"Harder," Gerard gasped through gritted teeth, his body lurching forward. Frank panted, his nails forming claws as they pushed down.
"I'm trying. Fuck," Frank hissed, his body tensing as he pushed forward, his legs actually beginning to tremble with the effort as his muscles tightened, burning ever so slightly in soft protest of his hard movements.
"Language," Gerard muttered, his eyes sliding shut as he moved slightly forward again, his shoes squeaking a little on the newly polished floor of the Church. Frank snorted, even despite his situation.
"Father? You really think now is the time to warn me about language?" he scoffed. Gerard turned to give him a dark look, his own muscles having seized up a while ago.
"C'mon, Frank. Almost there," he gasped, eyes closing. His breath came hard, a thin sheen of sweat coating his body, making his black shirt stick to his skin in clingy strands.
Finally, it happened. With a resolving bang, the large bookshelf they'd been moving smacked back against the wall. Gerard mopped at his head with a cloth, breathing more steadily as he looked at it.
"You said the wind did that?" Frank asked, arching an eyebrow. He wasn't entirely surprised – it had been very heavy the night before. But he didn't think it was hard enough to knock over an entire book case.
Gerard just nodded, leaning back on his pulpit. The skin on his knuckles stretched tightly over the bone as he struggled to keep himself upright. It was only at that point that Frank remembered that the man needed assistance, and rushed to his side.
Frank wrapped an arm around Gerard's waist, encouraging him to lean a little on him. The smell of his sweat was overpowering for only a moment, and wasn't particularly potent. Frank couldn't imagine that he smelled a hell of a lot better.
Frank led Gerard back into the vestry, helping him to sit in the small chair, before leaning back against the wall. Gerard peered up at him, a sheepish expression on his face.
"Sorry, Frank, for making you come out here on your day off. I just didn't know who else to contact – I don't have many friends in the town and –
"It's fine, Father. Really. I wasn't doing much anyway," he assured him gently. Gerard looked at him for a moment, as if considering something, before trying to rise to his feet.
"No, no. I'll pay you for it," he said softly, struggling a little. When he did manage to stand, his body trembled to the point of almost collapsing. Frank sighed and helped him back into his chair, looking concerned, but only softly so.
Something he'd learned about Gerard is that the man hated pity. If he thought he was being pitied, he'd only act more stubborn, and probably end up getting himself hurt. At the thought, Frank glanced at the bandage on Gerard's hand from where he said that he could nail the new cross above the pulpit all on his own. Needless to say, it hadn't gone well.
That's not to say, by any stretch, that Gerard was helpless. Frank had, in his short time with him, seen him perform things that Frank had never previously thought someone in his condition could. Perhaps that was his own incorrect assumption, or Gerard's will. He tended to think it was both.
"Gerard, please. A bookshelf almost crushed you. They'd have to give you all sorts of prosthetics if that happened, y'know," he said with a soft smile, getting a glass and moving to the sink. "You'd be like robo-priest,"
Gerard sorted at that, accepting (even now with a hint of reluctance) the glass Frank handed to him.
"I'd have thought you were too young for that reference," he said coolly, taking a sip of water. Frank arched his eyebrow, leaning against the wall again.
"Robocop? Dude, everyone knows Robocop. You elitist old man," he teased. Gerard scoffed, taking a larger gulp of water, before setting the glass aside.
"Have you actually seen it?"
"Yes! Of course I have. Gerard Way, you insult me," Frank sniffed, turning his nose up. It was very possible, though, for the older man to see the way his lips twitched in amusement.
"Have you seen the original, though? The remake doesn't count," Gerard said firmly. Frank's face could be seen to drop, and Gerard felt the satisfying rush of relief one gets when they know they've put their opponent in a corner. He was competitive like that.
Frank looked at him and shook his head, a mockingly scornful look on his face.
"I thought pride was a sin?" Frank pointed out, jutting a hip out. To his surprise, Gerard actually laughed, looking at Frank with great amusement. The amount of attention made the other man blush.
"A lot of things are sins, Frankie. Lots of things. Almost everything, if you take the scripture literally," he said, shrugging. He slid his hands along his thighs as he thought, before speaking again; "you just...have to decide what's worth going down for," he murmured. Frank raised his eyebrows.
"So that's it? We're all going to Hell?" Frank asked incredulously - and with shock. "That's pretty nihilistic for a Priest,"
"I mean...yes and no. I think if you're genuinely apologetic, The Lord will forgive. But who really apologises for their sins selflessly?" he raised his eyebrows. "No, I think Heaven's real hard to get into. So most of us are going to Hell. Probably,"
"Jesus, Father. That's fuckin' dark," Frank said, chewing his lip. There was something that seemed vaguely haunted about his expression. Frank didn't push for an explanation.
