#23 - Lovers
#23 - Lovers
#23; Lovers
If, aged seventeen, he'd been asked to sum up love in one word, he would have said 'bullshit'.
Growing up, Frank had never really believed in love. His parents had split when he was very young, and...well. There was no love lost there. He'd never known a couple to stay together more than seven years, which also contributed to his scepticism, but it was mainly the fact that he'd never been loved, and never loved anyone.
That all changed when he met Gerard, completely by accident, falling over him when drunk one night. Frank had left the house to the sound of his parents arguing (again. It happened every time his dad came to stay) and just wanted to forget, to forget everything, to be a different person. So he'd gone to Ray's bar and gotten hammered, then stumbled out, giggling drunkenly as he started off to his favourite place, the secret place no one else knew about.
Except, apparently, Gerard knew about it, because on his way to the bench tucked away from the eye of the world, he'd tripped over a figure, falling ungracefully to the ground.
"Hey," he had frowned. "You're in my way."
"What are you doing, stumbling around at- oh," Gerard had said, obviously smelling the pot and alcohol on Frank. Frank had giggled, not bothering to struggle upright, just letting his body go limp and stare up at the Jersey sky.
"Why are you here?" Frank had asked.
"Needed to get out," Gerard had answered, and Frank hadn't questioned it any further. There had been a thoughtful moment of silence.
"Why are you here?" Gerard had asked quietly.
"Needed to get out," Frank had slurred, his head already starting to throb.
"Is that why you got drunk?" Gerard had said. Frank had closed his eyes, smiling wryly.
"I needed to forget," he said. "I needed- to...to forget. Forget I'm Frank Iero, the fag with the- the fucked up parents who...never does anything except- except smoke up."
"I needed to forget too," Gerard had replied. "Forget I'm a recovering alcoholic art-school-dropout who lives in his mom's basement and can't do anything except drink." Frank had frowned, his alcohol-addled mind piecing together the information slowly.
"I smell of alcohol," he had said, eyes wide, trying to scramble away from Gerard. "Don't- don't come near me. You might wanna drink."
"I've managed so far, right?" Gerard had murmured softly, but his voice had trembled. They were silent for another moment, before Gerard had stood up, brushing himself down and showering Frank with gravel.
"Come on," Gerard had said, offering Frank a hand to get up. "I'll give you a lift home."
-
Frank looked over at the sleeping figure of his boyfriend. He looked so calm, so tranquil, his button nose tucked into the pillow adorably. It was a world away from the greasy, alcoholic Gerard he'd met that night.
-
"So," Gerard said, shuffling into the kitchen a few hours later. His hair was sticking up everywhere and his eyes were bleary, but he still looked beautiful.
"So?" Frank asked, handing Gerard the coffee he'd so lovingly made.
"I don't know," Gerard shrugged, gulping it gratefully. "It sounded like a good thing to start a conversation with."
"Better than the second time we met," Frank smirked, and Gerard groaned, letting his eyes flutter shut, eyelashes inky against his creamy skin.
"Shut up," he said. Frank giggled.
"'Did you know a barnacle's penis grows four times larger when erect?'" Frank mimicked in a high-pitched voice, and Gerard hung his head.
"I was nervous!" he protested. "Mikey was with you!"
"Mikey's your brother," Frank said, nursing his own coffee. "You shouldn't feel nervous around him."
"He laughs at me," Gerard mumbled.
"I laugh at you," Frank said, padding into the front room. "Everyone laughs at you."
"I need better friends," Gerard grumbled.
-
They'd met again through Mikey, the local socialite, and exchanged numbers after getting lost in their own town trying to avoid the local gang. Gerard had seemed brighter, somehow, eyes twinkling and sparkling with life, but maybe it was because the last time Frank had seen him, he'd been drunk and high.
They started texting, short bursts of conversation followed by long silences, then conversation again. Frank learnt Gerard was twenty-six, liked good music and was Mikey Way's brother. Gerard learnt Frank was, in fact, the singer for the latest band he'd gotten into, which had excited him a great deal. Frank had simply grinned and fired off a text inviting Gerard to LeATHERMOUTH's next gig, which Gerard had gratefully (very gratefully) accepted.
