You would expect that in a 'waking nightmare' where the monsters of your darkest nightmares have the courage to stand out in the real world amidst the sunlight, your sleep would be somewhat peaceful in comparison, but Frank Iero was very quick to learn that it was nothing but the opposite.
He'd dreamt about G-him, the figure, whatever, for the past few nights in a row now, and even though he hadn't seen- hallucinated it properly since, he still found himself horribly unable to rid all, or even any thoughts of the figure, the hallucination, Gerard fucking Way, from his head.
It was a Saturday, and only just, and perhaps that was what kept Frank staring at the bright red LED numbers on his alarm clock for just so long after he'd woken up in nothing more than a cold sweat.
Frank watched as the time ticked from one thirty seven to one thirty eight and let out a sigh, before getting out of bed and slamming his hand against the wall: a vague guess in the dark for the location of the light switch - eventually, he found it, and a bright light poured into the room, waking up the two dogs that had curled up at the end of his bed, but seriously, this was his bedroom, and if they were going to sleep in his bed, then they were going to have to put up with him waking up at half one in the morning.
Frank turned on the main light of the apartment, and turned the one off in his bedroom, and receiving some sort of appreciative grunt from his dogs in reciprocation of his kind and considerate gesture.
And with that, Frank made his way into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water: holding it loose and kind of awkwardly in his hand, before glancing to the packet of cigarettes on the table top and taking them outside onto the balcony with him.
Sleep seemed like a lost cause at this point, and well, Frank was really more irritated than frightened. After all, he'd been sectioned with schizophrenia for years, one little nightmare wasn't going to scare him, was it?
But of course, it was less of the nightmare and just what was causing them that was the issue here, but Frank chose to brush it off as he placed his cup of water down on the table on the balcony and lit himself a cigarette.
Being just about quarter to two in the morning now, the skies were pitch black, well, more of a inky dark navy blue colour: illuminated in places from street lights and shop signs, car headlights and the odd star. In a city like this, you could never truly get real darkness, and Frank wondered whether that was a bad thing or not, because sure enough, it polluted the skyline, but with hundreds of little lights across the city below him, Frank couldn't help but feel a little less alone.
Frank hadn't really ever seen true darkness, except perhaps that one time when he was sixteen, in the woods behind his house: the night he'd camped out there alone and just watched the world and the stars, and basked in the pitch black above him - it was true solitude, but then, Frank felt the least alone he'd been in his life, but then again, that forest would always be special to him: whether it was the person who'd showed him it - his mother - or the person who'd left him there: curled up on the ground with the pills beside him... Gerard.
And honestly, Frank had been doing so fucking good when it came to not thinking about him, even with these 'hallucinations', but right now, he knew just how unbelievably fucked he was, because whether it was from the thoughts of him plaguing Frank's mind, or the habit he'd picked up in the absence of his boyfriend and motherfucking second hand smoke.
Frank glanced at the cigarette between his fingertips and glared it like it was nothing but his worst enemy. Of course, Frank was wrong, as he had no greater enemy than his own mind and the corrupted nature of his subconscious, but he was desperate in his search for something other than himself to blame.
Gerard was the obvious option for the blame, but Gerard was out of the question, and Frank thought fuck it, because it was two in the morning, and he'd give himself this one chance, just once in these past few years to spend some time thinking about Gerard Way, and then, when he woke in the morning he'd be fine, and there'd be nothing in his mind other than the anticipation of Brendon's grin when he met Ryan today.
Frank shook his head with a sigh, finishing his cigarette, and lighting another one as Gerard always had, and with very little regard for his lungs, for his body, for his mind, for everything inside screaming at him not to give in, but fuck it, Frank reckoned he could control himself, and these hallucinations, but really, Frank had no idea what he was getting himself into at all.
"Gerard..." The word slipped through Frank's lips like a sigh, and he almost regretted it the moment he heard the words again in his own ears, but there was a certain liberation in the sensation, whether imagined or not, of the weight being lifted from his chest, because Frank couldn't deny that when he uttered his dead boyfriend's name, his heart did indeed feel a hell of a lot less heavier.
