Status: Done.
Warmth.
One of one.
“I’m sorry,” Frank’s voice is thin and trembling, close to breaking, “I had nowhere else to go.”
Frank had stood on the doorstep, freezing water dripping from his hair and sliding down his spine, across cheekbones and other uncomfortable crevices, fingertip grazing the buzzer undecidedly. Eventually he’d taken in a lungful of cold air, fingers throbbing with the pace of his heart, and pushed down on the faded little ’G. Way’ button.
“Yeah?” the reply had hit out at Frank and he had remained silent for a few moments, trembling and panting in the rain. “Hellooo?”
“It’s Frank,” the answer was shaky and broken and Frank cursed himself for sounding so juvenile.
“Frank...? Iero?” he had sounded unforgivably surprised and Frank had cringed back, folding his arms around his waist before answering.
“Yes.”
“What’re you...Come on up.”
Frank had pushed the door open and leaned against the frame for a moment, breathing deeply, before pushing the damp hair out of his eyes and tramping up the stairs; wet footprints following him.
Frank’s teacher stares at him, eyebrows pulled together as the younger boy’s gaze drops. This is awkward, far too awkward and Frank’s regretting the decision to come here. Like he said though, he has nowhere else to go.
Gerard, Mr Way, steps aside, allowing Frank into his apartment. Stamping his feet on the mat, Frank walked in, standing in the hallway, glancing around. He’s never been in there before, just outside once when Mr Way had driven him home after school and had to stop off. Gerard closes the door and takes in Frank’s shivering, drowned rat appearance.
“You need some clothes?”
Frank shrugs, looking down.
“Do you mind?” his voice is still just a breathy whisper. He won’t cry, he won’t.
“No, course not. Two seconds.” He disappears into one of the rooms and returns with a folded pile of soft cotton. “Here, bathroom’s there, towels are in there.” He smiles and wanders away awkwardly.
Frank should feel weird about stripping down in his teacher’s bathroom but...it’s kind of different for them. They’re sort of friends in a way; Gerard knew Frank was gay before anyone else and, unlike his mom, he didn’t tell Frank he never wanted to see him again and kick him out in the rain. Then there was that one time he’d dropped Frank off after tutoring him, he’d reached over to open the door and his lips had been right there in front of Frank’s, their breath mingling together. He’d stared right into Frank’s eyes and murmured his name softly, reaching out to swipe the hair away from Frank’s eyes before snapping back into his seat and muttering a ‘goodbye’ quickly.
He just understands Frank, that’s all.
Frank towels himself dry before pulling the clothes on: navy sweats and a plain, grey shirt. They’re way too big on him, the t-shirt almost reaching his knees, but they feel nice against his skin, smell like Gerard.
He pads through to what he finds to be the living room, carrying his bundle of wet clothes.
“Thanks for the...uh, what should I do with these?”
Gerard just takes them from Frank and hangs them over the radiator, staring at the soaked pieces of material for a while before turning to Frank.
“Take a seat, Frank.”
He does as he’s told, sitting awkwardly on the edge of his brown couch with his arms wrapped around his waist, still cold from the rain. Gerard sits at the other end of the couch, crossing one leg over the other with his pale fingers knotted together on his lap.
“So what’s going on, Frank?” he looks directly at the boy. “What do you mean you have ‘nowhere else to go’?”
Frank shifts awkwardly under the concerned gaze, “My mom, I told her...y’know,” he begins, toying with a loose thread on Gerard’s shirt, Gerard nods slowly, “She uh, she kicked me out, she doesn’t want me living with her anymore,” he says it with a low laugh, trying to lessen the sting of his word.
“Jesus, seriously?”
Frank nods glumly, squeezing his eyebrows into a frown. He won’t cry, he won’t. Gerard palms his forehead, eyes trained on a spot on the wall directly behind Frank.
“Fu- God. That’s heavy. D’you not have any other family you can say with?”
Frank shakes his head, battling the stinging in the corners of his eyes with all the strength he has.
“They’ll all know by tonight. And they’ll feel the same way,” Frank sighs, voice barely catching on the last syllable. “She...She might tell them not to take me in.”
“Frank, she’s your mom. No matter what, she’s always gonna love you. You need to talk to her.” Gerard’s hand finds his shoulder squeezing and he sighs, shaking his head slowly.