The gig hadn't been anything special, but as the light swept across the audience one ghostly pallor had stood out to Frank, with a spindly-limbed man next to him. Frank had grinned and dedicated the next song to the Way brothers, a sudden burst of adrenaline coursing through him.
-
"Mikey's coming over later," Frank told Gerard when he heard him walk into the room, not taking his eyes off the TV, because Thundercats.
"You're seriously watching Thundercats?" Gerard asked in disbelief. "Again?" Frank pointed to the box set he'd found somewhere the other day.
"Look," he said gleefully. "Now we'll never have an excuse not to watch Thundercats."
"I hate box sets," Gerard grumbled melodramatically, throwing himself down on the couch next to Frank, who lay down so his head was in Gerard's lap.
"Hello," he whispered, staring up at Gerard, searching Gerard's green-gold eyes with his own. Gerard smiled down at him, curling his fingers in Frank's hair, and pressed a light, chaste kiss to Frank's lips.
Though they'd shared many kisses, every one felt like their first, butterflies dancing in his stomach.
-
Frank had managed to pluck up the courage to ask Gerard on a date about two months after the gig, having met with him every Saturday since, just sitting in the café talking. Gerard's face had split into a huge grin as he nodded shyly, and Frank had grinned back, the knot of anxiety in his stomach loosening.
Mikey had just rolled his eyes and carried on texting.
-
"I can't believe you're not dressed yet," Gerard complained as he passed the door to the front room. Frank flipped him off, lounging comfortably on the couch. Gerard himself looked hot as fuck, clad in his trademark black skinnies and some red shirt he'd stolen off Mikey that was too small for him, yet clung in all the right places. Gerard wasn't fat, but he wasn't built, he was toned, halfway between the two.
"If I could be bothered, I'd fuck you right now," Frank said lazily. His boyfriend was the sexiest thing to ever walk this world.
"You- never mind," Gerard said, shaking his head and walking on to the kitchen.
"Remember Mikey's coming over!" Frank called through to him. "You'd best not ask about him and Ray." Gerard's head appeared back at the door, worried.
"What happened with them?" he demanded, frowning.
"Nothing," Frank shrugged. "It's just my job to ask about him and Ray."
"You say the crudest things," Gerard complained. "D'you know how uninterested I am in the details of my brother's sex life? Do you know how much it disgusts me to know he has a sex life, let alone one with my best friend?"
"I like to fuck with you," Frank said. He paused. "I like to fuck you too."
Gerard threw a cushion at him.
-
The first date had gone very well, despite how nervous both parties were. They'd even agreed on another date, this time at the park. Gerard had insisted they go there instead of the movies - he wanted to see the stars, he had said, which was bullshit, because stars? In Jersey? Man, you were lucky if you could see the moon. However, Frank liked the park, and Frank liked Gerard, so he had figured it couldn't be that bad and agreed.
"See," Frank had snorted, reclining on the bench and pointing at the amber-tinted sky. "No stars."
"Whatever," Gerard had mumbled, shivering slightly. Frank had taken pity on him and had snuggled up closer to him on the bench, draping Gerard's arm across himself and gazing out at the black ripples of the pond.
"What is this?" Gerard had asked suddenly, startling Frank. "You know. We're out here, gazing at the...sky, together...are we...monogamous?" Frank had bitten his lip and smiled - because only Gerard would use 'monogamous' to ask if they were in a relationship.
"Hell yeah," Frank had whispered, craning his neck to press his lips to Gerard's.
It had sent little zings of pleasure coursing through his body, almost electrifying.
And the same thing still happened every time they kissed.
-
"Guys," Mikey said, upon seeing Frank in his true unwashed, pyjama-clad state.
"Actually, there's no need for the plural, one of us is a woman," Frank informed him, earning himself a lazy slap on the arm from his boyfriend, who was currently lying in his lap watching TV, just as Frank had a mere hour ago.
"We brought stuff for dinner," Ray piped up. Gerard hummed non-committally.
"Hmm. What? Food? Okay," he said, eyes never straying from Jerry Springer.
