Chapter Text

"Uh," Gerard said, swallowing a lump of panic, fiddling with his hoodie. How had this afternoon gone so stupidly, terribly wrong all of a sudden? "No, I just... I like hiking, I guess?"

"You like hiking," Ted laughed nastily. "Well, ain't that sweet. You're acclimatin'. It's cute, ain't it, guys."

Noltes grunted and Isaac looked at his watch pointedly. Ted glared at him, then turned to Gerard again and stalked forward. Gerard fought the urge to shrink back, but fuck, the dude was tall.

“See, I got worried when you didn’t show up after school,” Ted said, not touching him, just hovering. A muscle in his jaw jumped. “I had some things to say to you.”

“Missed me?” Gerard said, pretty proud his voice didn’t break, or waver. Well, much anyway. He hoped Frank wasn't watching this—this would drive Frank nuts, being stuck in the forest while Gerard got menaced by meatheads. “I’m touched.”

“Then,” Ted mused, ignoring Gerard’s babbling. “We saw you sneakin' away to hide in the woods. You're a smart little fucker, aren't you? But you had to come out sometime."

"You took your sweet time, though," Isaac said lazily, with an edge to his voice, like it was somehow Gerard's fault he hadn't scheduled a mugging into his afternoon.

"But this works out real nice anyway," Ted said reasonably to Isaac. "This way we can have a little chat without anybody... interrupting."

Okay, that… that was upsetting. Even more upsetting was that Ted had stalked forward and gotten in Gerard's face, and Gerard wanted to point out he had bad breath, but he was really disconcertingly tall from this close up.

“Now, Ted,” Isaac drawled, looking at his watch again. “This little venture has taken longer than you said when you dragged us out here, so if you could stop with the dramatics, that’d be just great.”

“No, the dramatics are fine,” Gerard assured them, and tried to lean backward on his heels. “I dig them, they’re, uh, fascinating. Good monologuing, really, just—”

Fuck, okay. Now his mouth was filling with blood, and Ted was shaking his hand and smiling dreamily. All Gerard could feel for a second was a shocked numbness that quickly flared into all-encompassing, bright pain.

“I’ve wanted to do that for days,” Ted said happily. “You’re a squirrelly little fucker, you know that, Way? But you had to realize we’d catch up with you sooner or later.”

“Focus, Ted,” Isaac said crossly.

Ted huffed but moved back and stood with his arms crossed, a happy, terrifying smile on his face. Dumb violence clearly got his rocks off. Fucking creep.

“Look here, Gerard,” Isaac said, sighing and rubbing a hand over his face. He looked utterly reasonable, standing in the field beneath the evening sky. The first stars were coming out, and everything was perfectly still, no wind, no movement from the trees or bushes. Gerard’s mouth tasted like blood. “What Ted’s trying to say is, you need to work with us, okay? We've got... a reputation in this town. We have to uphold it, and you have to respect it, or there's consequences. It’s the way things work around here. Most people figure that out on their first day here, but you seem like you needed a little help. Noltes, could you kindly grab ahold of his shoulders? Gerard’s looking a bit tuckered.”

Noltes smiled and Gerard took a couple quick steps back, he couldn’t help it, but Noltes was faster, startlingly fast for his bulk, and had Gerard’s arms pinned behind him, wrenching his shoulders back, before Gerard could even think to move. Not that he had anywhere to go.

“You see,” Isaac continued conversationally, motioning Ted forward, and Gerard hung helpless from Noltes’ hands while Ted grinned at him and swung his fist into Gerard’s stomach. Isaac kept talking, distant and unaffected as Gerard gasped for breath. “My daddy’s the mayor. And Ted’s daddy? Ted’s daddy, he’s the sheriff. People can't go around sassin' us, especially not people like you. It looks bad for everybody. You understanding yet? This sinking in? You’ve gotten the wrong end of the stick since day one, Gerard Way, and we can’t have that. Ted. Ted, that's enough.”

Ted finally stopped throwing punches and he and Isaac waited solicitously for an answer. Well, Isaac did, Ted just sneered. Gerard’s arms, twisted behind his back, hurt. His mouth hurt. His stomach hurt, and throbbed, but he wasn’t going to throw up, he wasn’t.

“Think you went a bit overboard, Sikowski,” Isaac sighed. Blood kept spilling down Gerard’s mouth and he just wanted to crawl away and go to sleep and wake up when this all made sense. “Again. Look here, Gerard.” Gerard opened his eyes and found he was still furious after all, still had a hot spark of anger pulsing in his temples. He glared. “That’s better,” Isaac said, smiling. He put a finger under Gerard’s chin, amused and cheerful again. “Glad to see you’re paying attention. Now, none of us want to be here, but you get it now, don’t you? You’ll be more respectful from now on, and we won’t have to waste time with these little… reminders.”

“You guys are fucking nuts,” Gerard slurred, struggling to get his head upright, peering at Isaac through his hair and trembling with adrenaline and pain and outrage. He spit out blood that spattered across Isaac’s white cleats. “I didn't do a fucking thing to you, and what the fuck makes you think you can get away with fucking aggravated assault—”

“Stupid,” Noltes cut him off from behind him. Gerard bit down on a scathing comment, held it inside and fumed and beat back the little wailing voice in the back of his mind that was fucking terrified, alone in the dark with the monsters. Besides, the part of him that was furious was getting louder and louder.

Isaac looked down at his shoes. In the light of the bordering parking lot and the hazy moon, the white cleats were spotted black.

“I don’t think he’s getting the message, Ted,” he said, still maddeningly conversational. “And I don’t have all night, let's just—”

“Here’s a message for you, you gay fucking freak. You stay away from Tanya,” Ted hissed suddenly, leaning in again. “Take your fucking faggot act and your fucking brother and go back to the city. Get the fuck out.”

Gerard stared at him.

“Tanya?” he said, voice creaking. “This is about Tanya?”

Even Isaac looked a little nonplussed.

“It’s about you disrespecting us, and our system,” he said firmly, and Gerard tried to raise a skeptical eyebrow.

“You heard me, you fucking bitch,” Ted said, lower lip thrust out, and Gerard really, truly, could not believe this was happening. “Everyone's seen you staring at her in the halls, okay, and you thought I’d fucking stand for that? You? Taking my girl? She loves me, okay. We’re gonna get married.”

“But I’m not!” Gerard spluttered. “I don’t—it’s not’s not my fault your girlfriend wants more than some dumb fucking jock. You treat her like shit, what the fuck do you expect?”

Ted’s eyes went huge with outrage. “You did not just say that to me, city boy. You did not. I treat her like gold, goddammit,” and started to raise a fist again.

“Calm down, Ted,” Isaac said, sounding alarmed, pulling at Ted's arm. “Gerard’s—Tanya wouldn’t do anything with him, but I don’t think—did you hear that?” Isaac said, for the first time sounding a little uncertain, looking around uneasily.

During the whole time Isaac’d been talking, the wind had been picking up, growing from a small, skirling breeze to something stronger, something fierce and howling and tearing at the seams of Gerard’s hoodie. Gerard had barely noticed, had had other things to think about at the time, but he was paying attention now.

