#18 - Black

#18; Black

"Get up!" someone yelled (probably Brian, but Frank's brain was too sleep-addled to distinguish it from the giant llama that had been plaguing his dreams). "Everyone up, now!" There was a collection of groans and muttered profanities, as everybody dragged themselves out of bed. Frank sat up and cracked open his bunk curtain, blinking a little in the bright sunlight that was streaming in through the skylight.

"Ngghh," he said, and all his bandmates agreed with differing grunts of their own.

"What did we ever do to you, Brian?" Gerard moaned, voice cracking.

"There's coffee?" Brian offered, and the whole band stampeded into the kitchenette. "Holy shit," he said. "I thought that'd only tempt the Ways."
-
"Would you like to explain why you did this to us?" Gerard asked, nursing his coffee. Frank gazed at it longingly. He'd gulped all his down in one go, burning his throat, and was now buzzing with energy.

"We have an unscheduled interview early today," Brian said, and the band groaned collectively.

"What the fuck?" the brothers Way said, at the same time Ray and Bob said "Fuck that!".

"I appreciate your input," Brian said dryly. "Especially Frank's."

"My throat," he tried to explain, but it came out like 'Mghh fghht', because apparently, speech was not going to come easy to a burnt throat. Gerard clicked his tongue sympathetically whilst the rest of the band convulsed with laughter. Frank scowled, flushing, and glared at his lap.

"Incapable of drinking coffee," Ray said, and some days Frank really hated his bandmates. With the exception of Gerard, of course. No one could hate that.

"Fuck you," Gerard said on Frank's behalf. Frank shot him a grateful smile, and Gerard smiled back, blushing slightly (although that could have been due to the heat radiating from his coffee. Frank chalked it up to that).

"Guys," Brian said tiredly, and Frank composed himself (what the fuck, why did he always get sidetracked by the most inappropriate things?). "Can we all get...presentable?" There was a smattering of agreement as everyone stood up and shuffled to their various clothes-keeping-places (Gerard scrambled around wildly on the floor, claiming that he'd 'definitely left a relatively clean shirt on the floor, Mikeyway, what did you do with it?').

"Ray, that's my shirt," Mikey pouted. Ray shrugged.

"You're wearing mine," he said, and Mikey looked down like an idiot to see he was indeed wearing Ray's Iron Maiden shirt. He flipped Ray off half-heartedly, stumbling over Gerard to bother Frank, who was rootling around in his bag for some clean jeans to wear.

"I could have sworn I had some," he muttered. Gerard looked up at him guiltily.

"You motherfucker," Frank said. "Give them back. Now." Gerard's eyes flashed sheepishly to his jeans-clad legs. Frank's-jeans-clad legs.

"I hate you," Frank told him, swiping the pair of black skinnies that Bob was holding out of his hands. "These are mine now," he added to Bob, who was staring at him in bewilderment.

"Sorry for being such an asshole!" he called over his shoulder as he made his way to the bathroom to change.
-
"...seemed so pointless, you know?" Gerard was saying. Frank was mesmerised by the movement of his hands - Gerard spoke with his hands, although he was a very shy person and it took a lot to get him to open up.

"Yeah, and then Frank was factored into the equation," Mikey smirked, and suddenly all the attention was focused on him. He tried valiantly to remember what the topic of conversation was.

"Uh, yeah," he said intelligently. "I, um. Hey, you want to hear a tour secret? Mikey's a dick!" he settled on eventually, and everyone creased up with laughter. Frank cuddled up to Mikey as an apology, and he could have sworn Gerard shot them a look...it was probably just his over-caffeinated imagination.

"So lots of fans want to know if you guys have got any special ladies in your life?" the interviewer asked, eyes focused keenly on Gerard, like she wanted to devour him with her cherry red lips. Frank didn't like it.

"Mikey's got one," Bob smirked, referring to Pete Wentz who the entire internet now knew wasn't a female, unlike Frank had suspected for a long, long time. Mikey shot him a glare, shrugging dismissively and shrinking back into the seat. He didn't usually talk when Gerard was there. Gerard answered everything for him.

"Yeah, well," Gerard said, laughing slightly. "I'm definitely single. Mikey, uh, not so much. Ray and Bob...aren't," he confirmed, after glancing quickly between the two of them. "Frank?" he asked.

"I have lots of ladies," Frank shrugged, and the interviewer gaped. Ray giggled his ridiculously high three-year-old-girl-on-crack giggle.

"He means his guitars," he explained to the interviewer, who relaxed visibly, laughing although she really had no idea what was going on.

