Sugar Is A Necessary Fluid

Frank sat patiently in the car. It was early morning and the cool winter air was fogging up the windows, obscuring the frosted view outside. His fingers slowly picked at the frayed wool of his fingerless gloves; this was his first Christmas away from home and he was nervous. It was a strange feeling, packing the car with luggage on the twenty-third of December. He should’ve been watching cartoons in the warmth of his own living room with coloured fairy lights dancing in one corner. But instead he was huddled up in a freezing car, shivering, with nothing of interest to look at but the translucent windscreen in front of him. He lifted a finger to the passenger window and began pushing it across the cool surface in swirls. The moisture collected beneath his fingertip and he let go, watching a water droplet slide down the pane. He peered out through the small clearing he’d created; fairy lights adorned snow dusted roofs, but yet somehow Christmas had become a derivative of its former self.

The driver’s door clicked open and his mother got into the car in one swift movement, hurriedly shutting the door to block out the chilling wind. Frank pulled his gaze from the outside world and looked at his mother.

“Are you sure you’ve got everything?” she asked, switching on the car heater and rubbing her hands together in an attempt to regain some feeling in them.

The young boy nodded indifferently and settled his attention back on the now clearing windscreen. “Why do we have to go? I like being at home for Christmas,” he said dispirited.

“I know,” she sighed. “But now that your father’s gone…it hardly seems worth cooking Christmas dinner just for the two of us.”

Frank never said a word of retaliation. He understood the reasoning; he just didn’t like it. His father had left in the spring and ever since that day everything had become unsettled, and if he was honest about it, lonely.

The drive was long and uncomfortable and after a while Frank couldn’t wait to arrive at their destination, just so he could stretch his legs a bit. They were staying with a friend of the family. Frank didn’t know much about them, except that his mother had attended the same school as this woman, a long time ago. He thought that maybe she was clutching at straws, just wanting anyone to stay with for Christmas, but she had assured him that they were genuinely good friends. They just hadn’t seen each other in a long time; “A few years, at most,” his mother had told him.

No matter how hard his mother tried to get him to join in singing Christmas songs along with the car radio, Frank couldn’t manage more than one verse of Jingle Bells without feeling depressed.

Three hours later and Frank awoke without realising he had ever fallen asleep. He felt sleepy, sure, but he put it down to the car heater being on full blast.

“This is it,” his mother said once they’d pulled into a paved driveway and the ignition switched off.

Frank stifled a yawn and pulled his body up straight, stretching as much as he could in the cramped space. He peered up through the windscreen at the old house in front of them. The actual building had seen better days, but it had character, charm, and a Christmas reef hanging from the front door, and Frank liked that.

He reluctantly left the warmth of the car and stepped out onto the icy driveway. His stomach tied in nervous knots as he saw the front door of the old house open, and a woman of about his mother’s age flew out and darted towards them both, greeting them heartily.

“I’m so glad you could both make it!” she exclaimed cheerily. “It’s been so long since we last met up, Linda. Far too long, we should do this more often! And Frank, look at you all grown up. I haven’t seen you since…you must’ve been only seven years old. You probably don’t remember me.”

Frank shook his head. He was sure he would’ve remembered this woman.

“Well, I’m Donna. Your mother and I used to go to school together. A long time ago, it must be said. We haven’t seen each other for a few years now. Anyway, listen to me babbling away, you must be freezing! Come inside. I’ve just made some cookies!”

“That sounds lovely, but Frank’s not allowed any; doctor’s orders.”

“Oh that’s right, I forgot, your condition…nevermind, I’m sure we can find you something just as tasty!” she smiled.

Frank felt his heart sink a little. Not only was he away from home, but he wasn’t going to enjoy himself one bit this Christmas. He envisaged piles of fruit and vegetables at the dinner table, all placed around his dinner mat in concentric semi-circles while everyone else tucked into their chocolate cake and ice cream. He mentally groaned at the thought.