"I guess so. And maybe I'm just feeling sorry for myself. It's just...this life is hard. My whole world is built on telling myself that I'm wrong. Everything I do is wrong, even when my heart is pure. That's not right. That can't be right." He was more talking to himself than to Frank at this point, so the other was hesitant to respond. There was something, Frank realised, that Gerard was struggling with. Something he hadn't told him.
Perhaps that idea shouldn't have made him nervous, but it did. He was probably just projecting – but what if Gerard felt it too? That sudden, unexplainable attraction that had gripped him, without thought or reason? Even though every inch of his body screamed that this was senseless – too soon, too much – he couldn't ignore it. God, what if Gerard felt it too?
"I know what you mean," Frank said gently, looking at him pointedly. Gerard laughed, shaking his head, running a hand through his hair.
"You don't. My God, you don't," he said weakly, his fingers shaking as the black strands fell through them. In the dim light of the vestry, Frank could see the glint of the silvery hairs that snuck into the jet black. He was struck, then, by how old Gerard was. Each feature was adorned by swirls of wrinkles, his face drooping in parts where it may have before been taught. Even his jawline was weakening, a thick mound of skin and fat covering the sharp bone.
Frank, all at once, felt a wave of repulsion. Not for the man, nor for his coffee-stained teeth; but for himself. How could he let this happen? How the Hell did he start dreaming about this...crumbling house of a man?
Frank swallowed hard.
"I guess I don't," he agreed.
Gerard looked equal parts disappointed and relieved, and Frank couldn't help but feel at least a little bit bad.
The silence that stretched between them for moments after that was almost too heavy to bear. Frank found himself searching his mind for something to say –anything, damn it, to get that look off of Gerard's face.
When he realised that he actually did have a fairly pressing question to ask, he almost gasped.
"Father?" he said gently. Gerard jumped a little, the water in his cup splashing onto his trousers, leaving a vague wet patch. He clicked his tongue in annoyance before glancing up at Frank.
"Yes?"
"Can I ask you something? " Frank asked, leaning forward. Gerard, to Frank's surprise (that man, it seemed, was full of them) seemed very amused.
"Other than what you just asked?" he asked in a teasing tone. Frank snorted and rolled his eyes, giving Gerard a fond, exasperated smile.
"Yes."
"Then yes. What's on your mind?" he asked, long, thin fingers playing absently with his dog collar. Frank did his very best to not watch the movement, no matter how badly he wanted to.
"When you were talking about your brother the other day, you mentioned that you prayed for him to be forgiven by God for...y'know. Being with his soldier," he began, looking up at Gerard for clarification. The older man nodded.
"Yes, that's right."
"Well, um. What did you mean by that? I mean...I don't know. Do you hate gay guys or somethin'?" he asked. Somewhere, he was certain Gerard didn't, but he couldn't help but worry. That, at least, would put an end to their blossoming friendship. There was a lot Frank could handle, but bigotry wasn't one of those things.
Gerard's expression looked genuinely pained, and Frank found himself fearing the answer that would come.
"I...I don't hate anyone," he said weakly. Frank's heart fell. Oh god. This was going to be it. Gerard was going to prove himself to just be another religion-crazed, judgemental jerks that Frank encountered during his time through the Catholic school system. Great.
"But?"
"But nothing. I don't hate anyone. And – I certainly don't hate people for who they love," Gerard said firmly. Something that Frank couldn't quite define flashed in Gerard's eyes for a moment, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.
"But the Bible says-
"What the Bible says and what I think are different things. Some people say that impure thoughts are sinful – but I can't agree. Our thoughts don't make us who we are – our choices do. I could think about a sin, even consider it. But unless I do it – it's not a sin. So, to me, being gay isn't a sin. And if I'm going to Hell for that, then so be it." His voice was firm, full of resolve, and Frank was genuinely stumped for a moment.
"That's...actually a relief," Frank admitted, tapping his heel against the wall. Gerard looked at him warmly.
"You're always welcome here, Frank. I'm not making any...assumptions. But no matter what, you're always welcome with –" he paused, biting his lip, "you're always welcome in this Church," he said hastily. Frank smiled, blushing softly.
"Thank you, Father," he murmured. Gerard was quiet for a second, his eyes focused on a spot on the floor.
"And with me," he said finally. Frank looked up, taking a moment to recollect the previous conversation in his mind.
"Father?"
"You're always welcome with me. No matter what," he said, as if the statement was entirely normal and not at all complicated. Frank smiled, his expression a softer version of the one on Gerard's face.
"You're welcome with me too," he almost whispered. His words were filled with an unspoken promise that didn't go unnoticed by Gerard. It did go unmentioned, though.