"You can't seriously let him watch this shit all day?" Ray said in disbelief, turning to Frank.
"Nah," Frank said. "Sometimes we fuck to break the monotony."
"Stop right there," Mikey said. "Venture no further." Frank opened his mouth - he wasn't actually going to say anything, he just liked fucking with Mikey - and Mikey squealed girlishly and fled to the safety of the kitchen.
"How about you, then?" Frank asked Ray cheerfully. "How's your sex life?"
"Shut up," Gerard said fervently.
-
"There is no way," Ray said, staring at the Way brothers in horror. "There is no way you two are cooking. Frank and I are going to cook."
"But all you two are going to do is talk about guitars," Gerard whinged.
"What are the other alternatives?" Frank snorted. "Me and you would fuck, Ray and Mikey would fuck-" he ignored Gerard's disgusted face "-you and Ray would be driving us crazy with your singing and Mikey and I would blow up the kitchen. Fuck you, I'm cooking, go away," he added, steering his partner into the living room and heading back into the kitchen.
"I hope you realise we'll be bitching about you!" Gerard yelled. Yelling was fucking unnecessary, okay, the walls in their apartment were paper thin and the kitchen was right next to the front room.
"I hope you realise we will too!" Frank yelled back, grinning at Ray's disapproving face.
"What?" he asked.
"You two," Ray sighed, getting out a saucepan. "You're unlike any couple I've ever seen before."
"It's Gerard," Frank told him. "He actually has a sparkly pink vagina. Don't tell him I told you, though."
"Fuck you," Gerard called, sounding mildly amused. "My vagina is beautiful."
"To magpies, maybe," Frank called back, handing Ray the first egg.
-
They weren't the traditional couple, advertised on magazines and fucking, like, holiday brochures. Far fom it. They were best friends and lovers, which meant there were rarely any moments of sincerity, declarations of love. They didn't need it, really, both knew how the other felt and returned the feelings.
That wasn't to say their relationship was perfect. No, they had their fair share of arguments, ups and downs. Most of them were petty things, like 'did-you-eat-the-last-packet-of-Cheetos-no-sex-for-a-fortnight-I-hate-everything-about-you'. However, there was one incident - one moment Frank would never forget, although they'd never argued about it.
-
Frank and Gerard had been in a bit of a rough patch prior to the incident. It was just after they'd moved in together, maybe a month or two, and things were going seriously downhill. Mikey, Gerard's lifeline, had been diagnosed with depression a few weeks before, and although Frank himself felt very down about the whole thing (Mikey was one of his best friends by that time), the impact it was having on their relationship was starting to piss him off a little. He had consoled Gerard, but Gerard just seemed to lash out, saying things that cut like knives, salted knives, so the wounds would sting. Frank had just swallowed his biting retorts and trudged off to bed, knowing a wildly apologetic Gerard would come in and snuggle him half an hour later.
He'd done all he could, but his best wasn't good enough.
Frank had unlocked the door to their apartment after a long, gruelling day working in Ray's guitar shop. The apartment had been eerily silent, a different kind of silence to the sad, contemplative, self-pitying one Frank had gotten used to recently. He couldn't shake off the feeling something was wrong.
He'd walked catiously into the front room- and nearly dropped the bag of Doritos he was holding.
Sitting on the floor, in the middle of the room, was Gerard. In front of Gerard was a bottle of beer and a razorblade.
"Gerard," Frank had said softly, in that one word pleading with him. Two years he'd been sober, two years, and all that would go to waste. As for the blade...Frank couldn't even begin to imagine the pain, the emotional pain, that would tear him apart.
"Mikey," Gerard had whispered brokenly, not looking up from the thankfully still-unopened bottle. Frank had placed the Doritos carefully on the floor, padding closer to Gerard tentatively.
"Mikey wouldn't want you to do this," Frank had said gently. "Mikey would want you to be strong, for him. Mikey wouldn't want you to throw everything you worked so hard for away." Gerard still made no signs of moving, and Frank's heart thudded faster, beating against his ribcage like a wild animal.
"Mikey would want you to be happy," Frank had said softly, getting closer to Gerard until he was kneeling next to him on the floor.
