Chapter Text

“You idiot,” Frank said into his mouth, and then kissed him again, messy and rough. His hands had drifted down, sliding through Gerard’s hoodie and shirt and touching skin, cool and making Gerard gasp into his mouth. “I fucking—Gerard, can I? I just—I need—”

Gerard’s brain fizzled for a second, and when he came back to himself he was shucking off his hoodie and panting and saying, “Yes, anything, yes. ”

“I’m not—” Frank panted, and then backed up, watching Gerard hungrily. “I’m not sure if—I don’t know if it’ll work, but I want to, just—let me, please.”

He looked so solid, so fucking real, and Gerard had to pause in scrambling out of his jeans, ignoring the twinge in his skull, to lean over and kiss him. He missed Frank’s mouth, wound up kissing down the line of Frank’s jaw instead, along his neck, the scorpion tattoo there. Frank tasted cool and sweet, and nothing like salt or skin. Like spring water, or marble, and Gerard drank it in, got distracted with it, with dragging his teeth along Frank’s throat, along the still line where the pulse should be, until Frank keened and dropped to his knees, dragging Gerard’s jeans down with him.

“I was so fucking—Gerard, I was so afraid I’d never, that you’d—” Frank leaned in and nuzzled at the crook of Gerard’s thighs, and Gerard’s knees were going to fucking give out, except Frank’s hands were cupping Gerard’s ass, the curve of it, holding him up effortlessly.

Gerard had always imagined blowjobs being wet, kind of sloppy and messy, but this was just smooth and perfect and had that chill of October and Halloween and wind and he bucked his hips, moaning, and Frank just—just took it, no resistance. Some distant part of himself observed how he was begging and panting for it, taking Frank’s hair in his hands, tangling it in his fingers. He was being pretty fucking loud, couldn’t help it, and this was probably why Mikey had fled. Sometime later he’d be embarrassed that Mikey had known this was going to happen, but not now. Not while Frank was looking up at him, cheeks hollow and god, his hands, squeezing and tracing where Gerard’s ass met his thighs and drifting tentatively upward.

“Oh my god,” Gerard groaned, and Frank pulled off for a moment, eyes dark.

“You can fuck my mouth, you know,” he said, low and dark, and then Gerard’s eyes rolled back in his head for a second and he heard Frank laugh, the cold air of it brushing against his cock and making it, oh God, that much harder not to come. “No gag reflex. Just do it, I want you to.” And his mouth closed over the head of Gerard’s cock and his tongue traced the slit and Gerard did, just bucked his hips up, over and over again, and Frank moaned around him. Gerard could feel it, buzzing through his cock and down into his bones, into his blood, and just like that he was coming and Frank made a startled, hungry sound.

Gerard sank slowly to his knees, Frank easing him down, and leaned his head against Frank’s shoulder, panting.

“Gerard,” Frank said, sounding dazed. “I can taste you, I can—oh, fuck, I can feel it.”

“Really?” Gerard murmured, and tongued the scorpion again. Fuck, tattoos were so hot. He’d never get one himself, but he loved Frankie’s, so much. “I thought you couldn’t taste anything—”

He pondered finding his notebook, but Frank seemed to anticipate this, snorted and flipped Gerard over, easy and smooth, catching the back of his head in his palm to keep it from hitting the hardwood floor.

“No taking notes during sex,” Frank said firmly, and Gerard couldn’t help but pout, just a bit.

“Maybe later,” Frank relented, giggling, and kissed Gerard again, and this time it was wet, and salty, and Gerard tangled his tongue around Frank’s and drank in the taste of it, of himself.

“So hot, Frankie,” he said in between kisses, and Frank made a low noise of agreement.

“Is this okay?” Frank said, pulling back, cool fingers tracing the knot at the back of Gerard’s skull, soft and soothing the slight ache. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

“No no,” Gerard protested, and dragged Frank’s head back down. “No stopping now. Sex. You said. You promised.”

Frank rocked his hips against Gerard, and Gerard could feel it, the cold button of Frank’s jeans against his thigh, so good, and fuck, so real.

“Sex,” he agreed, and then sat back up on his heels, tugged off his shirt, and Gerard’s eyes got huge, he could just feel it. Shirtless Frankie. Fuck. Frank was pale and gorgeous and staring down at him, hair falling into his eyes. Ink was curling over his skin and a dark line of hair led down into this pants and Gerard wanted, fuck, wanted even though he’d just come down Frank’s throat. He made a strangled nose and struggled to get his fumbling fingers to work, to undo the button of Frank’s jeans.

“Let me,” Frank giggled, and snuck his cold fingers beneath Gerard’s, popped the button, and fuck, that was—that was Frank’s cock, taut and thick and perfect. Gerard traced it with his forefinger, eyes wide, and Frank closed his eyes for a moment, humming, before cursing and leaning back, rummaging in a pile next to Gerard’s dresser.

“I got—I stole this from the pharmacy. It’s so fucking awesome being able to go places now; I’m like a ninja,” Frank panted.

“You were always like a ninja,” Gerard said absently, and fuck, if it wouldn’t be such a goddamned effort, he’d lean up and try to taste Frank, right now, except he didn’t think his stomach muscles could handle it, and there’d be time later. “How do you—how do you have an erection, how does that work?” he mused, letting his fingers dance down, cup Frank’s balls. “You don’t have blood, right?”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Frank groaned, and leaned back down and bit at Gerard’s lower lip, and, well, it was an effective argument. Gerard shut up and opened his mouth, let their tongues play together, wet and smooth, and then he heard the faint snick of a cap opening. Frank’s fingers played gently around the base of Gerard’s cock, wet and cold, and then, startlingly, warm, and tingling, and Gerard gasped into Frank’s mouth, eyes flying open.

