Folie a Deux

Hi everyone! Sorry this chapter is extremely, obnoxiously short, and I'm sorry that it took me so long to get published. There's been a lot going on, between my temporary homeschooling (because I still have that mono-like virus,) the holidays (happy early holidays, everyone!) and the Fall Out Boy concert I went to. (Six bands played, including FOB; and, oh, did I mention that my girlfriend and I met up in the bathroom and I totally had my first kiss and she is totally the cutest thing in the entire fucking world? Yeah. That happened too.) Between all of this, though, I've also been struggling a lot with depression and such (bleh) so everything has just been slow and rough and confusing. However, I have decided to do something special for you guys, since I've been neglecting both you and the story (I know at one point I mentioned posting a teaser for a story idea I'm working on, but that might have to wait, sorry):

I've decided to start an ask.fm (which is a website where you can make a profile and others can ask anonymous questions) from Folie!Frank and Folie!Gerard's point of view! Anything you ask on that account will be answered in character, unless stated otherwise with the standard OOC// (Out Of Character) thing. This way, we can keep the story going even when I'm taking forever to post, haha! You won't have to follow the ask.fm to keep up with the story,it'll just kind of be like an extended experience, I guess, but if something happens on the ask.fm account that I really like, I might try to squish it into the actual plot of Folie somehow, so keep the questions interesting and you might just see something you brought up in the actual story itself! The ask.fm account is ask.fm/frerardadeux (and my personal ask.fm is ask.fm/capillarystatic.)

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! Sorry again for the delayed update / short chapter! I really hope the ask.fm makes up for it haha.

P.S. I absolutely hate this chapter, like, with a passion. I think it's the worse one so far, so if you think the same, I totally understand haha.

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It hit me like a ton of bricks in the chest.

"What?"

He hugged me tighter. "I kissed Pete," he whispered.

I didn't know what to do.

I didn't know what to feel or what to think or how to react; in theory, I should've immediately been upset with him. I should have shoved him away and yelled and gotten upset and cried.

He kissed Pete.

But I wasn't upset, I couldn't be upset with him.

I mean, I'd hurt him, hadn't I?

I almost felt like I deserved this.

He'd been honest with me, he'd told me that he loved me, but I had been too much of a coward to admit that I loved him, too, and then when he needed me, I wasn't there. I deserved this.

I didn't know exactly what to do.

"I'm sorry," he told me.

"We should-" I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut, pressing my lips against his hair. "Fuck, Frank... We need to talk about this, I-"

His fingers curled against my shirt, digging against my skin. I was sure my hips would be bruised in the morning but for some reason, I didn't mind.

"If you're going to break up with me," he said, trembling. "Just go ahead and fucking do it."

I froze. "What?"

He tore away from me, wrapping his arms instantly around himself. "I don't want Pete," he said, his voice shaky. "I want you, Gerard, okay? But if you- if you don't trust me, or- just, oh fuck, I know I screwed up, okay? I know I screwed up, I know I'm an idiot. Don't make this worse than it has to be. Just do it already."

I stared at him. "I'm not going to break up with you, Frank..."

He was looking at the ground. "Promise?"

"I promise."

"Swear?"

"I swear, Frank." I put my hand on his elbow and tugged him gently inside. "Ma," I said as we walked past the living room. "Frank's here, we'll be in my room, okay?"

She looked at me for a long moment, and then at Frank, who was turned away, staring down the hall; then she nodded, slowly. "Okay. Dinner will be ready at six..."

I just nodded and followed Frank to my room. He let me go in first, closing the door softly behind him.

"I'm sorry," he said, "That I refused to see you, earlier today. I know that was shitty of me. I was just... Upset."

I sat on my bed and he gazed around the room, leaning on my door, like he expected something to have drastically changed since yesterday.

"I thought that I had ruined everything," I told him. "I thought you were going to leave me, like, for good."

The seemingly permanent pile of blankets was still sitting on my floor, and he walked over, sitting in the pile, tugging a blanket to cover his legs, even though my room wasn't cold and it was hot outside.

"May I join you?" I asked, quietly.

He nodded, moving over a bit, and I moved down to sit next to him. We leaned our backs against my bed and I rested my head on his shoulder.

"Are you angry?" he asked, tilting his head to rest it on top of mine. "That I kissed Pete, I mean?"

I closed my eyes, sighing, breathing him in. "Honestly?"

"Honestly..."