"Frank," Gerard had said, strangled, broken, wrecked, raising his head and gazing at Frank with a tear-tracked face. "I just want to end it all."
Frank's first thought had been no no no please God no fuck God no I can't deal with this I can't live without him Jesus no please just no. However, he had tried, for Gerard's sake, to keep the thought out of being shown in his features.
"Mikey needs you, Gee," Frank had whispered, voice trembling. "Mikey needs you for him to get better. He'd die if you died. He'd be nothing. He needs you. I need you. Please."
There was a tense, tense moment of silence.
Gerard had simply collapsed in Frank's arms, sobbing, and Frank's heart had seized up, half with relief that he was in control, it was all okay, and half twisting in pain at seeing Gerard like this.
"It's okay," he had soothed, petting Gerard's hair. "We're gonna be okay."
-
"Fuck!" Frank yelled, yanking his finger away from the tray. "Dude, that's fucking hot!"
"Because it just came out of the freezer," Ray said sarcastically, turning the dials on the oven until it was off. Frank snickered just as sarcastically at him, jumping over to the tap to run his poor, burnt finger under the soothing water.
"Did Frank burn himself?" Gerard called, sounding mildly amused.
"No," Frank said. "I'm too hot to burn."
"Yes," Ray said, because he was a bastard. Frank heard a snort, and a little huff (Mikey's version of laughter).
"We are no longer monogamous," Frank shouted. "I'm going to make out with Ray." Ray looked horrified.
"Can I watch?" Mikey asked. There was a moment of silence - Frank suspected Gerard was giving Mikey the infamous please do not share information of this kind with me look.
"What," Mikey said, protesting. "Frank's pretty hot."
"I'm going to make out with Mikey, after Ray!" Frank yelled gleefully.
"Whore," Gerard shouted back.
"I totally am," Frank agreed, removing his finger from where it had gone numb in the icy water.
"The cookies are ready," Ray said, and the Way brothers stampeded into the kitchen. Frank blocked them, though - youngest first, okay, that was always the rule in board games when he was a kid.
"Hey, fuck you, why do you get first pick?" Gerard frowned.
"Because you're fat," Frank told him, dithering between two beautifully shaped cookies.
"He is," Mikey said. Frank cocked his head to the side. The larger one had less chocolate chips...
"Mmm, my fatass," Frank agreed, taking both. Gerard scowled at him in mock-anger, and Frank grinned and pressed a kiss to his boyfriend's cheek.
"Forgiven?" he asked beseechingly.
"Sex later?" Gerard asked. Frank nodded.
"You blow me?" Gerard said. Frank nodded again.
"And I can come in your mouth?" Frank rolled his eyes, but nodded.
"Okay, then," Gerard allowed, breaking into a grin.
Mikey stared at his cookie.
"Somehow, I've lost my appetite," he said.
-
After Mikey and Ray had left (and Frank had grudgingly given Gerard the promised blowjob), the two lay in bed bickering light-heartedly.
"Fuck you, man," Gerard said. "I'm right. I'm always right. When am I ever not right?"
"Just then," Frank said. "You were wrong in saying you're always right."
"I am, though," Gerard frowned. "Come on, how can you not agree with me? What is wrong with you?"
"You're wrong with me," Frank said, which made no sense whatsoever, but earnt him a little shove from Gerard anyway.
"Fine," Frank huffed. "Let's watch the fucking Simpsons, I don't care. It's not like Thundercats is a better, more interesting programme or anything." Gerard crowed triumphantly, throwing his arm around Frank and fumbling for the remote to turn on the TV mounted on the wall opposite their bed. Frank sighed, snuggling closer to Gerard, feeling the warmth radiate off his body and melt into Frank's own.
Even the smallest things, like sitting there with his goofy boyfriend doing all the voices to the Simpsons, were memories to treasure forever. Frank tilted his head to look up at Gerard, his Gerard - his beautiful Gerard, with his raven black hair that kept falling into his eyes, with his soft, kissable lips - and a sudden surge of pride and adoration surged inside him.
If, aged twenty-five, he'd been asked to sum up love in one word, he would have said 'Gerard'.