“Warming gel,” Frank said smugly, and started working Gerard open, his fingers slick and careful and perfect. Gerard made a choked noise and fuck, he was getting hard again, already. It’d only been, like, a minute. It should have been totally embarrassing, but all he could think was yes, yes, yes. He’d done this to himself in the shower a couple times, but this was so different: Frank leaning back and watching, eyes dark and intense, as his fingers slowly disappeared inside Gerard. And Frank had—had sort of been inside Gerard before, the way their flesh melted together, the way Frank could walk through walls, but this was different. Gerard could feel it, feel himself stretching to accommodate Frank—it was so different from how Frank had pushed his fingers through Gerard’s wrist. It was cold and hot and intense, and it was Gerard letting Frank inside, actively responding, not just passive, not this time. Frank’s mouth had fallen open slightly, dazed.

“Gerard,” he said, low and husky, and the lights flickered. “Fuck, you’re letting me—oh, fuck, look at you.”

“Frankie,” Gerard panted, and moved his hips upward, fucked himself on Frank’s finger, and it felt so much better than when he’d fingered himself, which had just been awkward and uncomfortable and kind of gross. This was—this was filthy and intimate, and every nerve he had was tingling. It burned, almost, and Frank was so cold, and the gel was hot, and it wasn’t quite pain, it was something better than that. He couldn’t stop moving, making helpless noises.

“I thought—” Gerard managed, and then Frank added another finger and he lost his train of thought, shuddered and spread his legs wider. God, okay, Frank was way better at finding his prostate than Gerard had been. “Oh, fuck yeah, just like that, Frank.”

“Like that?” Frank said, practically purring, so fucking pleased with himself, and Gerard tried to glare, but didn’t think he quite managed it based on the way Frank was smiling at him, shark-like, all teeth. “This works for you?”

“Yes, but,” Gerard tried again, “I’m just—oh, I just thought you didn’t—didn’t want to do this, and I thought you were mad at me—”

“I want to do this,” Frank cut him off, leaning in. He cupped Gerard’s cheek with his free hand and kissed him, cool and sweet and God, Gerard felt like he was burning up. “Fuck, I always wanted to do this.”

Gerard’s eyes had fallen shut at some point, but he snapped them open at that. “Yeah?” he stuttered, almost feeling shy, which was kind of ridiculous given that he was writhing around naked and erect with Frank’s fingers in his ass. “Really?”

Frank rolled his eyes, looking fond and annoyed, and said, “Well, obviously.” And Gerard was going to point out that it hadn’t been obvious at all and that he hadn’t been sure if Frank would want him, or just want him because Frank was all lonely and trapped away from all other possible sexual possibilities in the woods, or—and then Frank twisted his fingers, and Gerard just wound up hissing, “Oh, fuck me” instead.

“On it,” Frank agreed, and pulled his fingers free. He shucked his jeans off and god, he was naked, fuck. Gerard pressed a hand against his cock and thought, not yet not yet not yet. Wait. God, Frank was beautiful. “Fuck, what'd I do with the goddamned—oh, I’m standing on it. Okay, okay. Hey, baby, you ready? Gerard, I gotta—god, look at you, you’re ready, right?”

“There’s a bed, over there. We’re on the floor,” Gerard said, sort of dazed, and but then Frank was already guiding his cock inside and oh fuck, this was way different than fingers. Frank made a noise like he was dying and pushed all the way in, and wow, that was, okay, that was so perfect Gerard’s toes were curling. He could be anywhere: the floor of the forest, a fucking cave, a gym locker, he didn’t care. His eyes fell closed as he canted his hips and hissed out a long, pained breath. God, it felt so—

“I love you,” Frank said, and pulled all the way out, and then slammed back in, and Gerard’s cock jerked again, and oh god, he couldn’t come again, not yet. Frank had barely started fucking him.

“What?” he managed, and Frank kissed him, and pushed his hips forward. “Oh. Ohhh. Yeah, Frankie, like that, oh fuck. Fuck!”

“I don’t care—I don’t care if you get old and don’t… don’t want me anymore,” Frank murmured into Gerard’s cheek. “I love you, right now, and I want—I don’t want to miss it, just because—I was scared. I love you, you fucking crazy motherfucker. Oh, god, you feel so good, Gerard, I’ve never, not like this.”

He sounded so fucking wrecked with it, and Gerard couldn’t fucking stand it, how much he felt right now, physically and mentally, and he still wanted more, and he was going to fucking explode, and also, Frank was insane.

“I’d never not want you! It’s more like you would—” Gerard started indignantly, and then arched his back, scrabbling at the floor with his hands. “Oh my god, like that, what—what are you, oh fuck, Frank.”

“This is,” Frank said, and sucked on Gerard’s nipple, slid his hands beneath Gerard’s back and held him up, thrust in again and made a pleased, low noise when Gerard thrashed. “This is where you say you love me back, asshole.”

“Well, obviously,” Gerard managed, smirking up at Frank, and then felt his face go slack as Frank’s cock went deeper, fuck, deeper than—oh god.

“Not good enough,” Frank laughed, and his eyes were so bright, and fuck, Gerard loved him, he did.

“I do, I fucking—I love you so fucking much, you—Frank,” Gerard choked out, and came again, in a slow, painfully bright pulse that seemed to go on and on and on. When he could focus again, Frank was staring at him, at his face, and Gerard hoped his wasn’t too stupid and ridiculous, and then Frank’s eyes went huge and he said, “I think I—oh god—” and collapsed on top of him with a shocked, rough moan.

“Don’t disappear this time,” Gerard mumbled blissfully, wrapping a leg around Frank’s and closing his eyes.

“Oh my god,” Frank said into his neck. “I just—sex. Wow. You.”

“Articulate,” Gerard teased. Frank didn’t move his head, just lifted a hand and flipped Gerard off, then snuggled closer, humming contentedly.

“Frankie,” Gerard said after a moment, running his hands up and down Frank’s back. “I think—you’re totally—fuck, dude, that’s cold, you’re inside me.”

“Sort of the point,” Frank mumbled, and then said, sheepishly, “Oh,” and pulled off a bit, so that his chest wasn’t quite so melded into Gerard’s own. “Sorry.”