The interior of the house was as he’d expected, homely and warm, and his spirits rose at the sight. He tugged off his shoes without untying them, and placed them by the front door. As they were led through to the kitchen, Frank caught a glimpse of the living room, or more specifically the brightly-lit Christmas tree in the corner. It was adorned with more baubles, fairly lights and glittery tinsel than he could take in and he loved it. He always loved anything that sparkled or had the ability to light up even the dullest of rooms; it’s what made Christmas so magical, and he loved that they cared enough to decorate their house so intricately.

He stood mesmerised by the tree until his mother called him from the kitchen. If it were possible, it was even warmer in there, and the aroma of freshly baked sweet snacks invaded the air like pollen in summer.

“Frank, honey, we’ve got some fruit or something if you’d like? You must be hungry after your journey,” Donna said, pulling a bowl of fruit across the counter towards him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, his lips twitching into a slight smile. He plucked an apple out of the bowl and held it between his hands like a cricket ball; he had no intention of eating it.

“Now I’ve got the guest bedroom all made up for you, Linda. Frank, I’ll think you’ll be best sharing with one of my sons. I’ll go and see if Mikey’s around.”

He watched Donna’s back disappear around the corner and then glanced at his mother apprehensively. “They’ll laugh at me,” he grumbled, placing the apple back on the counter and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No they won’t,” his mother assured him, but he wasn’t so sure.

After a minute, the stairs creaked, announcing Donna’s return. She smiled broadly at Frank as she dragged her youngest son into the kitchen.

“This is Mikey,” she signalled towards the lanky boy standing sheepishly in the doorway. His glasses slipped to the end of his nose and he quickly pushed them back up, but made no other attempt to move.

“Mikey, don’t be rude. Say hello to Frank.”

Mikey shuffled on his feet and folded his arms across his chest. “Hi,” he mumbled shyly.

Frank nodded in return and tried to smile, even if it was a little awkward and forced.

“I’m afraid Mikey’s room’s a little untidy,” she said, giving her son a quick disapproving glare. “It’s really too small anyway, so it’s best you stay with Gerard I think. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

Mikey snorted in the doorway.

“Michael, stop it,” Donna growled. “Be useful and show Frank where he can put his things.”

Neither of the boys moved for a moment, until Mikey made the first move and reluctantly sidled out into the hallway. Frank followed him, stealing a glance at the Christmas tree again as they walked past.

“Gerard’s room’s downstairs,” Mikey said as they reached a door that led under the stairs.

“Downstairs?” Frank asked, raising an eyebrow and wondering if the kid was joking.

“Yeah, in the basement. He likes to be left alone.”

They reached the bottom of the steps and entered a room bigger than Frank was expecting. The walls were a plain magnolia in colour, probably to compensate for the lack of light, he thought.

“Are you sure he won’t mind us going in his room?” Frank asked.

Mikey flipped on the light switch so they could see better. “Probably, but he’s not here.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s out with some friends I think; he’ll be back later tonight. Mom’ll bring down bedding and stuff later, just make yourself at home I guess… Just don’t touch any of his stuff; he’s really weird about that.”

Frank placed his bag on the floor and pushed his hands into his pockets again. He’d only just noticed that the walls were not as blank as he’d previously thought. There was a corkboard above the bed and there were various drawings, sketches and writing pinned to its surface.

“Um…” Mikey let out a quiet guttural noise in an attempt to clear his throat. “So, uh, do you wanna go watch some cartoons or something? I mean, you do like cartoons, right?”

The tone of his voice gave Frank the impression that if he didn’t like cartoons, there was no way they could ever be friends. Fortunately for the both of them, and for the tension in the air, he did.

“Yeah,” Frank replied brightly, feeling happier now they had something in common.

They stayed in the living room for a couple of hours, watching cartoons and occasionally mentioning music they liked or recent films they’d seen. But they stayed silent for the most part, and Frank often found himself distracted by the fairy lights. He liked that he could get lost in them; he’d always had an overactive imagination, and staring at twinkling lights was the equivalent of giving him a thick novel to read. They always made him drift off into his own little world.

