area and grabbing a dish towel which he cautiously uses to wipe soda off his potentially ruined cartoons, “What's up? What are you doing here?”
“I...”
The teenager makes a weird choking sound in his throat and falls silent and Gerard finally looks up from cleaning his hands and comic long enough to realize that his boyfriend does not look okay at all. “Frankie?” he asks worriedly, “What's wrong?”
“I-I thought...” Frank stammers, clenching his hands together and looking at his feet as his large eyes glisten in a way that makes Gerard feel unreasonably guilty, “Never mind.”
“You thought what?” Gerard insists, shrugging off his sweltering coat and abandoning the tiny kitchen to take Frank in his arms, “Why are you upset, babe? What happened?”
“I w-was worried. I mean you weren't answering your phone,” Frank mumbles in a small embarrassed voice.
“I think I left my phone here,” Gerard replies softly, kissing the top of his boyfriend's warm fluffy head, “At least I hope I did, either that or I've lost it.”
“Oh... Okay. Well, uh, I hope you find it,” Frank stammers in the same sheepish tone, wriggling out of Gerard's arms and stepping back with his hands in his pockets. He's trying to look nonchalant and chill when he's obviously not and Gerard frowns, confused and tired from an afternoon spent shopping in the city. Getting out of the house for a few hours a day is meant to help with his recovery but it's exhausting and he'd been looking forward to vegging out on the couch tonight with a Doom Patrol graphic novel. That probably isn't going to happen now but maybe that's a good thing. After all, Frank is right in front of him looking all wound up and cute...
“Is Ray home?” he asks casually.
“Yes I am,” Ray shouts from behind his bedroom door, “And these walls are like paper so don't do anything you don't want me to hear!”

The tension in the room dissolves as Frank and Gerard snicker in amusement and a spark of mischief and desire shines in Frank's nervous gaze. “You wanna go for a drive?” Gerard asks with a grin.

**
“Oh, ohhh f-fuck...” Frank gasps, bucking his hips as shudders of ecstasy melt his thighs and cum gushes over Gerard's teasing tongue and warm wet throat. Grinning, the older man swallows hard and sucks Frank's pulsing pink tip clean before lifting his head and lunging up the leather backseat to kiss his lover full on the mouth. “Ew, dick-lips!” Frank giggles as Gee's hot swollen pucker smooshes into his. “It's your dick,” Gerard laughs, sliding his tongue past Frank's welcoming smile and flushing with pleasure when the teenager starts frenching him with joyful almost violent passion.

Some time later they come up for air and Gerard wriggles into a sitting position with a happy sigh, rolling down the window to let fresh air into the steamy sanctuary of their parked car. Frank continues to lie half-naked across the warm leather seat, savouring the last glowing tingles in his perfectly relaxed body before they fade away. It's after sunset and they're parked in the woods out of town where no one can disturb them. Frank's phone is turned off somewhere on the vehicle floor and he hasn't given it a second thought since they left Ray's. The only person he wants to talk to tonight is right here with him.

The silver moon glimmers through a row of swaying treetops and Gerard gently pulls Frank's legs onto his lap and lights a cigarette, blowing white smoke rings out the window and massaging slow lazy circles in his partner's skin. He got his sling back yesterday but he doesn't want to use it anymore. The pain in his arm is gone, replaced by the slow itch of healing flesh and he doesn't mind that any more than he would a bug bite. Being back in a relationship with someone he cares about is like the best medicine he's ever taken.

The earthy scent of pine wood drifts through the car and Frank closes his eyes and breathes slowly and drowsily, tasting the warm air as for one perfect moment he manages to forget all about the horrors in Florida and everything bad that happened before that and since. He's safe here with Gerard, and Gerard is safe with him. It's only for a moment but it's enough for tonight.
**
Meanwhile across town, Linda is beside herself with rage. She's just read the last entry in her son's private journal, written the day after he got back from Florida, and it's filled with so much pain, self-loathing and fear that her heart breaks at the thought of her baby boy feeling so miserable and afraid. She can see the agony in his shaky handwriting and the dry smears of ink smudged by tears and the beer he used to drown his sadness. How DARE this man Gerard Way put her Frankie through this! How dare he use and abuse her son's caring nature and drive him to the edge of a nervous breakdown! Mr Way is obviously too old and damaged for Frankie, but for some reason her son doesn't see it that way. The journal is full of desperate wonderings about why Gerard ruined New Year's Eve and why Gerard tried to kill himself and what Gerard thinks and why he does this and that and everything is Gerard, Gerard, Gerard! Frank is clearly obsessed with this suicidal drunkard and he's walking down the same path to self-destruction because he naively believes he's “in love”. But Linda is convinced she knows better. This cant be love and she swears to herself now that she will find a way to get this man out of her son's life for good.

Notes

**
***Hi, Author here: I must confess I nearly gave up on this fic because I wasn't sure if anyone still liked it or hated it or what but then one lovely person sent me a comment and I really want to give it another chance.
Let me know what you think and what you want to happen next. I love hearing from you, faithful readers, it really makes my day sometimes. xx ***