Folie a Deux

Author's note:

Long time no see, everybody... Heck, how are all of you? It's been nearly a month, maybe over a month, I'm terrible at keeping track of time...

Anyway.

I really have no excuse as to why you had to wait for this chapter, except for laziness, lack of interest, not enough time, and good old fashion depression... It's, uh, getting better, though, kind of, and I finally forced myself to just get this chapter over with so I could move on to Gerard's POV for chapter 19 (because Gerard is always easier for me to write, for some reason.) See, I'm one of those weird writers who gets so emotionally involved with her writing that I can't write lies. You know what I mean? If I'm depressed, I can't write happy, because it feels like a lie, and if I'm writing a depressing scene, I naturally start to become depressed. (I've developed quite a vicious cycle for myself- masochistic tendencies, emotion-wise, if we're getting specific. Someone once said that you can become addicted to depression, and that's most definitely happened to me. I'm not content unless I'm depressed... You'll notice, not in this chapter but later on in the story, just how many of my own emotions, feelings, and opinions I inject into my own characters, if you remember that. "I'm not content unless I'm depressed.")

So, enough of my lame excuses. This is the longest chapter to date- a full 18 pages in my word document- so I suppose that's my sorry-I'm-such-a-depressed-loser-who-can't-at-least-pretend-to-be-happy apology gift, or some stupid sentimental shit like that, haha.

Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if I've lost half of my readers by now... And this chapter kind of sucks, by the way. Since it's so long and it's currently almost 5 in the morning (I haven't gotten more than six hours of sleep any day of the past week. Shortest being three and a half, after a The Smashing Pumpkins concert, and the longest being about five and a half,) I've only read over this once, whereas I normally reread it at least five times before posting, do three OCD-induced spell checks, and reread the middle section about a million times.

Enough of my rambling, though. You may want to reread Chapter 17 before you read this, just to refresh your memory, or just reread the ending of Chapter 17.

Hope you enjoy, yeah? Point out any mistakes, please? Thanks, everyone.

---

"Stop," I shrieked, sounding like an idiot. I laughed, shoving Gerard away, stumbling a bit and giggling as he caught me. The second we walked into his bedroom, he was all over me, joking and pushing and laughing, pulling at my shirt. "What the fuck," I grinned, twisting away from him, as soon as I'd regained my balance. "I said no!"

He just smirked, reaching for the hem of my shirt again. "Your fingers are all scraped up though," he said innocently. "If you try to change yourself you're going to get dirt in the scratches."

I squirmed, probably fifty different shades of pink and red; I was blushing hard, the result of a strange mixture of laughter, embarrassment, and nervousness.

"Stop!" I chuckled, fighting to keep my shirt on as he continued to tug it upwards. He was right about my hands, though- they stung, really badly. Being shoved onto the pavement and skidding a few feet had really done some damage, I realized, trying not to think about how much playing the guitar with scraped up fingers was going to hurt... And how I wouldn't be able to hold his hand without it stinging, for that matter. "You're not undressing me, Gerard-"

He latched his arms around me suddenly, apparently giving up on the shirt, and took me by surprise, knocking me backwards onto his bed. He landed half on top of me, chuckling.

"Gerard," I laughed, trying to shove him off of me, which resulted in him pulling me closer, sloppily pressing his lips to my cheek. "You're gonna' have dirt all over your bed. And you, for that matter."

"I don't mind getting dirty," he said, smiling a soft, sarcastic smile. He pressed his lips to my cheek again, softer and smoother and sweeter and closer to my mouth this time.

I rolled my eyes, finally giving up. He looked tired and I didn't feel like arguing about whether or not he had meant that in more ways than one or not.

I was stretched out on my back and he was at an angle, on his side, laying next to me, an arm draped over my chest, chin resting on top of my head.

"So," I said, closing my eyes. I tilted my head back, pressing up on his chin, and he made a soft, content sound, stretching his neck.

I had a question, but I was so comfortable that I didn't want to ruin the moment by asking it.

His fingers touched my hair, playing with a few strands of it, and I sighed. He took a deep breath, too, leaning away slightly and leveling our eyes. "You're warm," he informed me quietly.

I laughed, nodding, leaning forward and pressing my face against his shoulder. "You are, too," I said.

His fingers kept playing with my hair, making it hard to focus. "Did you have a question, a few seconds ago? It sounded like you were going to say something."

"Oh," I said, blinking at him. "Yeah. When... When are we leaving for this date? And... Where are we going?"

He smiled. "Well, we're leaving whenever you're ready, but the places that we're going will remain secret until we get there."

I have to admit that I pouted, just a bit. "Really? But I want to know..."

He pressed his lips to the top of my head. "Just go change so we can leave, and then you'll see exactly where we're going."

I sent him a look. "Changing in front of you makes me uncomfortable sometimes."

"Really?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

I laughed, sitting up. "Because I can feel you staring at me."

He sat up, too, reaching for the hem of my shirt.

"Gerard," I said, trying to sound menacing.

"Frank," he said, giving me that look that made me sigh and give in, rolling my eyes. I let him pull my shirt up and over my head, raising my arms and twisting away and out of the fabric.

Even though he was careful to not let our skin touch, I was blushing like an idiot.

He beamed in triumph, watching as I got up and crossed the room. "I could look away, but, I choose not to... You're too attractive to look away from."

I just rolled my eyes again, knowing he was wrong. I most certainly was not attractive, in the least sense of the word.

"You go from sweet to 'I'm about to molest you,' really fast, ya' know?" I said.

He just laughed.

"I'm gonna' steal a shirt, okay?"

"Okay. Like most of them don't already belong to you, anyway."

I grinned at him over my shoulder. "Can I just, like, have your closet? You have way too many clothes, anyway."

"Take what you want," he chuckled, rolling onto his stomach. I watched as he stretched, reaching his fingers as far as they would go. "Just remember to share."

I nodded, pulling one of the smaller looking shirts off of a hanger. "Like seventy-five percent of everything you own is black," I observed, slipping on the plain shirt, adjusting it around me.

"Like my soul," he crooned dramatically, rolling back onto his side. "Like the night sky, like thine thoughts, thou shalt wear black!"

I stared at him for a few seconds, and then I couldn't help myself, I was totally laughing at him. "What the hell are you quoting?"

"Nothing!" he said, a little too proud. "I'm just so amazing that I can sound like I'm quoting something all the time!"

I plopped down on the bed next to him again, landing eye-to-eye with him.

"You're a dork, you know that, right?"