The afternoon passed quickly, as did mealtimes. Frank wasn’t as bereft of food as he’d imagined he would be, nor was he given plates of fruit and vegetables. He was grateful that Donna knew he was a vegetarian too, or he might just have passed out if he’d had the beef placed in front of him like everyone else. He was happy enough with his meat substitute and potatoes anyway; it was something he was used to. He asked to be excused for dessert that evening; watching other people enjoy chocolate would never be high up on his priority list. He lay down on the living room sofa and watched some television repeat that he was sure he’d seen last Christmas, and probably the Christmas before that too.

The front door opened with a gusty draft. Frank heard voices travel down the hallway and he sat up, curiously peering around the side of the chair. The door to the hall was half-closed, however, and all he could see was dark shapes moving towards the kitchen. Greetings were exchanged in the other room, but he couldn’t make out most of it; it just sounded like muffled mumbling through the wall. He did hear his name though, and then the door separating the living room from the kitchen opened an inch, but no more. He stared at the handle, wondering if it had just opened itself, or as a result of a draft, but then it swung open further and he realised that there was a hand attached to that handle. He looked up at its owner, a man clad in all black, a leather jacket, and shaggy raven hair to match. However the man was not looking in his direction; his gaze was still focussed in the kitchen as he continued speaking.

Suddenly the man turned and glanced down at Frank, his hand still clutching the door handle. He smiled down at the younger boy, although it was so quick and restrained that Frank wondered if it had been a nervous twitch.

The man disappeared just as quickly as he had entered.

Frank sat back on the couch and pulled his legs up in front of his chest. Barely a few seconds had passed when the door opened again, though this time a taller man with a light brown afro walked in, giving him more of a smile than the other man had.

“Hey, dude,” the man said, not paying him much attention. He knelt down beside the television, opened the cupboard beneath and began searching through DVDs. Frank sat in silence, feeling terribly out-of-place. As he sat watching the ‘fro gently sway from side to side every time the man moved his head, he pondered its identity; he was becoming more and more curious about the person he was to be sharing a room with. Frank didn’t think the ‘fro looked much like Mikey, but then neither did the other man. They were all entirely different and Frank soon gave up even trying to guess.

He was so warm, lying on the sofa that evening that he thought he’d quite like to step outside and lie down in the light dusting of snow, just to cool off. He imagined making snow angels and staring up at the house, looking inside from the outside. For some reason the image made him feel happy and he sighed contentedly.

Mikey went to bed around ten thirty. Seeing the opportunity to escape from the grown-up conversation in the living room, Frank seized the moment and announced that he too was going to turn in. He faked a yawn and stretched his arms, pulling himself up from the depths of the couch. He muttered a “goodnight” to them both and left the room.

The basement still creeped him out. There was something about being alone in a basement that he didn’t like; it was so cut off, so secluded, and he wondered why Gerard had deliberately chosen to live down there.

Donna had set up what looked like a foldaway bed, though it was much lower than a normal bed, and looked horribly uncomfortable and probably squeaky.

He dressed quickly, listening out for footsteps, in case Gerard suddenly came home to find a half-naked teenager in his bedroom. He slid into bed and shivered at the cool fabric on his skin. He hugged his arms around his body and lay still under the covers, waiting to warm up. It made him nervous knowing that a stranger would be coming in the room while he was sleeping, and so he endeavoured to stay awake a little longer.

After a while his eyes grew heavy and he found himself drifting in and out of consciousness, dozing, but never completely falling asleep.

It wasn’t much longer, maybe ten minutes, before he heard shuffling outside the door, like shoes scuffing carpet. The old handle clinked as the door opened. He thought it must be Gerard. He hoped that it was this Gerard, and not some crazy burglar or something. Though he didn’t suppose a burglar would check out the basement, unless it was to hide bodies or something! Frank tensed at the thought and tried to shake off his imagination.

The light flicked on quickly and blindingly, and he squinted at the ceiling. He sat up slowly, his eyes still not adjusted to the bright light glaring from above.

By the door stood Mikey’s brother, clad in black from head-to-toe and staring at the younger boy with an intense stare.

Frank smiled unwittingly as he recognised the man, the leather jacket and his shaggy hair.

“You Frank?” Gerard asked, still holding onto the door handle as if undecided on whether he was staying or not.