“I don’t hear anything,” Ted said, but his eyes darted nervously, from Gerard to the forest, and the wind was drawing tears from his eyes. And there was a voice, words blown by the furious air, and Gerard could hear it now, clear and distinct. He made an attempt to edge away out from under Noltes’ hands. Noltes’ didn’t seem to notice, staring wide-eyed at the forest, but his grip tightened again reflexively.

“Do you see that?” Isaac said, voice rising with each word, and turned to stare at Gerard. “What did you do, Way?”

“Frank?” Gerard coughed, and tried again to pull free. His head spun.

“I’ll kill you,” the voice said, frighteningly calm and steady.

“Did you motherfucking hear that?” Noltes said, letting go of Gerard, who immediately fell to his hands with a muffled cry. Fuck, his fucking ribs, fuck.

“I’ll kill you all,” Frank said, and fuck, was this what a tornado was like? The wind all you could hear, the world ripping apart. Next to Gerard small bushes uprooted and tumbled away, tangling briefly in Ted’s legs before disappearing into the mist.

“Jesus,” he heard Isaac saying, and the fog was rising, erasing the baseball players and their red letter jackets and their staring eyes. “Move, Ted, you moron! Fucking run!”

“I don’t hear anything!” Ted’s voice was high and panicked.

“Frank?” Gerard said again, uncertainly, and tried to pick himself up before catching his breath in a hissing gasp. “Oh, fuck me,” he said hoarsely.

“You better fucking run,” came carried by the wind, and other threats, heard in snatches and whispers, and then there was the sound of pounding feet, and engines catching and turning over, tires peeling out of the parking lot. The wind died down, eventually, carrying away the last of the mist and Gerard, huddled around himself in the dirt, muddy with his own stupid blood, saw Frank at the edge of the forest, leaning against the empty air like he was pantomiming being stuck in a box of air, hands outstretched in front of him.

Fuck, poor Frank. “It’s okay,” Gerard managed to call out. “S’ok, Frank.”

“Gerard,” a voice ghosted across his cheek on the breeze, the cold October wind. “Gerard.”

“I’m okay,” Gerard called again, trying to ignore the throbbing in his jaw. He checked with his tongue and wondered if he was imagining one of his molars feeling a bit loose. Fuck, he’d worry about it later. He stumbled back to the edge of the woods, and it seemed to take ages before he got there and crossed the threshold. As soon as he did Frank collapsed on him, bitingly cold, wrapping his arms around Gerard. Cold was good, though. Gerard could actually stand a bit more coldness and numbness in his life at the moment.

“They hurt you,” Frank said, and the wind picked up again as he put a hand to Gerard’s battered face. “They hurt you, how fucking dare they—”

Gerard tried to say something, anything, but he couldn’t stop shaking, suddenly. His mouth hurt, and it was freezing, and something was seriously wrong with Frank.

“I’ll fucking kill them,” Frank snarled, and the moon clouded over. He curled up, curled around Gerard, hands running over his skin, under his shirt, tracing the line of his back. “They can’t—you’re mine, they can’t have you.”

“It’s okay,” Gerard soothed frantically, voice muffled by Frank’s neck. “Really, it’s not that bad. I’m fine!” He leaned back, tried on a smile. Frank didn’t seem to notice, or maybe it just wasn’t a very good attempt.

“It can’t happen again,” he said, eyes gleaming and full of trees. “Not to you. Gerard, I’ll kill them first, I promise.”

“Nobody’s killing anybody!” Gerard said, alarmed, and then he reeled like Ted was still there punching him, like an actual physical fist was driving itself into his belly again, because Frank was laughing, wild and deranged.

“You’re so fucking young. Why not? People kill each other all the time. They did it before, they could do it again. I could, I would. I’ll fucking kill them. I won’t let them touch you, not you. I won’t.”

“Frank,” Gerard whispered, and Frank just shook his head and fuck, Frank was dead, dead because someone had killed him. How had Gerard not known that? He hadn’t wanted to know, an ashamed small part of him whispered. Because he was a coward. He took a deep breath and wrapped an arm around Frank’s shoulders, and vowed to himself that later he’d ask questions.

“Frank, I’m okay, it’s okay, Frankie, look at me. They didn’t kill me, I’m okay,” Gerard rasped, wiping blood from his chin, and Frank just pulled Gerard closer, wrapping a hand possessively around his waist and glaring over Gerard’s shoulder at the field, at the squat gray shape of the school in the distance.

“You can’t go back,” Frank pronounced, in an eerie, level voice. “I can’t reach you there, you’re not safe. I couldn’t… you were almost too far away, in the field. You have to stay here.”

“Frank, man,” Gerard said, abandoning his soothing voice in alarm. “I… I can’t. You know I would, but I can’t. Not forever.”

Frank hissed and tightened his grip—no, holy fuck, he was actually letting his hands slide inside Gerard’s waist, freezing and intimate and okay, okay, a little creepy when Frank was so out of it, so upset.

“Frankie,” Gerard tried again, and tried to catch Frank’s eyes. “Frank, I’m okay! You stopped them. I’m fine, look at me. Frankie, look at me.” Gerard hesitantly put a hand against Frank’s face, uncertain if Frank was entirely solid, if Gerard’s touch would smudge Frank’s skin like charcoals or smoke. But Frank just turned his face into Gerard’s palm and let out a long, shuddering sigh.

“They hurt you,” he said quietly, and yeah, Gerard did hurt. He hurt, ached, wanted to curl in a ball, but Frank would be upset, so Gerard was going to take one for the team and ignore it, for now.

“Hey, they’ll totally leave me alone now, right?” Gerard said as cheerfully as he could. “I’m under the protection of the dead. They’re gonna think twice before trying anything else. Bet you five packs of Marlboros and a trade issue of Birds of Prey.”

Frank snorted, almost smiled. He was still a watercolor version of himself, bleeding out into the world around him—into the trees, the dirt, the sleeves of Gerard’s hoodie. But he was looking at Gerard now, instead of through him.

“Aw, man, your poor face,” he said quietly, and started wiping the blood off Gerard’s chin. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—it must hurt like a bitch.”

“’S nothing,” Gerard said carefully, and tried on another smile. This one fit better. “Don’t be sorry. You weren’t the one hitting on Ted’s girlfriend,” and seriously, seriously, it was almost sort of funny and suddenly he couldn’t help but giggle, even though it made his ribs protest vigorously. Ow ow, fucking hilarious, but ow.

"You what?" Frank said incredulously, and Gerard flapped a hand helplessly.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, I don’t like her!” I don’t like anyone but you, he didn’t say, but maybe he should say it, maybe he should just go all out and admit he’d totally fallen for Frank way back when he still thought Frank was just a creepy serial killer hermit hobo. Maybe then Frank would accept their weird non-traditional love and kiss Gerard better.

“Do you hear that?” Frank said suddenly, halting Gerard’s ruminations. Gerard looked around anxiously—he wasn’t actually totally sure the threat of ghostly vengeance was going to keep Ted and his goons away—but there was just the empty field, silent except for the sweep of the wind. Then Gerard did hear something, and felt it, too: the muted thrum of a phone on vibrate. He fished his phone out of his pocket with clumsy, numb hands.