"But I'm your dork," he clarified. "So that makes it okay."

I was probably blushing, but I guess he was right.

"Aren't you going to change your jeans?" he asked, resting a suspicious hand on my hip.

"Aren't you only asking that because you want to see me pant-less?"

He smiled, his fingers curling slightly against the waistband of my jeans. "You have a nice ass."

I was blushing harder, I think.

"It's true!" he insisted, uncurling his fingers. "I normally don't notice stuff like that, but I'm dead serious."

I rolled over, staring at the wall, my face burning as his hand fell away from my side. "Like I said before, you go from sweet to molestation way too fast, Gee... Is your soul purpose in life embarrassing me?"

"I don't mean to!" he said, actually sounding sorry. "I'm just being honest..."

I forgave him, just enough to listen to what he had to say.

"Hey, what do you want to eat tonight?" His hand touched my arm so I rolled back over to face him, not being able to stay upset with him for too long, even though my cheeks were definitely still red. "I had a few places in mind, but I think you should pick since I'm picking everything else."

I shrugged, letting out a slow breath. "I dunno. There's this place down on Ninth Street that I've been wanting to go to..."

"We'll go there then," he decided. He looked at me for a few long seconds, and then he reached up his hand, putting his fingers lightly on the side of my face. "Hey, are you still okay with this? If you're not we don't-"

"I'm fine, Gee."

He looked at me skeptically.

"I swear," I told him. "Just don't, like, kiss me in the middle of the street or anything, and I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Because I don't want to force you in to anything. You know that."

I rolled my eyes. "Gerard, fifteen minutes ago I was planning blueprints for our future house, and you're still skeptical?"

He shrugged, meeting my eyes. "I just want to be sure."

I leaned over, pressing my lips to his cheek. "Well, I'm sure. Okay? I'm positive. Isn't that enough?"

"Well, yeah, but..."

"But nothing," I said sternly. "I'm okay with this, I'm fine. The more skeptical you get the more nervous I get, so just stop. I'm gonna' fall in love with you one day, remember?"

He looked at me for a long second, and then said in a small voice that made him sound like a child, "Promise?"

"I promise, Gerard," I said, my voice going soft in response to his change of tone. "I promise if you do."

He nodded. "I promise." He looked more terrified than I felt.

I put my hand on the side of his face, letting our foreheads rest against one another. "Why do you look so scared?" I asked him.

"I don't know."

"Well, are you scared?"
"I- I don't know, Frank. Maybe? Yes? Yes."

"Well, of what?"

"Of-" he sighed. "You're going to laugh."

"I'm not," I told him. "I promise, I won't." He still didn't look so sure, though, so I kissed his forehead. "You can tell me."

"I- Fuck, it sounds so selfish. I'm scared..." he closed his eyes. "I'm scared of hurting you, okay? Of getting hurt, rather. I don't want you to leave again, like last time, I don't want to be left alone like that again-"

"I'm not going to leave," I told him. "I'm not. I told you, I'm ready this time. I'm never going to let you be alone ever again, okay?"

"But Frank, what if-"

I pressed my lips to his cheek, closer to his mouth this time, in the spot where the dimples show up when he smiles.

"Stop being an idiot," I told him. "I like you, Gerard. I like you a lot. I like you more than anyone else in the whole wide world, and even if I am a little scared, I'm not going to let that stop us from being together."

He looked at me for a few more long seconds, and then grabbed my hands and sat up, pulling me with him. "Come on, then," he said. "Let's go."

---

The waitress sat Gerard's coffee on the table and he smile appreciatively, saying something that sounded vaguely like "tack," and I raised my eyebrows at him, confused.

The waitress looked at him in surprise for a few seconds, probably trying to figure out what the fuck he was saying, like I was, but then she grinned, sputtering out happy-sounding words in some language that I didn't recognize and definitely didn't understand.

Gerard just laughed and nodded, as easily as if she'd spoken English, and I just kind of gaped at him as he was saying something back in whatever language it was that he could evidently speak.

The waitress laughed, nodding, and looked from Gerard to me and then back.

She said something else in that language and Gerard laughed, he laughed really loud, and said something back, something that made me blush even though I had no idea what the fuck he was saying.

The second she was gone, I looked over at Gerard, trying not to choke on my own spit in confusion. "What the hell?" I managed finally. "Were you guys talking about me?"

"What?" he said, chuckling, tilting his head at me. "Have I really never spoken Swedish around you?"

"Uh, no! Since when the fuck do you even speak Swedish?"

"Since middle school," he said, blinking at me, like I should have known.

I was about to say something else, but then the realization hit me. "Oh," I said, a little too loudly, my voice squeaking. I continued to stare at him for a few more seconds, but then looked down quickly, letting out a much smaller, much more sorry, "Oh."

He just nodded, raising his coffee to his lips, both hands wrapped around the cup. He stared into the mug blankly, like he was watching a memory play out in the coffee, or something. "Yeah. 'Oh.'"

He'd learned Swedish because of that boy, I'd realized. That Swedish boy, the one who I wanted to be like, the one who'd taught Gerard so much about himself without ever realizing it. He'd learned a complete other language because of that kid.

I looked down, at my cup of water, trying to decide what to say. "You seem pretty fluent," I told him, my voice uneven.

"I learned from him," he said, and I knew exactly who he was talking about. "I guess that happens when a native speaker teaches you."

"Was it easy to pick up?"

He sipped at his coffee. "Not at all."

"Oh."

"It was really fucking hard to learn, actually."

"Uh." I just looked at him as he stared into his coffee cup. "Okay? But. Uh. How'd you know the waitress speaks it?"

Gerard shrugged. "Accents are pretty easy to recognize after you're heard them enough."

I nodded. "Oh. Were, uh, were you guys talking about me?"

At that he laughed, a small, short laugh. "Possibly."

"Well, what were you saying?"

He didn't answer.

We were both quiet for a few seconds, and I stared at him, and he stared back, and neither of us spoke for what seemed like ages.

"You always get coffee," I observed, changing the subject and looking away.

Gerard smiled a small smile, lifting the mug to his lips, looking down into his cup again. "That's because coffee is good."

I laughed, slightly, not quite knowing what to say, sipping at my water while I scrambled for words. "Every day? That's all you ever drink, don't you ever get tired of it?"

"No," he said simply. "Don't you get tired of not eating meat?"

I rolled my eyes, trying not to be offended, even though I really was. He was just being a typical non-vegetarian, I had to remember. They never understood. "No. There's a lot more to it then that."

