Thunder.

“Hey.” Frank says quietly, shrugging off his jacket as he walks into Gerard's room. Gerard looks up, brushing the thin black hairs out of his eyes and gives a half nod.

He looks nervous, playing at his lip ring. “Mikey isn't here right now.” Frank says, then jumps as a crack of thunder shakes the house. If Gerard jumped it's well-masked, and he continues with his original activity of drawing decapitated zombies and the like.

“Were you guys supposed to hang out, or did you just invite yourself over because you're scared and your parents are gone for the weekend.” Gerard says, and it's not a question. Frank mumbles an unrepentant 'sorry' since he's caught, and then shivers as the lightening shocks through the tiny space of the basement window, illuminating them in hazy white.

Gerard puts his pencils down and sighs, then walks over to the bed. “C'mere.” He says gently, watching Frank move jerkily towards him, breathing light.

“Fuckin' storms.” He says, as they climb quickly under Gerard's covers.

Gerard agrees, running his hand through Frank's hair. “Fucking storms.”

It's quiet and a dull light is all they've got, casting a soft glow on their tired features. That is, until a clap of thunder and blinding light shuts off the electricity. Gerard sighs as he watches his computer crash, knowing that he didn't save his work on the desktop, and it's probably all lost now. Gerard gives another sigh, remembering all his best porn is probably not going to download, either. Frank's body is warm and fitted against him, and Gerard rethinks his last sigh. And it's times like this that he's happy he doesn't have a generator.

“Hey, Gee?” Frank questions, snuggling up underneath Gerard's chin.

Gerard makes a tiny 'hmmph' in response, and Frank seems content with that. “Have you ever been in love?” A crack of lightening and thunder expand simultaneously and Frank gasps, clutching Gerard's shirt. Twelve years they've been doing this, and Gerard has gotten used to the claw marks afterwards; they're a souvenir of a night well-spent.

“Yeah.” Gerard croaks, feeling Frank's fingers unwind themselves from the cotton hem of his Smashing Pumpkins tee shirt. He wonders if Frank will continue – it's a terrible habit of his, leading with questions but never following through. It's really Frank's nerves getting in the way, but Gerard doesn't know this. He doesn't know that it didn't start storming until after Frank got the guts to go to Gerard's house.

His body is warm and his breath is light against his neck, and Gerard just puts an arm around him, wondering if this bared any semblance to a normal friendship. In comparison to most of his own, it really wasn't. But he doesn't mind, fingers ghosting along Frank's hip. And once the rain starts beating down above the basement, Gerard is almost thanking God for it. The drops send a reverberating hum throughout the entire Way household. This is safe.

Gerard hopes that Frank isn't thinking of Gerard's other boyfriends after that question, because he'd be sorely off-track. Last time he came over, that was the line of questioning – from first kisses to first times, although Frank didn't have any to add in the latter category.

A clap of thunder forces the question out of Frank's mouth, as if those would be his last words. “Are you in love right now?” He whispers, closely pressed against Gerard's chest, his lips almost touching against his throat. Gerard swallows, and swears that he can hear the little molecules vibrating in the spaces in-between.

Frank doesn't wait for an answer; he doesn't have time to waste. Gerard hears him take a little gulp of air before he stretches up and cranes his head so that it reaches Gerard, then he kisses his lips; it's a soft press, hardly even there. But the wonderful thing is that it is there. It takes a second for Gerard to register, but he leans down in politeness to Frank, making the size difference a bit less straining on him.

“You're in love with me.” Frank breathes, pulling away. The rain is falling heavily, making tiny paths down the tiny basement window.

Gerard is almost distracted by the rain, but even more distracted by Frank's face, beautiful and a little afraid. “But you kissed me.” He says – his voice is a little incredulous, and the words come out as if to make sure he'd get the chance to say it.

Frank almost cringes. “You mad?” He asks, biting his lip. He's not really too worried though, because he did kiss back, after all.

Gerard shakes his head and reunites their lips again. They stop every time Frank jumps at the crack of thunder, and Gerard lets them both slowly fall into pattern, unperturbed.

The storm finishes but Frank doesn't lose his grip on Gerard's shirt, twisting the fabric close to him. Gerard now brushes the hair from Frank's eyes and they both smile, because their not-so-secret has been spilled, and God knows how long they've been keeping it.

“I think I love thunderstorms.” Frank says softly, rubbing his nose against Gerard's.

Gerard gives a dry swallow and holds Frank tight, feeling the light warmth of his skin underneath his fingers. He's touched Frank a thousand times, but it's never been quite like this; as if the very texture of his skin is morphing underneath his fingers. His. The rain is less insistent now, just a drizzle in the quiet night.

His lips graze Frank's forehead, and he can hardly even manage a whisper. “Me too.”