“S’ok,” Gerard said, smiling up at him. “It’s pretty awesome. Just, you know, chilly.”

“We need to get you some electric blankets,” Frank laughed, and kissed him lazily, their tongues tangling.

“Come on. Bed, Gee. Pillows,” he coaxed, tugging Gerard to his feet. Gerard staggered around, feeling like a baby deer for a moment, and then collapsed in the blankets. His head hurt, vaguely, but not enough to pay attention to, and his ass felt… well, sort of awesome, actually, each movement sending off tiny sparks and reminding him what’d just happened. He rolled his hips experimentally and oh, fuck yeah, he was going to want to do that again, like, yesterday.

Frank was staring down at him, eyes half-lidded, like maybe he agreed.

“Hi,” Gerard said, biting his lower lip and smiling helplessly, and reached up a hand to drag Frank down next to him, wrapping himself around Frank’s body. Being naked was awesome if the other person was naked, too. Or maybe it was just awesome with Frank.

“Hey, did you come this time?” he remembered to ask. “Can ghosts come?”

“If that wasn’t an orgasm, I don’t know what is,” Frank said, nuzzling him. Gerard fought the urge to purr, and then, well, what the hell. He gave in and made a delighted noise that got deeper and huskier when Frank bit down, just a bit. He arched his neck, hoping for more attention—he was discovering he really, really fucking liked it when Frank bit him, when he could practically feel himself bruising.

But instead Frank’s head popped back up, eyes evil and mouth curled in smirking delight. “Let’s just hope you don’t get pregnant with my ghost babies, right? Maybe I shoulda stole us some condoms.”

“…uh,” Gerard managed, brain immediately flashing to the ‘zombie baby eating its way out of its mother’s stomach’ from Dawn of the Dead, and Frank laughed, loud and bright.

“Kidding, Gee,” he giggled, collapsing back on top of Gerard and kissing his nose, then his cheek and the corner of his eye, and then finally his mouth. “You loser.”

“Shut up,” Gerard said. Anyway, now that he’d thought of it, Frank still hadn’t actually gotten to see the new remake yet. He fumbled around in the sheets to see if the remote was where he’d left it. “Hey, wanna watch some zombies?”

“Best boyfriend ever,” Frank hummed, and then leaned off the bed, scrounging around, and emerged triumphant with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“Fuck yeah,” Gerard said, making grabby hands, and Frank lit one up and passed it over, and Gerard beamed at him. They snuggled down together, using one of the many abandoned coffee mugs on the nightstand as an ashtray, watching as the opening credits rolled.

There was still a lot of stuff they had to talk about, Gerard knew. Like what it meant to be dating a dead guy, and how the trial over Frank’s murder was going to go down, and how he was pretty sure Frank was still freaked out about Gerard being kidnapped—fuck, Gerard was pretty goddamned freaked out about it himself. But for now, he was pretty content to cuddle down in the bed with his boyfriend—Frank had called Gerard his boyfriend—and watch a group of blood-splattered seven-year olds charging a sedan.

“Dude,” Frank said, eyes wide. “That kid just tore out that man’s throat.”

“I know, right?” Gerard replied sleepily, curling his arms around Frank’s back. “It’s awesome.”

And it was, awesome and perfect, like a dream. Frank continued to exclaim excitedly about the zombie speed and blood spatter, and Gerard eventually drifted to sleep, sound and deep and content for what felt like the first time in years.

***

His mom knocked on the door softly what must have been a few hours later, because the movie was over, the menu screen just replaying itself over and over again on the screen. Frank was running his fingers through Gerard’s hair, and it felt amazing. He made a pleased noise, and then the knock came again.

“Gerard, you want some dinner?” his mom asked. “You should probably get up and eat, honey.”

Gerard came completely awake with a start at the sound of her voice. Oh, fuck, he was naked, and not a virgin anymore at all, and now he had to go make small talk with his mom. Jesus. He managed to tumble out of bed and scramble into some clothes, wincing a bit and flushing, and oh God, it was going to suck to sit still at the kitchen table, wasn’t it?

Frank was completely unsympathetic, the dick, just giggling at him and then giving him a really distracting sort of considering look, like maybe he was remembering why Gerard was sore, too, and he liked it, a lot. Then he kept craning his head around the door and making ridiculous leering faces, while Gerard poked at his casserole and tried not to blush too obviously. Mikey totally didn’t help with the way he kept waggling his eyebrows at Frank.

At least he could beg out of dinner pretty easily, claiming he was still tired, and his mom bought it instantly, just ruffled his hair and said they could work on his dye job another night. Maybe blue or green streaks this time, if he wanted. Fucking awesome.

“Man,” he said happily as he followed Frank up the stairs towards what would hopefully be a really awesome reprise of earlier that afternoon, “I should get kidnapped more often.”

Frank went stiff and stopped for a moment at the top of the landing, looking back at Gerard, and Gerard replayed what he’d just said and blanched.

“Not fucking funny,” Frank bit off, and stomped soundlessly off into Gerard’s bedroom.

“That’s not—I didn’t mean it like that,” Gerard protested, embarrassed, because, well, obviously he didn’t want to fucking get kidnapped again. That shit had been awful. He was just looking at the silver lining, that was all. But Frank’s shoulders were still tense, and he wasn’t joining Gerard on the bed now, not even after a couple minutes had passed. He just stood scowling at Gerard’s bookshelf, hands behind his back.

“You know,” Gerard started tentatively, feeling a bit stung, “you don’t have to stick around all the time if you don’t want.” Frank turned his head and stared at him, and Gerard flinched. “I mean, if—if you want to go hang with Bob or Ray for a while, I’d totally understand. You don’t have to just, I dunno. I mean, it has to be boring watching me sleep, at least.”

“Yeah, no, I think I’ll stick around,” Frank said icily. “You’ve got the self-preservation instincts of a fucking lemming. Someone’s gotta watch out for your ass, since you sure as hell aren’t going to do it.”