"Oh," she giggled, fluttering her eyelashes in Gerard's near proxemity. "Oh, Frank. I can see why you're the funny one in the band."

"And I can see that you're the cretin in this room," Frank muttered darkly, and Ray snorted, trying and failing to pass it off as a cough. Frank saw Brian roll his eyes and check his watch, and hopefully, hopefully the interview was nearly over. He tried to signal this to Brian with his eyebrows, but he didn't speak Eyebrow like Mikey did, so whilst Gerard was spouting drivel about metaphorical titles being paradoxical of the metaphors themselves or something, he nudged Mikey and glanced between the interviewer and Brian quickly. Mikey nodded briefly, signalling with his eyebrows to Brian, who nodded and cleared his throat. Goddammit, why couldn't Frank speak Eyebrow like that?

"We have to dash," he said apologetically. "Show tonight." The interviewer smiled, placing her hand on Gerard's thigh (the slut) and the band got up to leave.

"Thanks," they all said, and she shook all their hands, spending an extra long time flipping her hair and giggling and gazing into Gerard's eyes. It was like she didn't know he was gay.

Well, he supposed. She didn't. It wasn't exactly something the whole world knew. Only the band and Brian knew.
-
"So you're saying we have to wait at the venue for four hours 'til the show starts?" Gerard said in disbelief. Brian nodded sheepishly.

"We got here like, way early," he said, and Ray snorted, even though the Way jokes were really fucking old. "Sorry, but there's absolutely nothing I can do about it." Gerard groaned, putting his head in his hands.

"Can we at least leave the room?" he asked hopefully. Brian shook his head.

"Don't disappear!" he yelled, stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind him.

"There's nothing to do!" Gerard exclaimed. Mikey's gaze flashed between him and Frank.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find something," Mikey said airily, and Frank scowled, taking a break from fanning himself, because it was fucking hot in there.

"I'm not staying here if I'm just going to be insulted," he said, pushing himself off the comfortable chair he was sitting on.

"No one said anything about you," Bob pointed out absent-mindedly, violently killing a zombie on his phone. Frank flipped him off half-heartedly.

"It's the principle of the thing," he said. Gerard raised his head to look at him, strands of his raven hair falling haphazardly into his eyes, his forehead already slightly damp with sweat.

"Where are you going?" he asked with interest as Frank reached out to touch the door handle. Frank shrugged.

"To piss," he said, for want of a better answer.

"There's toilets over there," Ray said helpfully, pointing to a cubicle in the back of the room they were in.

"To compare that one to the other toilets then, what the fuck, I don't know," Frank said.

"I'll come with you," Gerard said, scraping back the chair he had been sitting on loudly.

Frank ignored Mikey's pointed cough.
-
"Left?" Gerard asked, trying to navigate their way through what Frank had dubbed The Impossible Venue. Every door they opened seemed to lead back into the same corridor they'd just been in. It was like a film Frank once watched, and it had been bugging him for a while as to which film it was.

"Who gives a shit?" Frank said grumpily. "It's not like we're going to get any closer to finding the bathroom."

"I hope you realise that if Brian sees us, we're getting our heads chewed off," Gerard said. "He told us not to disappear."

"That's why you have to deploy your ninja skills," Frank said. He paused. "Your very-very-deep-down ninja skills."

"Fuck you," Gerard said. "I can be a-" Frank didn't hear the rest of the sentence because suddenly he was being pulled into a room branching off the corridor they were currently in, what the fuck?

"Shh," Gerard whispered, and Frank could just about make out him pressing a finger to his lips. "Brian," he explained. Frank blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. They waited a moment, hearing Brian's unmistakable footsteps approach then fade away.

"Okay," Frank whispered. "I think we're clear to go." He pulled on the door knob - but it was stuck fast. He pulled again, twisting it, but it didn't move.

"Gee," he said in a low voice. He needed to get out of there. "Open the door. It's stuck." Gerard moved over obediently, trying his best to open the door, but it still wasn't working.

"I think we're locked in, Frank," Gerard said, eyes wide in the dark, and Frank gulped. It wasn't so much the dark, it was...well, actually, yes, it was the dark.

"Gerard," he said, voice trembling, clutching Gerard's arm. "Gerard."

"Shh," Gerard soothed. "I'm here, Frankie." Frankie. Okay. Okay. That was - that was good, yes.

"It's so...dark," Frank whimpered, and fuck, it was. It was pitch black - Frank could make out nothing that was further than about a foot away, which meant he must have gotten really damn close to Gerard.