"I miss you so much." Frank's voice cracked a little as he spoke, but it didn't matter, and it didn't matter how fucking sentimental and broken his pleas became, because the dark skies and the small hour upon the clock brought him a certain of comfort, and a certain kind of loneliness, but maybe, sometimes, Frank needed to feel alone.
"Why the fuck- why, why did you do it? Jesus Christ, your note was so short, barely a fucking sentence, and you were gone in seconds, in minutes, it didn't make, you didn't make sense, and I've replayed that day through my head at least a thousand- no, a million times by now, and still, still I can't fucking figure it out: I can't piece you together - I never could, and I never will." Frank shook his head firmly, exhaling loudly before continuing. "And, that morning we woke up together and it was amazing, and it was our last time, and I was so clueless, and I sometimes wonder if you were too, or whether you knew from the very second you woke up that day that you wouldn't be there for the next. And then the argument, and I never got to say sorry, and I've said it to myself a million times and it's still never going to be enough, I-"
"It's enough."
The voice nearly had Frank falling straight off the balcony and to his death, which really would be very unfortunate, but Frank constantly thanked God for railings from that moment on, as he felt his chest colliding with the metal barrier protecting him from the plummet to his death beyond.
He dropped his cigarette, though, and Frank was indeed a little disappointed, because cigarettes weren't exactly cheap, but the cigarette was soon forgotten entirely as Frank turned to face- fuck, another one, another fucking hallucination and this was definitely his fault: he never, ever should have let himself focus upon Gerard, because the less real Gerard seemed, the less real the hallucination was.
"You look like you've just seen a ghost." Gerard, or the thing, the hallucination, whatever, the thing that only Frank could see, the voice that only Frank could hear spoke, and whatever it was to Frank that moment spoke with a slight chuckle, a smirk, and an uncomfortable raise of its eyebrows.
"Frankie, you don't have to apologise for me killing myself, you know, you had nothing to do with it: it's just the things in my head, the chemicals, the mess, and us, well, we were secondary, I do hate to say it, but you were always second to the thoughts in my own head, because you know, no matter how much you know someone, you always trust yourself more?" 'Gerard' looked Frank up and down and brushed a lock of bright red hair behind his ear. "You had a nightmare, didn't you?"
Frank found himself unable to speak, unable to comprehend, and unable to steady his thoughts and scream at himself that Gerard wasn't real long enough to prevent himself from nodding, because maybe Frank liked this all a little too much: he liked pretending, he liked fooling himself into believing that Gerard was still there, and apparently that the overdose was in no way related to the argument Gerard and Frank had encountered only an hour or so prior that day.
That day, that motherfucking day... ten years ago now, or near enough.
"You want to tell me what it was about?" Gerard asked, with something like a smile, but somehow, it seemed to flicker, falter, a little, like it wasn't really there, like he wasn't really there, which of course he wasn't, but as time went on and Gerard continued to speak, and to say exactly what Frank needed to hear, he was finding it harder and harder to convince himself of the truth.
"I-" Frank began, lips parted before he could stop himself, because it was indeed Gerard that forced his words to a halt, and not his own verbal ineptitude.
"Cigarettes." Gerard exclaimed, eyes widening a little as he motioned to the packet on the table beside the long abandoned glass of water. "Don't tell me you smoke now, Jesus Christ, Frankie, your lungs are going to shrivel up and decay and you're going to end up dead like me, and we don't want that now, do we?"
"Gerard..." Frank formed his first word since he'd started hallucinating that night, well that morning, because technically two was in the morning, if only barely, and of course, that word had to be 'Gerard'.
"Mmm?" Gerard pulled his gaze away from the cigarettes and to Frank immediately: his eyes widened and quite frankly, he looked rather taken aback by the fact that Frank had spoken at all.
"You're not real, you're a hallucination, you're a part of my imagination, and you're in my head, I can control you, technically, so... Gerard, tell me you're not real- just fucking do it."
Gerard's face contorted into an expression that resembled some odd mix of confusion and despair. "Of course I'm real, Frankie, how could we be having a conversation if I wasn't real?"