“That’s not fair,” Gerard protested, sitting up and glaring. “I didn’t—I’m not that bad. Don’t act like I’m—I’m some fucking incompetent. I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, yeah, of course you can,” Frank laughed. “How stupid of me, it’s almost like I think you almost died just because you couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut around a goddamned meathead you knew was a psychopath. Oh, wait.”

That wasn’t fucking fair. “I was mad,” he hissed. “I just wasn’t thinking, it’s not the same thing! I can take care of myself, it’s not—I mean, I’m fine, now, and you’re acting like I’m not.”

Frank’s fist were clenched and he lowered his head, and then reached out and shoved a stack of books to the floor, braced his hands on the bookshelf and looked like he wanted to knock the whole thing down. Well, fuck.

“Fine,” he said tightly, and Gerard watched him warily. “You know how fucking close you were to not fine? You know what that would have done to me?”

“Yes, I fucking know that,” Gerard said, and fuck, his voice was shaking and stupidly thick, because he didn’t—he didn’t want to think about that, okay. It made him feel like he was going to throw up and like there wasn’t enough air, and he shouldn’t feel like that, because he was okay now. He fucking hated it, the way his voice wobbled, but then Frank turned around and finally got on the bed, wrapped himself around Gerard.

“I’m so fucking angry,” he confessed, and then buried his face into Gerard’s hair. “I couldn’t—it was my fault, this never would have happened if it wasn’t for me, and you were gone, and I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“It’s not your fault,” Gerard said immediately. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“Yeah, well, it feels that way anyway. Doesn’t have to make sense. Just… fuck. I was so fucking mad at you for not having that fucking bone of mine with you, you know? And then even after I knew you were okay, I still was stuck in that hospital as a fucking--I couldn't even talk to you, couldn’t say a fucking thing. And all I could think was, why the hell, Gerard, why wouldn’t you have it with you?”

“It seemed like a bad thing to have on school property,” Gerard said in a small voice. He remembered Frank in the hospital, the misery you could see radiating out from him, even when he was as insubstantial as a shadow. “But I’ll—I mean, I won’t do it again. I’ll get a necklace, or whatever. Duct tape it to myself. I don’t know.”

“Duct tape,” Frank scoffed, but he was finally smiling again, and he’d relaxed, was nuzzling Gerard’s neck. “If I thought making you eat a finger bone would be a long term solution, I’d feed it to you in a fucking heartbeat, you know?”

“Kinky,” Gerard murmured, and then Frank tilted his head back, smirking, and rubbed his knuckles over Gerard’s lips, and Gerard made a little involuntary pleased noise, pressed his mouth to the double L and the O. “God, Frankie, your hands. Did I ever tell you that? I love your fucking hands.”

“Yeah?” Frank said, sounding startled and delighted, and he felt so real, so fucking solid and cool and everywhere, cradling Gerard against him. “That why you told me to go for a hand bone? Who’s the kinky one now, hmm, Gee?”

“Did you know some animals have a penis bone?” Gerard said dreamily and burrowed into Frank's shoulder. “An os baculum. Uh, whales have it, and raccoons, and—”

Frank cut him off with a kiss, sweet and slow, and then pulled back, giggling and shaking his head.

“You’re so fucking weird,” he said fondly. “Wish I had one of those. That’d be hot. If I had a cock bone, I’d give it to you.”

Gerard sort of wanted to make an innuendo and then flip Frank and pin him to the bed, but he was getting tired again, physically and emotionally, and this was really nice, just lying together.

“Maybe in the morning,” he mumbled, and flapped a hand around until Frank seemed to get what he wanted and drew the blankets up around them. “You wanna put a movie on? I don’t want you to be bored. I’m just… really tired.”

“Nah,” Frank said, and tucked his chin against Gerard’s shoulder. “Maybe later. Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Good.”

“Fucking awesome,” Frank corrected, and Gerard had to agree.

***

When the doorbell rang shrilly the next morning, Gerard was totally confused . Bob never rang the doorbell, and Gerard didn’t have school this week anyway—he was still recovering. What was going on? He sighed and stretched a bit, rubbing his face against Frank’s shoulder. Waking up with Frank here was awesome.

They were tangled together beneath the covers, and it was totally perfect—Gerard usually liked having a ton of blankets and pillows and shit to burrow in, but then it’d get too hot and he’d get grumpy and shove them all off, only to have to gather them back up again later. Rinse and repeat, ad infinitum. But now Frank was keeping everything the perfect temperature, and he was running his hands through Gerard’s hair, which was one of Gerard’s favorite things on the entire planet.

The television was on now, volume turned low, and Frank was watching, rapt, as Christian Bale shoved Heath Ledger up against a table.

“Good movie,” Gerard rasped, and Frank nodded, humming, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of Gerard’s mouth, never taking his eyes off the TV.

“Morning, baby,” he said distractedly, and then slapped Gerard’s hand away when Gerard tried to find out if ghosts got morning wood, too. “Hold up, in a second. Man, who is this fucking actor? Goddamned genius.”

Then the bell rang again before Gerard could decide whether or not to be offended—it was Batman, after all.

“You gonna answer that?” Frank said around a cigarette. Gerard huffed, stretching. He’d really been looking forward to morning sex, dammit.

But the house was empty at the moment, and it wasn’t like Frank could get up and get the door for him. Mikey was back at the Center getting a check-up and another round of treatment, and Gerard’s mom was at work. That left Gerard, and potentially the visitor could be someone important, a cop or something wanting to ask some questions, so Gerard really probably shouldn’t ignore the bell in favor of getting laid. Which meant he had to get out of bed . Ugh.

He shuffled down the stairs, yawning, hoping it wasn’t another reporter, or Bob checking up on him or some shit. Fuck, he wanted acoffee, but Frank had already vowed to withhold sex for weeks if he caught Gerard touching caffeine. This was cruel and unusual, but Gerard figured as long as he was getting a steady supply of orgasms, he could make it another thirteen days and seven hours without caffeine.

He opened the door and blinked in the bright light—fuck, it was gorgeous out. Bright blue sky, red leaves blowing down the street, chill in the air. Winter would be here soon, he thought.

