The two were sat in Brendon's living room, only half focused on the shitty show on TV, and more so upon the subject of conversation between the two of them, which was of course, none other than Frank Iero, once again.
"I'm worried about him." Ryan reiterated for what Brendon was sure was the millionth time, but he couldn't help but share his boyfriend's worries, because after all, it wasn't like they weren't within reason, and after all, it wasn't like Frank wasn't keeping pretty much his whole damn life one big massive secret from the two of them in the recent past.
"I don't know what we can do, though, Frank's always going to get defensive and pissed off and deny everything because he's Frank and that's what he does, and it just makes sense for him, but it just confuses us, and I really just don't know what to do about it... I mean, it's obvious that he's not okay, but I'm pretty sure that it's not at all obvious to him."
"How could it not be?" Ryan exclaimed, shaking his head, "he knows, he just doesn't want to admit it, because he's Frank and he's a little shit, and we all know that-"
"No, I kind of think he can't actually see it... it's like that you never really see yourself as others see you, or like you always have different opinions on things you've made such as art or whatever, because you've made them, and that personal connection biases your perspective or something: I think that's what it is... I mean, it's gradual, like he doesn't notice it, because it's slow, and it's now normal for him, but we do, because we're the outside opinion, if you get what I mean?"
"You should like Frank trying to talk himself out of something: are you sure he hasn't possessed you or something?" Brendon shrugged off his boyfriend's comment, rolling his eyes, and laughing a little as he did so.
Ryan let out a sigh as he turned back to the TV, and soon grew impatience, leading his finger to the remote and the off switch, "I can't concentrate anymore, I just... we need to do something about Frank and stop just discarding it for another time, because that's what we're always going to do at this rate, and we can't, because Frank's our friend, and he may not see it, but he needs us."
Brendon nodded, turning to face his boyfriend with a hopeful kind of encouraging look that Brendon could only possibly offer to someone he thought as much of as Ryan; the two had one hell of a something, to say the least. "So what do you propose, because I'm all out of fucking ideas, you know?"
"I know." Ryan nodded, pausing for a moment: deep in thought, "it'd help if Frank let more people into his life, you know? Because like this it's just us and we don't... does Frank even speak to his family, because he's never mentioned them to me?"
Brendon paused, having never really thought much of this before, "no... he's never mentioned much... that's... that's really odd."
"He doesn't talk about himself much though; he's definitely the listener, but still, it's weird, like how much do we actually know about him at all? I can't help but feel like he keeps too much quite, like there's some sort of secret he's hiding here, or something... I don't know... I don't get it... I don't get him at all, actually."
"Me neither." Brendon let out a sigh, "I wish I did though; he must feel so alone, god, I dread to know what's going on inside his head."
"But in the same way I just wish we could find out." Ryan added, glancing at his cellphone for a moment, perhaps just to check the time. "We could just try talking to him like bluntly about this, because I don't know... maybe direct questions will do the trick - it's harder to lie directly, isn't it?"
"I don't know, I really don't, I just wish he'd be honest for once, because I feel like every bit of information we get from him is just some half lie to cover up something hidden deep inside himself, and god... I don't even want to know what that is, for the most part, that is."
"But we have to find out-"
"But how?" Brendon let out an exhausted kind of sigh as he leaned back against the sofa. "We don't really have any better ideas than just talking to him, and like hell that's going to work."
"It might." Ryan added, narrowing his eyes a little.
"It won't." Brendon shook his head: far too certain of himself for Ryan's liking.
"Whatever you say, Bren-"
"Are you seriously just going to storm into his apartment and look him dead in the eyes and yell some questions at him and expect some form of response, because knowing Frank he's not even going to be out of bed yet, and there's just no fucking chance whatsoever that he's going to be at all inclined to tell you, you realise that, don't you?"
"Of course I realise it, but that doesn't mean I can't try, does it? Like hell, Bren, what are you going to say to me if I go ask him and he just explains in some deep heart to heart- fuck!" Ryan exclaimed, his eyes suddenly growing unnervingly wide.
"What?" Brendon paused, looking at his boyfriend with a certain confusion.
"We have to get him drunk: it's obvious, people spit all sorts of shit out when they're drunk, don't they? So we'll just get him drunk, but not too drunk, but drunk enough and then casually start asking him shit, and then maybe we'll have some success-"
"Ryan, I don't mean to piss you off but that's an awful lot like drugging him, not going to lie." Brendon smiled at his boyfriend, shaking his head a little, "but fucking go for it, you do, because there's no way in hell that I'm letting you drag me into this mess-"
"It's Frank's mess, it's our mess - it's a shared mess, you have no choice, Brendon, hey, you know what? I'm going to go over to his now and prove you the fuck wrong."
Brendon chuckled a little, raising his eyebrows as his boyfriend got to his feet. "Hey, if you get anything of value out of him, I'll suck your dick."
Ryan smirked, "that's a fucking deal, Urie," because there was no way he was leaving Frank's apartment without something now.
