I'll Take What I Want From Your Heart

Frank woke up the next morning to light spilling over the blinds in the living room and Gerard moving things around in the kitchen. Frank groaned and sat up, rubbing his hands over his face as he tried to get his eyes to adjust to the light as quickly as possible.

“Shit, Frank, sorry. I didn't meant to wake you,” Gerard span around, clutching a wooden spoon to his chest. Frank laughed, deep in his chest and pulled his t shirt on before standing up and stretching.

“Did you want breakfast or anything yet? Coffee? Tea? Orange juice?” Gerard rambled, scrambling around for tea bags and instant coffee granules.

“It's fine, don't worry,” Frank said, shaking his head. Gerard smiled tightly.

“Are you sure? I can make toast or-”

“Gerard, please,” Frank said, “It's fine. If you don't mind, though, could I use your shower really quickly?”

“Yeah, knock yourself out,” Gerard said, gesturing to a door, “There should be towels already in there; if there's not, just give me a shout. Feel free to use the shampoo and stuff in there.”

“Thanks,” Frank said sincerely, smiling at Gerard and grabbing his pants from yesterday before trudging into the bathroom. He heard the landline phone ring as he tried to work the shower and hung his cloths up on the side.

After his shower he dried himself off as best he could and got dressed in yesterday's clothes, using the deodorant on the shelf of the bathroom.

“No, no- no! You've been out all week – there were letters fucking stuffed into our mailbox and, probably the biggest fucking giveaway, the apartment was still fucking clean!” Gerard was shouting down the phone. Frank took a moment to close the bathroom door and let Gerard carry on with his conversation in peace. It didn't really sound like the kind of conversation he wanted to get in the middle of.

“Well I hope you fucking choke and die too, Bert,” Gerard spat down the phone. Frank had never heard him this angry, “If you are not back tonight then God- don't you fucking- you cunt, you fucking cunt, Robert.”

Frank assumed that Gerard had hung up and quietly opened the bathroom door.

“Should I put the towel anywhere?” Frank asked tentatively, hovering by the bathroom door. Gerard snapped around, his shoulders drawn up tense and defensive and his eyes red and watery.

“Um, if you just put it on the floor in the bathroom I'll pick it up later,” Gerard said despondently, waving his arm vaguely. Frank nodded and gingerly placed the towel on the bathroom floor before coming back out to sit next to Gerard on the sofa. Gerard was staring vacantly next to him.

“Did you want some tea?” Frank asked weakly, not sure what he could do to help. Gerard exhaled loudly.

“Tea would be great, actually. The tea bags are just next to the kettle,” Gerard said, finally relaxing
and sinking back into the sofa cushions and closing his eyes. Frank managed to find the teabags relatively easily and plugged in the kettle.

“Your kitchen's pretty tidy,” Frank commented, especially in comparison to the first time he came around and there were coats and paints everywhere.

“I cleaned it before I left; less work later for me,” Gerard said tiredly as Frank brought him over his mug of tea.

“Thanks,” Gerard said gratefully, looking like he was on the verge of crying. They sat in silence and sipper their tea for a few moments.

“Did you want to talk about it?” Frank asked after a while, knowing that he probably wouldn’t want to hear what Gerard had to say, but knowing that it was the only way to relieve some of the tension in the room.

“Um,” Gerard paused, looking faintly embarrassed, “Sorry. I'm guessing you heard the phone call?”

“Yeah,” Frank said nervously. Gerard blinked and rubbed at his face.

“I don't know, things are just kind of weird. I'm not usually like that,” Gerard said finally, blinking tears back rapidly. Frank made a carry-on gesture, and Gerard's reluctance suddenly vanished.

“It's just – Bert's never here. Ever. Even if I tell him to make sure he's here so we can go out or just spend some time together, he's never here. It's gets really lonely, as usually between working I'm having to go to his gigs. It's not that I don't like them, but I'm always working and then driving halfway across the country to see him then driving back to work. He doesn't understand how tiring it is because he doesn't bother himself with the bills and so basically everything I earn goes towards them and – God, it's just so exhausting and it never stops,” Gerard burst, clutching at his hair. Frank set his mug down on the floor and reached out to grab Gerard's hand and squeeze it.

“It's – it's,” Frank grasped helplessly for words but was unable to find any. Instead he reached for Gerard and pulled him into his chest, letting him cry himself out. They sat there for a few minutes before Gerard's sobs began to slow down.

“Sorry,” Gerard apologised into Frank's t-shirt, clutching onto his shoulders as if someone were trying to pull him away.

“It's okay,” Frank murmured, rubbing Gerard's back softly.

“Am I interrupting something?” Came a dry voice from the back of the room. Frank looked up quickly to see Bert standing in the doorway, regarding them coolly.

“What are you doing here?” Frank asked sharply, cradling Gerard's head.

“This is my apartment, Iero, and that's my boyfriend. I don't think I have to justify why I'm here to you,” Bert spat, dropping his bag in the doorway and walking into the kitchen.

“I think-,” Gerard paused and lifted his head out of the crook of Frank's neck, “Um- could you- could you give us a minute?”

“Yeah, okay,” Frank said wincing.

“Sorry. Sorry for crying on you, too. I should probably talk to him,” Gerard trailed off. Frank nodded and got up, stretching.

“I'll see you around them,” Frank said lamely, raising his hand pathetically as some form of a wave.

“Yeah,” Gerard said softly, standing up too. His eyes were red and sore-looking, tear tracks dried on his face and his cheeks flushed.

“Bye,” Frank says, feeling a bit slighted by the fact that Gerard would still rather choose Bert over him. Maybe Gerard would never choose him over Bert, no matter how much of an asshole he was. Maybe, Frank realised for the first time since he had taken Bert up on his offer, he was completely out of his fucking depth.