"Come on, Frankie," Gerard coaxed, knowing all about Frank's claustrophobia and fear of the dark. "Let's sit down." Frank swallowed, scrambling in the dark for Gerard's warm hand, for security.

"Gerard," he whispered, as if Gerard's name was some sort of talisman. "Gerard." Gerard caught Frank's flailing hand and laced their fingers together, pulling him gently to a wall where they could sit down, feeling his way through the dark with his free hand.

"Shh, Frank," he soothed. "We'll be out in no time." Frank's brain was incapable of constructing an answer, in between it's dark, it's pitch black, I'm going to die with Gee in a dark cupboard and Pete Wentz will blog about it and write a song called 'How Inconsiderate Of You To Die, Now My Boyfriend's Fucking Depressed' and oh my god he's holding my hand, Gerard's holding my hand. He settled for a frightened noise from the back of his throat. Gerard made an unhappy noise, pulling Frank closer until Frank could feel the heat radiating from Gerard's body.

"Oh my God, Gerard," he said. "I can't see anything."

"That's because it's dark," Gerard said.

"I don't like it," Frank said, practically hyperventilating. "Oh God, Gerard, I can't breathe. Gee-"

"Relax," Gerard said calmly, and although Frank couldn't see his face right now, he could imagine his expression - the little concerned frown that graced his features whenever Frank was upset, the little downwards tug of his lips that meant he was worried. It was kind of a shame he couldn't see it, really, it was adorable.

"Relax?" Frank asked. "Imagine if there was a room full of needles. And, like, I don't know. Justin Biebers. Multiple copies of Justin Bieber all wielding needles. How would you feel? Would you be able to relax?" Gerard was silent.

"I'm here though, Frankie," he said eventually, softly. He squeezed Frank's hand as reassurance. "I'm here." Frank smiled involuntarily, and squeezed back. They were silent for a few minutes, listening to the ancient plumbing cranking as people turned taps on and off in the bathroom a few rooms down (yes, had they taken a few more steps they would not be locked in a pitch black cupboard).

"Maybe if you shut your eyes, you won't be so scared of the dark?" Gerard suggested, and that, that was what Frank called a good idea. As soon as his eyelids fluttered shut he felt a lot safer, all the usual vulnerability of shutting your eyes lost because he could feel Gerard's hand warm and heavy in his. He stroked Gerard's thumb absent-mindedly, eyes still darting around restlessly although his eyes were shut.

"Yeah," Frank hummed.

"Hey," Gerard said suddenly, moving around, searching for something in his pockets. "You have a phone?"

A phone. They'd been stuck, blinded, in this hell-hole for at least ten minutes, and neither of them had even thought of calling for help?

"Yeah," Frank said, using his free hand to pat his pockets. Back pocket. He lifted his hips off the floor, reaching around himself to get it, and bumped Gerard's arm in the process. Gerard made some kind of half-choking, half-gaping noise, and scrabbled around for his own phone. Frank flipped his open, scanning it hopefully - but of course, of fucking course that was the day he had full battery, loads of credit but no signal.

"No signal," he said defeatedly to Gerard. "You?"

"Um," Gerard said sheepishly, glancing up from the cracked screen of his old iPhone. "I may have forgotten to charge it before we left the bus today..."

"So basically, we're stuck here 'til someone finds us," Frank groaned. "Which they never will. We're going to die here, Gee."

"No we won't," Gerard reassured him. "You can't not realise forty percent of your band is missing, including the hyperactive guitarist and the frontman."

"Maybe they won't miss us," Frank said darkly. It was freezing cold, and Frank could barely feel his fingers. He was trembling (although that wasn't all because of the cold, he conceded) and his teeth were chattering. He drew himself closer to Gerard, trying to get some of Gerard's body heat.

"Of course they will," Gerard huffed out a laugh, and he was so warm, so warm with his hoodie and multiple layers that Frank couldn't take it anymore. He untangled his fingers from Gerard's, and swung a leg over Gerard's so he was straddling him, gazing directly at him. Gerard's eyes were the only part of his face visible in the darkness, although Frank could make out the outline of a few of his other features.

"I'm cold," he explained in a whisper. Gerard nodded, and Frank snuggled into him, nuzzling his neck and wrapping his arms around Gerard's body. He just prayed to God he wouldn't get a boner, not here, not now. Gerard placed his arms hesitantly around Frank's waist, as if he wasn't really sure what to do with them. Frank sighed contentedly and he started to heat up again, a small smile forming on his lips. Yeah. This was good.