There was a woman on the front step, and she looked oddly familiar. She didn’t have a badge or a uniform or anything, though, which meant probably Gerard could have stayed in bed. Dammit.

“Gerard Way?” the woman asked. Her eyes were shadowed, and hazel-green. Gerard hesitated a moment before answering.

“Yeess?” he admitted, biting his lower lip. “But I’m not talking to any reporters, sorry—”

The woman smiled, suddenly, and Gerard blinked. He knew—he knew that smile.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, of course not. I don’t blame you. It’s just—I’m Linda Iero. I wanted to see you. I hope it’s not a bother.”

Gerard clutched the doorframe and stared. She was small. She looked like Frank, had his nose, his chin. It was Frank’s mom, and Gerard had no idea what to do.

“Um,” she said, blinking at him. Gerard supposed he sort of looked like someone had slapped him upside the head with a shovel. A shovel made of panic. “May I come in?”

“Oh,” Gerard said, forcing himself to let go of the door. “Oh, of course, sorry!”

He showed her into the sitting room, to the uncomfortable upholstered chairs with the doilies everywhere that none of his family had ever used, and hovered uselessly, fingers twisted in his hair. Frank had twisted his fingers in Gerard’s hair yesterday—fuck. Don’t think of that, don’t think of that, he told himself, feeling his cheekbones get hot. Not now. Fuck, he was pretty sure he had a hickey blooming on his neck, and he wasn’t even dressed, still wearing a ratty t-shirt and pajama bottoms with a hole in the crotch.

“I, uh,” Gerard offered weakly. “Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

Frank was upstairs, watching The Dark Knight, and Frank’s mom was down here, staring at Gerard like—like Gerard didn’t even know what. Gerard was about to vomit.

“No,” she replied quietly. “Thank you. They—they told me you were the one who found him. I just—I wanted to say thank you.” Gerard sucked in a breath, because—it wasn’t right; he hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t found Frank, not for her. He’d found Frank’s body. Something on Gerard’s face made Linda breathe in quietly, look down at her folded hands.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”

“No,” Gerard said automatically, and sat on the footstool, fought a wince, because wow, awkward. But that wasn’t the point. “No—it’s okay. I’m glad. I—I would want my mom to know what had happened to me, if—” he fell silent, unable to say it. The knot at the back of his head was throbbing again; he should probably have taken some painkillers when he’d woken up.

There was a noise from the hallway, and Gerard couldn’t help but glance over. It was Frank. He was blending in with the wallpaper, his face peering out between the painted vines and paper fruits, eyes huge and hurt. His hand curled around the corner of the doorframe, fingers clenching and unclenching.

Frank’s mom was staring at her feet, breathing carefully, so Gerard took a chance she wasn’t going to look up and met Frank’s eyes. He jerked his chin towards her, raised his eyebrows. What are you waiting for? Frank shook his head vehemently. Gerard frowned, and Frank shook his head again, slower, face set.

“I wish I could have done more,” Gerard said finally, as the silence stretched on. Frank was watching his mother, drinking her in as though to memorize every detail. “I wish—”

Frank’s mom looked up and smiled at him, a lopsided smile, and it was such a familiar expression that Gerard’s chest hurt. “You did plenty. They never would have found him, without you. James said they wouldn’t have ever caught those men.”

“James?” Gerard said faintly, bewildered, because he didn’t understand why she was smiling. There were tears glimmering in her eyes, and she was still smiling even as she swiped at them.

“James Dewees. Agent Dewees, now. He was Frankie’s best friend, you know.”

“With the tie!” Gerard exclaimed. He’d forgotten that the agent had been Frank’s friend. To be honest, everything that had happened at the cabin all seemed like a nightmare now, hazy and confused. But he remembered Agent Dewees pretty well—the brightness of the pink tie, the skull earring peeping through his hair, the kindness of his smile.

“Yes!” Linda said, smiling in earnest now. “I saw that tie, too. James was always a bit… unique. But so was Frankie. He never belonged here. He was your age, you know.”

“I know,” Gerard said, staring at his hands. He couldn’t quite meet her eyes. He’d survived. Her son hadn’t. It wasn’t fair, and he knew it.

“You don’t belong here either, do you?” she murmured, smiling again, putting a hand on Gerard’s knee, and Gerard was forced to admit that she was right. Even if there were parts of Glen Fell that weren’t so terrible—still, he wasn’t going to be here forever, and he was glad. He’d be taking the best parts of Glen Fell with him when he went, as far as he was concerned.

“Frank could never wait to get out of here,” she continued. It was hurting Gerard’s head, to hear all the past tenses in her voice, to see how firmly she believed them. “To get back to Jersey. He hated this place. So. Thank you. I knew—I always knew he hadn’t run away. He wouldn’t have done that to me. I knew that. It’s—it’s good to be able to take him away from here at last. To be able to bring him home.”

She stood up, and Gerard automatically stood with her, hands fluttering helplessly.

“I think he’d have liked you,” she offered, tightening her coat around her, and Gerard tugged at the hem of his shirt, flushing. “I can tell. You’re an interesting person. Frank liked interesting people.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he stuttered, and she smiled, drifting towards the door. She didn’t seem to see Frank in the shadows, though she passed within a fingertip of him, her hair stirring in a faint indoor breeze.

“I’m sure I’ll see you again, Gerard,” she said, and her mouth tightened. “At the trial, if nothing else. But thank you for meeting with me. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“It was no trouble,” Gerard said, and hovered by the door. “I’m—I’m glad to have met you. Not like this, I mean. I just—Frank seems like… like he was a great person. He had a lot of good friends. Ray Toro, James. I’m—I would have been honored to be friends with him.”

She smiled at him again, fragile but warm, and left.

“Why,” Gerard said, standing at the door, watching her go out into the grey, misty morning. She didn’t look back. “Why didn’t you—”

“It would only hurt her,” Frank said quietly, and hooked his chin over Gerard’s shoulder, watching her go. He was trembling, very slightly. “She wouldn’t—she wouldn’t have been able to move on. This is… good. She’ll be okay.”

