Folie a Deux

I couldn't decide if I was depressed or so happy that it was making me sad, because things weren't fixed, but they were better.

Gerard was careful around me, again.

He had stopped kissing me on the cheek- he almost seemed scared to. He didn't seem to want to take any risks.

When I slept over, even if he did decide to join me on the floor in the middle of the night, he wouldn't come within three feet of me. When we ate dinner with his family, he wouldn't hold my hand beneath the table like he used to. He had promptly stopped putting his arm around me when we walked. He'd started bad habits of asking me if I was okay and of asking if he could hold my hand before he did.

I was starting to miss his body heat. I was starting to miss the way his fingers fit between mine, how he squeezed my hand when he laughed. I was staring to miss the way we fell in sync when we walked. I was starting to miss the spontaneous kisses on the cheek and the sudden hugs and I was starting to miss the time when all I had to do was brush my fingers against his and he would know that I wanted to hold his hand.

A lot of that had ended.

Most of it had, actually.

He suddenly seemed to not know what to do with himself- he was so scared of doing something wrong that he didn't want to do anything at all.

He was acting like I had, when we first started the whole "togetherness" thing.

I almost wanted to kiss him, just to show him that it was okay, but I didn't because I knew that'd just make things worse.

I couldn't keep his words out of my head, though.

Had he meant them?

"No, I don't want you to be like the Swedish boy," he had said. At first my heart had sunk- that boy had done so much for Gerard. He'd helped him realize something about himself that changed his life for the better, forever. I wanted to be that important to him, too. But then Gerard said, "I want you to be like you," and something just felt right about that. "I want you to be like you, because you're all that I want."

And then we went quiet, and I couldn't stop smiling, and neither could he. That had been a good day, for both of us.

But since then... Things have just been weird.

I was starting to wonder if he had been honest.

Did he really want me, like he did before the kiss? Or had I ruined everything with one stupid mistake? He'd suddenly gotten so moody, lately- one minute all he wanted to do was sit there and enjoy each other's company, and the next he'd be begging me to go to the park or the diner, or to take a walk or something like that. Sometimes he'd be so quiet and sad looking that it was making me depressed, too, and the next he was going off on a loud, annoyed rant about something, or he was so happy that I couldn't help but smile, too.

Knowing myself, I was probably the reason for that. His emotions were impossible to predict and it was all because he didn't know how to act around me- I could almost feel it, the nervous tension around him.

I'd wrecked this relationship. I'd completely shattered the one thing in life that I really enjoy.

I felt my lips pull back into a small, sad smile of self-pity.

I'm such an idiot, sometimes, that even I make fun of myself.

"What are you so happy about?" Gerard asked from the other side of the table, misunderstanding my smile and then smiling a bit himself. We were at the diner- Gerard with his cup of coffee, as always, and I with just a glass of water. Neither of us were really hungry enough to eat.

"Everything," I told him, lying. I wasn't really happy at all. "I'm happy about everything.... I have so much to be happy about," I told him, forcing the smile to spread across my face. "I don't think I'll ever be sad again."

He grinned. "That's good, you have a nice smile."

I felt my face get warm, both from guilt and from modesty.

"You're blushing," he informed me, taking a sip of his coffee.

"I know," I said quietly, my smile fading as I curled my fingers into the fabric of my jeans. I wish I knew how to stop blushing. Could you just train yourself not to?

"You're starting to lose your touch, Frankie," Gerard teased, clicking his tongue. "That's the fourth time today."

"Well, stop saying things to make me blush, and I'll stop," I informed him.

He just laughed. "I don't think that's ever going to happen."

I rolled my eyes. "Why do you never blush? It's not fair."

"Because I have nothing to be shy about."

"Oh, I'm sure there's something!"

"There's not."

I titled my head suspiciously, watching him raise the coffee mug to his lips again. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

There was something... There was definitely something that had made him blush before... I'd only seen it once...

"So, are you ever going to play the piano for me?" I asked causally.

His eyes went wide as he sat the coffee mug down. "Uhm..."

"You told me you would," I reminded him.

"I don't-"

"I mean, you have nothing to be shy about, right?"

His face flushed with color. "Frank, shut up."

I grinned. "You're blushing!" I announced triumphantly. I felt like screaming it from the top of my lungs- I'd done it! Finally! I'd made him blush!