“No, she said she couldn’t love someone...someone like me.” Frank’s voice heightens and snaps and he’s dropping his head as low as possible to disguise the tears. “Sorry.”
“S’okay,” he murmurs and lets inky air obscure his eyes as he glances at his watch, more than a little conflicted at what to do. He can’t turn the kid away, definitely not. “Listen, Frank, you can stay here tonight if you want. I’ll run you to school tomorrow and we’ll try and sort this, okay?”
Frank sniffs and nods, “Thanks, Mr Way.” The teacher half smiles, letting his hand fall from Frank’s shoulder, fingertips grazing along his spine in the process. Frank shivers again, goosebumps erupting across his forearms.
“You’re still cold, huh?” Gerard twists his mouth, leaving the seat to crouch in front of the little gas fire parallel to the couch. He fiddles around with the knobs until there’s a click and a whooshing sound and his face is being illuminated by flames, casting shadows along his cheekbones. Frank absorbs the warmth, feeling it spread from where Gerard is now standing, and extends his arms; palms forward.
“Better?” he smiles sadly, pityingly, and Frank nods, drawing back his warmed fingers to smear at his damp cheeks. “Good.”
He disappears wordlessly, leaving Frank with the silence and spreading warmth, still unable to stop the steady flow of tears streaking shiny lines down his cheeks.
The teacher returns seconds later, two mugs held close to his body to prevent spillages, steam curling above them.
“I didn’t think you’d want coffee,” he states slowly, sitting the mug in front of Frank on the coffee table. Hot chocolate with little pink marshmallows floating on the top, Frank sees and smiles through his damaged cheeks and glittery eyelashes.
“Thanks.” He reaches for it and drinks, mouth spiking with pain as it burns him and he doesn’t care.
“Frank,” Gerard speaks slowly, eyes down with his index finger tracing the rim of his coffee cup. “You know you can...If you’ve got nowhere to stay, if we can’t fix it, I wouldn’t want you to go into care. So you...” he trails off, sighing and inhales slowly before beginning again. “You’re welcome here, if you wanted. Whenever you want.”
Frank is silent for moments, eyes wide, stinging pink and with bright irises as he stares at the man; watches him fiddle with his hair, tucking it behind his ear before pulling it back again. When the silence continues, Frank watches Gerard get more agitated with the same strand of hair, twisting it around his fingertip then tugging on it.
“Really?” Frank asks, voice so low that he can barely feel the sound in the back of his throat. Barely. Gerard looks up from his hair, eyebrows low, and nods sharply, dropping his eyes again like an embarrassed child. Frank whispers again, “Thank you.” He takes another gulp of the rich drink, feeling it burn his throat and carry the warmth through his chest and sets the drink on the table again. He shifts along the couch, closer to Gerard.
“Mr W...Gerard,” he murmurs, testing out how the name sounds on his tongue and trails it over his lips, collecting any leftover sweetness from his drink.
“Mmhm?” the noise the teacher makes is nervous and tiny, a surprised intake of breath jolting his frame when Frank’s hand, fingers spread, rests on his shoulder. He looks up then, eyes settling on a spot just below Frank’s nose, the chocolate gathered in the corners of his mouth. Frank just stares at him, gaze following the lines of his face. Then Frank’s hand moves, cupping the back of his neck and their eyes meet so that they start to lean closer, gravitating towards each other like magnets, each pulled in by the other.
Frank hears rain spatter against the window, feels his cheek begin to burn with the low glow from the fire and he forgets where he is and who he is because everything seems to blur together and change and all that matters is that he leans just a little bit closer.
“Frank...” just a mere whimper, but Frank feels the breath of words on his lips.
“No, shh. Please.”
Gerard, for the first time, does what Frank says. Usually, it’s him telling Frank to do; when to bring in homework or to shut up and stop talking to Bob when he’s trying to fucking teach.
He’s so close now, so close that Frank can feel the warm vapour from Gerard’s breath on his lips. They touch then, just close enough that the heightened surface of the bow of Frank’s lipsgraze those of the older man’s. Frank pulls back slightly, bobbing his head back and pushing his lips down on Gerard’s fleetingly. Their foreheads touch, both pairs of eyelashes closing over almost matching hazel irises. Gerard licks his lips, and he can taste Frank’s breath, they’re so close. Frank leans in again then, pushing their lips together firmly.