"So," Gerard said awkwardly, and Frank could feel it when Gerard talked, feel the vibrations passing through his throat. He giggled into Gerard's neck, nosing into it a little more. He felt Gerard sigh quietly, but happily, and smiled against the warm skin. He rested his head back against Gerard's shoulder, glad that he hadn't got stuck in a cold room with Mikey because Mikey was bony as shit and Frank wouldn't have been able to lie on him comfortably, no matter how many layers he had on.

"Mmm," Frank hummed peacefully, his body slowly returning to its natural temperature. He'd already stopped shaking, which was a good sign.

"Frank," Gerard said in a low voice. "Frank, you're distracting me."

"From what?" Frank snorted. "What the fuck is there to do in a cold, dark room?"

"Thinking," Gerard mumbled shyly, embarrassed at being an intellectual, and that didn't even make sense, what the fuck.

"About what?"

"Stuff. The band. You. Uh, no, um, me. Everything," Gerard stumbled over his words. Frank's lips curved in a smile and he tipped his head forward just enough that he could press his lips to Gerard's throat. Gerard's breathing hitched.

"Found them!" a voice screamed, the door slamming open and flooding the room with light. A silhouette stood in the doorway, a Ray-shaped silhouette. "Oh. Oh," and the fucker's smirk was audible, what the fuck. Oh. Frank realised the compromising position they were sat in, Frank straddling Gerard, nuzzling his neck and Gerard's arms around him, securing him.

Oh.

Mikey apoeared in the doorway, and Frank scrambled hastily, removing himself from Mikey's older brother.

"It was cold," he explained. "Gerard wasn't."

"Sure," Mikey snorted, walking in and hauling first Gerard then Frank to their feet. Frank scowled, because that was the reason he'd become a spider monkey to Gerard. Well. The official reason, anyway. Only part of the real reason, but he figured his ulterior motives weren't appropriate to share.

"Fuck everything," Gerard moaned a he staggered to his feet, wobbling slightly. "I can't feel my ass." Frank smirked, and swatted it. Gerard squawked, rounding on Frank.

"What was that for?" he scowled. Frank shrugged, trying to hide his grin.

"You said you couldn't feel your ass," he said, and Gerard flapped his hand at him in that ridiculously dismissive way only Gerard could pull off.

"Come on," Ray said. "We'll be late to our own show."
-
"How the fuck do you find your way around in these places?" Frank grumbled, manouvering himself around an abandoned rubbish-collecting trolley. "What the fuck?"

"I don't know," Gerard shrugged absent-mindedly, his eyes scanning the room for one thing and one thing only. Coffee. Frank could tell by the way he was chewing on his bottom lip and his hand was clenching and unclenching that he hadn't had his first caffeine fix of the day. They had arrived at the venue early that morning, as there was some kind of venue interview that Mikey and Ray had volunteered to do. Gerard was sub-consciously nervous about Mikey being in the public eye, being noticed - it was his natural instinct as the older sibling to want to protect his brother. That was another reason he'd been so twitchy that particular morning.

"Relax, Gee," Frank said in a low voice, touching Gerard's arm reassuringly. "Just...relax." Gerard exhaled heavily, eyes still darting around for somewhere that sold coffee. Frank sighed in exasperation. Gerard was fucking blind, Jesus Christ. He grabbed Gerard's arm and spun him around to the coffee stall that was right behind him, and Gerard's face relaxed into a grateful smile.

"Thanks, Frankie," he grinned, bouncing over to the stall. Frank shook his head, following in Gerard's wake.
-
"So," Gerard said, nursing his coffee. Frank sipped his, arching an eyebrow inquisitively. He thought he pulled it off quite well, until he swallowed too much of the hot liquid and spluttered, coughing. Gerard frowned in concern at him, handing him a wad of napkins.

"You were saying?" Frank gasped. Gerard shook his head, finger tracing the edge of the cup.

"It doesn't matter," he said, and fuck Frank hated when people did that.

"The interviewer left me her number, y'know," Gerard blurted suddenly. Frank looked up in interest. "You know. The interviewer. From the other day. Where we got locked in a broom cupboard." Frank's eyes narrowed. The bitch.

"What're you going to do?" Frank asked. Gerard shrugged, not looking up from his coffee.

"I'm not...that way. I'm...y'know. That way." And yeah, Frank knew all too well.

"So...?" Frank said, wondering what the next part of the statement would be. Gerard shrugged again, shaking his head slightly so his long black bangs fell in his eyes, hiding the pinkish haze that was tinting his cheeks.