"Shut up," he muttered, turning a darker shade of pink.

"But why? You have nothing to be shy abou-"

"Frank Anthony Iero," he said dangerously. "Shut up or I will strangle you right here and now."

I giggled. "You like me too much to do that." (And I really hoped I was right about that. Gerard still liked me like I liked him, right?)

"I could always secretly be planning to kill you," he said playfully.

"Oh, so then it wouldn't matter if I heard you play piano, would it? I'd be dead by morning if I did."

He glared at me. "Stop talking about it."

"You're still blushing, though."

"Because you're still talking about it."

"Because you're still blushing..."

He rolled his eyes. "Can you please shut up about it?"

I bumped his foot with mine beneath the table. "No." I took a deep breath. "I like it when you blush."

"Well, I don't."

"Why not? It's cute," I admitted, genuinely. "It's really cute when you get annoyed. Your nose scrunches up and you roll your eyes and you start tapping your fingers on the table and... It's just cute."

"So you find pleasure in seeing me ticked off?" he asked, smiling slightly. "That's a tad bit kinky, isn't it?"

I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh. "Not like that, dork."

He rolled his eyes, too, still smiling. "Since when did you get so-"

"Amazing?"

"-cocky?"

"Since..." I titled my head, laughing. "I don't know. Since we decided to be together again, I guess." Since I figured out that he wasn't going to make things better- if I wanted things to be like they used to, I was going to have to make it happen myself.

"Oh, what, the fact that I like you gives you an immense amount of confidence?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"So are you always going to be this annoying, now?"

I grinned at him. "Yep."

He grinned, too. "Good, you're cute when you're annoying. I guess that works out pretty well."

We were silent for a few seconds.

"You will play the piano for me eventually, though, right? I'm really curious now."

He rolled his eyes again. "One day."

I rolled my eyes again, too. "I really don't understand why you're so shy about it. You won't even touch the piano when I'm in your room."

"Because I don't like people hearing me play, okay?"

"Well, why not?"

"Because... I don't know." He looked down at his coffee mug, his fingers wrapped tightly around it. "There's just not much about my life that's private, so sometimes I like to have stuff that only I know about..."

I nodded. "Okay, that's understandable." I understood wanting to have something that was private. I didn't get much privacy, either, but I cherished the few things I did have to myself.

Gerard, for example.

No one knew about our relationship but us and his family, and that was it. And we hadn't even formally told Mama Way, and Mikey had figured it out on his own.

He was my secret, and for the most part, I was his.

He smiled a small smile at me from across the table, almost like he knew I was thinking about him.

"You know," he said quietly, keeping that small smile dancing across his lips. "Sometimes I wonder why you choose to stick around. I'm such an asshole sometimes that even I don't want to be around me."

"You know that's not true."

He just chuckled a bit. "Believe what you will, but it is."

I wanted to argue the topic, but Gerard seemed to want to move on. He sipped at his coffee, not looking at me again.

"So, when can I hear you play the piano?" I asked.

He shrugged, sitting his coffee mug down. "I don't know... One day, eventually. When I figure out something good enough to play for you."

"I'm sure whatever you know now is good enough..."

"But I want it to be better than that," he said, serious, talking with his hands slightly. "I want it to be perfect."

"I'm sure it's fine," I told him. "I know it is."

---

When I finally did hear Gerard play piano, it was a few weeks later and completely by accident.

"Is that him?" I asked in awe, standing in the Way family kitchen. The sound of his piano was echoing through the house.

Mama Way nodded, leaning against the kitchen counter and smoking a cigarette. Mikey sat at the table, reading a comic book. "Mmm-hm. Have you not heard him play before?"

I shook my head. "No. He got really shy when I asked him about it."

Mama Way nodded, smiling a sympathetic smile. "He's really touchy about who hears him play and what they hear and when they hear it... There are some songs that I'm not even allowed to hear. I'll walk in to the sound of the piano, but the moment I shut the door behind me, he just stops. No matter how quiet I am he always seems to know that someone else in the house... And when I go in there to see why he stopped, he'll suddenly be 'drawing' at his desk and claims to not have been playing."

I sighed. "Why is he so shy about it?"

Mama Way shrugged. "I wonder that, too, sometimes... You know about his Grandmother, right?"