If, aged seventeen, he'd been asked to sum up love in one word, he would have said 'bullshit'.
Growing up, Frank had never really believed in love. His parents had split when he was very young, and...well. There was no love lost there. He'd never known a couple to stay together more than seven years, which also contributed to his scepticism, but it was mainly the fact that he'd never been loved, and never loved anyone.
That all changed when he met Gerard, completely by accident, falling over him when drunk one night. Frank had left the house to the sound of his parents arguing (again. It happened every time his dad came to stay) and just wanted to forget, to forget everything, to be a different person. So he'd gone to Ray's bar and gotten hammered, then stumbled out, giggling drunkenly as he started off to his favourite place, the secret place no one else knew about.
Except, apparently, Gerard knew about it, because on his way to the bench tucked away from the eye of the world, he'd tripped over a figure, falling ungracefully to the ground.
"Hey," he had frowned. "You're in my way."
"What are you doing, stumbling around at- oh," Gerard had said, obviously smelling the pot and alcohol on Frank. Frank had giggled, not bothering to struggle upright, just letting his body go limp and stare up at the Jersey sky.
"Why are you here?" Frank had asked.
"Needed to get out," Gerard had answered, and Frank hadn't questioned it any further. There had been a thoughtful moment of silence.
"Why are you here?" Gerard had asked quietly.
"Needed to get out," Frank had slurred, his head already starting to throb.
"Is that why you got drunk?" Gerard had said. Frank had closed his eyes, smiling wryly.
"I needed to forget," he said. "I needed- to...to forget. Forget I'm Frank Iero, the fag with the- the fucked up parents who...never does anything except- except smoke up."
"I needed to forget too," Gerard had replied. "Forget I'm a recovering alcoholic art-school-dropout who lives in his mom's basement and can't do anything except drink." Frank had frowned, his alcohol-addled mind piecing together the information slowly.
"I smell of alcohol," he had said, eyes wide, trying to scramble away from Gerard. "Don't- don't come near me. You might wanna drink."
"I've managed so far, right?" Gerard had murmured softly, but his voice had trembled. They were silent for another moment, before Gerard had stood up, brushing himself down and showering Frank with gravel.
"Come on," Gerard had said, offering Frank a hand to get up. "I'll give you a lift home."
-
Frank looked over at the sleeping figure of his boyfriend. He looked so calm, so tranquil, his button nose tucked into the pillow adorably. It was a world away from the greasy, alcoholic Gerard he'd met that night.
-
"So," Gerard said, shuffling into the kitchen a few hours later. His hair was sticking up everywhere and his eyes were bleary, but he still looked beautiful.
"So?" Frank asked, handing Gerard the coffee he'd so lovingly made.
"I don't know," Gerard shrugged, gulping it gratefully. "It sounded like a good thing to start a conversation with."
"Better than the second time we met," Frank smirked, and Gerard groaned, letting his eyes flutter shut, eyelashes inky against his creamy skin.
"Shut up," he said. Frank giggled.
"'Did you know a barnacle's penis grows four times larger when erect?'" Frank mimicked in a high-pitched voice, and Gerard hung his head.
"I was nervous!" he protested. "Mikey was with you!"
"Mikey's your brother," Frank said, nursing his own coffee. "You shouldn't feel nervous around him."
"He laughs at me," Gerard mumbled.
"I laugh at you," Frank said, padding into the front room. "Everyone laughs at you."
"I need better friends," Gerard grumbled.
-
They'd met again through Mikey, the local socialite, and exchanged numbers after getting lost in their own town trying to avoid the local gang. Gerard had seemed brighter, somehow, eyes twinkling and sparkling with life, but maybe it was because the last time Frank had seen him, he'd been drunk and high.
They started texting, short bursts of conversation followed by long silences, then conversation again. Frank learnt Gerard was twenty-six, liked good music and was Mikey Way's brother. Gerard learnt Frank was, in fact, the singer for the latest band he'd gotten into, which had excited him a great deal. Frank had simply grinned and fired off a text inviting Gerard to LeATHERMOUTH's next gig, which Gerard had gratefully (very gratefully) accepted.