“But,” Gerard started, because he didn’t think he could have done that, if it’d been his mom walking away. Frank sighed, let his forehead fall to Gerard’s shoulder.

“Come back upstairs,” Frank said, almost begging. He rubbed his face against Gerard’s throat, biting at the pulse, and Gerard didn’t know what to think, could barely think at all beyond the immediate visceral need to tilt his head back, give Frank more access to his skin. Frank bit again, hard, a sharp throb that made Gerard gasp, then led him away from the door, back up the hall, hands snaking around and inside Gerard’s pants. This was so weird. It didn’t feel quite right, somehow, but Frank wasn’t giving him time to think. He lavished the wounded spot on Gerard’s neck with a cool tongue, whispering in a thick, filthy voice, and Gerard reacted instinctively, moaning and bucking his hips.

As soon as the bedroom door closed behind them, Frank slammed him against the wall and started kissing him fiercely, but it was different somehow—not the kind of fierce Gerard liked, the kind he’d felt before from Frank. This was vicious and intense, raw, and finally Gerard shoved Frank back.

“Wait,” he panted, and willed his stupid dick to just hold on. “Wait, I—”

Frank looked at him, scowled and rocked back on his heels. “What,” he said. “Is something wrong?”

“Frank—” Gerard said hesitantly, rubbing at his mouth. Frank was staring at him, eyes hard and unfamiliar. “That was your mom down there. Shouldn’t we—shouldn’t we talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Frank laughed, sharp and wild. “I don’t—can’t we just fuck, Gerard? Do we have to talk about fuckingeverything?”

“We’ve never talked about her at all,” Gerard said, heart pounding. He didn’t want to do this, wanted to just—just give Frank what he wanted, sex, hard and fast and a place to forget—but it was Frank’s mom. They couldn’t just pretend she hadn’t been there. “About her, or your dad. Or… or James. You never mention any of them.”

“What, you’ve been around a few fucking days and you think you know me now?” Frank growled, and Gerard couldn’t help but flinch, but, well. He remembered feeling like he’d lost everyone for an afternoon, just an afternoon—the guilt and pain. It’d been fucking agony. Frank had felt like that for an entire decade. Gerard swallowed and didn’t let himself look at the cruel tilt to Frank’s mouth. “You don’t know fucking shit. You’re a fucking kid, Gerard, so just—”

“I know you care,” Gerard said miserably, took a step forward, even though Frank’s eyes had gone dark and hollow, unfriendly, and the carpet beneath his feet crackled like frost. “I know you do. It’s okay, Frankie.”

“It’s not,” Frank spit out, and then his face crumpled. Gerard took a couple steps closer, then another. “It’s not—I left her—she was all alone, Gerard, and I left her. You saw her, she was so fucking sad. It’s my mom, and I did that to her, and I can’t fix it, don’t you get it? I can only make it worse, I can only—”

“Of course she’s sad,” Gerard interrupted, and Frank had wrapped his arms around himself, looked smaller and more alone than Gerard had ever seen, and Gerard ached to wrap him in a blanket, to keep him safe—stupid, fuck, it was so stupid. Frank was dead, and there was no safety, but that didn’t matter, not really, because Frank couldn’t stay like this, all twisted up inside and blaming himself. “Frank, she lost you, you didn’t leave her. They—they took you. Of course she’s sad.”

Frank looked up at him, wavering, and Gerard couldn’t help it. He was trying to go slow, but he couldn’t. He crossed the room in two strides and wrapped Frank in his arms and felt Frank collapse against him, muffling quiet sounds like sobs.

“It wasn’t your fault, Frankie,” he whispered into Frank’s hair, ignoring the crackle of thunder outside and the dipping temperature. “Frank, Frankie, she loves you so much; it’s not your fault. She never thought it was. I could tell, couldn’t you tell? Just hearing her talk, she never stopped loving you.”

“She was all alone. My dad left, and she was alone. I should have been there,” Frank managed, and Gerard rocked him and told him again and again. Not your fault. She loves you. She knows you didn’t leave her. You didn’t do anything wrong. I love you. You’re so fucking brave, Frankie. He just kept talking and talking, until his voice was hoarse and meaningless. It was the same sort of comfort he’d whispered over Mikey’s bed a hundred times, when Mikey couldn’t breathe and there wasn’t anything Gerard could do but be there, say I love you, say—even if it wasn’t true—that it would be okay.

Finally Frank stopped shaking, just went limp in Gerard’s arms.

“Hey,” Gerard croaked, and closed his eyes, breathing in the pine and smoke smell of Frank.

Frank touched a finger to the sore spot of skin on Gerard’s neck, where Gerard could already a sense a complete monster of a hickey coming up. “Sorry, Gee,” he said, voice soft, and Gerard offered him a crooked smile, the best he could manage.

“And you said you weren’t into human flesh,” Gerard joked, and leaned in, carefully kissed the corner of Frank’s mouth. “It’s okay. I kinda like it. I like, y’know. Seeing the marks you left. Helps me remember it’s not a dream.”

“Some dream,” Frank snorted, and turned his head so that their mouths met, and it became a real kiss, closed-mouthed and soft. “I am sorry, Gerard. I just—it’s my mom.” His voice cracked. “Do you think I should have told her? About…” He motioned towards himself vaguely.

Gerard bit his lip, and then slowly shook his head. “No, I think you did the right thing. Maybe someday, if you can figure how to dreamwalk or whatever, or if you think she’s ready—but I think you’re probably right.”

Frank had raised an eyebrow when Gerard said ‘dreamwalk,’ but then he sighed and dragged Gerard over to the bed. He pushed Gerard down and then did that thing where he lay half inside Gerard, their torsos overlapping, melding. They gathered up the blankets in a giant fleece and quilt pile so Gerard didn’t shiver himself to pieces, and were just quiet for a while.