"Why did you choose to be vegetarian, anyway?" he asked, tilting his head. I appreciated the fact that he didn't say "go" vegetarian. It always pisses me off when people talk about my lifestyle like it's a fashion statement. "We've never really talked about that before."

"Because," I said, looking away. The place we were eating was called Elmo's, or something like that, and the windows looked out on a nice little street, with cars and people and everything in between. It was a pleasant little road... Maybe if I stared at it long enough, I would just disappear into it. "Society treats animals like shit."

"Yeah?"

I nodded, sending him a glance from the corner of my eyes. "We weren't meant to eat meat, anyway. We didn't evolve like that. We don't exactly have the teeth for it, or rather, we didn't used to... Not completely, but, uh, mostly, I think? Yeah. Yeah, mostly... And meat is hell on our digestive systems, sometimes, too... And then there's stuff like mad cow disease that's always popping up, you know about that stuff, right? Diseases that we only get from meat and whatnot?"

Gerard nodded, seeming to understand, which I was thankful for. "What did you mean, though, about the animals? I know that they're not treated the best, but..."

I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat, looking down at my glass of water, stirring the ice with my straw. It wasn't the fact that we were talking about animals that was making me uncomfortable- it was the way he was looking at me, nodding slowly, taking my word as gospel. I didn't like him putting so much faith into what I was saying. I mean, yeah, I'd done research on this stuff, I'm not an idiot, but if I screw up my information I don't want him to take it too seriously.

"They're shoved in small places," I told him, quietly. "They're fed whatever keeps them alive and healthy, which is almost always a bunch of unnecessary vitamins, and too much of a good thing isn't always helpful. They're surrounded by filth and other animals. It's cramped and even though they're healthy I can't imagine that they could ever be comfortable... And then there's the way they're slaughtered..."

I looked down at the table, laying my hands there.

"If you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to," he said, resting his hand a few inches away from mine. I watched as he stretched his hand, our fingertips touching, and I sighed. I wanted to take his hand and hold it but the scrapes on my hands still hurt when they touched things, and skin against skin would probably feel like hell.

"Okay," I said, looking up at him and blinking a few times.

Conversation with Gerard had never been hard, so I didn't understand what was different now. We'd only been sitting here for five minutes, could I really already be screwing things up?

I wouldn't be surprised, if I was. I've screwed everything else up, so far, so of course I'd get our first date completely wrong.

He didn't seem to be bothered much by the silence, though. He just sat there, drinking his coffee and studying our fingers.

I couldn't decide if that was a good sign or not.

I wondered distantly how he never seemed to be bothered by lack of conversation. I didn't like not talking- I associated silence with arguments, because my mom and I always seemed to get really quiet after fights. I felt like if I wasn't making conversation, I must have screwed something up. If we weren't talking I must not be interesting, if we're not arguing I must not be worth anyone's time, and if we're not at least making small talk I must be practically nonexistent.

"Hey, you okay?"

I looked up, startled. "What? Yeah? I guess?"

"Why do you sound so unsure, then?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I'm fine though, it's just... Nothing, really."

He nodded, but didn't seem to believe me. "You don't like not talking, do you?"

I faltered a bit in surprise. "What? Why-"

"We can talk, if you want," he said, shrugging. "You just looked like you were going to say something, is all."

"O- oh. Uh. Okay."

I looked at him and he looked back.

"First dates aren't really my thing," I explained, uneasy. I felt like I was going to be sick, or like my heart was going to beat straight out of my chest, or like I was going to pass out, or like all three would happen at once.

He just sighed, though, even though I was on the brink of going insane. "Same here."

I didn't know what to do so I just looked at our hands, barely touching on the table. He suddenly flipped my hand over, my palm up.

He traced the scratches on my palm and fingers with his index finger, careful not to touch the actual injuries, but instead the skin around it.

I watched, shivering as his fingertip traced between my fingers, dragging up the side of one and slipping down it's other side.

"That feels weird," I told him, my voice strangled.

He looked up at me, continuing to drag his finger across my skin. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," I said, a little too quickly.

He nodded, re-focusing his complete attention on my hand. Before I knew what was happening, his finger slid over my wrist, resting there, lightly; it stayed there for a few seconds, before slipping away.

"You'd be surprised by what parts of the body respond to touch," he told me, wrapping both hands around his coffee mug, lifting it to his lips. I pulled my hand back, feeling my fingers and toes curl at the sudden lack of his touch.

"Yeah?" I said, nervously, chewing the inside of my bottom lip to keep myself from asking or saying something stupid.

I was so used to him touching me- my hands, my arms, even if it was just the side of his shoe touching mine beneath the table- that realizing the actual moment in which he stopped touching me made me feel cold inside.

"Yeah. Like, for example, your pulse sped up just from me touching your hand, didn't it?"

I nodded, blushing, realizing that that's what his finger had been doing when it touched my wrist, taking my pulse, testing how fast he made my heart pound.

"But it normally doesn't do that, if we hold hands, does it?"

I shook my head, trying to think of something non-idiotic to say, but the Swedish waitress brought our food, so I was saved from having to respond. Gerard said something in Swedish and the waitress did too, distracting and confusing me, and I was so thankful for the distraction that I nearly forgot to say thank-you when she sat down my plate.

The waitress walked away and I forced a smile at Gerard as we poked at our food and took a few bites, and every single thought in my head sounded stupid beyond belief.

I just let my sentence fall to pieces. I'd say something terrible if I tried to speak, now- the memory of his fingers running over my palm was making me shiver.

"So," he said, looking at me. "How's school been?"

"Okay," I lied, stabbing my pancake with a fork. (Breakfast for dinner is one of the best things ever.)

He gave me a look, which I ignored.

"Really?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"For some reason, I don't believe you."

I shrugged. "Then don't, I guess, but it really has been okay."

He titled his head, chewing thoughtfully on a bite of scrambled eggs, scrunching up his nose slightly. "Okay, whatever. Who do you sit with, at lunch and whatnot, though? Like, if I were to walk into your school tomorrow, who would you be hanging out with?"

"No one, really... I don't have many friends, you know that. I sit outside during lunch so I don't have to deal with other people."

"And yet you never tan," he joked.

I laughed, nodding. "Long sleeves, jeans, and long hair will do that for you."

"Speaking of which, are you letting your hair grow out again?"

I shrugged, brushing my hair with my fingers and letting my bangs hang slightly over my eyes, wondering why he was asking. "I don't know. Maybe. Not too long, though... Why?"

I suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. Did he not like my hair like this? I could of sworn he did...

He looked at me for a long second, tilting his head. "No reason, really... Let's just say that if you either don't stop letting your bangs hang in front of your eyes, or if you don't cut them soon, I might just go insane. You're too fucking adorable for your own good, Frankie, you know that?"

I laughed, feeling myself blush. "Yeah? Hate to break it to you, Gee, but I'm probably going to keep it this length for a while..." I liked my hair when it was just long enough to hide my eyes but still short enough to push out of the way. It was nice because I only liked making eye contact half of the time- otherwise, I just feel awkward being expected to look at people.

"How's homeschooling?" I asked. "Mikey seems to like it enough."

"It's okay," Gerard said, shrugging. "I kind of miss school, actually."

"Really?" I said, surprised.

"Yeah. I mean, school was never my favorite place to be, and I might be a bit of an introvert, but every once and a while I met some really nice people. With homeschooling it's just me and Mikey... Which is okay, but I never got a real school experience though, you know? We were always moving before I could get too close with anyone."

I nodded, looking down. "Except for me?"

Gerard smiled, foot brushing mine beneath the table. "Yep. And I'm glad." He tapped my foot with his. "You're a good person, Frank Iero, you know that?"

I forced a laugh. "Yeah? Well, you are too, Gerard Way."

He grinned, smile contagious.

The rest of dinner went pretty smoothly- we just talked and ate and every once and a while he would brush his ankle against mine or touch my hand, and once he reached over and pushed my hair out of my eyes, making me laugh and blush just a bit. We were slowly getting better about this whole "first date" thing, and soon it became exactly how Gerard had described it, way back in December- first dates are nothing but eating and talking and touching, and so that's what we did.

About thirty minutes into conversation, Gerard and I got into a debate about horror movies.

"Blair Witch Project is a classic!" I argued.

"No, The Shining was like-"

"They're two completely different categories! I don't even know why we're comparing the two!"

Gerard smiled that small, stupid half smile that both made me want to punch him and hug him. "The Shining is better, that's why."

"It is not!" I said loudly, his smile pissing me off.

One side of his smile pulled higher than the other, slightly, as he did that stupidly adorable, really fucking cute but really fucking annoying thing where he spoke from one side of his mouth. "It's Steven King, Frank, you can't argue with the God of Horror."

"Blair Witch Project was amazing! It was fucking revolutionary!"

"How so? The camera was fucking shaky, the ending sucked-"

"There's a sequel!"

"Which sucked!"

I glared at him. "People didn't even know that Blair Witch was a horror movie- they thought it was a documentary, like, real video. They didn't know what they were signing up for. You never see the witch, which makes it even more amazing. There's a website for it that still talks about it like it actually happened. They played it out like it was real, they never told anyone it was fake until they figured it out for themselves and until it came out on DVD and shit. It scared the hell out of everyone who saw it, and they never even actually show anything scary. The Shining is about a fucking nomadic vampire who's shitty excuse for a child sees hallways filled with blood and talks to his finger like it's his best fucking friend, or something, and sees those two creepy bitches at the end of the hall who talk in those creepy fucking voices at the same fucking time. The Shining was a shit excuse for horror, Gerard. It's fucking... It's fucking shitty, goddammit."

Gerard didn't speak for a second, but then he just started laughing, shaking his head, grinning at me.

"What?" I snapped. "You're laughing at my argument? Wh-"

He stood half-way up, suddenly, and leaned over the table, putting his hands on my face, pressing his lips to the tip of my nose, and then close to the corner of my mouth, which shut me up pretty well.

I blinked in surprise as he sat back down, feeling an angry and embarrassed and confused blush rising in my cheeks. "Wh- what? What was that for?" I felt the instant need to glance around, almost, to make sure nobody had seen a boy kiss me on the nose and nearly on the mouth, but then I realized how stupid that was and forced myself to look at Gerard.

He grinned at me, tilting his head slightly to the side. "I'm just trying to figure out how I got so lucky, is all... It's fucking adorable when you get angry, you know that? You cuss a lot, it's hot."

I looked down, my face probably red, and even though I knew I shouldn't be, I was glancing around the room to make sure no one was staring. When there were no laughs and no yells of 'faggot' or something equally as terrible, I just muttered out, "O- oh."

"I mean it, Frank," he said, fingers finding mine above the table. "I really couldn't ask for a better best friend."

I rolled my eyes, knowing that it wasn't true- Gerard could do a lot better than me. He could do a whole lot better than a kid with one too many issues and he could find someone who could be a lot more open and public with their relationship, but I didn't know how to say that without my voice shaking, so I didn't say anything at all.

"Come on," he said suddenly, hand slipping out of mine. He stood up and started walking towards the front counter to pay.

I blinked in surprise, not even caring that I hadn't finished my food, standing quickly and following him in confusion. "What? Where are we going?"

Gerard just looked at me over his shoulder, smiling a wide smile that I didn't understand as he payed the lady at the front counter and handed her a tip to give the waitress, and then he grabbed my hand, carefully, and then we were leaving.

It all happened so suddenly that I didn't even have time to think about that fact that he was holding my hand and that he was a boy and that I was a boy and that someone might see two boys holding hands. All I really knew was that Gerard was dragging me down the sidewalk with a smile on his face that made me smile, too, so I went along with it and didn't ask questions, even though I had a thousand of them.

"Come on," he said, squeezing my fingers, gently, somehow managing not to hurt the scrapes on my hand. "Walk faster."

"The park?" I asked, slightly confused as Gerard pulled me into the familiar setting. "Why?"

"Because," he said. He didn't head towards the swings, which only confused me further. "There are trees here."

I watched as he walked over to a tree, and then felt my lips part in amazement as he pulled himself onto the lowest limb, beaming down at me.

"Ever climbed trees as a kid?" he asked, adjusting himself until he was comfortable.

"Fuck yes," I nearly squealed, sounding a million times more idiotic than I really was. I could already feel the bark beneath my fingers- climbing trees was something I'd done often as a child. (When my mom yelled at me, I'd just go sit in the tree in the backyard with a marker and draw on the tree and my clothes and myself until I either ran out of ink or ran out of room, and on days that I could, I brought a box to stand on so I could make an easier time of getting into the tree, and I would sit up there and play my guitar.)

I probably would've asked Gerard to go tree-climbing with me a long time ago, if I'd thought he'd be up for it.