I nodded. She had died, right after Gerard and I first met.

"She taught him to play. He didn't used to be so modest about it but since her health started declining... He only ever plays for her and himself."

The way she worded it made me want to cry. '...only ever plays for her and himself." She made it sound like he still played for his Grandma, like he was pretending she was still alive, or something.

"If you're lucky he might let you listen," Mama Way said. "He probably heard you come in, so he knows you're here..."

"I'll just go in there," I said, shrugging. "If he doesn't want me to hear then I guess he'll stop."

I went back to Gerard's room, quietly opening his door. I nudged it open, not wanting to make noise.

He sat playing the piano, not even looking at me. I don't think he even noticed me come in- he didn't flinch a bit.

The first thing I noticed wasn't actually the music he was playing, but his hair.

Black.

He'd dyed it black, and cropped it a bit shorter than I was used to seeing him with.

I stared at the back of his head for a second, not sure how to react.

"You're staring," he said quietly. I could barely hear him over the sound of the piano, his fingers not missing a beat as they played a melody that I had heard before but couldn't place.

I just blinked at the back of his head, sitting on his bed, leaning back against the pile of pillows that always seemed to be there. "How'd you know?" I asked.

He shrugged his shoulder slightly, crossing one arm over the other to dance his fingers across the higher keys. "I can just feel it," he said, simple. "I'm alone enough to know when someone else is in the room, and knowing human instincts and knowing that I've made a major change in appearance since last time I saw you, you're probably staring."

I looked down. "Well, what's wrong with staring?"

He chuckled. "Nothing and everything, Frank."

His fingers danced across the highest few keys, just barely producing any sound, and then he must have been done, because he dropped his hands on to the piano bench, pressing his palms flat.

"How can nothing be wrong with something when everything is?"

"There's nothing wrong with staring," he explained, turning to face me. "Because everyone's done it at one point in their life, and if so many people do it, it must be excepted..."

He tilted his head and I took in a sharp breath, watching him watch me.

I honestly believe that I've never been attracted to Gerard more than I was in that moment.

"But it's not," he continued. "There's everything wrong with it, because even though thousands of people all across the world stare at other people every day, people still call it rude. They always say, 'Oh, staring is bad. It makes people uncomfortable.' But so many people do it, anyway, and they seem perfectly content with it... It's the most inappropriate thing that people do even when they're told not to, and everyone wants to end it, even though no one actually minds."

I felt something painful build up in my throat, some type of bittersweet emotion that I didn't understand. "It sounds like you're talking about a lot more than just staring."

He laughed, once, an unamused sound. "Maybe I am, but..."

"But maybe you aren't?" I suggested. I was really hoping I was right- he couldn't be talking about anything more, could he?

"Maybe you're just reading too deep in to the truth," he corrected. "But I'm not going to tell you which, so figure it out for yourself."

I sighed.

Sometimes Gerard was so frustrating that I just wanted to scream.

"I like your hair," I told him, instead.

It was true- I was struck instantly by it, the black strands framing his face, freshly washed for the first time in a while.

"Thanks."

Black was a nice color on him. A really, extremely nice color on him. The unruly locks stood out against his skin- pale, like always- and made a stark contrast against his white collared shirt.

I couldn't look away.

His shirt was wrinkled in a way that made it look slept in, and the first button was undone. The black tie that I'd never seen him wear and didn't think (and never would have guessed) that he owned hung un-tied and loose around his neck. He was wearing black jeans that clung to him like a second skin, and he rubbed his right palm on his knee, massaging his hand.

"You look nice today," I told him honestly. "Why are you all dressed up?"

He blinked a few times, glancing down at his clothes and then back up at me with a small smile. "Oh. I had a job interview this morning. That's why I didn't pick up when you called."

"Job interview?" I asked, exceedingly surprised. "For what?"

"It's nothing big," he said, almost shyly. "Just working for a comic strip in the newspaper. I won't get to write any of my own material, but I'll be able to draw, so that's enough."

I grinned at him. I'd never really seen any of Gerard's art- he hid it when I was over, and when he did leave it out in the open or worked on it while I was here, I never really looked at it. I tried to respect the fact that he didn't want me seeing his art... But from what Mikey has told me and from the amount of time he spends working on it, he must be good. "That sounds awesome. Did the interview go well?"