The gig hadn't been anything special, but as the light swept across the audience one ghostly pallor had stood out to Frank, with a spindly-limbed man next to him. Frank had grinned and dedicated the next song to the Way brothers, a sudden burst of adrenaline coursing through him.
-
"Mikey's coming over later," Frank told Gerard when he heard him walk into the room, not taking his eyes off the TV, because Thundercats.
"You're seriously watching Thundercats?" Gerard asked in disbelief. "Again?" Frank pointed to the box set he'd found somewhere the other day.
"Look," he said gleefully. "Now we'll never have an excuse not to watch Thundercats."
"I hate box sets," Gerard grumbled melodramatically, throwing himself down on the couch next to Frank, who lay down so his head was in Gerard's lap.
"Hello," he whispered, staring up at Gerard, searching Gerard's green-gold eyes with his own. Gerard smiled down at him, curling his fingers in Frank's hair, and pressed a light, chaste kiss to Frank's lips.
Though they'd shared many kisses, every one felt like their first, butterflies dancing in his stomach.
-
Frank had managed to pluck up the courage to ask Gerard on a date about two months after the gig, having met with him every Saturday since, just sitting in the café talking. Gerard's face had split into a huge grin as he nodded shyly, and Frank had grinned back, the knot of anxiety in his stomach loosening.
Mikey had just rolled his eyes and carried on texting.
-
"I can't believe you're not dressed yet," Gerard complained as he passed the door to the front room. Frank flipped him off, lounging comfortably on the couch. Gerard himself looked hot as fuck, clad in his trademark black skinnies and some red shirt he'd stolen off Mikey that was too small for him, yet clung in all the right places. Gerard wasn't fat, but he wasn't built, he was toned, halfway between the two.
"If I could be bothered, I'd fuck you right now," Frank said lazily. His boyfriend was the sexiest thing to ever walk this world.
"You- never mind," Gerard said, shaking his head and walking on to the kitchen.
"Remember Mikey's coming over!" Frank called through to him. "You'd best not ask about him and Ray." Gerard's head appeared back at the door, worried.
"What happened with them?" he demanded, frowning.
"Nothing," Frank shrugged. "It's just my job to ask about him and Ray."
"You say the crudest things," Gerard complained. "D'you know how uninterested I am in the details of my brother's sex life? Do you know how much it disgusts me to know he has a sex life, let alone one with my best friend?"
"I like to fuck with you," Frank said. He paused. "I like to fuck you too."
Gerard threw a cushion at him.
-
The first date had gone very well, despite how nervous both parties were. They'd even agreed on another date, this time at the park. Gerard had insisted they go there instead of the movies - he wanted to see the stars, he had said, which was bullshit, because stars? In Jersey? Man, you were lucky if you could see the moon. However, Frank liked the park, and Frank liked Gerard, so he had figured it couldn't be that bad and agreed.
"See," Frank had snorted, reclining on the bench and pointing at the amber-tinted sky. "No stars."
"Whatever," Gerard had mumbled, shivering slightly. Frank had taken pity on him and had snuggled up closer to him on the bench, draping Gerard's arm across himself and gazing out at the black ripples of the pond.
"What is this?" Gerard had asked suddenly, startling Frank. "You know. We're out here, gazing at the...sky, together...are we...monogamous?" Frank had bitten his lip and smiled - because only Gerard would use 'monogamous' to ask if they were in a relationship.
"Hell yeah," Frank had whispered, craning his neck to press his lips to Gerard's.
It had sent little zings of pleasure coursing through his body, almost electrifying.
And the same thing still happened every time they kissed.
-
"Guys," Mikey said, upon seeing Frank in his true unwashed, pyjama-clad state.
"Actually, there's no need for the plural, one of us is a woman," Frank informed him, earning himself a lazy slap on the arm from his boyfriend, who was currently lying in his lap watching TV, just as Frank had a mere hour ago.
"We brought stuff for dinner," Ray piped up. Gerard hummed non-committally.
"Hmm. What? Food? Okay," he said, eyes never straying from Jerry Springer.
