Wishing You Were a Ghost

Lua

James has always been a good friend, because James doesn't ask questions. Not at first.

He doesn't ask questions when he comes up the stairs and meets Frank and Mikey at the door. Though he does give a very confused look at the box of things Mikey has in his arms - things that Gerard had forgotten or left behind that Frank can't stand to look at anymore.

He doesn't ask questions on the way to the emergency room, and he doesn't ask questions in between the nurses and doctors who are asking a million questions, and he doesn't ask questions on the ride home. James lets the pair of them sit in silence while Frank picks at the already fraying edges of the bandaging that's holding his middle and ring fingers together.

Nothing broken per se, but certainly a lot of bruising and already scabbing wounds, and 'buddy stabilization' so that he doesn't further 'dislocate' his knuckles until they heal. Frank's just happy they're not broken. James and Mikey had both made separate comments about him still being able to play guitar. Luckily, no breaks, no surgery. He'll just have to deal with it for a little while.

That's fine. He's not sure he can bring himself to play anyway. Not without Gerard singing in the other room every time he flips on an amp.

He can barely bring himself to unlock the apartment and step inside at all.

Looking around the dining room, which leads into the living room, Frank can't help but frown. There are far too many things missing. Not furniture, because Gerard had left all of that. He'd insisted that it was fine, and he had somewhere to go (a horrifying admission, because it meant he had been planning all of this), and it was okay for Frank to keep everything until the lease was up. He insisted that he keep paying his part of the lease until the contract ran out as well, which is... Great, technically, and very thoughtful of him, but Frank hates it anyway.

He hates all of it.

He hates the way that Gerard's little shadow box full of D&D figurines is missing, and how there's two entire rows in their bookshelf (Gerard's bookshelf) of movies that are simply empty. He hates how there are this multitude of places in the apartment where Gerard so suddenly isn't. It was a lot easier to ignore them when he was still in 'I haven't left the house in over a week' mode.

It's very hard to ignore now, as he notices Gerard's shoe collection missing by the front door as he and James take their own off and set them in the very newly empty shoe rack. Frank keeps his favorites in their boxes in the closet. Gerard was the keeper of the shoe rack. It is now agonizingly vacant.

Gerard was also the one who hand made their silly little keychains. One of those simple green baseplates is hanging on the wall, and Frank and Gerard both have 4x2 LEGOs attached to their keychains. Simply come home and click your keys into place.

The baseplate only bears one set of keys, the ones Frank puts there after he gets his shoes off. Frank knows that Gerard's house and mail keys are sitting alone - with no LEGO charm - on the kitchen counter. He doesn't bother with them right now.

Instead, he goes into the living room and drops himself onto his couch, frowning when James doesn't follow him.

"What're you doing?"

"I'm gonna change your sheets," James says simply, and Frank is very quickly back on his feet (quickly enough it makes him dizzy) to follow him.

"You don't have to do that," he says in a rush, catching his friend just before he enters the bedroom.

It doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter. They're sheets. They're just sheets, and Frank hasn't slept on them in over a week anyway. It doesn't matter.