Shivering, Frank nodded and pulled his bed covers closer around himself. “Um, your mom said it was okay for me to sleep here, I can—”

“—I know, she told me.”

Frank opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was “Oh.”

Gerard perched on the edge of his bed and looked down at the younger boy again, his gaze softer than before. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asked, fiddling with the keys in his hands.

Frank shook his head, “No.”

An awkward silence passed over them and Frank shifted forward and lay back down again to keep warm.

“Sorry, I’ll let you go to sleep,” Gerard said, standing up and throwing his keys on the side.

“It’s okay, I can’t sleep anyway,” Frank sighed.

“Then, do you mind if I leave the light on for a little while?”

“No, sure. It’s your room.”

Frank watched him from his place on the floor; he watched him flit around the room, collecting things on his way, and eventually sit down at his desk. Gerard pulled out a large sketchpad and began roughly making lines on the paper.

Forgetting the cold, Frank sat up out of interest. “You draw?” he asked curiously, and then remembered he’d seen some of his drawings earlier.

“Yeah,” Gerard muttered, his voice shy and guarding.

Frank did not press the subject since he didn’t appear keen on talking about it.

Gerard set down his pencils and leant back in his chair. Stretching his arms and stifling a yawn, he glanced over at the younger boy. “How old are you?” he asked, curiosity lacing his voice.

Frank looked surprised. “Sixteen. How old are you?” he asked in return, feeling as though he’d earnt the same piece of information.

“Twenty.”

They stayed in silence for a moment, before Gerard swivelled in his chair and pushed his feet forward to get more comfortable. “So…” he said aimlessly. “How long are you staying for?”

The younger boy shrugged. “I’m not sure. A couple of days, I think.”

Gerard nodded again and chewed on his bottom lip.

“If I’m in the way then just tell me…” Frank offered.

“No, you’re fine where you are. It’s just…I go to bed late and I wake up early, so you might not get much sleep.”

“I’m not tired anyway,” Frank replied, smiling a little.

Gerard watched him closely, surveying his expression as if trying to figure him out.

“You know, you look nothing like your brother,” Frank pointed out randomly.

Gerard laughed lightly in response. “Is that a compliment or…?”

Frank shrugged nonchalantly. “Just sayin.’”

Gerard didn’t speak right away, but after a few moments he stifled a yawn and got up from his chair. “I’m actually quite tired,” he announced as he strolled towards his bed, and Frank didn’t know if he was genuine or if he was just avoiding conversation.

Frank said that it was okay and lay down under the covers of his fold-up bed, making sure not to look as Gerard changed into his pyjamas. They both muttered a “goodnight” before Gerard climbed into his bed and leant across to turn off the light.

The following day, Christmas Eve, it was not so easy for Frank to avoid looking at Gerard. He awoke to a dull lamplight in the corner of the room and the sound of someone moving beside his bed. He looked over out of curiosity and found a shirtless Gerard getting changed.

He swallowed nervously, in two minds about what he should be doing. He quickly looked down at the rough outline of his own legs beneath the bed covers, trying to distract himself since it would be the polite thing to do. But being the curious teenage boy that he was, his gaze returned to the older man and settled upon the contours of his naked back. No sooner had he looked, however, than Gerard had turned and seen that he was awake. But the older man barely acknowledged his consciousness, before pulling a t-shirt over his head. “You like looking at boys, hmm?” he asked casually, picking up the discarded clothes and dropping them onto the bed.

Frank swallowed again and stared down at his bed, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I just woke up and you—”

“—It’s alright, I don’t mind,” Gerard quickly added upon seeing the younger boy’s expression.

Frank timidly glanced over. “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“…like looking at boys.”

Gerard seemed to take an age to answer. “Sometimes,” he muttered, his voice reticent.

Things were not awkward like Frank thought they would be after such a conversation. Instead of prolonged silences and nervous glances, Gerard smiled at him, a genuine smile that made him feel comforted.

“You know…you’re okay,” Gerard said quietly. “I thought you might be one of those spoiled kids…”

“Why would you think that?”

Gerard shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve just never met anyone like you, I guess. And my mom didn’t tell me anything about you. I was just assuming really.”