Despite the stress of the last few minutes, the adrenaline and worry, Gerard was getting sleepy again. He guessed it was his body trying to repair itself, or whatever. The doctors had told him to sleep as much as possible, now that the first 48 hours since the concussive injury had passed without incident, and Gerard seemed to be following that instruction a lot better than anticipated. He wanted to stay up for all-night marathon sex or cuddling, or the decade worth of TV and movies Frank had missed, but mostly he just nodded off and woke up drooling on Frank’s shoulder. Frank didn’t seem to mind, though.

“You okay?” Gerard managed, dragging his eyes back open, and Frank smiled at him, crooked and sad.

“Nah,” he said, and kissed Gerard’s nose. “But I will be. You will be, too.”

“Good, ‘s good,” Gerard sighed, and burrowed closer. They’d gotten the blankets piled on enough that it was getting almost hot now in the center of their little cocoon.

“Warm,” Frank sighed, and Gerard would never get over it, the feeling of it. It was like being half-submerged in cool lake water, but each ripple went through instead of around you. “Gee, you’re always so warm.”

“I’ll be your space heater if you’ll be my AC,” Gerard mumbled, and Frank chuckled quietly, his mouth so close to Gerard’s ear that it made warmth curl in his lower belly, even as he shivered. One day, dammit, Gerard was going to be awake long enough to have really awesome marathon sex with Frank, and it was going to be fucking great.

“Totally,” Frank agreed when Gerard sleepily voiced this thought. “But I can wait for you to feel better. I'd rather you were awake for it, you know? And I’ve waited for years, Gee. I told you, I’ll be here when you wake up. Now shut it, I’m trying to watch a movie.”

Gerard growled and with a supreme effort, leaned over and bit Frank’s nipple, grinning smugly at the squeak this produced before he snuggled down and went back to sleep.

***

It was kind of weird how little had changed at school. The town was technically in a shambles, but after Gerard had recovered, he had to go to class, and make up that damned Biology test, and suffer through the terrible school lunches. Ted and his friends still held court in the cafeteria, still wore their bright red letter jackets. The band kids still ate outside. Art class was still awful and boring and a lead weight upon Gerard’s soul.

But there were differences—subtle ones. Gerard had sort of expected the world to fall apart after he’d been kidnapped, and rescued, and the patriarchal pillars of the community had been dragged off in chains. Instead, it was just quieter. Students huddled in groups, talked in low voices. Every now and then someone would laugh and the sound would ring out, echo, and then vanish back into the hush.

Gerard hadn’t really thought about what his classmates would think of the whole thing. He’d known his friends would be upset, and he’d thought the baseball jocks would celebrate—apparently not true, and wow, he hadn’t even taken that one in yet—but he hadn’t thought about how it might affect everyone else. If he’d had to guess, he’d have assumed it wouldn’t affect them at all. The people he’d never talked to, the people that hadn’t noticed him, not even to throw spitballs or hiss insults—why would they care?

But they’d seen him in the halls, even if they’d never spoken to him, and he’d disappeared on the way to class. They’d all known it had to be someone in their own town that’d taken him—probably someone at their school. School wasn’t safe. What a shitty thing to realize, to have driven home. Even after all the shootings on the news, the stories on the web… it was different. People never really thought it could happen to them.

Eventually everyone would probably go back to their typical high school behavior, the halls full of the sound of teenage conversation and jostling and cruelty, but for now everything was hushed, in a state of quiet shock. It was weird realizing that he sort of missed the missed the familiarity of the status quo. He was never admitting that to anyone else, not even Mikey.

People mostly ignored Gerard now, gave him a slightly wider berth in the hallways, heads ducked down, like maybe they could catch abduction or post-traumatic stress, or whatever. He was fine with that—he had friends anyway, friends that stood by him. And, well, he supposed he was even more offputting than he had been before, since he now reportedly had a very unsettling tendency to talk to himself. That poor creepy Way kid, people were probably saying, God knows what happened to him out in that cabin. He’s cracked from the strain of it.

In reality, of course, it was just that Frank was wandering the halls with his hand in Gerard’s back pocket, snickering and mocking people and watching everything with wonder, and it was really hard not to engage in conversation with him. Gerard had never seen anyone—well, not seen, since Frank went all shadow-ninja-invisible while they were on school grounds—so entranced by a fucking high school.

It didn’t matter much when they were walking with Ray and Bob, because then Gerard could respond to Frank’s asinine asides about the girls’ locker room and argue that no, he didn’t think it’d be a good idea for Frank to steal paint from the art room and paint ‘The Chamber of Secrets Has Been Opened’ next to the boys’ bathroom. Frank had gotten way too into the whole Harry Potter thing, though he thought Harry himself was a little boring. The point was, while normally Gerard would have been all over some Fred and George-type pranks, people in school were fucking freaked out enough already and now wasn’t the time.

Frank had seemed sort of surprised when Gerard had pointed that out, though.

“Well, it wasn’t like they got fucking starved and concussed, the brain-dead fucking sheep,” he huffed, glaring as Tanya and a passel of her polished, pastel cheerleading ladies-in-waiting strolled past, carefully ignoring Gerard. “They’ve got nothing to fucking complain about. Especially her.”

“Please don’t flip up their skirts again,” Gerard begged. “She wasn’t flirting with me, she was just being nice!”

“I told you, Gee, it was a trick of the wind,” Frank retorted, cheerful again. “And you gotta stop being so down on yourself, she totally wants in your pants. You’re famous. A total hero. And you’ve got that, you know—” Frank gestured at Gerard’s face vaguely. “She probably only wants to shack up with people as pretty as she is.”

“You think I’m pretty?” was all Gerard could think to say, beaming, and then there was a horrified cough behind them.

“I’m going to ignore that,” Ted said, eyeing Gerard warily, and Gerard could feel Frank, silent and emanating chill air, like an open freezer of potential disaster. “Look—I just. I need to talk to you.”