Gerard shrugged, laughing a bit. "It did. But I'm not quite sure how much I like the rest of the newspaper staff."

"Why, what happened?"

"Let's just say that the receptionist didn't seem to understand the fact that I wasn't interested in her, and the other guy there to interview for the job couldn't quite pick up on the fact that I'm already in a relationship."

"So your possible future co-workers were hitting on you? Both male and female?"

"Yep... You know, the guy was actually kind of cute, now that I think about it."

I raised my eyebrows, smiling slightly. "Oh, was he?"

Gerard smirked. "Yeah. He was."

"Am I going to have to start keeping you on a leash, Gerard?"

He laughed, winking at me. "Remember what I said when we first met? I'm the baddest bitch you'll ever meet... So just consider me your personal dog, Frank."

I laughed. "Okay, when I start bringing you dog treats and rawhide bones, don't be surprised."

He just grinned.

I looked at him for a second, at his smile and eyes and hair and everything else, too. I really couldn't get past the new hair and the nice clothes.

"Did I mention that you look particularly attractive today?"

"You said I look 'nice,'" he chuckled. "But not 'particularly attractive.'"

"Oh. Well, you look both."

"Well, thanks."

I smiled at him and he smiled right back.

"Cigarette?" he offered.

"Sure."

He came over and sat in the middle of his bed, right in front of me, producing both a cigarette and his ever-faithful lighter from seemingly nowhere.

We sat there for a while, sharing the cigarette and not really doing anything. We didn't talk much, except for when Gerard asked me to scoot over so that he could sit next to me. The moment he did I rested my head on his shoulder.

"I've missed this," I confessed quietly.

"Missed what?" he asked, touching my hand with his.

"Just sitting here with you."

He sighed, tilting his head and resting it on top of mine. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"Cigarette?" I asked quietly.

He wrapped his arm around me, resting his elbow on my shoulder and holding the cigarette near my mouth.

I chuckled, pressing my lips to it. It felt strange not holding the cigarette- I liked the way the paper felt between my fingers, I liked the warmth of it and I liked to flick the ashes when I was done- but it was strangely comforting knowing that Gerard was the one holding the cigarette, this time.

"Have you ever though about the fact that we're basically doing drugs?" I asked, letting the smoke out between my lips.

"No..." He leaned over, tapping the cigarette against the ashtray. "I've thought about the fact that we're basically doing a drug. Nicotine."

I sighed as he moved the cigarette back up towards my lips. This time I just took it from him, between two fingers, and he didn't seem to mind. "But what about all the other stuff that's in cigarettes?" I wondered, looking at him as I took a drag.

Gerard shrugged. "Poisons and chemicals and drugs that add flavor."

"But you said drugs-"

"Drugs, yes, multiple drugs. But I think it's just the nicotine."

"Why?"

He considered for a moment. "It's an addictive word. I like the way it sounds, I like saying it, I like hearing it and seeing it and writing it. So nicotine is what I like to believe I'm addicted to."

"Oh."

We were quiet for a moment and I just sat there, staring at him.

His eyes honestly were the prettiest shade of brown I've ever seen.

"I wish I could see things like you do," I told him. "Everything must be so beautiful through your eyes."

Gerard laughed and I watched his eyes the whole time, watching his smile scrunch up the skin in the corners and watching as the reflection of his bedroom light casts a quick flash across his pupils.

"Trust me, Frank, nothing is beautiful through my eyes but you and the sun and sometimes nature. Society is an ugly place and the only thing good about it is the fact that we keep nature around, and every once in a while there's people like you who make it more pleasant to be here."

I smiled slightly, even though I was more sad than happy. "You can't possibly mean that."

"Oh, but I do."

"No, come on, you don't. There's a lot more than me and nature to be happy about."

His face softened a bit, smile fading, face turning serious. "Oh, but Frank, there's really not." A ghost of the smile appeared again. "You make me happy and some days you seem to be the only thing that does."

I just scooted closer to him.

"You know what makes me happy?" I asked him, not letting my voice get louder than a whisper.

"What?"

"You."

He laughed, shoulder vibrating. "Well, I'm glad."

I turned my face, pressing my lips to his shoulder.