-
Frank was at the point where it's almost normal, despite it being the weirdest damn thing on this planet, but of course, to him, Gerard is so much more important than the whole damn universe, and perhaps that means something: the kind of something that keeps the two together, maybe this is special, or maybe it's just luck, maybe it's just chance, maybe this is all destined to fade away, perhaps this is temporary, and perhaps one day Frank will wake up alone, and then things will stay that way forever, even without a goodbye.
And Frank can't imagine that, because Gerard looked absolutely beautiful in the sheets next to him, and he can't motivate himself to get out of bed, and leave him alone, let alone, let Gerard leave him alone forever, because this matters: they matter, and he wants Gerard to kiss him again, but Frank was far too scared to ask.
He knew Gerard wasn't asleep; he might be pretending, but not really, but still, he couldn't quite ready himself for the eye contact and the conversation and of course what could possibly stem from there, because Frank wasn't ready; this was all he wanted, but still, he reckoned he couldn't quite accept it yet.
That hurt a lot, it really did, and perhaps Gerard more than Frank; the Gerard that lay awake and aware too, the Gerard that lay waiting, the Gerard that lay scared too, the Gerard that was perhaps worthy of Frank ten years ago, but was nothing now.
Because for Frank Iero, Gerard reckoned he wouldn't mind being thirty three, forty three, even, fucking a hundred and three; he'd do it all, all too much for one beautiful boy who was smiling at him like he hadn't noticed.
"Morning." Gerard mumbled, shuffling closer to Frank: yearning for every bit of body contact he could get.
"Hey..." Frank sighed out, his words warm against Gerard's icy cold back. "Morning," he added once more, with little else to say for himself.
"You need to get up: Brendon texted you twenty minutes ago, he wants to meet you at Starbucks and he wants to talk to you... about... that date..." Gerard trailed off, leaning onto his back and groaning, "what am I going to do, Frankie, when you have that boyfriend, and I'm just here: stuck with you?"
"I... I... I'm not going to date some fuckwit that Brendon sets me up with." Frank met Gerard's gaze, "and that's a promise, because... that just doesn't make sense at all, you know?"
"Why doesn't it?"
And Frank quite honestly didn't know.
He lay there in silence for a moment, focused on Gerard pressed up against him: making him far too cold, but far too happy, and the way that the curtains were already open, and there was coffee on his bedside table.
"You made me coffee?" Frank's eyes widened as he turned to the mug on the table.
"Oh, shit yeah, I forgot about that, I'm sorry, but I'm hoping it's not too cold, I-"
"Why?" Frank raised his eyebrows as he took a sip of the coffee Gerard had made for him, before putting it back down.
"Because... I don't know, I wanted to make you smile when you woke up." Gerard shrugged it off, blushing more than ever imaginable.
"You remembered? For ten years? You remembered how I like my coffee?" Frank exclaimed, grabbing Gerard's hand, and tightly too.
"I guess so, yeah." And if ghosts could blush, Gerard's face would have been the exact colour of his hair.
"You're something else, you know that? Because this is weird, and we're weird, but I can't... Gerard... I don't know what I'm doing anymore, what I'm thinking... when it comes to you, that is..." Frank paused, biting his bottom lip and shaking a little.
Gerard furrowed his eyebrows, "I... I'm sorry? What did I do?"
Frank just shook his head, looking Gerard up and down, before grabbing his hands and pulling him closer, before pressing his lips against Gerard's, and Gerard reckoned that this was him dying for the second time: right then, and right there.
"You're ridiculous." Frank shook his head as he pulled away, "but you're everything, and I'm a mess, and this is a mess, and still I get no explanation for the way you fucked with my head, but that's you, and perhaps it'll come with time. I miss you, Gee, I... I... love you... Gee... it's fucking things up again, already, isn't it?"
"God, if you go on that date now I'm going to slap you." Gerard shook his head, at a loss for how to react, but letting Frank lean into his chest, and hold onto his hand tighter than ever before.
"I couldn't... I... we have something, don't you think? Or am I just stupid?"
Gerard paused, in thought, because Frank deserved the world and not the fucked up ex-boyfriend who was dead on the outside, and barely there at all, but Gerard's whole world revolved around him, and he wasn't a selfless man at all. "You're not stupid."
"Good." Frank sucked in a quick, sharp breath of air as he looked Gerard over once more and seriously considered kissing him, but properly this time, perhaps more making out than kissing, perhaps even fucking, because Brendon could go fuck Ryan for all Frank cared.
"You can do better though-"
"I don't want better: I want you." And the sincerity of Frank's words was enough to break the silence in two.
"You're stupid as fuck, you know that, because think back ten years, think about how I fucked your life up, think about the next five in the hospital and think about your head and the mess it was in: think about the pills, think about Mikey, think about the funeral, think about the forest, think about Bert, think about the road trip, think about the arguments, think about that morning, think about the oblivion, think about the forest, think about the coffee shops, think about the secrets, think about my reluctance: think about you, not about me."