“He doesn’t get to talk to you,” Frank hissed, and Gerard flapped a hand at him in a way he hoped was subtle, and didn’t just look like a muscle spasm. Frank made an unimpressed noise, but subsided—though Gerard knew it was only momentary peace. In another three seconds, Frank would probably shove his knee through Ted’s dick. Which Gerard wouldn’t mind too much, except—he was sort of curious what Ted wanted. Ted hadn’t even mocked Gerard’s mascara or awesome new collection of hickeys, not once. He’d barely looked at him.

“I’m late for Art,” Gerard said out loud, hitching his bag up on his shoulder, watching Ted curiously. Ted seemed different, but in a way that was hard to define. He still had on all the typical King of High School Asshat accoutrements: the baseball cap, the sparkling enormous class ring. But he looked smaller, somehow, hunched in on himself. Which, you know, obviously—his dad and his uncle had just been arrested, mostly due to Ted’s own involvement. Which still didn’t make sense to Gerard. He’d have thought Ted would have cheered them on. A family tradition, fucking over the people that didn’t fit in, that upset their heteronormative order.

“It’ll only take a second,” Ted insisted, crossing his arms over his chest and looking like himself, annoyed and superior, for the first time in weeks. “Christ, like you’re really in such a hurry to listen to that geezer talk.”

“No,” Gerard admitted, but if Frank hadn’t been there, growling subvocally at his side like a terrier and clearly ready to leap on Ted and shove icy death up his nose, he’d have been a little more freaked out and worried about Ted wanting vengeance or whatever.

“Look,” Ted ground out, looking frustrated and embarrassed. “It’s just—I’m sorry, alright?”

“You’re what?” Gerard’s brain had come to a sudden, screeching halt. “What?”

“You’re a freak, and a loser, and you’d better not ever even fucking look at my girlfriend,” Ted continued, cheeks ruddy, staring over Gerard’s shoulder. “But even little pansies like you don’t deserve—you know. Uncle Mark’s an asshole. He’s always been that way, even when we were kids, so—yeah. And I’m sorry for...” He made an awkward punching gesture and Gerard blinked. “Anyway, just. Whatever.”

“Yeah, well,” Gerard said, surprised and ignoring Frank’s indignant outburst about how he’d show Ted a fucking freak. “You’re a dumb fucking jock, and a homophobe, and you made my life fucking miserable for weeks. But. Thanks, I guess. You know, for calling the cops.” He shuffled his feet awkwardly. “They were your family, I mean—you probably saved my life.”

Ted shook his head immediately. “Look, it’s just… I don’t want to be like Uncle Mark. I don’t like faggots or anything, but I don’t want anyone to die. You’re… anyway. I wanted to let you know, and now I have. We straight?”

“Well, no,” Gerard couldn’t help but say and Ted barked out a laugh.

“Fucking hopeless, man,” he said, rolling his eyes, and sauntered off down the hallway.

“That was weird,” Gerard said finally, still staring long after the hallway was empty.

“You shoulda let me stuff him in a locker,” Frank grumbled. “You’re too fucking nice.”

“I just don’t want Bill Murray called out here to remove your pesky ass,” Gerard reminded him, because they’d already had a team of paranormal investigators bounding around for a little bit, but apparently Glen Fell’s ability to be staunchly unwelcoming to all outsiders came in handy, sometimes, because they’d left pretty quick.

“Hmmph,” Frank said, then, with an abrupt change of mood, poked Gerard in the side. “Hey, you know, you’ve already missed half of Art.” Gerard eyed him. They’ve missed maybe five or six minutes, tops.

“It’s a nice day out,” Frank continued innocently. “You wanna, I dunno. Take a walk? Might as well, right?”

“A walk, huh,” Gerard said, smiling helplessly. “Got anyplace in mind?”

They turned around and headed down the stairs, out through the empty halls, past the classrooms stuffed full of miserable kids and droning adults. High school was just a phase you had to live through, and it was almost over, and really, in the long run, it didn’t matter so much—Gerard could already tell. College wasn’t far off, luckily, and, well. He wouldn’t always let Frank talk him into skipping. Ray would have a fit, for one thing, and besides, Spring semester they were letting Mikey start taking classes again, and he had to be around for that.

“Oh, I have the perfect place in mind,” Frank said, holding the door open for him. If anyone had been in the hall, it’d have looked like a Jedi mind trick, the double doors parting for Gerard without any visible touch.

“You see,” he continued, ushering Gerard out into the sunshine, “there’s this stretch of wall out in the woods I’ve always imagined shoving someone up against. But I’m not sure you’d be into it. I know you hate the outdoors, delicate flower that you are.”

“I dunno,” Gerard said, and bumped his shoulder against Frank’s, delighted when Frank made an oofing noise and flickered visible, sticking his tongue out at Gerard and crinkling his nose playfully. “I heard the woods were haunted, and I’ve heard I’m sort of a pansy, you know.”

“And who the fuck says that?” Frank laughed, threading his fingers through Gerard’s. “Nobody that matters. Fuck anybody who thinks so, Gee—you’re the bravest motherfucker I’ve ever met. You know that, right? I mean it. We’re going to take the fucking world by storm once we get out of here, you and me.”

Frank was smiling, Cheshire-wide and real, and he was walking through the field, kicking at grass and rocks and watching them skip, and holding Gerard’s hand, and talking about comic books, and movie deals, and all the awesome stuff they were going to do when they finally left this tiny shitty town.

“You know, Glen Fell sucks, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone,” Frank said abruptly, just as they crossed over into the forest. “But I might kind of miss it. I mean, it isn’t all bad, right?” He glanced over and smiled.

“I can think of a few good memories,” Gerard agreed, smiling back and held Frank’s hand a little tighter as walked on through the fallen leaves.

“Just good?” Frank teased, eyes dancing, and then he started tugging Gerard along, speeding up. “Man, I must be doing this wrong. C’mon, Gee, let’s aim for fucking awesome.”

Gerard beamed back, tripping through the underbrush after Frank. Fucking awesome, he thought, seemed like a pretty damned attainable goal.

Date: 2015-01-11; view: 912