Frank tastes like chocolate, and his lips are sticky so that when he pulls back again Gerard can’t help but trail his tongue over his lips slowly, savouring the taste. He has no time to accept any facts about the situation: not that Frank’s his student and under fifteen and vulnerable at this point in time, because Frank pushes forward again. He can’t really stop himself, he needs to be pressed against Gerard in the warmth and low light, he can’t not be and he can’t let himself stop because then he’ll think of a reason to stop. And he needs this. Needs the strange and beautiful teacher because without him, Frank feels that if he didn’t have this, this moment in time, he would be nothing.
It’s not true, of course, but he feels it. He always has felt it. It’s the reason why he asked for tutoring from the teacher when he didn’t really give a shit whether he failed at math or not. It’s the reason why he went to his house when he got kicked out and not Bob’s, his best friend. It’s the reason why his fingers are knotted in Mr Way’s hair and their lips are moving oh so slowly together.
Frank breathes in, trailing his tongue over Gerard’s lower lip. He feels fingers press at the base of his spine, pulling him closer so that their torsos are partially pressed together. They continue for a while, time disappearing and fading in Frank’s head as the same fingers trace the line of his spine, pushing up the back of his t-shirt and pressing, warm against his back.
It ends though, the lips disappear from Frank’s, the warm hands leaving Frank cold and trembling.
“Frank, this isn’t right,” he whispers, faces still bowed close to each other. Frank shrugs, dropping his eyes.
“Probably not. I don’t care though.”
“I care. I know...I know it’s hard for you right now, I know you just need comfort. You’re...vulnerable,” he hums, still so close that Frank would only have to push a couple of centimetres so that their lips would be together again.
“Don’t. Stop being a teacher just for a sec,” he whispers, making Gerard laugh nervously.
“I can’t, it’s...Who I am, I guess. It’s what I am to you, too. This isn’t allowed, Frank.”
“I just need someone to...to care just a little bit,” Frank whispers and he can feel the annoying emotion start to build in his throat again, he can’t be that pathetic this time.
“You know people do, Frank. Don’t act like you think they don’t.”
Frank just sniffs pathetically and allows himself to be pulled into Gerard’s chest, arms around his waist, feels the lips touch the top of his head and smiles a little.
They sit like that for a while, Frank resting against his chest with his eyes drooping. He yawns loudly, closing his eyes.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Gerard disentangles himself from Frank’s clinging limbs and pulls on his wrist so that he’ll stand. He holds onto his hand and pulls him through to a small room, lowly lit by streetlamps. Gerard turns the light on, illuminating the drawings and paintings tacked on the walls around the room. Frank wanders close to the wall and grazes his fingertips over the surface of a drawing of something he doesn’t quite understand, even when he tilts his head to the side.
“You drew these?”
“Uh, yeah. It’s kind of a hobby, I guess,” Gerard says, scratching at his head awkwardly.
“And I thought you were only interested in math,” Frank smiles drowsily and glances over at the single bed in the corner of the room, seeming extremely inviting in his current state. Gerard laughs shortly and manages to guide Frank over to the bed, pulling the covers back and settling them around Frank’s shoulders after he’s clambered in.
“Listen Frank,” he begins, crouching beside the bed and taking full advantage of Frank in his, almost unconscious position. “You can’t tell anyone, about earlier, you know that?”
Frank twists his lips, murmuring a ’hmm’.
“Well...”
“Frank.”
“Well,” Frank begins, looking away bashfully, “Maybe if you gave me a goodnight kiss, I’d think about it.”
Gerard sighs, dropping his head and pressing his fingertips into his closed eyes.
“That's so fucked up,” Gerard squints at Frank, seeing the stupid cheeky grin stretch across his cheeks and sighs. Leaning close and pressing his lips against Frank’s cheekbone chastely. “Sleep, crazy little shit.”
He flicks off the light when he leaves, lingering outside the door for moments before wandering to his own room slowly.
In the room, Frank smiles at the ceiling for a while before turning over, pressing his nose into the pillow and closing his eyes with his teacher’s scent lingering in his mind and his cheek still burning from the ghost of Gerard’s lips.