I made a grab for a tree limb, but pulled my hands back instantly, curling them against my stomach in reaction to the sharp sting. "Fuck."

Gerard looked at me for a few seconds, and then I think he understood, because he said, "Oh."

"I'd come up anyway, I don't mind if it hurts," I told him, honestly, craning my neck to look at him and then looking back down at the scrapes on my hands. "But I don't want to get like a splinter or anything. That'd just make it worse."

"It's okay," Gerard said. "We can... I'll get you up here. One second."

I raised curious eyebrows as he shifted around a bit, wrapping his legs around a branch and balancing himself somehow, holding onto the tree with one hand and stretching his other arm down towards me. "Here. One hand on me, one hand on the tree. That'll be easier, right?"

I nodded, and together, we somehow managed to make it work.

We settled into our respective branches- Gerard's slightly higher, and to the right of mine.

"What's the point of this?" I asked him.

He pointed vaguely to the horizon. "Watch."

I turned my head and saw what he was talking about- the sunset.

It was brilliant. It was orange and pink and red and yellow, and it was stretching out into the familiar blue of the day.

We watched the sunset for a long time- long enough for the warm and sugary colors to take over the entire sky.

For a while I kind of forgot Gerard was even there, the strands and streaks of colored light marking the sky and distracting me, allowing me to loose myself in thought. He touched my back, though, reminding me that I wasn't the only one in the world, and I lifted my hand, twining our fingers and ignoring the way the scrapes on my palm stung.

Suddenly, it seemed like it was just the two of us. Not just me and the tree, but me and Gerard and the tree and the sun and the sky.

For however long we sat in that tree, holding hands, we were the only two human beings alive.

Everyone else was dead to me in that moment, and I didn't even mind.

"I know they say not to talk about religion on first dates," he said, very quietly, so quietly that his voice wasn't an interruption to the silence, but nearly another whisper in the wind that hardly registered in my mind. "But do you believe in God, Frank?"

I paused for a moment- a really long moment. Did I believe in God? No, not at all. The better question was if Gerard did.

"Do you?"

"I asked first," he said almost immediately.

"No. Now, do you?"

There was a short pause. "Sometimes I think I do."

"Sometimes?" I said, turning my head to look at him. "I don't think religion is really a 'sometimes' type of thing, Gerard."

"I know." His fingers skimmed the side of my face. "I'm just saying... Sometimes I really believe that there's a God, and other times, I don't see how that could ever be possible..."

I just nodded. "Yeah. Like, miracles happen, but how the fuck did one man create the earth in six days, or whatever?"

"No, not exactly... More like, I believe in God in the sense of faith. As in, I believe that there is a spiritual being, who may live in whatever form he desires, who performs miracles and comforts those in trouble. I think that everyone has their own God, and they perceive Him in different ways. Some feel His presence very deeply, others don't believe in Him at all."

"And you feel His presence?"

Gerard nodded. "Yeah. As of the moment, I think She's this tree."

"She? And this tree? Really?"

Gerard shrugged. "He can take any form He desires, including that of the opposite gender and of plants. And at the moment, She is female, and She is this tree."

I nodded, kind of accepting his answer as one that made sense. I suddenly felt kind of awkward- we were literally sitting on God, if that's what Gerard believed, but he seemed so content that I supposed it was okay. I almost understood why- we were in God's arms, to Gerard, so what could possibly go wrong?

"What do you think about the whole idea of an afterlife?" I asked, curious.

"I think it's stupid."

"So what about hell? And heaven? And sinning? Stuff like that?"

He looked away, off in the direction of the sun and it's picture-perfect colors. "I believe," he said softly. "That every person has their own personal Hell, as well as their own personal Heaven. There's certain things in life that torment them, that drive them nearly to the point of insanity. And there are also things that give them pure bliss, and take them to the level of utmost happiness and contentedness with their life. I believe that Hell is depression, and anger, and something that only the worse of people ever fall into, and Heaven is a rare thing that only certain people can achieve... Life is purgatory, Frank, and we're all living in it. Heaven and Hell are just mental subsections of that purgatory, and it's up to us to decide which level of purgatory we're in."

I stared at him for a second, leaning back against the trunk of the tree, leaning my spine against Gerard's God's arms, suddenly having issues making myself comfortable on the branch. "Well," I said, quiet. "Where are you, Gerard? Heaven or Hell or still in purgatory?"

He shrugged, slightly, and looked down at his hands, picking at the skin on the tips of his fingers. "I'm in purgatory, as of the moment... But I've been to Hell and I've experienced Hell, and I think I've touched Heaven more than once, but I don't think I've ever really been in Heaven. I think Hell is my home, it's where I was born, so it's where I belong."

I couldn't decide if I wanted to yell at him or hold him or both, and I couldn't tell if I was upset or angry or just numb with disbelief.

"You don't belong in Hell, Gerard," I told him. "You don't, I know you don't... If anyone belongs there, it's me."

He glared at me, sharply. "Don't," he said, voice shaking slightly. "Don't say that. You know it's not true."

"But it is," I said, looking away. "Can we get out of this tree, please?"

"Frank, look at me."

"Gerard-"

"Fucking look at me, Frank-"

"Just get me out of the fucking tree!" I yelled, glaring at him, my fingers curling and my head hurting and my heart breaking at that hurt and angry look on his face.

"Don't," he said again. "Don't you ever fucking say that again. You deserve Heaven, Frank, nothing more, nothing less."

"Heaven?" I said, leaning back against the tree, trying not to laugh. "Heaven? If Hell is depression and anger, I'm the very definition of it, Gerard!"

"You're not!" he insisted. "Or at least... I don't want you to be..."

I looked up at him and he stared back, and something deep in my chest ached.

"I want Heaven for you, Frank," he said, the look in his eyes making me want to cry. "Can't I be your Heaven? Won't you let me help you out of Hell?"

And I think that meant more to me than anything else he had ever said.

"What about you," I whispered. "You said you've touched Heaven. When? How?"

He just smiled this small, tortured smile, one that twisted my heart. "You're my Heaven, Frank," he said, and I felt like crying. His fingers brushed the side of my face. "And you're my Hell, too."

I think I choked a little. "G- Gerard-"

"No, come on," he said, that tortured smile lingering on his lips. "Let's get out of this fucking tree, okay?"

"But, Gerard-"

"I'll explain once we're out of the tree, okay?"

I sighed. "Fine."

So I let Gerard help me out of the tree- and he clung to me like he hadn't seen me in years.