There were a lot of missed calls, and an assload of texts from Mikey.

where r u mom is goin nuts

if zombie frank 8 u ill be pssd not that u have ny brains

srsly where the hell r u

gerard

And there was a random picture of an ice cube tray with weird penis and boob shapes from Gabe, which Gerard would deal with later.

still alive, he wrote. His fingers didn’t seem to be working quite right, maybe because of the cold. Frank hooked his chin over Gerard’s shoulder and watched him type, not commenting, and Gerard settled back into his arms with a sigh and pressed send.

A few minutes passed. An owl flew by in a silent wave of air, white wings overhead, and Frank pressed his cheek against Gerard’s. Gerard would have been totally into it except his cheek really fucking hurt, even beneath the wave of cold, and he was trying to think of a polite way to ask Frank to molest the other side of his face when the phone buzzed again.

not for long. mom is on warpath.

Gerard snorted, because, whatever. Being late wasn’t really his biggest concern at the moment, and after the last hour, it wasn’t like his mom really scared him anymore. Well. Not much. Hmm.

He stretched painfully, wriggling free of Frank’s grip, and Frank scowled at him.

“So you can control the weather, huh?” Gerard asked conversationally, trying to work up to telling Frank he really had to leave, if only for a little while. He rubbed his arms—Jesus, he just couldn’t get used to the cold. He needed a fucking parka out here.

“Sort of. I guess. Mainly just wind and stuff when I’m really mad, or whatever,” Frank said dismissively, like he hadn’t just admitted the coolest thing ever. Gerard beamed at him. Which, ow, but he couldn’t help himself. “Are you going?” Frank continued, still in Gerard’s personal space. “Don’t go. You should stay. Stay here, it’s safer.”

“Um,” Gerard said, wincing. “It’s a little chilly? And also, my mom’s apparently freaking out. I have to get back.”

“I’ll make a fire!” Frank said. Gerard knew Frank wouldn’t actually kidnap him or anything, but, well. A ghost wanted to kidnap him. Gerard definitely needed supplies for that one. A sleeping bag at the very least. And a tent. And a fuckton of coffee.

“I’ll camp out with you later,” he offered tentatively. “But I really gotta go, man. My mom and Mikey are going nuts, you know?”

“You can’t leave,” Frank insisted, looming now—who knew such a short guy could loom?—and his face was terrifyingly blank, and the trees had begun thrashing around in the wind again, unseen torrents of dead leaves crackling and popping in the air. Gerard wasn’t altogether sure Frank would let him leave. “You can’t go,” he insisted again, and maybe this was what everyone else saw, the cloudy form and burning eyes, and an implacable, reasonless voice to go with it. “It’s not safe. Stay with me. Don’t go.”

“Frank,” Gerard said helplessly, and reached out, found Frank’s arm, solid and so cold it burned his fingertips. He hissed in a breath but held on. He worked on keeping his face straight. “Frank, you—you’re kinda freaking me out?”

Frank stared at him a moment longer, motionless but for the breeze whipping tendrils of smoke from around his body, and then sort of slumped back into stillness. “Sorry,” he said.

“Just, you know, it’s not a big deal,” Gerard offered, and Frank huffed, a quiet sound in the suddenly still forest.

“I wish I could go with you.” And his voice was small, raw. Gerard felt like a total dick.

“We’ll figure it out,” Gerard promised, voice thick. “Tomorrow, I’ll figure it out. I’ve got tons of comic books, dude, and the internet. And the scientific method! Something. Don’t… maybe we can create, like, a tiny portion of movable forest? That you can move around with? I think we have a wheelbarrow somewhere in our garage.”

He managed to get himself to shut up. Frank was staring with both eyebrows nearly to his hairline, and it was almost his normal ‘you’re fucking crazy, holy shit, stand still or you’re going to be stuck in that hawthorne bush forever’ expression, so Gerard counted it as a win.

“Tomorrow,” he repeated, emphatically, and then couldn’t help himself. “Wheelbarrows! It’ll totally work.”

“You’re such a freak,” Frank said, and shuffled forward and wrapped his arms around Gerard and just clung there for a moment.

Gerard shivered. “Um,” he said hoarsely. “Can I?” He knew he’d said he wouldn’t, but it had been such a shitty fucking night, so he just pressed his lips gingerly to the corner of Frank’s mouth, heart pounding. Frank seemed like he was going to turn his head and kiss back for a moment, and then he pushed Gerard away, shaking his head and smiling crookedly.

“Save it for Ted’s girlfriend, Romeo,” he quipped, and Gerard sighed. He’d just have to work a bit harder at convincing Frank he wasn’t going anywhere, he guessed. And that Frank wasn’t stuck in the forest forever. Anyway, Gerard’s mouth currently hurt like a bitch, so it probably wasn’t the best time to plot make-outs.

“I didn’t hit on her,” he protested tiredly. “Everyone’s insane.”

“Glad to hear it,” Frank smirked. “I mean, I totally buy you as a player, don’t get me wrong.” Gerard spluttered at him and Frank laughed, wrinkling his nose and grinning, and everything seemed awesome, except for the way Gerard’s entire body ached and he sort of wanted to curl in a ball and cry. Frank seemed to notice after a moment, which was annoying. Gerard had been working really hard on being all stoic and unaffected and smiley.

“Well,” Frank said. “I guess you should go. Get some Tylenol or whatever. But be careful.” Frank stared at him intently and Gerard sighed. “Please, Gerard. I know this is fucking foreign to you, but please.”

Gerard would be more insulted, but, well. He supposed he didn’t have the best track record.

“Yeah, sure, I promise. I’ll be careful. So careful. So, uh. Kiss for the road?” he asked hopefully, dithering at the forest edge, and was delighted and surprised when Frank darted forward and pressed his lips to Gerard’s, cold and soothing for a brief, blinding moment before he disappeared with a gust of wind and dead leaves.

“Sometimes that trick is really annoying,” Gerard told the empty woods, smiling foolishly before he began trudging home.

***

Gerard tried to avoid letting his mom seeing the bruises, but of course she came stomping up to his room after she got home, clearly all set to chew him out for missing the hospital visit. And then she went into horrified, worried Mom mode, which was worse than being yelled at any day.

Still, once he’d convinced her not to call and bitch out the superintendant and principal and everyone else in the entire world, it was kind of nice. She brought him an icepack made out of frozen peas, and a wet washcloth, and fixed him a bowl of his favorite ice cream.

He hated seeing his Mom upset, though, so he stopped whining after a while. Especially since she started making noises about him transferring schools, or moving back to Belleview. He couldn’t leave Glen Fell now. Even if the school was full of violent, sociopathic Nazis in letter jackets. Leaving… just wasn’t an option, and not only because he wouldn’t abandon Mikey up here, either.

Her overreaction wasn’t all bad, though. He was totally down with her being hovery and upset when she said he could skip school the next day.

“You should rest,” she said the next morning, poking her head in his room. “You look like a wreck. Did you get any sleep at all?”

“Just fucking uncomfortable,” Gerard said grumpily, pawing through a pile of dirty hoodies and trying to pick out the least muddy. Having a boyfriend that lived in a forest was hell on his ability to pass off clothes as vaguely clean. Maybe tomorrow should be a laundry day. “I ache all fucking over. Makes it hard to sleep.”

“Well, you should have gotten Advil or something.” She vanished down the stairs and came back a moment later with a glass of water and a handful of pills. “Here. You could use a breather. I’ll write you a note for the school, okay? Go back to sleep, baby.”