Frank had stood on the doorstep, freezing water dripping from his hair and sliding down his spine, across cheekbones and other uncomfortable crevices, fingertip grazing the buzzer undecidedly. Eventually he’d taken in a lungful of cold air, fingers throbbing with the pace of his heart, and pushed down on the faded little ’G. Way’ button.
“Yeah?” the reply had hit out at Frank and he had remained silent for a few moments, trembling and panting in the rain. “Hellooo?”
“It’s Frank,” the answer was shaky and broken and Frank cursed himself for sounding so juvenile.
“Frank...? Iero?” he had sounded unforgivably surprised and Frank had cringed back, folding his arms around his waist before answering.
“Yes.”
“What’re you...Come on up.”
Frank had pushed the door open and leaned against the frame for a moment, breathing deeply, before pushing the damp hair out of his eyes and tramping up the stairs; wet footprints following him.
Frank’s teacher stares at him, eyebrows pulled together as the younger boy’s gaze drops. This is awkward, far too awkward and Frank’s regretting the decision to come here. Like he said though, he has nowhere else to go.
Gerard, Mr Way, steps aside, allowing Frank into his apartment. Stamping his feet on the mat, Frank walked in, standing in the hallway, glancing around. He’s never been in there before, just outside once when Mr Way had driven him home after school and had to stop off. Gerard closes the door and takes in Frank’s shivering, drowned rat appearance.
“You need some clothes?”
Frank shrugs, looking down.
“Do you mind?” his voice is still just a breathy whisper. He won’t cry, he won’t.
“No, course not. Two seconds.” He disappears into one of the rooms and returns with a folded pile of soft cotton. “Here, bathroom’s there, towels are in there.” He smiles and wanders away awkwardly.
Frank should feel weird about stripping down in his teacher’s bathroom but...it’s kind of different for them. They’re sort of friends in a way; Gerard knew Frank was gay before anyone else and, unlike his mom, he didn’t tell Frank he never wanted to see him again and kick him out in the rain. Then there was that one time he’d dropped Frank off after tutoring him, he’d reached over to open the door and his lips had been right there in front of Frank’s, their breath mingling together. He’d stared right into Frank’s eyes and murmured his name softly, reaching out to swipe the hair away from Frank’s eyes before snapping back into his seat and muttering a ‘goodbye’ quickly.
He just understands Frank, that’s all.
Frank towels himself dry before pulling the clothes on: navy sweats and a plain, grey shirt. They’re way too big on him, the t-shirt almost reaching his knees, but they feel nice against his skin, smell like Gerard.
He pads through to what he finds to be the living room, carrying his bundle of wet clothes.
“Thanks for the...uh, what should I do with these?”
Gerard just takes them from Frank and hangs them over the radiator, staring at the soaked pieces of material for a while before turning to Frank.
“Take a seat, Frank.”
He does as he’s told, sitting awkwardly on the edge of his brown couch with his arms wrapped around his waist, still cold from the rain. Gerard sits at the other end of the couch, crossing one leg over the other with his pale fingers knotted together on his lap.
“So what’s going on, Frank?” he looks directly at the boy. “What do you mean you have ‘nowhere else to go’?”
Frank shifts awkwardly under the concerned gaze, “My mom, I told her...y’know,” he begins, toying with a loose thread on Gerard’s shirt, Gerard nods slowly, “She uh, she kicked me out, she doesn’t want me living with her anymore,” he says it with a low laugh, trying to lessen the sting of his word.
“Jesus, seriously?”
Frank nods glumly, squeezing his eyebrows into a frown. He won’t cry, he won’t. Gerard palms his forehead, eyes trained on a spot on the wall directly behind Frank.
“Fu- God. That’s heavy. D’you not have any other family you can say with?”
Frank shakes his head, battling the stinging in the corners of his eyes with all the strength he has.
“They’ll all know by tonight. And they’ll feel the same way,” Frank sighs, voice barely catching on the last syllable. “She...She might tell them not to take me in.”
“Frank, she’s your mom. No matter what, she’s always gonna love you. You need to talk to her.” Gerard’s hand finds his shoulder squeezing and he sighs, shaking his head slowly.