"That's the past; I'm thinking about this morning and kissing you and fucking you and holding your hand so fucking tight, and spending today together, and never leaving your side, and spending forever together, or as long as this lasts, because it's one of those too good to be true things, don't you think? You coming back, I mean-"
"Frank, I didn't 'come back', I never fucking left not really, I was in my body, and then I wasn't, I was stood at that tree, I couldn't control myself as I was then, but I could see and sense and hear, and I watched my body die, and I looked at the note and I regretted the shortness of it, and the pills, and the mess I'd made, because I had to watch, Frank, I stood there invisible as you found me, because I was hoping, fuck, I was praying that it'd be someone else, anyone else, fucking Bert, I don't care, but no, I had to watch you think that everything was okay and that I was alive, only for it to all fall to pieces as you fell to your knees in front of me and cried, and I couldn't show myself then, I couldn't' explain: I didn't know how, and I followed you forever after that, and I'm sorry about everything, because I understand because I was there, and it's okay that you didn't make it through my funeral, I couldn't expect you to, but what you said was beautiful, because everything you say is perfect, everything about you is perfect, Frankie."
"Why don't you tell me these things?" And it was a genuine question: a genuine wide eyed, heavy hearted question, as Frank's breathing came in far too sporadic bursts.
"Because I tried to forget, because it hurts, and because I'm ashamed, and the... the hospital, I'm sorry, Frank... I... I... the therapist's office... that was a mistake, that was the first time, that was me fucking up, that was me calling out to you, that was me... that was me trying to just get your attention but going about it in entirely the wrong way... I wasn't in control of myself by that point, in fact, I barely am now, but it's much better, definitely much better."
"That fucked my life up, you know, you fucking my life up, showing yourself to me-"
"I was just trying to let you know I was okay-" Gerard protested, all wide eyes and honest pleads.
"You weren't okay, and neither was I, and if you wanted things to work then why the fuck did you kill yourself? It was the worst idea, Gerard, the worst fucking idea you've ever had, and you know that, don't you? You know I can't forgive you for that, or myself for letting it happen-"
"Fucking hell, Frank, it's not your fault-"
"If we'd never had that argument that morning, would you still have stormed off? If I had run after you instead of just giving up and sitting there forever would I maybe have stopped you?"
"I don't know." Gerard let out a sigh, "it doesn't matter, Frank, I'm sorry, that's all I can say, that's really all I can say, except perhaps something stupid, perhaps I should have said this ages ago, perhaps not, but I love you too, Frankie, always have, always will, and you can think whatever you want about that, about me, about 'us', about anything, but you can't ever think that any of this mess is your fault."
Frank sat up in bed, running a hand back through his hair, as he grabbed the coffee from the table and sipped it in silence for a moment or two, leaving Gerard lying back on the bed, perhaps a little faded, perhaps a little lost.
"I'm thinking," Frank added, perhaps a moment or so later, "I'm thinking, because my head is fucked, and that is your fault."
"I know." Gerard sighed, stretching his arms a little as he watched Frank drink in silence. "I do make some good coffee though."
"Definitely better than Brendon, better than Ryan, even." Frank exclaimed, a smile gracing his lips as he placed the cup back down on the table and turned to face Gerard. "You just wish I loved people based solely on how good coffee they could make."
"Don't lie to me and say you don't, you're a coffee slut, like you'd totally whore yourself out, like even for decaf-"
"Decaf is shit." Frank shook his head, "I'd maybe whore myself out for a vanilla latte though, but only to someone special."
"Someone like me?" Gerard asked, and Frank laughed: a breathy kind of nervous laughter, because there was no denying that Gerard was the stomach butterfly overlord in Frank's eyes.
"Ah, but... you can't go to Starbucks and get me one, being dead and all that, can you?" Gerard shook his head, sighing a little.
"I wish I could, just for you, just to make you happy, like seriously, if I could, I would in a fucking heartbeat, that's a fucking promise, but-"
"But I'd have to come with you which kind of defeats the point of you getting me Starbucks, and like Brendon works there, and he'll shoot me on sight for being late."
"You better just get ready then, he's gonna get angry if you don't turn up." Gerard smiled at him, content with this, as content as he'd ever be.
"I'm not going to turn up: you're more important, and you know that-"
"Don't fuck with my ego like that, Iero-"
"I mean it." Frank whispered, "you really are something, Gee, like I don't usually date dead guys, but it seems you are my exception."
"Oh fuck off." Gerard waved it off, but Frank shook his head, far too focused on Gerard and his lips, and what kind of hell he was sending himself to here to notice the lock on the door clicking and the footsteps in his front room, and even Ryan Ross entering his bedroom, and giving him little short of a heart attack.
"Brendon's getting pissed, Frank, come on, you're even awake, what are you doing?"
Frank's eyes widened as he turned to Ryan, blushing like hell, "uhh... nothing... I... I just got up-"
"You look far too good for that." Ryan narrowed his eyes, because Frank's words were as believable as Brendon trying to tell you that he was straight.
"I look good-"
"Frank, fuck off, what's going on, you've been weird, recently especially and you... just explain, please-"
And then motion in the bed beside Frank, Ryan's eyes widening at what he saw, "sorry, hi, I'm Gerard."
-
hey pals lmaoo look PLOTT!!! this is very exciting and unexpected i know but i promise you this fic does actually have a plot like seriously youre not ready af for the ending lmao. ayy votes and comments would be super cool vibes af bc i love you all lots <333