I sighed again, letting him hug me, my arms around his waist and his just holding me as close as physical possible. With my cheek pressed to his chest, his chin resting on my head, it was hard to be upset with him.

"I may not- I don't believe that stuff, the Heaven and Hell shit, Gerard, but I don't want you to be in Hell, if you believe in it."

"It's unavoidable," he whispered. "I can't just- I can't just choose if I'm in Heaven or Hell, I don't think it works like that..."

"But- You said..." I tried to muffle my voice in his shirt, I pressed my face against the smooth of his leather jacket and tried my best to say what I meant. "You said I'm both. Tell me what to do to make it better. Tell me how to make Hell go away forever."

"Frank, I can't-"

"You said," I reminded him. I leaned away and stared up at him. "Gerard, you said I'm both. So let me make it Heaven."

He sighed a small breath of air, turning his gaze to our feet. "There's nothing you can do to help, it's my own fault... I shouldn't have said anything."

"I don't believe you."

"Well, you should."

I stretched up the best I could, having to lean onto my toes, and pressed my lips to the tip of his nose. "We're- I-" I fell back onto my feet, letting my arms drop to my sides, and he let his arms drop, too. "We're going to fall in love, right?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"A- and then... Then it won't be Hell anymore, right?"

He tilted his head, studying my face for a few moments. "I suppose not... Why?"

"Because." I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes. "I don't want Hell for you. I want to get you the fuck out of there as fast as possible."

His fingers brushed mine and I turned my hand, letting him hold it. "Saying you love me won't fix anything unless you mean it, so don't do anything stupid, please..."

I sighed, nodding. "Yeah. I kind of figured... I was just thinking..."

He squeezed my hand. "Look, if you want to help, just... I don't know. Just keep being yourself and I'll do the rest, okay?"

I didn't like it, but I agreed. "Okay, I guess... Uh. What... What now?"

"Well." He squeezed my hand again. "There's this candy store near by..."

I smiled. "That sounds nice."

He smiled, too. "Yeah, I thought it would."

---

The trip to the candy store was, simply put, weird, in the sense that Gerard and I were very publicly together while there.

When we walked in, there was one person working there, this girl with curly brown hair and a sweet smile. She kind of blinked at us oddly when Gerard held my hand, but after a few minutes she seemed to understand, and to my surprise and just didn't say anything about it. With just one other person in the room, I didn't feel nearly as nervous about being with Gerard as I did other places- fewer witnesses, less likely chance that someone's going to start insulting us.

As okay with it as I was, though (I'd even worked up the courage to kiss Gerard on the cheek,) it had still been really awkward picking out the candy because Gerard more or less forgot what the words "boundaries" and "personal space" meant, standing behind me with his arms around my waist, chin resting on top of my head.

"Get anything you want," he'd said, pressing his lips behind my ear.

In the end, we'd somehow managed to spend like twenty dollars on fudge and a small arrangement of chocolate, half of them for me and half for Gerard, and we went ahead and got Mikey some candy, too.

"This is outrageous," I said as we walked back to Gerard's house, standing close to him, bumping his shoulder with mine. "Who in their right fucking mind spends twenty dollars on candy?"

"Us, obviously," he laughed, slinging an arm around my waist. In his free hand was the bag with our candy in it, and I eyed it for a few seconds.

"I'm going to pay you back for at least half of that-"

"No," he said, rolling his eyes. "It's a date, Frankie. And I'm the one who asked you out, so let me pay."

"Well, next time, I'm paying-"

"Nope. No you're not... Frankie, will you go on a second date with me?" He paused for a few seconds, but didn't let me answer. "See, now I've asked first, you have to let me pay. Oops."

I shook my head and sighed. "One day you're going to spend your last penny on me and we're going to have be one of those weird poor couples, the ones who walks dogs and babysit like seven different children... And then we'll have to live in your mom's basement until we're thirty."

"And I'd be fine with that," he grinned. "As long as you're the one who picks up the dog poop and changes the seven babysitting-kids diapers..."

"What?" I said, playfully gasping, pulling away from him in mock horror, trying not to laugh as he kind of stumbled in surprise. "That's so not fair! If I get the dog poop, you get diapers!"

"Ugh, but I hate kids!"

"Yeah, so do I, so..." I suddenly had a lot of weird thoughts in my head, about what would have happened if we did both like kids... An image of Gerard braiding a little girl's dark hair popped into my head and I tried not to laugh out loud. "Maybe we'd better stick to dog walking?"
He nodded, laughing. "Yeah. Sounds like a plan."

"Yeah," I agreed. I couldn't get him and the non-existent little girl out of my head, though... "Hey, uh. Well."

I looked at him for a second and he looked back at me. "Yeah?"

I looked away. "Never mind. It's stupid."

"I highly doubt that." He put his arm around my waist again, and his lips touched my cheek. "You look kind of serious about whatever this is."

I sighed and looked at my feet, kicking a rock as we walked. "I was- well. I was just wondering, if, uh. Fuck. You're gonna' laugh."

"I'm not going to laugh."

"Yes you are."

He stopped in his tracks so I did, too, looking at him.

"I'd never laugh at you, Frank," he said seriously. "Never be scared to say anything around me, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Whatever. But I was just wondering... Uh. Well." I twisted a few strands of hair around my finger, but remembered what he said the first time we met, about it not being healthy, so I dropped the strands and opted for putting my hands in my back pockets instead, rocking back on my heels and trying not to look too nervous. "About kids. And- and... Us. Uhm. I mean-"

He smiled a small, weird half smile. "Are you asking if I'd ever want to adopt kids, Frank?"

I nodded, feeling my cheeks get warm. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess."

He just smiled a bit more.

"You're laughing at me," I told him. "You're totally laughing."

"I'm not! I'm just imagining a little you running around the house and screaming, and playing a little miniature guitar or something."

I think my face got five degrees warmer at that. "What about a little you? That'd be cuter. Poking at a tiny little keyboard and drawing on the walls with crayons."
Gerard grinned. "Would not! I was an ugly kid."

"Oh, I doubt it," I huffed, trying not to laugh. "A little you would be fucking adorable. All chubby cheeks and cute hair and weird teeth and-"

"Weird teeth?"

"You have small teeth, what can I say? It's cute but it's also kind of weird."

He rolled his eyes. "And you're short."

I mock-gasped, slapping weakly at his arm. "Take that back!"

"Take back the teeth thing!"

"Never!"

"Then you're just going to be short for the rest of your life!"