“You’re the best, Mom,” Gerard said fervently, and she gave him a kind of sad smile and even leaned in to kiss him on the forehead, like she used to do when he was little and had the flu.

“I’ll see you tonight. There’s Beefaroni and things in the cupboards. Try not to drink all the coffee.”

“Me? Never?” Gerard retorted a bit guiltily as he slid back in bed, and she laughed and closed the door. Gerard settled in to snooze away the day and lounge about his bed in his pajamas and watch bad daytime television for a little while. He had to deal with Frank later, the things he’d said and what they meant, but for now he was just going to relax, goddammit.

Of course, he was just dozing off when the pounding started. It began as a polite rapping that Gerard could barely hear, but quickly crescendoed into loud, rhythmic thumping. Fucking drummers.

“Way! Don’t make me throw rocks at your window! C’mon, you fucker, we’re going to be late!” Bob hollered, voice just barely muffled, even though he was outside and a story below. Fuck. Gerard draped his comforter around himself and shuffled downstairs, feeling grumpy and pathetic. His body protested every step he took. He opened the door a crack, peering out at Bob miserably.

“‘m not going to school today. Sorry, man.”

“What’s wrong with your voice? You sick or something?” Bob shoved the door open and then froze, eyes wide.

Gerard sighed. He hated this, that he had to feel weird and embarrassed, like he was a victim. It wasn’t his fault this town bred creepy hateful vicious bastards. Gerard was just unlucky enough to be temporarily living here.

“Fuck,” Bob said after a moment, looking furious. “I knew something like this was going to happen. Did Ted jump you when you left the band room?” Gerard dithered, unsure whether or not he should admit he’d actually been jumped after he left the forest where he’d been visiting his dead not-quite-a-boyfriend, Frank Iero. Maybe now wasn’t the time to bring that up. Bob took his conflicted expression for a yes, though, and scowled. “Jesus, what an asshole. Do you need some ice or something? You should be icing that.”

“Thanks, Mom, I’ve got ice.” Well, peas, actually, and then corn, and then they’d run out of frozen vegetables and had to resort to trying to freeze actual water in baggies and shit, because they’d left their ice cube trays back in Belleview and kept forgetting to buy new ones. But still. “Really, I’ll be okay. It’s just bruises.”

“Hmm,” Bob said, and then nodded to himself, like he’d come to a decision. “Come on, get in the car.”

“Huh?” Gerard said, tightening his blanket around himself in alarm. “No, I’m not going to school today. I told you, I feel like shit.”

“That’s nice,” Bob replied serenely, pulling out his phone and squinting at it as he typed. “But we’re not going to school, we’re going to Toro’s. This avoidance shit clearly isn’t working. We need a new plan.”

“But I want to sleep,” Gerard protested reflexively. He was kind of stunned, to be honest. Bob just shrugged at him, clearly at peace with his own madness.

“You can sleep when we get there. But, call me crazy, I don’t like the idea of you on your own here all day. If Ted’s creepy enough to hunt you down after school, who knows what the fuck shit he might pull. He’s a dick, and a psychopath.”

Gerard snorted. “Dude, I don’t think he’s going to, like, actually hunt me down. And he’s already fucked me up enough, right? I mean, I’ll just stay out of his and Tanya’s way for a while. It’ll be fine. And really, you shouldn’t miss more school, so, wow, I really appreciate the effort, but—”

“Gerard,” Bob said, interrupting him with a smile. “Get in the damn car.”

Gerard got in the car.

***

“Yeah, but, I don’t want you guys to get on their shitlist too!” Gerard protested, and Bob glanced away from the screen for a moment, rolling his eyes. Gerard briefly considered taking advantage of this and charging in to kill him, but his little guy was still stuck in a corner and he couldn’t figure out which direction to go to get out of the hallway and to whatever ledge Bob was on, so really, it was pointless to bother.

“What, they’re going to just go around punching all of us? Can’t keep it up forever. The school’d have to do something eventually.”

“Well… yeah, maybe. I mean, do you really think you can reason with those guys?” Gerard paused thoughtfully. “Well, Isaac, you might be able to, if you convinced him it was going to fuck up his college applications.”

Then the front door slammed, which was weird, since school didn’t get out for like another two hours, and a few moments later Ray bounced into the den, smiling and carrying a couple bottles of Coke.

Gerard dropped the controller in horror.

“See!” he yelped, chest going tight with guilt. “See! I told you!”

“Ray,” Bob growled, and got up, fists clenched. “What happened.”

“Well,” Ray said cheerfully, tossing Bob a Coke. “Ted asked me where my faggot boyfriend was, and so I called him a homophobic prick! And, uh, probably a tiny one! I mean, a tiny prick. Like, he has a tiny penis.”

“We get it, Toro,” Bob said, mouth twitching.

“And, well, then he punched me. Bam, right in the eye, and now we’re both suspended for the rest of the day, and I have detention tomorrow.” Ray flopped down on one of the beanbags. “Hey, are you using that icepack, Gee?”

“You hit Ted?” Gerard squawked, and nudged the icepack over.

“Nah. I mean, I would have tried to, but I was on the ground and all. Anyway, apparently Noltes and some other kids say I started the fight, and so the principal kicked us both out.”

“I am… oh, god, Ray, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” Gerard stared down at his hands. Maybe he should have stayed in the forest and eaten bugs and moss after all. At least then no one else would have gotten hurt because of him. And Ray, missing class. It was like the apocalypse.

“Don’t be a tool,” Ray said, still cheerful, but with a slight edge to his voice. “If you think I’m going to let him say that shit about you, especially after he fucking attacked you the night before, you must not think I’m a very decent friend. Or a decent person.”

“It’s not that, I just,” Gerard spluttered, and felt his cheeks get hot. “Ray, that’s not what I meant! I just wish you hadn’t gotten hurt.”

“Well, I wish Ted wasn’t a douchebag,” Ray said lightly, shrugging. “I don’t regret it or anything. I wish I had hit him.”

Gerard eyed him in disbelief. “But now you’re missing class.”

“There are more important things than class,” Ray sniffed, and Bob did a slow clap.

“Took you long enough, Toro,” he said. “Now can we actually start figuring out what to do about this bullshit?”

“You were playing Halo,” Ray pointed out dryly. “You could have been strategizing all day!”

“Yeah, well. We were getting in the mood. For strategy.” Ray gave Bob a look, and Bob sighed. “Oh, shut up. C’mon, I couldn’t resist. Gerard’s been stuck in that corner for like ten minutes. I’ve killed him so many times. It’s great. He makes these ridiculous noises every time he dies, watch.”

“Can we stay on topic?” Gerard interjected moodily, watching his little video game dude die. Again. He couldn’t stop thinking of Frank’s face as he asked what the fuck an Xbox was, how frustrated and lonely he’d looked. It sucked, and he’d rather talk about Ted and his goons than think about it any longer, which was saying a lot.

“Right,” Bob said, setting his controller down and steepling his fingers. “Okay. So, they’re less likely to attack any of us if we’re in a group. Therefore, no one goes anywhere alone.” He narrowed his eyes at Gerard. “And this time, I mean it. No sneaking off to wander around in the forest or whatever.”