"You can't seriously let him watch this shit all day?" Ray said in disbelief, turning to Frank.
"Nah," Frank said. "Sometimes we fuck to break the monotony."
"Stop right there," Mikey said. "Venture no further." Frank opened his mouth - he wasn't actually going to say anything, he just liked fucking with Mikey - and Mikey squealed girlishly and fled to the safety of the kitchen.
"How about you, then?" Frank asked Ray cheerfully. "How's your sex life?"
"Shut up," Gerard said fervently.
-
"There is no way," Ray said, staring at the Way brothers in horror. "There is no way you two are cooking. Frank and I are going to cook."
"But all you two are going to do is talk about guitars," Gerard whinged.
"What are the other alternatives?" Frank snorted. "Me and you would fuck, Ray and Mikey would fuck-" he ignored Gerard's disgusted face "-you and Ray would be driving us crazy with your singing and Mikey and I would blow up the kitchen. Fuck you, I'm cooking, go away," he added, steering his partner into the living room and heading back into the kitchen.
"I hope you realise we'll be bitching about you!" Gerard yelled. Yelling was fucking unnecessary, okay, the walls in their apartment were paper thin and the kitchen was right next to the front room.
"I hope you realise we will too!" Frank yelled back, grinning at Ray's disapproving face.
"What?" he asked.
"You two," Ray sighed, getting out a saucepan. "You're unlike any couple I've ever seen before."
"It's Gerard," Frank told him. "He actually has a sparkly pink vagina. Don't tell him I told you, though."
"Fuck you," Gerard called, sounding mildly amused. "My vagina is beautiful."
"To magpies, maybe," Frank called back, handing Ray the first egg.
-
They weren't the traditional couple, advertised on magazines and fucking, like, holiday brochures. Far fom it. They were best friends and lovers, which meant there were rarely any moments of sincerity, declarations of love. They didn't need it, really, both knew how the other felt and returned the feelings.
That wasn't to say their relationship was perfect. No, they had their fair share of arguments, ups and downs. Most of them were petty things, like 'did-you-eat-the-last-packet-of-Cheetos-no-sex-for-a-fortnight-I-hate-everything-about-you'. However, there was one incident - one moment Frank would never forget, although they'd never argued about it.
-
Frank and Gerard had been in a bit of a rough patch prior to the incident. It was just after they'd moved in together, maybe a month or two, and things were going seriously downhill. Mikey, Gerard's lifeline, had been diagnosed with depression a few weeks before, and although Frank himself felt very down about the whole thing (Mikey was one of his best friends by that time), the impact it was having on their relationship was starting to piss him off a little. He had consoled Gerard, but Gerard just seemed to lash out, saying things that cut like knives, salted knives, so the wounds would sting. Frank had just swallowed his biting retorts and trudged off to bed, knowing a wildly apologetic Gerard would come in and snuggle him half an hour later.
He'd done all he could, but his best wasn't good enough.
Frank had unlocked the door to their apartment after a long, gruelling day working in Ray's guitar shop. The apartment had been eerily silent, a different kind of silence to the sad, contemplative, self-pitying one Frank had gotten used to recently. He couldn't shake off the feeling something was wrong.
He'd walked catiously into the front room- and nearly dropped the bag of Doritos he was holding.
Sitting on the floor, in the middle of the room, was Gerard. In front of Gerard was a bottle of beer and a razorblade.
"Gerard," Frank had said softly, in that one word pleading with him. Two years he'd been sober, two years, and all that would go to waste. As for the blade...Frank couldn't even begin to imagine the pain, the emotional pain, that would tear him apart.
"Mikey," Gerard had whispered brokenly, not looking up from the thankfully still-unopened bottle. Frank had placed the Doritos carefully on the floor, padding closer to Gerard tentatively.
"Mikey wouldn't want you to do this," Frank had said gently. "Mikey would want you to be strong, for him. Mikey wouldn't want you to throw everything you worked so hard for away." Gerard still made no signs of moving, and Frank's heart thudded faster, beating against his ribcage like a wild animal.
"Mikey would want you to be happy," Frank had said softly, getting closer to Gerard until he was kneeling next to him on the floor.