“Well, I guarantee you I’m not spoiled. If anything, I’m the opposite. My mom’s way overprotective with me, especially since I got sick last year.”

Gerard stopped his tidying and looked down at the other’s small body huddled under the covers. “You got sick?”

Frank smiled awkwardly. “I’m sort of allergic to certain kinds of sugar,” he said.

“Sort of?”

“It’s hard to explain; it’s to do with my immune system. I have to take vitamins and stuff…”

“Wow, that must suck.”

“Yeah, I miss cookies. Sugar cookies…god, they’re so good.” A small whine escaped his lips as he lamented his loss of his beloved sugar.

Gerard simply laughed.

“Why are you laughing?” Frank scowled at him.

“I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at your situation. I’m really not. Just…you were such a child right then.”

“Thanks…” Frank rolled his eyes and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he did so.

“No, uh, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just, you looked cute, that’s all. That’s what I meant.”

Gerard shook his head and pulled on the nearest warm-looking jumper he could find.

Frank’s gaze snapped back quickly. “Wait, what? You think I’m cute?”

“I said you looked cute,” Gerard corrected him.

“Is there a difference?”

Gerard gave him a wry smile and pulled open the bedroom door. “I think breakfast’s ready,” he said.

They walked upstairs together after Frank had changed and washed, and they sat down opposite one another at the breakfast table.

As Frank chewed on his toast, he sensed that Gerard was watching him. But when he glanced across at the older boy, he saw that his gaze was resting firmly upon the jam pot. He wondered if he had imagined it, that perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him. But he had felt those hazel eyes boring into his face, he was sure of it.

He ignored it and finished his toast.

Christmas Eve had always been a lazy day, and apparently it was in the Way household too. The television remained on all afternoon, and cooking smells invaded the air, reminding Frank of all the delicious treats he couldn’t have. He thought that maybe the others took delight in tormenting him, that maybe they took it in turns to stand behind the door with a plate of cookies and a fan, just to annoy him.

It finally got to him that evening. As a plate of his favourite cookies were devoured for dessert, Frank watched everyone else, including Gerard, enjoy them until the plate was empty. He looked down at his bowl of fruit salad in disappointment. He pushed his chair back and hurried outside into the cold winter air. No one noticed his absence and he hadn’t expected them to. He sat for a while just playing with a loose twig he’d found on the porch, drawing invisible patterns on the ground.

“Hey.”

Frank turned around, quickly spotting Gerard lingering in the doorway. He nodded in greeting and wrapped his arms around his shivering torso.

“What are you doing out here?” Gerard asked as he sat down beside him.

“Nothing. I just wanted some air.”

“In the middle of winter?”

Frank sighed and reluctantly explained about how he hated watching people eat dessert. He just felt compelled to tell him.

“You should’ve said something.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s no big deal, really.”

“Frank…” Gerard began, but neglected to finish his sentence. “I, uh…you must be freezing.”

Frank looked across at him and smiled shyly. “Yeah, but I’m okay.”

Gerard pulled the scarf from around his neck and draped it around the younger boy’s shoulders.

Before Frank could comprehend what was happening, chapped lips were hovering over his own and then pressing gently against them. It was a fleeting kiss, but delirious all the same, and as the older man pulled away, Frank found that he missed the contact.

He watched as Gerard dug around in his pockets and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” The older man was shaking his head, almost in disbelief at himself. His eyes flicked across to the young boy momentarily, trying to gauge a reaction.

Frank simply stared at him in shock. Little bursts of joy fluttered around his stomach as he relived the moment in his mind, and suddenly every tiny movement that Gerard made, every expression, became evident to him and he couldn’t take it all in quickly enough. Before Gerard could put the cigarette to his lips, Frank’s hand had found his cheek and he was guiding him closer. He wanted to feel contact again, close enough to smell his scent and feel his warm breath on his skin; close enough for their lips to touch. It had sent sparks of sweet delight through him before, and he wanted to feel it again. As mouths collided gracelessly, fuelled only by raw emotion and very little rational thought, he felt it; that spark of happiness.