Ray shot Gerard a significant look. “Yeah, Gerard clearly needs to just chill with us in the band room ‘til practice ends. It’s common sense.”

Gerard stared at them, heart thudding uncomfortably. He couldn’t stay out of the forest. That was just… not an option. “Uh, what? Guys, I’m not in band. That doesn’t work.”

“We’ll get you a gong to ring in the back with Bob, it’ll be great,” Ray said stubbornly.

“But,” Gerard replied helplessly, and then folded. He’d just—he’d figure something out. He had to.

***

His life was a wasteland. Gerard felt confident in asserting this—he’d read that shit in English last year. And okay, it was actually an excellent poem—Gerard really loved the thrumming echoes of the lines, the dissonance and discordance and confusion. But the thing was it kind of mirrored his life to an uncanny degree at the moment, except with less of the World War and more of high school. Which was more similar than one might think.

Gerard’d gotten to school that morning and promptly been called to the front office for skipping class. When he showed her the note his mom had written, figuring it was a misunderstanding, Gertrude had just squinted her beady secretary eyes at him and said, “Not for Tuesday, Mr. Way. We were informed that you missed two classes last week. We do not tolerate that kind of behavior in Glen Fell. You’ll serve a detention for each missed period with Coach Sikowski. Meet him at the gym immediately after the last bell.”

Ray shrugged helplessly and Gerard hid behind his coffee mug and submitted to his fate, even though it was totally unfair. He’d kind of been looking forward to banging a gong in the band room with Bob, but he guessed that was off the table. He was a little worried that detention in Glen Fell was going to be the epitome of hell on earth. They’d probably make him shuck corn or polish antlers or something.

The only good thing about the whole situation was that Ted and his group had backed off. In fact, Ted was doing a bang-up job of pretending Gerard didn’t exist at all. He was just giving a wide berth to certain sections of the halls and classrooms because some minutiae of high school existence happened to be demanding his attention in the opposite direction. Right.

Isaac, on the other hand, was watching Gerard intently. Gerard would feel the itchy sensation of someone’s eyes on the back of his head, but he’d learned not to turn around. It’d just be Isaac, with a pinched, narrow look on his face, totally ignoring the teacher’s lecture in favor of staring at Gerard like he might—Gerard didn’t even know what Isaac thought he might do, actually. He didn’t think Isaac knew either; he just kept opening his mouth like he was about to ask something, then closing it again, disgruntled. It was really fucking unsettling.

And Noltes pretty much just turned tail and ran when he came across Gerard in the hallway, leaving Bob and Ray blinking as Gerard shrugged and made a confused, innocent face. Because really, Gerard looked like someone had attacked his face with a shovel. There was no good explanation for the most massive tank of a human being ever to be fleeing from him. Well, there was, but not really one he could share with Ray and Bob. It was totally possible the jocks had realized Gerard had a badass ghost protector, or maybe they just thought Gerard had super psychic powers or something, or that they’d had a mass hallucination of ghostly vengeance and rage. It was hard to be sure.

But anyway, even knowing that, the abrupt change in their behavior was unsettling. Tanya blew him a kiss in the lunch line and it just made Ted stomp over—to Tanya, not to Gerard—and hiss something in her ear. But that was it. Nothing else. No blow up, no smacking Gerard’s lunch tray out of his hands, nothing. And after that, nothing Tanya did provoked Ted into responding, not even her trying to borrow Gerard’s notes in Spanish.

“Well,” Bob said, peering after Noltes, who was hugging the wall and edging past the three of them with wide eyes. “We’re still driving you home after detention.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Gerard sighed, exasperated. He waved a notebook at Noltes, who flinched and made a beeline for the stairwell like the hounds of hell were after him, instead of someone flapping a notebook with zombie elves drawn on the cover. “Look, they’re clearly done messing with me. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.” Gerard really needed to go check on Frank this afternoon, reassure him that he was okay. Bruised, but intact. And, okay, so maybe he wanted to renew his campaign for make-outs. Plus, he had some theories he’d developed during the most boring history lecture ever that he wanted to test. There had to be a way to let Frankie leave the forest. Gerard just needed to experiment a bit.

But Bob was making his ‘I’m Really Unimpressed With Your Semblance Of Logic’ face and Ray was cheerfully ignoring Gerard entirely, talking over his protests and describing a band playing in Burlington next weekend that was apparently fond of spitting fake blood everywhere. Which did sound pretty cool, in all honesty. Anyway, Gerard supposed he could always sneak out of his house at midnight or something—Bob hadn’t quite descended to posting a guard detail outside his house. Yet.

Except Gerard had forgotten, again, the depths of misery and despair that Glen Fell could plummet to at any moment.

Detention here was basically like being drafted into Satan’s Boot Camp. The gym coach made him trundle all over the fucking school with goddamned barbells and gym mats, sneering at him the whole while as he staggered around beneath impossible loads of shit, and when Gerard made one tiny, very legitimate complaint, he set Gerard to running fucking laps. For what felt like hours. Like this was the goddamned middle ages. Gerard would have preferred being drawn and quartered, honestly. It would have felt the same in the end, and it’d have been so much quicker.

“Oh my god,” Worm said in a hushed voice an hour later. Gerard was slumped against the wall of the band room, just outside the door, concentrating very hard on forcing air in and out of his tortured lungs. He winced and conceded defeat; Bob was going to have to give Gerard a ride home, because Gerard didn’t think his legs were going to carry him more than a few more steps before they dissolved into puddles of plasma and death. “Your face. It’s… wow. You’re really red, dude.”

“Are you dying?” Ray asked, concerned. “Man, that really sucks, I just had to do my detention in the library with Mr. Giacinto.”

Gerard wheezed unhappily and let Worm haul him into a vaguely upright position. He couldn’t fucking believe he had to do this again tomorrow. He was seriously going to die—he didn’t mean to be flippant, since death wasn’t funny, but his lungs felt like they might be on fire. It was miserable, and he needed to re-write his will. And figure out how to meet up with Frank in the afterlife. Jesus, he was going to hurl.

“Laps, huh,” Bob said sympathetically, and tossed Gerard a water bottle. “You’re just lucky you took care of your Phys Ed requirement back in Jersey. I had the prick for gym class last year, and he’s a total psychopath.”

Gerard believed it. “My life is a wasteland,” he said in a tiny, pathetic voice, hoarse with despair and agony.

“Yep,” Bob said, and smiled brightly. The asshole. “C’mon, let’s go study for history. Test tomorrow.” Gerard moaned and let himself be dragged off to 19th century American Reconstruction hell.

That night, Gerard had every intention of slipping out of his house and meeting with Frank—he set his alarm for 1:11 AM and everything. But he didn’t wake up until Bob threw things at his window the next morning, and every movement of every limb was like agony. Also, Bob was seriously going to break that damned windowpane one day. What was he throwing, bricks?

“Acorns,” Bob said sagely, and stole a sip of Gerard’s coffee. Gerard growled and snatched the travel mug back.

“I hate this town,” he said morosely, watching the high school get closer and closer. “I hate it. There is nothing good about it.” Which wasn’t true, but felt true, especially at the moment.

“Mmm. So,” Bob said, squinting at their study guide, which he’d taped to the steering wheel. “What’s the difference between a copperhead, a carpetbagger, and a scalawag?”

