Wishing You Were a Ghost

Haligh, Haligh, A Lie, Haligh

It's a year and a half before Frank's next big down swing. There are bumps in the road, to be sure, but since his last big sit down sobbing fest, Frank goes up for once, and it's nice.

He's able to put thoughts of his previous life aside and focus on the one he has now. He puts himself into his work, he gets a raise, he makes friends, he gets the dog. He sees his mother and father more, he takes business trips that leave him exhausted but fulfilled.

Yes, there are bad days, but by and large, he's doing well. It feels good.

He feels better.

What does not feel good - what feels impossibly worse - however, is the way a familiar voice punches him in the gut as he's coming back home after a shopping trip. He's left somewhere between breathless and about to vomit in under two seconds.

"I love you too, I won't be gone forever," the voice is saying with a lilted laugh. "I'll call you when I get there, okay? It's just for the weekend, I promise."

Frank nearly drops his groceries back down the stairs. If he hauls ass to his right, he can duck around into the back hall. The building is a loop, so he can take the long way back to his apartment, in a needless circle. But if what he's hearing is a farewell, the problem should be gone way before he makes it back to where he needs to be.

Only it's too late. His moment of horrified hesitation costs him precious seconds, and he comes face to face with a man he hasn't seen in well over two years.

"Frank?"

"Hi," The tone is simultaneously flat, sharp, and breathless all at the same time.

"Do you-"

"Live here?" Frank offers, clearing his throat, "Yeah. And you...?" Please, for the love of all things bright and fucking beautiful, do not let this man say he's moving in.

Gerard looks stricken, glancing over his shoulder, and clears his own throat. He looks like he's ready to run the extended circle of the apartment building himself before he mutters out, "My boyfriend."

Worse. That is- that is so much fucking worse than Gerard moving into the building on his own. Fuck.

God help him, Frank actually has to close his eyes to take in a deep breath before he dares to respond. "Nice." Is all he says when he opens them again, shifting the bag of groceries hanging off of his arm. "Haven't seen you around." (It's meant as if to say, "How the fuck have you been in and out of this building and I haven't seen you?")

"He just moved in," Gerard says nervously (answering the question that Frank didn't even ask out loud). His hair has grown out. It's still blonde, and Frank still hates it. But it's fine because he was already not Frank's Gerard anymore. Now he is decidedly someone else's Gerard.

Frank feels like he wants to cry.

What he does instead, is nod, finally moving away from the staircase. "It's a good area," he says, trying his damnedest not to lose his cool. He'll be pleasant, and nice, and civil. He'll be a good fucking neighbor or whatever, and he'll get through this conversation and maybe never fucking leave his apartment again just to be sure he doesn't ever have to repeat this experience.

"Good place to move into, landlord's reasonable, and the amenities are great. I've got no complaints."

"Is this where you ended up after-"

"Our lease ended?" Frank asks, far too snappish in tone, and Gerard physically winces. "Yeah. Been here since then, I was gonna renew next month, actually." But if Gerard's boyfriend lives here, if there's a chance of seeing him all the time, Frank might just fucking reconsider. He'll cut the losses of the pool, and the gym, and the in-unit washer/dryer. They're not worth whatever this living hell is.