“No, she said she couldn’t love someone...someone like me.” Frank’s voice heightens and snaps and he’s dropping his head as low as possible to disguise the tears. “Sorry.”
“S’okay,” he murmurs and lets inky air obscure his eyes as he glances at his watch, more than a little conflicted at what to do. He can’t turn the kid away, definitely not. “Listen, Frank, you can stay here tonight if you want. I’ll run you to school tomorrow and we’ll try and sort this, okay?”
Frank sniffs and nods, “Thanks, Mr Way.” The teacher half smiles, letting his hand fall from Frank’s shoulder, fingertips grazing along his spine in the process. Frank shivers again, goosebumps erupting across his forearms.
“You’re still cold, huh?” Gerard twists his mouth, leaving the seat to crouch in front of the little gas fire parallel to the couch. He fiddles around with the knobs until there’s a click and a whooshing sound and his face is being illuminated by flames, casting shadows along his cheekbones. Frank absorbs the warmth, feeling it spread from where Gerard is now standing, and extends his arms; palms forward.
“Better?” he smiles sadly, pityingly, and Frank nods, drawing back his warmed fingers to smear at his damp cheeks. “Good.”
He disappears wordlessly, leaving Frank with the silence and spreading warmth, still unable to stop the steady flow of tears streaking shiny lines down his cheeks.
The teacher returns seconds later, two mugs held close to his body to prevent spillages, steam curling above them.
“I didn’t think you’d want coffee,” he states slowly, sitting the mug in front of Frank on the coffee table. Hot chocolate with little pink marshmallows floating on the top, Frank sees and smiles through his damaged cheeks and glittery eyelashes.
“Thanks.” He reaches for it and drinks, mouth spiking with pain as it burns him and he doesn’t care.
“Frank,” Gerard speaks slowly, eyes down with his index finger tracing the rim of his coffee cup. “You know you can...If you’ve got nowhere to stay, if we can’t fix it, I wouldn’t want you to go into care. So you...” he trails off, sighing and inhales slowly before beginning again. “You’re welcome here, if you wanted. Whenever you want.”
Frank is silent for moments, eyes wide, stinging pink and with bright irises as he stares at the man; watches him fiddle with his hair, tucking it behind his ear before pulling it back again. When the silence continues, Frank watches Gerard get more agitated with the same strand of hair, twisting it around his fingertip then tugging on it.
“Really?” Frank asks, voice so low that he can barely feel the sound in the back of his throat. Barely. Gerard looks up from his hair, eyebrows low, and nods sharply, dropping his eyes again like an embarrassed child. Frank whispers again, “Thank you.” He takes another gulp of the rich drink, feeling it burn his throat and carry the warmth through his chest and sets the drink on the table again. He shifts along the couch, closer to Gerard.
“Mr W...Gerard,” he murmurs, testing out how the name sounds on his tongue and trails it over his lips, collecting any leftover sweetness from his drink.
“Mmhm?” the noise the teacher makes is nervous and tiny, a surprised intake of breath jolting his frame when Frank’s hand, fingers spread, rests on his shoulder. He looks up then, eyes settling on a spot just below Frank’s nose, the chocolate gathered in the corners of his mouth. Frank just stares at him, gaze following the lines of his face. Then Frank’s hand moves, cupping the back of his neck and their eyes meet so that they start to lean closer, gravitating towards each other like magnets, each pulled in by the other.
Frank hears rain spatter against the window, feels his cheek begin to burn with the low glow from the fire and he forgets where he is and who he is because everything seems to blur together and change and all that matters is that he leans just a little bit closer.
“Frank...” just a mere whimper, but Frank feels the breath of words on his lips.
“No, shh. Please.”
Gerard, for the first time, does what Frank says. Usually, it’s him telling Frank to do; when to bring in homework or to shut up and stop talking to Bob when he’s trying to fucking teach.
He’s so close now, so close that Frank can feel the warm vapour from Gerard’s breath on his lips. They touch then, just close enough that the heightened surface of the bow of Frank’s lipsgraze those of the older man’s. Frank pulls back slightly, bobbing his head back and pushing his lips down on Gerard’s fleetingly. Their foreheads touch, both pairs of eyelashes closing over almost matching hazel irises. Gerard licks his lips, and he can taste Frank’s breath, they’re so close. Frank leans in again then, pushing their lips together firmly.