“I hate you.” Gerard glared and lit up a cigarette. Maybe the nicotine would shake some memory loose. “Um. One’s a snake, one’s… in the upholstery business? And the other… is a salamander.”

“I can’t argue with that. We’re doomed,” Bob said, and stole Gerard’s cigarette philosophically. Gerard banged his head against the window and sighed.

The history test went about as shittily as possible. Gerard actually had to resort to using a comic strip to illustrate one of the short answer questions. Hopefully he’d get points for creativity, but he suspected he’d taken a few liberties with Robotic Ulysses S. Grant, which would probably result in some docked points.

And then detention was even worse than it had been the day before. The coach was a total dick—he was Ted’s uncle, only about ten years older than most of the students there, and clearly thought he had better things to do with his life, which, way to take it out on Gerard, meathead. Not Gerard’s fault he’d drank his way out of the major leagues and had to come back to this shithole.

He set Gerard to cleaning the locker rooms, which, wow. Wow. There could not be anything more foul on the face of the Earth, and by the time he escaped he was a little loopy from the bleach fumes and probably also from being infected by the biological weapons the baseball team and coach were brewing up in the showers. Gerard was no stranger to bizarre substances growing in abandoned coffee mugs, but this was a whole new level of fungus-filled wrong.

He staggered out of the gym, vision swimming slightly, and drank in the sweet, sweet outdoor air gratefully. No bleach and athlete’s foot here.

Except there was the baseball team, running laps in front of him, circling the parking lot like sharks. The assholes were making it look so goddamned effortless, moving like evil android machines through the chill afternoon air, barely breaking a sweat. The coach was standing near the equipment shed, tall and broad-shouldered, cap shading his eyes. He was watching the players run with a frown on his face. Then he spotted Gerard and his frown deepened into a scowl, curled upper lip and all.

Gerard blinked, because, okay, sure, he’d skipped class, but what the hell? He hadn’t done anything to merit that kind of look. Maybe he’d thought Gerard was ogling the players or something, fuck if Gerard knew. The coach made as though he was going to stalk towards Gerard or say something, and Gerard immediately fled towards the band room before he was asked to clean something else or, god forbid, to start running with the team.

Gerard literally could not think of anything he wanted less than to stagger around behind Noltes and Ted and Isaac. There probably were worse things in the universe, but the horror of that image drove them out of his mind.

Unfortunately, fleeing to the band room meant he was intercepted by Ray and Bob, and then he was stuck hanging out with them the entire afternoon, again. Which wasn’t, like, a hardship, not at all. It was actually sort of amazingly great. But Frank wasn’t there. Bob kept having to snap his fingers in front of Gerard’s face, dragging his attention away from the windows and back to the conversation. He was a little worried the guys were going to think he had some mental deficiency, but hopefully they’d just attribute it to the lingering bleach fumes or exhaustion or something.

He still hadn’t managed to sneak away to see Frank since Monday night. And on Friday, when he was finally supposed to have an afternoon free, he found himself being fucking stalked by Coach Sikowski, who trailed Gerard all around the cafeteria and then finally announced with great satisfaction that Gerard had detention for using ‘inappropriate language on school property.’

Probably why Ted had been laying off lately. He’d gotten his uncle to do his dirty work, the bastard. Gerard definitely preferred being punched now and again and being flicked with spitballs to running laps, dammit.

So that was another afternoon lost, and Gerard had run so many laps by the time he got out of school he’d actually had to beg out of visiting hours with Mikey, even though he felt like a jerk. He’d just felt so fucking sore. So of course he spent all day on Saturday with Mikey to make up for it, and then, because Gerard could not catch a break, Bob and Patrick and Ray had been waiting on his porch when they’d gotten back that night.

Gerard’s mom, the traitor, had just raised her eyes and smiled, ruffling Gerard’s hair before disappearing into her room, letting them drag her oldest son off for god-knew-what torture. Violent video games, at the very least. Bob and Ray had fucking hovered over him all Sunday, too, dragging him out to one of the corn mazes, which were as fucking creepy as advertised—actually, it’d been pretty sweet, if only Frank could have been there too.

By the time he’d made it home, it was already dark and he hadn’t finished any of his homework for the week, and a chill rain was settling in.

Fuck, he’d missed too many days in the forest already, and he wasn’t going to miss another, he just wasn’t. Frank had to be getting worried—the last time he’d seen Gerard, he’d still been bleeding. It’d been so easy to sneak away before, but now people noticed when he was missing and shit. It was weird, and nice and sort of a pain in the ass, all at the same time.

He was stuck with only one possible conclusion: he was going to have to come clean to Ray and Bob.

Frank hadn’t wanted anyone else to know, not yet, but Gerard was running out of options. He kept sleeping through his alarm at night, and he couldn’t afford to skip any more school—the detentions were sapping not only his will, but also his ability to live, and it seemed like Coach Sikowski was going to be ready as it was to pounce on any possible infraction. He didn’t want to add to that unnecessarily.

Now that he’d made his decision, he just had to find a way to word it so that they didn’t think he was insane.

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

“So,” Gerard coughed, fiddling with his scalpel nervously as he gathered his courage. Ray glanced up from his tray of frog and fish bits. They were supposed to be doing comparative anatomy or something, but the organs had gotten a bit… mixed during the dissection process, and he and Ray were basically winging it now. “So, uh. Do you remember that guy you were talking about at lunch? The one who went missing?”

“Yeah,” Ray said slowly, abandoning the monstrous frog-salamander-abomination-with-gills he was constructing and peering at Gerard through his goggles. “Frank. Why?” Ray abruptly looked concerned. “Oh, Gerard, are those fuckers giving you a hard time again? I thought they’d backed off.”

“Huh?” Gerard asked, leaving off prodding what might be a swim bladder with his pencil. Ted was still doing the ‘oh, look, a Gerard-shaped hole in the fabric of reality’ schtick and Isaac had stopped staring at him quite so often, probably because midterm exams were coming up and he couldn’t afford to miss that much of lectures anymore. “Oh, no, they’re still backed off, mostly.”

Noltes had gone back to shoving Gerard into walls with his massive shoulders, actually. Gerard couldn’t decide if this was because he had the memory of a goldfish, or if he’d decided that Gerard couldn’t pull any creepy supernatural shit on the school grounds. Either way, it wasn’t a huge deal.

Ray moved like he was going to put a hand on Gerard’s shoulder and Gerard reeled away, horrified. Taking his fish-covered hand back, looking slightly abashed, Ray said, “We won’t let them disappear you. Don’t worry, Gee.” He looked ridiculous, big earnest eyes and giant goggles and hair up in two pom pom ponytail holders, and if they weren’t both holding sharp implements and covered in dead things, Gerard would have totally hugged him.

“Thanks, man,” he said quietly, and then tried to gear himself up for another go at the ghost-talk. “But, uh, that’s… not exactly why I brought it up. I just, um. Well. Remember that shit you said, about seeing Frankie’s ghost?”

“Oh, that,” Ray said, sounding a bit embarrassed. He went back to poking the mass of entrails. “I didn’t exactly see his ghost, man. It was just… you know, smoke. Coldness. It was weird. I dunno, maybe I imagined it.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Gerard said in a hushed voice, biting his lip. “I… you didn’t. I’ve been going into the forest, and I’m telling you, you didn’t imagine it. It was Frank.”