I glared at him, in the most playful way possible. "I'm fucking glad that neither of us can get pregnant. Our kids would be annoying as hell," I decided. We started walking again. "If they have an attitude like yours."

"And a temper like yours, mind you."

I rolled my eyes and laughed because it was true. "Short, angry, insane little kids with an attitude and weird teeth... Because that's exactly what this world needs."

Gerard just laughed, bumping my shoulder with his. "Hey, at least they'd have musical talent, right? Guitar and piano is a pretty epic combination."

"They could start a band! 'The Way of the Iero' or something stupid like that."

Gerard laughed more. "That's the worst fucking band name ever! Just call them 'The Way.'"

"But that would imply that their last name would just be 'Way,' and there's no way in hell I'd ever change my last name."

"Oh, what, you don't think Frank Way sounds totally adorable?"

I rolled my eyes. "Gerard Iero sounds much better."

"I bet you have that scribbled all over your school notebooks, don't you?"

I felt my face get warm again. "No, asshole..."

"So you don't write my name on everything like a love-struck middle-schoolar?"

"I do," I confessed, raising my chin a bit. "I'm just not stupid enough to tack my last name on the end. People at school would ask questions, you know."

He laughed, a really cute, really sweet laugh, his arm going around my waist again. "Okay, okay. What about Frank Iero-Way?"

"Why not Gerard Way-Iero?"

"Iero-Way sounds better. Alphabetical order and all."

"Why do I have to be the one to change my name?"

"Well... I guess you don't..." He tilted his head a bit, considering. "I dunno. Iero-Way just sounds fucking adorable."

I grinned and leaned against him, but suddenly realized that we'd just spent the past few minutes more or less discussing marriage and kids and therefore a completely committed relationship and sex and all the weird things that I definitely didn't want to think about right now.

"Thinking about the future is so weird," I sighed, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

"Isn't it, though?" He tilted his head for a few seconds again, resting it on top of mine. "One day we're gonna' grow up and have to pay our own taxes and buy our own food and choose our own source of transportation and get actual jobs..."

"Speaking of jobs," I interrupted. "What ever happened with that place you interviewed at? For the comic, or whatever?"

Gerard shrugged, not meeting my eyes. "They found another artist with, like, way more professional experience than me. It's kind of hard to go into that business not knowing anyone or without professional experience, you know?"

"Yeah, I could see that." I frowned, feeling bad for bringing it up. "Sorry you didn't get the job. It really sounded like it could have worked out."

"Well, I'm kind of glad I didn't get it. They wanted me to come into the office and draw there, but it's a lot easier to do that stuff at home, and the hours they wanted me to come in are all right after you get out of school, so it would've left, like, no time for us, and that's not something I'm willing to sacrifice..."

I rolled my eyes as we approached his house, his arm falling from around my waist. "Dude. If you find a good job that pays actual money, go for it. Don't worry about me. I need to get a job, too, anyway."
Gerard shrugged, slightly. "Whatever. You know, it'd be cool to have a job in the same place. That way... Just, you know. We'd still be close."

I grinned at him. "That'd be fucking awesome! Like... I dunno, I can't draw, but tattoos are art, right? Working in a tattoo shop would be cool. You like art, I like tattoos. That could work."

Gerard shuddered a bit. "Needles scare the hell out of me, though."

I rolled my eyes as we walked up to his front door, and he fumbled in his pocket for his key.

"Really?" I asked. "Needles? So you don't like shots and stuff? That's lame."

He shuddered again. "I faint once every flu season, let's just leave it at that."

I arched my eyebrows at him. "Remind me to go with you, next time? I'll hold your hand if you want me to."

He smiled a little. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I couldn't imagine being scared of needles, though. I'm too sick too often to not be used to them, and I'm way too psyched about getting tattoos to be scared of them."

"Tattoos?" he chuckled, unlocking the door, letting me inside before him.

"Yeah!" I took the bag of candy from him and turned to sit it on the table- as soon as I turned around, though, he was there, freezing me in my tracks.

I blinked at how close he was.

"What type of tattoos?" he asked, tilting his head, really close.

"Uh- well. I don't know yet. I've had a few ideas, I guess... Like, something on my hands, like 'Halloween' across my fingers because of my birthday, maybe."

Before I really knew what was happening, my hands were in Gerard's, and he was raising one of them to his lips, tracing his mouth over my knuckles. "You have nice hands," he said, smiling slightly. "It's a shame they got all scraped up, I hope they get better soon. Hand tattoos would be... Well, they'd be really fucking attractive, actually. Anything else?"

"Well." I stared at him for a second, watching his lips as they continued to touch the skin on the back of my hand. "I've always kind of wanted 'keep the faith,' on my back."

"Why?" He moved his mouth away, but kept my hand in his. "You said it yourself, you're not religious."

"Exactly, though. As a big 'screw you' to religion. I've always seen it as me saying, 'I can have faith in what I want, it doesn't have to be your God.' And because of the Bon Jovi song, of course."

He smiled. "That seems very you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

I looked at him for a few seconds and tried not to jump when both of his hands were suddenly on my cheeks, his forehead pressed against mine.

He was way too close to me, and fuck, his head was tilting to one side.

I put my hands on his shoulders. "No."

He leaned back, slightly, blinking a few times. "Why not?"

My hands found his and I slowly peeled his fingers away from my face. "Sometime tonight, I promise, okay? Just. It's a fucking kiss, Gerard, that's something big. Give me a while. Okay?"

"Okay." He pulled his hands away from mine, going to my waist instead. "Are you sure, not now?"

"I'm sure."

He sighed a bit. "Okay... Okay."

I sighed, too. "Don't look upset. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I'm just... Eager, I guess."

"I know," I chuckled. "I can tell."

He moved away from me, in one fluid motion, and did a weird little half-wave, and I turned to see Mikey, mimicking the weird wave back at us.

"Hi," Mikey said, blinking a few times.

"Hi," Gerard echoed.

"Hey, kid."

Mikey rolled his eyes. "I'm not a kid."

"We brought you candy."

His face lit up. "Candy?"

"Yep." I had to restrain myself from saying "Totally a kid."

Gerard bumped my shoulder lightly with his, a very discreet form of saying, "How the hell do we get him out of here?"

I just kind of shrugged back, saying, "I'm tired."

Gerard decided that was a good enough excuse, I guess, and he took my hand almost instantly, starting to pull me out of the room. "Me too."

Mikey rolled his eyes, adjusting his glasses on his eyes. "I'm not an idiot, you could just ask me to leave, you guys."