“So you do think I’m cute?” Frank asked as they parted, shyly.

“You’re alright,” Gerard said, nudging him in the side.

“I don’t get you. You try to come across as all cold and austere, but you’re really all just mushy inside, aren’t you? Gerard Way: Secret Romantic!”

Gerard smiled. “Shut up.” He stood up suddenly and forced the unlit cigarette back in his jacket pocket. “Come on,” he said, pulling the young boy up by his arm. “My ass is frozen out here.”

Later that evening, as they both climbed into their separate beds, Frank mentioned about being cold the night before, which prompted Gerard to make him an offer.

“Do you want to sleep in my bed?”

Without giving it a moment’s thought, Frank quickly got up and shuffled across the floor, standing sheepishly beside the elder’s bed. As the covers were pulled back, he climbed in and got comfortable, letting out a satisfied, “Hmmh” at the warmth.

Gerard smiled and pecked his cheek lightly. “G’night.”

Frank awoke on Christmas Day to an empty bed; it was far too Gerard-less for his liking. Surprised, he sat up quickly and looked at the empty space on the pillow. He did not remember him getting up during the night; he didn’t remember him even moving. His heart swelled at the loss and he sunk back beneath the covers.

“Oh shit, you’re awake,” a voice said from the doorway. “I was gonna surprise you.”

“Surprise me? Gerard, what are you talking about? What time is it?” The young boy rubbed sleepily at his eyes and made a half-hearted attempt at sitting up again.

“It’s not quite seven.”

“Seven?” he groaned. “That’s like, the middle of the night!”

Gerard smiled. “I, uh, I got you a Christmas present,” he muttered softly, sitting carefully on the bed next to him.

“But…I haven’t got you anything!”

“I know, it’s okay. I just, uh, wanted to make something for you.”

“You made something? Oh god, now I feel even worse.”

“Merry Christmas!” Gerard handed him what looked like a small homemade card box, not very intricately made (the sellotape holding it together gave it away), but it served its purpose. “Open it,” he urged eagerly.

Frank bit his lip and looked at his friend guiltily.

Slowly and carefully, he opened the lid. Inside rested a small batch of sugar cookies, obviously freshly baked from the smell wafting up from the box.

“I know you’re not allowed them,” Gerard said hurriedly. “But I just thought you should have them; might like them…if you wanted a small bite without anyone knowing…I just—”

“—You made these for me? Last night?”

Gerard nodded.

“I don’t know what to say. Except…I think this is the best present I’ve ever got.”

Frank placed the box carefully on the bedside table and flung his arms around the older man.

“You seriously like it?” Gerard queried.

“I love it! I can’t believe you’d do that for me. I mean, I’ve only know you for…I don’t know, less than two days.”

“I know. But, well…I like you, so…”

Not knowing what else to say, Frank hugged him again, wholeheartedly. “Fuck. You’re just…you’re one in a million, you really are.”

“I don’t do this often, you know, and don’t go telling anyone about it either!”

“I won’t. But uh, I don’t think I need these cookies anymore.”

Gerard looked crestfallen. “What?”

“It’s just…I’ve got you now and you’re sweeter than any cookie could ever be.”

Gerard grinned at him. “That’s the most wonderfully corny thing I’ve ever heard!”

“You’re welcome,” Frank smiled, kissing his cheek lightly.

“Right, you have to get up now, because it’s Christmas, and I wanna unwrap my presents!”

Frank flopped back down onto the bed. “Can’t I just sleep five more minutes?”

“Nope!”

“Ger—ahhhhhhhh!” Frank squealed as the older man easily scooped him up off the bed and started spinning him around. “I’m getting dizzy!” he squeaked.

“Aww, sugar. You gonna get up now?” Gerard grinned as he slowed down.

Frank nodded and frowned playfully at him. But his expression softened as his feet touched the ground and he gazed up at his dark-haired friend. “Thank you,” he whispered softly, before leaning up and gently capturing his lips between his. Without even needing to ask, Gerard knew exactly what he meant; he had brought some sugar and sweetness back into the young boy’s life, and that was all that Frank ever needed.