“Look, don’t fuck around,” Ray said, and Gerard grabbed his hand, ignoring the cough of ‘faggot’ from the lab table behind them and the really disgusting squelch of formaldehyde and worse things between the latex of their gloves.

“I’m not!” Gerard said, trying to sound as serious as possible. “It’s the truth, and I can prove it, I can. Just, trust me. I didn’t want to tell you before, because I thought… well, it sounds crazy, right? But I’ve got to get back to the woods this afternoon. I just… I have to. And I thought, well. Since you guys are so gung-ho on following me everywhere, you could come too. If you want.” Gerard cringed and tried to smile hopefully at the same time, and probably just wound up looking demented.

Ray, to his credit, didn’t shake Gerard off. He did look at Gerard consideringly, though, like maybe he was about to call a mental health professional and obtain Gerard a nice pretty white straightjacket.

It was probably for the best Gerard hadn’t brought up the ‘also, I want to date your dead friend’ thing yet.

“Look, Gee, I…” Ray started, sounding doubtfully, but Gerard cut him off.

“Just come out there with me, just once,” Gerard said, with his best smile and biggest, most pleading eyes. “Just, you know, if I’m crazy, I’m crazy. And if I’m not, well… what’s the worst that could happen, right?”

***

“You’re fucking crazy,” Bob said two hours later, stomping his feet in the puddles of mud and dead leaves, scowling at the empty path. “There’s no one out here, Way. Now can we go back to Ray’s? I’m starving.”

“He always shows up,” Gerard replied absently, wringing his hands and peering through the pale columns of tree trunks, sunlight streaming between them and casting sharp shadows everywhere. Frank didn’t appear from any of them. “He always does, eventually. He’ll be here in a second.” Maybe Frank was freaked out by Bob and Ray being there, but Bob wouldn’t be left behind once Ray’d clued him in to what was going on. Or… Frank had said sometimes he just lost time, like he stopped existing, went somewhere else. Just stopped. Sally’s ghost was fading away, what if Frank had faded too? What if he was gone forever? Fuck, Gerard should have just skipped school and submitted more detention. It’d have been worth it—worse things would be worth it. If Frank had faded... fuck, Gerard couldn’t even think about it.

“Frank?” he called again, cupping his hands around his mouth and fighting back what felt a lot like tears. Ray and Bob were staring at him, he could see them out of the corner of his eyes, and he didn’t care, because fuck. Fuck, Frankie. “Frankie, c’mon, man.” His voice cracked miserably and his shoulders slumped, and then Ray let out what sounded a lot like a shriek and Gerard was engulfed in freezing cold and falling down on his ass in the mud.

“You came back,” Frank said into his neck, and Gerard breathed in an aching lungful of air. “You came back.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Gerard said finally, voice thick. “Of course I did. Where were you?”

“Where was I?” Frank snorted, leaning back finally. He looked like he always did, same ragged t-shirt and jeans and curl of tattoos peeking out around his neck and arms, and he was the best thing Gerard had ever seen. “Where were you? It’s been… it’s been a couple days, right?”

“Yeah,” Gerard said, smiling helplessly as Frank leaned into him, running his hands over Gerard’s arms like he might disappear, like he wanted to soak Gerard in. Probably he’d just missed Gerard’s body heat, but still. It was really fucking nice. “Yeah, I’m sorry, Frankie, I didn’t mean to. Shit got kind of intense at school.” Fucking detention. “And,” he coughed a bit nervously, because Frank seemed not to have noticed yet, but it was only a matter of time and it was probably better to bite the bullet or whatever. “Uh, I brought some people with me?”

“Hmm?” Frank said, and started patting Gerard’s pockets, making a face. “C’mon, man, I know you’ve got smokes. Hand ‘em the fuck over.”

“Holy shit,” Ray said in an even higher voice than usual, and Frank’s head shot up.

“So,” Gerard said hopefully into the ensuing silence. Ray was backed up against a maple tree and was staring at Frank, like—okay, like he was a ghost. Fair enough, but it wasn’t as though Frank was pulling any Poltergeist shit. He was just shaking Gerard down for cigarettes, like usual. Bob was just watching him with narrowed eyes and his arms crossed over his chest. “Uh, can you guys see him too, then?”

“Well,” Bob said, eyes somehow going even narrowed-er. “I see some dude crawling all over you. Doesn’t look like a ghost to me.”

“I don’t, huh,” Frank said, grinning sharply and rocking back on his heels. Gerard abruptly got a bit worried, and, okay, maybe he wasn’t really used to not being the entire focus of Frank’s attention. But that was the point, right? Gerard didn’t want to be the be-all, end-all of Frank’s social circle. Frank deserved to have more than just one crazy dude stalking him in a forest. But Frank had a really weird look on his face, like maybe he was going to go all ninja-translucent and push Bob in a puddle, and that would be really, really bad and definitely put a crimp in Gerard’s plan to for them to all be best friends forever.

“Frank?” Ray squeaked finally, edging closer, eyes huge. “I don’t—is that you?”

“Toro,” Frank said warily, waving a hand, and Ray edged a step closer. “Wow, you weren’t joking about the hair,” he said to Gerard out of the corner of his mouth.

“But I don’t—it doesn’t look like you,” Ray said weakly, voice wobbling alarmingly. Whatever he saw had to be really damned out there, because he was white as a sheet of printer paper, eyes all dark pupil.

Frank shrugged laconically, but Gerard could see the tension in the lines of his mouth and shoulders. “Yeah, well. It’s still me.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and offered a wan smirk. “How you been? Heard you still play guitar.”

“Oh my god, it’s really him,” Ray gushed, and rushed forward and then came to a stop again, wrapping his arms around himself and looking conflicted. “Fuck, Frankie, we all thought you were—well, I guess you are dead. This is so weird.”

“Tell me about it,” Frank offered, smile genuine now, if still a little sad. “Sorry about last time you were out here, dude. I don’t mean to come off all terrifying and shit.” He paused, considering. “Well, not most of the time.”

Ray looked sort of sheepish, to be honest, and then turned to gauge Bob’s response. Bob was staring at all of them like they’d gone insane. “So… you can see him? How is that fair?”

“I can see him,” Bob said, long-suffering and annoyed. He eyed Frank suspiciously. “He looks like a normal dude.”

“Hey now,” Frank laughed, and wiggled his tattooed hands. “Normal? Don’t insult me. Normal ain’t what I was going for, man.”

“Oh,” Ray said, gnawing at his thumb and regarding Gerard and Frank with wide eyes. “I kind of… I see mostly smoke, still. Like, in the outline of a person.” He sketched a vague shape in the air with his other hand. “And maybe, uh, a skull? It’s pretty fucked up, dude.”

“Really?” Gerard piped up, interested. “That’s so cool! I wonder why Bob and I can see Frank and you can’t. Have you ever seen any other dead people, Bob?”

“Why is my life suddenly a Shyamalan film?” Bob grumbled to himself, and glared at them all.

“No, I mean, okay, our sample size is currently three, fine, but two of us can see Frank perfectly well, and one of us sees a freaky Metallica skullbeast thing,” Gerard pointed out, and Frank sighed and went to fetch him his notebook. Gerard took it absently and started scribbling. “There has to be some commonality, right? What makes Bob and me different? Maybe it’s something in the water in Glen Fell. Bob and me are both outsiders, right?”