"Frank," Gerard had said, strangled, broken, wrecked, raising his head and gazing at Frank with a tear-tracked face. "I just want to end it all."
Frank's first thought had been no no no please God no fuck God no I can't deal with this I can't live without him Jesus no please just no. However, he had tried, for Gerard's sake, to keep the thought out of being shown in his features.
"Mikey needs you, Gee," Frank had whispered, voice trembling. "Mikey needs you for him to get better. He'd die if you died. He'd be nothing. He needs you. I need you. Please."
There was a tense, tense moment of silence.
Gerard had simply collapsed in Frank's arms, sobbing, and Frank's heart had seized up, half with relief that he was in control, it was all okay, and half twisting in pain at seeing Gerard like this.
"It's okay," he had soothed, petting Gerard's hair. "We're gonna be okay."
-
"Fuck!" Frank yelled, yanking his finger away from the tray. "Dude, that's fucking hot!"
"Because it just came out of the freezer," Ray said sarcastically, turning the dials on the oven until it was off. Frank snickered just as sarcastically at him, jumping over to the tap to run his poor, burnt finger under the soothing water.
"Did Frank burn himself?" Gerard called, sounding mildly amused.
"No," Frank said. "I'm too hot to burn."
"Yes," Ray said, because he was a bastard. Frank heard a snort, and a little huff (Mikey's version of laughter).
"We are no longer monogamous," Frank shouted. "I'm going to make out with Ray." Ray looked horrified.
"Can I watch?" Mikey asked. There was a moment of silence - Frank suspected Gerard was giving Mikey the infamous please do not share information of this kind with me look.
"What," Mikey said, protesting. "Frank's pretty hot."
"I'm going to make out with Mikey, after Ray!" Frank yelled gleefully.
"Whore," Gerard shouted back.
"I totally am," Frank agreed, removing his finger from where it had gone numb in the icy water.
"The cookies are ready," Ray said, and the Way brothers stampeded into the kitchen. Frank blocked them, though - youngest first, okay, that was always the rule in board games when he was a kid.
"Hey, fuck you, why do you get first pick?" Gerard frowned.
"Because you're fat," Frank told him, dithering between two beautifully shaped cookies.
"He is," Mikey said. Frank cocked his head to the side. The larger one had less chocolate chips...
"Mmm, my fatass," Frank agreed, taking both. Gerard scowled at him in mock-anger, and Frank grinned and pressed a kiss to his boyfriend's cheek.
"Forgiven?" he asked beseechingly.
"Sex later?" Gerard asked. Frank nodded.
"You blow me?" Gerard said. Frank nodded again.
"And I can come in your mouth?" Frank rolled his eyes, but nodded.
"Okay, then," Gerard allowed, breaking into a grin.
Mikey stared at his cookie.
"Somehow, I've lost my appetite," he said.
-
After Mikey and Ray had left (and Frank had grudgingly given Gerard the promised blowjob), the two lay in bed bickering light-heartedly.
"Fuck you, man," Gerard said. "I'm right. I'm always right. When am I ever not right?"
"Just then," Frank said. "You were wrong in saying you're always right."
"I am, though," Gerard frowned. "Come on, how can you not agree with me? What is wrong with you?"
"You're wrong with me," Frank said, which made no sense whatsoever, but earnt him a little shove from Gerard anyway.
"Fine," Frank huffed. "Let's watch the fucking Simpsons, I don't care. It's not like Thundercats is a better, more interesting programme or anything." Gerard crowed triumphantly, throwing his arm around Frank and fumbling for the remote to turn on the TV mounted on the wall opposite their bed. Frank sighed, snuggling closer to Gerard, feeling the warmth radiate off his body and melt into Frank's own.
Even the smallest things, like sitting there with his goofy boyfriend doing all the voices to the Simpsons, were memories to treasure forever. Frank tilted his head to look up at Gerard, his Gerard - his beautiful Gerard, with his raven black hair that kept falling into his eyes, with his soft, kissable lips - and a sudden surge of pride and adoration surged inside him.
If, aged twenty-five, he'd been asked to sum up love in one word, he would have said 'Gerard'.