"Fuck." Frank cursed under his breath, because he'd been so fucking convinced that his little plan was going to work there, but of course, it became rather apparent that he'd been nothing but proved wrong. "You're not real, because you're a hallucination, and I'm just talking to myself here, and I really need to stop hallucinating now and go back to bed so I can wake up to meet Ryan and Brendon tomorrow."
"Brendon's the one who calls you 'baby', isn't he? I don't like that- wait, do you really think I'm a hallucination?" Gerard stepped back a little at that. "Like for real? Why the hell would someone like you be hallucinating? Are you taking drugs too, Frankie?" He gestured back towards the packet of cigarettes, and Frank wondered if the hallucination was going to fade into one of his mother at any minute now.
But Frank had never ever hallucinated his mother, which was odd- in fact, Frank had never ever hallucinated anyone other than Gerard, which was even odder, but of course, Frank would have much preferred it if he'd never ever hallucinated, period.
"I'm hallucinating you, because- fuck it, I don't even know why I am again, like all of a sudden, but I hallucinated you because I'm schizophrenic, I have hallucinations, and that's that, and up until last week, I hadn't hallucinated for over three years, I'd been fucking fine, and then you have to come here, and fuck this all up, don't you?"
"Frank, you're not schizophrenic-"
"Bull fucking shit!" Frank snapped, losing all patience with the hallucination and its continued persistence with its beliefs regarding its state of existence.
However it seemed that Frank happened to forget about just how dead Gerard was, and perhaps just how fucked up he was for a minute there, as he went to slap him right across the cheek, but of course, the hallucination seemed to fade away into nothing around him.
Frank just stood there alone on his balcony for a minute: his heart hammering in his chest because he'd totally forgotten that this wasn't just Gerard and that he wasn't eighteen again for a good minute there, but now at least he had a sure-fire way to make his hallucinations fade away, but still, that didn't make him feel any better at all.
Because this wasn't the kind of thing where Frank could be satisfied with coping, with compromise, this was Frank or Gerard, his sanity or his hallucinations, his mind or his heart, and Frank thought far too long about just shooting himself then and there as he climbed back into bed at two thirty seven.
-
"Good morning sleeping beauty!"
Frank was awoken by a yell and a slamming of his bedroom door that made him severely regret ewer trusting Brendon Urie with a spare key to his apartment.
Of course, trusting Brendon Urie with anything, or just in general was an all round bad decision, and Frank was almost laughing himself simply for ever even considering that he wouldn't hate himself for those spare keys at any point in his life.
"Fuck off." Frank groaned, rolling over in bed and burying his head back beneath the covers. "I'm tired."
"Yeah, whatever, but me and pretty boy are here now-"
"Pretty boy?" Ryan exclaimed, appearing from what seemed to be nowhere, making it evident that he was not quite as supportive of this 'nickname' as perhaps Brendon would have liked him to be.
"Yeah you're pretty and you're a boy." Brendon rolled his eyes and turned back to Frank, who was currently groaning into his pillow as he attempted to forcefully remove himself from existence right then and there. "Come on, sleepy boy, get up will you?"
"Make me coffee, will you?" Frank groaned back, turning over, and making an awkward kind of eye contact with Ryan, because this was kind of different with Brendon, whereas he'd barely known Ryan a week and Frank was pretty sure that he was at least shirtless right now.
"Whatever you say, baby boy-"
"Do not fucking call me that." Frank groaned, but complied, sitting up in bed as Brendon smirked to himself and made his way towards the kitchen.
"Brendon's interesting, I guess." Ryan added as Frank rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "I mean, he's not what I expected, but I don't really know what I expected in the first place, I kind of do like him though."
"Oh Ryan, that's wonderful, and it would be wonderfully appreciated if you could go and rely that information to him instead of me because I've just realised that I'm naked right now, and, no do not tell Brendon that before I've had time to get dressed, okay?" Frank made it rather evident that he really was anything but a morning person, of course, he managed to get up ridiculously early on an almost daily basis for work, but that was different, and he most certainly didn't often find himself waking up with the kind of memories that he couldn't quite work out the reality of.