"I don't know," he said. "I just. Thought you'd want to know." Frank sighed, scraping his chair back and tossing his empty coffee cup in the bin. He took Gerard's from his hands, ignoring his protests, and did the same to it, rolling his eyes.

"We have better things to do than sit here all day," Frank told him, and Gerard conceded his point grudgingly, because, well. They did. They could explore the venue or something. Something mildly more exciting. He got up, spotting a corridor a few metres away. They could see if there was anything interesting there.

"Like what, get stuck in a broom closet again?" Gerard said grumpily, but he followed Frank, heading down the seemingly deserted corridor.

"I'm not planning on freezing half to death in a deathly dark room again any time soon, thank you very fucking much!" Frank called, trying a door on the right hand side of the corridor. Locked. He tried the next. Locked. And the next. Locked.

"You might as well give up," Gerard said from right behind him, and Jesus it scared the living shit out of him. He stumbled and fell against the fifth door he'd tried, and it gave way, causing him to fall face-first into a pitch black room with Gerard tumbling in behind him, his heel catching the door on the way down and slamming it shut.

"Oh my God, this can't be happening, not again," Frank said, but apparently it was happening again, because Gerard was muttering a string of profanities under his breath as he tugged on the doorknob, which refused to move.

"Whose stupid idea was it go to exploring?" Gerard groaned, and there was a rush of air as he flopped down next to Frank, who'd crawled up to the wall so he could lean against it. Frank already had his eyes shut and was doing a fucking amazing job of not screaming in fear of the pitch blackness, but he was still breathing shakily. Gerard realised, and felt around for his hand. When he found it, he laced their fingers together, stroking Frank's thumb. Frank smiled at the contact. It felt nice, natural, Gerard's skin warm against his own.

"It's okay, Frankie," Gerard said soothingly. "I'm here. Nothing's going to happen." Frank shivered as a sudden rush of cold air blew at him from the crack under the door.

"Come here," Gerard said, and Frank climbed into his lap gratefully, curling into the fetal position and nosing at Gerard's neck again.

"Thanks," he breathed, his lips barely moving. Gerard wrapped his arms protectively around him, and Frank felt a sudden surge of I just love him so much. Gerard cared about him.

"Gerard," Frank said in a low voice. "Stay still. I want to try something. Gerard froze obediently, and Frank leaned up, using his hands to trace the outline of Gerard's face (because it was pitch black and he had his eyes shut).

"Frankie, what are you-" Gerard was cut off by the press of Frank's lips against his own. Gerard was still for a moment, then his soft lips were pushing back against Frank's, sending chills of excitement zinging down his spine. Gerard let go of Frank's hand as Frank pressed harder, leaning back against the wall. He bit Frank's bottom lip, and Frank moaned, opening his mouth in the process. Their tongues tangled together, and he felt Gerard's hands slide to his waist as his own fell to Gerard's. All he could think was God, yes, this forever, please, but then-

"It's always you- oh, gross!" Mikey yelled, and Frank pulled away hastily, wiping his mouth. Mikey was standing in the doorway with Bob, who looked mildly amused. Ray's fro was just visible behind them, bobbing in the background as he strained to see what had been going on.

"They were making out," Bob told him dryly, and Ray squawked with laughter until Mikey glared at him like shut up this is my brother and my best friend we're talking about here. Frank glanced at Gerard, which in retrospect was a bad, bad idea, because he looked obscene. His mouth was slick with Frank's saliva and his lips were swollen with Frank's kisses. His hair was falling haphazardly into his hazel eyes, which were smouldering with want. Want of Frank, and all Frank wanted was him. He shuffled over to Gerard and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, and Gerard smiled.

"We have to go," Ray said. "We need to get ready." Frank groaned, resting his head on Gerard's chest.

"Five more minutes?" he asked hopefully. Mikey sighed melodramatically.

"Fine," he huffed, slamming the door shut as they all turned to leave.

"What can you do in five minutes?" Gerard said, and Frank smiled wickedly.

"Is that a challenge?" he asked, lunging for Gerard's lips.
-
"So, what are your worst fears?" the interviewer asked.

"Water," Mikey and Ray answered immediately.

"Frank killing my kit," Bob said, shooting Frank a glare. Frank smiled innocently.

"Um...rejection?" Gerard said.

"Spiders," Frank said, no question.

"None of you are afraid of the dark?" the interviewer asked. Everyone turned to look at Frank and Gerard.

"Well," Frank said, grinning. "I was, but then...something cured it."

"Oh my God," Mikey groaned.

"Seconded," Bob said.