He blinked at me a few times, looking surprised, and I just smiled a weak smile that was begging him to say something.

"Frank-"

"You don't have to be so careful," I told him. "Things can be like they were before, you know."

"But-"

I cut him off, pressing my lips to his cheek, trying not to smile at his body heat. "But it's okay."

He stared at me, lips parted in confusion. "Frank..." His voice was slow and careful and uneven all at the same time. "You're not just doing this because of me, are you?"

"I'm not," I assured him. "I don't mind kisses on the cheek and stuff like that. It might make me blush but that's just because I can't help it."

"Are you-"

"I'm sure." I squished all of his fingers between mine. "I like you, Gerard, I really do. But you know what I'm scared of, so just avoid that, okay?"

He nodded, sighing slightly. "I'm scared, too, though."

"Of what?"

"Of hurting you."

I didn't know what to say.

"That's why I'm being careful," he explained. "I just don't want... I just don't want to make a mistake, again."

"You haven't made any mistakes... Just... I don't know." I couldn't think of how to word it right. "It was a test," I said eventually. "It was a test that we didn't study enough for. And we failed it."

"But if we study..."

I smiled at him. "Then eventually, we'll pass."

He smiled, too. "That's a good way of thinking about it."

He pressed his lips against my cheek for the first time in what felt like forever. "I'm just going to warn you now, when I study for tests, I study a lot..."

I laughed. "Maybe you could tutor me, then?"

I hadn't seen his smile so playful since the test we both failed. "Oh, I could... If you pay me..."

I couldn't stop the laughs, now. "Okay, I guess I could."

---

"Frank." "Frank." "Frank, hurry up." "Frank." "Frank?" "Frank, I'm hungry." "Cook faster!"

I glared at Mikey from the corner of my eyes. "Mikey Way, if you don't shut up I'll pour this boiling water on you."

He rolled his eyes. "And then Gerard would kill you."

I grinned. "But that's where you're wrong. He likes me too much to kill me."

Gerard walked in the kitchen right then, raising an eyebrow. "Who likes you too much to kill you?"

I grinned. "You, dork."

He clicked his tongue, tsking at me. "Don't insult me, Frankie. I could always kick you out of my house."

"You can't do that." I was spending an entire week at Gerard's house- his mom was visiting an unnamed aunt in poor mental health in some state that I couldn't remember the name of, and had trusted Gerard to watch Mikey. She didn't exactly know that I was sleeping here the whole time, but she knew I'd be here, so we weren't breaking any rules. "Who'd cook your food if you did?" It was only Saturday, and we had seven more entire days together, and the Way brothers were already forcing the vegetarian to cook their food. If I screwed it up, I blame them.

Gerard narrowed his eyes, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a water bottle before tapping it closed with his foot again. "Fine, you can stay... But if you overcook anything I swear I'll make you sleep on the street tonight."

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Maybe you guys should go vegetarian this week. That'd be like ten times easier."

"I don't want to eat salad every day!" Mikey argued.

"That's okay, because that's not all I eat."

Gerard laughed, snorting slightly. "But still, we'd miss meat way too much."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, you'll have to miss it for one more day, because you're having pasta tonight."

"Pasta?" Mikey screeched. "Just pasta?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, just pasta. You've been standing there watching me the whole time, Michael, you could have said to make something else, if you really wanted it."

"Don't call me-"

"Yeah, Michael," Gerard snickered. "You've been standing there the whole time."

Mikey glared at his brother and I just laughed.

"Give it three minutes," I said, nodding to the pot of cooking pasta.

"What are we supposed to do for three minutes?" Mikey whined.

"I don't know," I said, rolling my eyes. "Why don't you go do whatever it is thirteen year olds do?"

"Why, so you can have Gerard all to yourself? It's called seven minutes in heaven, Frank, not three," he snickered.

I thumped him in shoulder and he hopped back slightly, sending a look at Gerard.

"Gerard, why can't you control your friends?" he whined.

Gerard just chuckled. "If I could control him, don't you think we'd be eating steak tonight?"

Mikey narrowed his eyes. "True..." He sent me a suspicious look from the corner of his eyes. "I'm watching you, Iero..."

I patted the top of his head. "You have fun with that, kid."

"I'm not a kid... But, hey, has it been three minutes yet? I'm hungry."