“Well, maybe, but maybe it’s genetic?” Ray looked fascinated, edging closer. “I mean, fuck, it could be anything.”

“Okay, guys, this is fun and all, but he’s not a ghost,” Bob said firmly. “Look at him, he’s just a guy.”

“Frank, don’t ghost out on Bob yet,” Gerard proclaimed imperiously, clutching Ray’s palm and trying to will ghost-feelings through their skin. “I want to see if we can get Ray to see you.” He darted forward and took Ray’s hand. “Maybe you can see him if I, like, share my ghost-vision with you?”

“And how would you do that?” Frank said dryly, coming up behind them and looming, making ogre-like faces at Ray.

Gerard would have chided him—Ray was totally on the verge of flipping out, Gerard could tell—but he was busy concentrating. He gritted his teeth and felt a muscle in his jaw jumping.

A moment passed, during which Bob muttered direly about their sanity.

“Nope. Still just a freaky smoke beast,” Ray said, staring at Frank.

“Well, maybe you should let go of him and let me try, brainiac,” Frank pointed out, tugging at Gerard’s arm.

“Or, uh, we could both try at once, maybe?” Gerard suggested. “I mean, it’s easy for you to go solid around me, right? So maybe if you concentrate on me, and I concentrate on him, that’ll help.”

Frank sighed and slid his hand over Gerard’s, grabbing Ray’s wrist, and then Gerard got the weirdest sensation, like… he’d never had an IV, thank fucking God, but Mikey had, and he’d said it’d felt weird, a chill that tingled and spread through his veins. That’s sort of what it felt like, Frank’s hand on his wrist bleeding out cold and shivery in lines along Gerard’s wrist, throbbing.

“I can sort of…” Frank trailed off, then blinked. “Huh. It’s like—finding the right chord. Weird.” He shook himself, like he’d been doused in cold water, and there was a strange thrumming sensation.

“Holy shit,” Ray said, jerking upright, and Gerard was a little concerned his eyes were actually going to pop out of his skull. “It’s… it’s really you, you’re. Fuck, Frank!”

“It worked?” Frank said, and then “Whoa!” Ray was hugging him and maybe there was the tiniest incredulous smile creeping onto Frank’s face. “Holy fuck, that actually—wow. Um, hi.”

“I didn’t remember you being so fucking short,” Ray said, wiping at his face and beaming. “Dude, you have no idea, I was so fucking worried about you. And you’ve been here the whole time!”

“Can you still see him even though I’ve let go?” Gerard wanted to know, flipping to a new page in his notebook. Maybe he hadn’t needed to be in physical contact with Ray at all. Maybe Frank had just needed to concentrate more. Shit, they should check that out later. Maybe when they introduced Mikey, except maybe since Gerard had been able to see Frank, Mikey would too. Maybe they shared a ghost-sensing gene.

Bob had left off grumbling and was now actively looming, regarding Frank and Ray’s closeness with obvious misgiving. “I still think you’re all fucking crazy,” he said darkly. “Way, did you slip Toro something in Bio?”

“So who’s this fucker, anyway?” Frank asked interestedly, peering over Ray’s shoulder with a worryingly evil smile.

“This is Bob Bryar,” Gerard said nervously, wondering if it was too soon to drag Frank off Ray. It wasn’t like Frank belonged to Gerard or anything, but still. They’d just met for the first time in years, they should probably take it slow. That was all. Gerard didn’t think he was overreacting—Bob clearly felt the same way, even if it was because he thought everyone was having a psychotic episode. “He’s good people.”

“Gosh, thanks.” Bob raised an eyebrow and shot Gerard a grin. “Rousing endorsement.”

“The best people,” Gerard amended, grinning back, and then blinked when Frank stalked forward. “You’ve, uh, you’ve heard me talk about him before?” he continued hesitantly. “Bob drives me places and defends me from evil. Um.”

“And he doesn’t believe in me, huh?” Frank purred, still smiling, and Bob eyed him warily.

“It’s not that he doesn’t believe in you,” Gerard clarified hastily, sharing a worried look with Ray. “It’s, uh, I mean. You know, even Ididn’t think you were a ghost for ages.”

“Well, let me help clarify,” Frank said cheerfully, and then shoved his hand through Bob’s chest.

“Whoa,” Ray said, impressed, and Gerard was simultaneously a little jealous—Frank had only ever dipped his fingers through part of Gerard’s wrist, what the hell—and afraid Bob was going to herniate something. Was it safe to do that? Wouldn’t it chill the blood and lower the body temperature, give someone hypothermia or whatever?

“Bob, are you okay?” he asked worriedly, hovering uselessly next to the two of them. He shot Frank a dark look. “Dude, is this necessary?”

Bob made an unintelligible noise that Gerard translated as some version of ‘what the motherloving fuck’ and then gritted out slowly, “I believe you. Get your fucking hand out of my body.”

“Aw, but it’s fun!” Frank said, and then when Gerard’s mouth fell open in dismay, he relented and pulled his hand free, patting Bob’s head for a moment. “There there, no harm done.”

Bob coughed a couple times, spitting out what looked like ice crystals onto the ground.

“Okay, so you’re dead and also a dick,” he said after a moment, frighteningly mild. “Glad we’ve got that established.”

“Or you could be on mind-altering drugs,” Frank pointed out, still smiling and looking altogether more evil than Gerard was used to. “Maybe you’re hallucinating. Maybe this is some fucked up dream. Or, ooh, a nightmare, would we call it a nightmare? I don’t know, you seemed like you liked it.”

“Frank!” Gerard said, exasperated.

“Gerard!” Frank mocked, and then sighed and slouched over and leaned against Gerard’s shoulder. “Can I have a smoke now? Are we done proving my undead credentials?”

“Do you always go around shoving your fist into random people?” Bob inquired, edging in front of Ray and smiling benignly at Frank. It was sort of terrifying.

“That’s how I roll,” Frank agreed, smirking back at Bob and wrapping an arm around Gerard’s waist. “Don’t worry, I’m clean. Disease-free, that’s me.”

Gerard shoved the pack of cigarettes at Frank and fumbled for a lighter. Maybe once Frank had some nicotine, he’d calm down a bit and stop goading Bob to commit some sort of ghost-murder or whatever.

“Okay!” Gerard said, twisting his hair in his fingers, watching Frank suck on a cigarette. “Okay, so, now you’ve all met, and you guys can stop freaking out when I go run off into the forest every now and then, right? Because I—”

Ray cut him off. “I don’t think you should run off anywhere, especially not alone,” he said, worried and rumpled with it, frowning. “Those assholes could still catch you coming out or going into the forest, you know.”

“No, I know,” Gerard replied impatiently, flapping a dismissive hand. “But that’s not—”

“What assholes?” Frank said, attention caught, the cigarette forgotten and glowing between his fingers. Gerard sighed and stole the cigarette back. Apparently they were talking about this. He’d really rather just not. “Who are we talking about?”

“These fuckers from school keep giving Gerard a hard time,” Bob said, eyeing Frank. “Don’t know if you noticed, but he’s kind of banged up.”

Gerard felt the moment Fr

Date: 2015-01-11; view: 861