Frank tastes like chocolate, and his lips are sticky so that when he pulls back again Gerard can’t help but trail his tongue over his lips slowly, savouring the taste. He has no time to accept any facts about the situation: not that Frank’s his student and under fifteen and vulnerable at this point in time, because Frank pushes forward again. He can’t really stop himself, he needs to be pressed against Gerard in the warmth and low light, he can’t not be and he can’t let himself stop because then he’ll think of a reason to stop. And he needs this. Needs the strange and beautiful teacher because without him, Frank feels that if he didn’t have this, this moment in time, he would be nothing.
It’s not true, of course, but he feels it. He always has felt it. It’s the reason why he asked for tutoring from the teacher when he didn’t really give a shit whether he failed at math or not. It’s the reason why he went to his house when he got kicked out and not Bob’s, his best friend. It’s the reason why his fingers are knotted in Mr Way’s hair and their lips are moving oh so slowly together.
Frank breathes in, trailing his tongue over Gerard’s lower lip. He feels fingers press at the base of his spine, pulling him closer so that their torsos are partially pressed together. They continue for a while, time disappearing and fading in Frank’s head as the same fingers trace the line of his spine, pushing up the back of his t-shirt and pressing, warm against his back.
It ends though, the lips disappear from Frank’s, the warm hands leaving Frank cold and trembling.
“Frank, this isn’t right,” he whispers, faces still bowed close to each other. Frank shrugs, dropping his eyes.
“Probably not. I don’t care though.”
“I care. I know...I know it’s hard for you right now, I know you just need comfort. You’re...vulnerable,” he hums, still so close that Frank would only have to push a couple of centimetres so that their lips would be together again.
“Don’t. Stop being a teacher just for a sec,” he whispers, making Gerard laugh nervously.
“I can’t, it’s...Who I am, I guess. It’s what I am to you, too. This isn’t allowed, Frank.”
“I just need someone to...to care just a little bit,” Frank whispers and he can feel the annoying emotion start to build in his throat again, he can’t be that pathetic this time.
“You know people do, Frank. Don’t act like you think they don’t.”
Frank just sniffs pathetically and allows himself to be pulled into Gerard’s chest, arms around his waist, feels the lips touch the top of his head and smiles a little.
They sit like that for a while, Frank resting against his chest with his eyes drooping. He yawns loudly, closing his eyes.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Gerard disentangles himself from Frank’s clinging limbs and pulls on his wrist so that he’ll stand. He holds onto his hand and pulls him through to a small room, lowly lit by streetlamps. Gerard turns the light on, illuminating the drawings and paintings tacked on the walls around the room. Frank wanders close to the wall and grazes his fingertips over the surface of a drawing of something he doesn’t quite understand, even when he tilts his head to the side.
“You drew these?”
“Uh, yeah. It’s kind of a hobby, I guess,” Gerard says, scratching at his head awkwardly.
“And I thought you were only interested in math,” Frank smiles drowsily and glances over at the single bed in the corner of the room, seeming extremely inviting in his current state. Gerard laughs shortly and manages to guide Frank over to the bed, pulling the covers back and settling them around Frank’s shoulders after he’s clambered in.
“Listen Frank,” he begins, crouching beside the bed and taking full advantage of Frank in his, almost unconscious position. “You can’t tell anyone, about earlier, you know that?”
Frank twists his lips, murmuring a ’hmm’.
“Well...”
“Frank.”
“Well,” Frank begins, looking away bashfully, “Maybe if you gave me a goodnight kiss, I’d think about it.”
Gerard sighs, dropping his head and pressing his fingertips into his closed eyes.
“That's so fucked up,” Gerard squints at Frank, seeing the stupid cheeky grin stretch across his cheeks and sighs. Leaning close and pressing his lips against Frank’s cheekbone chastely. “Sleep, crazy little shit.”
He flicks off the light when he leaves, lingering outside the door for moments before wandering to his own room slowly.
In the room, Frank smiles at the ceiling for a while before turning over, pressing his nose into the pillow and closing his eyes with his teacher’s scent lingering in his mind and his cheek still burning from the ghost of Gerard’s lips.
♠ ♠ ♠
<3