Gerard ruffled Mikey's hair as we walked by. "It's fun to pretend like you still think kissing is sharing food, though."

I tried not to laugh too loud. "You used to think kissing was sharing food?"

Mikey was like five different shades of red. "I hate you both."

"You too, kid!"

Gerard just laughed at both of us, tugging me along with him.

"Are we actually going to bed?" I asked as soon as Mikey was out our earshot.

"Of course not."

"Oh. Okay. Good."

He raised an eyebrow at me, closing his bedroom door behind me. "You're not actually tied, are you?"

"Not at all."

He grinned. "Okay. That's good. I just wanna sit up and talk for a while."

I grinned, too. "Yeah. I guess. Don't forget I have school tomorrow, though."

He sighed, flopping down backwards onto his bed. "Don't remind me. What the hell am I supposed to do while your gone?"

"School work?" I suggested, sitting next to him on the bed. "Sleep? What do you normally do when I'm gone?"

"School work and sleep," he sighed. "It's so boring, though. I can't wait until summer, when you can stay home all day."

I nodded, laying back next to him, twisting onto my side and draping one arm across his chest. "Summer's going to be nice. Besides the whole burning in the heat, sunburn that never goes away thing."

He laughed, twisting his neck slightly to look at me. "Summer is going to be fucking awesome. We won't have to go anywhere-"
"Except for jobs."

"Yeah, except for that."

I nodded. "Yeah. And. Well. What about after summer? What then?"

His fingers brushed the side of my face, pushing my hair back. "Let's not worry about that, okay?"

"Okay."

He leaned over and touched his lips to my nose. "Stop worrying."

"I'm not worrying."

"Yes you are."

I sat up, away from him, and resisted the urge to rub my face. "I'm not worrying, I'm just trying to forget the fact that you're leaving next year."

He sat up, too. "I'm not leaving-"

"You're going to college," I said roughly. "You might as well be moving across the country."

"I'm not," he said, his tone matching mine. "I'm staying in state, I already told you. Right here. I won't be more than a few hours away at any given moment."

"A few hours away is too far for me," I told him. "I don't like not being near you."

"I know what you mean," he agreed, nodding. "It's..." His cheeks flushed a light shade of pink and I felt my heart skip at least five beats. "It's weird not being close to you."

I nodded, too.

"You look tired," he said, quietly.

I shrugged. "Just sitting down made me realize that I kind of am."

Gerard stood up and took my hands, pulling me up, too. "Come on, go change clothes so we can go to bed. You have school tomorrow."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't remind me."

---

When I came out of the bathroom, Gerard was sitting on the end of the bed in an old shirt and faded Batman pajama pants, smoking.

My eyes found the cigarette almost immediately. "Can I-"

"No."

I stared in surprise. He'd never denied me a cigarette before. "What? Wh- why?"

"I said no," he said, a little more roughly, running his hand through his hair.

I blinked a few times and he glared at me, and then something in his mind most have clicked into place, because his lips parted in shock at his own action.

"I- Oh." His face fell a bit and he looked between the cigarette and I. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I wasn't trying to be rude, I just-"

"It's okay," I said, sitting next to him, even though it was not okay at all. Gerard rarely got mad, and snapping at me like that was a little frightening. "I understand."

"No," he said, running his hand through his hair. "You don't. I'm sorry. I just- After all the future-talk and job-talk and- well, I need a cigarette, you know?"

"Yeah," I said quietly. "I know."

He brought the cigarette to his lips again. "I don't want to grow up," he said, "but I don't want to stay this age."

"Same here. And I don't want to be a little kid again, either..."

"Sometimes, I just..." He took a long drag from the cigarette, closing his eyes, rubbing his hand down his face. "I just don't like any of it, you know? Life. The only things good in it are music and cigarettes and alcohol and you."

"Alcohol?" I asked, blinking in surprise.

He didn't meet my eyes. "I haven't had a drink since I met you, okay?"

"You used to drink?"

"Well-"

"And you didn't tell me?"

He glanced at me. "Are you mad?"

"No. Just concerned... There's too much about you I don't know Gerard, and that's kind of scary sometimes... But, uh, you've stopped?"

"Yeah. I'd kind of waned myself off of it, and then when I met you, I guess I just kind of forgot about it..."

I stared at him. "Well."

He laughed a bit, looking across the room, away from me. "I'm a terrible influence. I shouldn't have told you that."

"You're not, and I'm glad you did. I'd prefer knowing than not knowing."

He stood up and crossed the room, putting the cigarette out, and came to sit next to me. "I had my first beer when I was fifteen."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He sat down next to me on the bed again. "First cigarette when I was fourteen... That sounds really terrible, doesn't it?"

"No. Just kind of sad."

Gerard sighed, tilting his head to rest it on my shoulder.

I shivered a bit, his touch doing something weird to my body, giving me a strange chill that I didn't understand.

"Are you cold?" he asked quietly, looking up at me.

"No."

He turned his head, pressing his lips against my neck. "Then why did you shiver?"

"I- I dunno... Just thinking, I guess."

His lips moved up on my neck and I shivered again, leaning into him as his mouth came to a rest on my jaw.

"Are you sure?" he said, near my ear.

I nodded vaguely, and he kissed right next to my ear, and I could hear his breathing, and I'm pretty sure that he could head mine, too, and his lips moved over my skin like butterfly wings.

"You're so warm," he said, sighing. "How are you always so warm?"

"I don't know, uhm-"

His lips were on my jaw again, soft, and I jerked away.

He looked at me for a long second. "Did I do something wrong?"

I took in a sharp breath and let out a shaky one. "No."

He just looked at me.

"You," I said, not knowing what else to say, looking everywhere but his eyes. "You're really warm, too." I looked around, not letting my eyes rest in one spot for too long, and never letting them catch his gaze.

"Yeah?"

"Y- yeah. And, uh, well."

He leaned over and kissed my jaw again, but I stopped him, turning to face him and placing my hands on his shoulders.

He blinked at me. "What?"

I stared at him for a second, making up my mind about something as he leaned forward, lips touching the tip of my nose.

"You should kiss me," I said suddenly, as he was leaning away.

He froze, a few inches from my face.

"What?"

"You," I said. "You should kiss me now."

He blinked a few times. "Are you sure?"

"Y- yes."

"Why now?"

I curled my fingers against his shoulders. "Because I'm done with Hell, Gerard, I want Heaven and you're the closest I'll ever get."

And so he kissed me.