As Ryan left the room, Frank grabbed the nearest items of clothing - what he'd worn yesterday, but whatever, as long as Brendon didn’t find out that he was naked, because well, fuck.
Frank couldn't quite remember whether the events of last night: the ones that involved a certain red haired hallucination were reality or nothing more than figments of his imagination: pieces of a dream world, or something else entirely.
But whatever they were, they were most certainly unsettling, and they were most certainly the cause of Frank's trembling fingertips as he finally managed to dress himself and half heartedly ran a hand through his hair before stumbling out into his apartment, only to be met with the sight of, oh-
"Oh..." And that was not Frank's voice that had made that sound.
It was Ryan's, logically, because Frank was stunned into silence, and Brendon's mouth was otherwise occupied.
As Ryan jumped, noticing Frank stood there, still in absolute shock, Brendon moved too, getting up off his knees, and barely even batting an eyelash in Frank's direction.
"Good morning, Frankie." He added after a moment, perhaps just to break the silence, as Ryan and Frank stared one another down, because well, Frank had really not been expecting this at all.
"I guess- I guess you've met then..." Frank trailed off, making his way over to the sofa and sitting down and grabbing his laptop from the floor.
"Going to be a little antisocial git, are we, sleepy boy?" Brendon giggled, grabbing Ryan's hand and pulling him over to the sofa beside Frank. "Frank, can we look at your porn history?"
"Why-" Frank seriously didn't know how he still hadn’t punched Brendon Urie in the face.
"Because you're going to be really left out with me sucking Ryan's dick all the time so I feel oblige to get you a dick to suck or whatever, so like Craigslist- can I borrow your laptop?"
"How about you just buy me a dildo?" Frank asked in just about the most sarcastic tone known to man.
"Because you already act like you've got a dick up your ass, you don't need two or that poor little asshole of yours is gonna fall right out." Brendon pouted, turning to Ryan. "And that would be a shame, wouldn’t it?"
"Ryan, slap him for me." Frank mumbled, burying his face down against the sofa cushions.
Ryan giggled nervously, blushing a little as he turned to Brendon. "I-I..."
"You what, pretty boy?" Brendon raised his eyebrows, snatching the laptop away from Frank's grip while he lay unaware, and for a moment, yes Frank really did care, but soon enough he just lay back down and let it happen.
"I-I-..."
"Stop embarrassing him, Brendon." Frank mumbled, closing his eyes, and finding himself having little difficulty in the matter of getting back to sleep.
"You're embarrassing yourself here, Iero, gay porn!" Brendon exclaimed in his best straight person voice, and since this was Brendon, it was the needless to say that he encountered great difficulty in actually pulling off a convincing voice.
"I'm a gay man." Frank retorted, wondering why he hadn't seriously considered punching, or well, murdering Brendon Urie sooner.
"So am I- so's Ryan- hey, we should have a threesome-" Brendon's eyes lit up with excitement, and well, Frank did really start to get scared at that point.
"Hey, Brendon, did I tell you that Ryan literally lives across the hall, like one metre out of my front door, so you two can fuck off and finish what you were starting earlier, and I can go back to sleep, so fuck off with your boyfriend, Urie, please."
"You'll be able to hear us from across the hall- anyway, Ryan's not my boyfriend."
"Is he not?" Frank raised an eyebrow, faking some form of interest.
"Just a pretty boy, but that can change, can't it?" Brendon grinned, grabbing Ryan's hand once more. "Oh, and yeah, I think we might have got spunk on your kitchen countertop so if I were you I really wouldn't prepare food again, like ever."
And with that, the two slammed the door behind them, and Frank was left to throw his head back against the sofa and reassess his whole friendship with Brendon Urie.
He'd even nearly drifted off at that point, but of course, of course, just before sleep claimed him once again, Frank Iero’s eyes flickered upon just once and caught a glimpse of an absolutely unmistakeable shade of red.
-
lmao hey guys really dont know how im writing so much of this but i think its the knowledge of how this fic will just slowly destroy all of you that makes me grin inside lmao basically the ending to this is like 1 million times worse than the ending to summertime, it makes character death looks pathetic okay lmao get ready pals!!! vote and comment because i love you as much as i love making you cry<3