"Honestly I'm not as angry as I should be. Upset, annoyed, hurt, yeah; but I'm not mad at you. I was- I was half-expecting something betweeen you and Pete to happen eventually, anyway."

Frank turned slightly, shifting his shoulder until I lifted my head off of it. For a second, I just looked at him.

He kissed me, soft and quick, eyes open.

I stared at him when it was over, and then kissed him back, slow and long and desperate, eyes shut, my palms and fingers on his cheeks.

He sighed. "I'm sorry," he said, soft. "I don't want you to hurt over this."

"It's more of a... Like, a weight, or something."

"A weight?"
"Like everything in my chest got all heavy, all at once."

I let my hands fall away from his face.

"I talked it out with him," Frank told me, quietly. "He knows it didn't mean anything, he knows it was a one-time-only-thing. He knows why I let him do it."

I chewed slightly at my lip. "Why did you let him do it?"
He rested his head against the side of my bed. "Pete had a girlfriend when he was, like, fourteen, right?"

"Okay..."

"She killed herself."

I stared at him.

"And, he said- he told me, he was... He tried, y'know? Pills."

My chest tightened up. Pete? Happy, kind, energetic Pete? Suicidal? It didn't make sense. "Oh, god..."

Frank sighed. "Yeah, exactly. It gets-" He laughed, faintly. "It gets fucking worse, too. I was his reason for not trying again."

"You?"

Frank nodded. "Pete told me, he said- well, I told him about how I told you that I love you, and about how you didn't say it back, and- and he just kind of said, 'just because he didn't say it, doesn't mean that he doesn't feel it, y'know?'"

I nodded. I did know; I knew far too well exactly what he meant.

"And he basically told me that, like, back in freshman year when he met me, he- he 'fell for me' or whatever." Frank made air quotes with his fingers when he said 'fell for me' and I tried not to laugh.

"Yeah?"

Frank nodded. "And, he said, like- he said, I became his reason for not killing himself. And he said, 'if you weren't with Gerard, would you let me kiss you?' And, I mean- Of course the answer to that was yes. But then he asked if I would let him kiss me, right then. Knowing that you might love me, even though you didn't vocalize it."

"And you said yes?"

Frank closed his eyes. I watched him swallow a breath of air, the small lump in his throat rising and falling. He still had on the Misfits shirt. "I told him no, but then- I dunno."

"You changed your mind?"

Frank opened his eyes again, stared at the ceiling. "I told him that I would close my eyes, and for ten seconds, I would pretend like no one else existed except me and him. He could've done anything, said anything, in those ten seconds. He used the ten seconds to kiss me."

I nodded, leaning my head against the bed, too. I wrapped my arm around his shoulders.

"I'm not angry," I said quietly. "I'm- I'm disappointed as hell, but- I deserved that, I guess."

Frank glanced at me. "I didn't let Pete kiss me to punish you for anything, Gerard. I let him kiss me because I felt like I owed him at least that much."

"You didn't 'owe' him anything, Frank, you-"

"He loves me," Frank said, looking sharply away. "Everyone fucking deserves a chance at requited love, okay? I owed it to him. He should know what it feels like."

I was left staring at the back of his head for the millionth time as he stared away.

"You let Pete kiss you so he wouldn't-"

"So he wouldn't have to feel as hurt as I do," Frank said, quietly. "He knows I can't love him but at least he knows the reason behind it and has gotten a taste of what it could've been like."

I flinched at that. "Frank..."

He sighed. "Don't even try, Gerard. Don't try to be the hero. Just..." He turned around, hugged me, pressed his face against my neck. "Just let me hurt on my own for once, okay? Don't force any of your bullshit on me. Just let me sort out the emotions on my own."

I hugged him back. "I don't want you to ever feel hurt, though," I sighed.

"Why not?"

I kissed the top of his head, strands of his hair sticking to my lips. "Would you want me to hurt?"

"No. Of course not."

"Exactly."

"Love me," he said, his nose brushing the skin of my neck, "And maybe I would stop hurting."

We sat in silence for a moment and I wondered if I was reacting to this correctly.

Shouldn't I be angry? My boyfriend kissed someone besides me. Shouldn't that piss me off? Upset me? Spark some sort of emotion other than slight disappointment?

I understood, though. I understood his logic. He didn't want to hurt Pete as badly as I had hurt him. He had to do at least something to try and mend the wound.

I moved my hands to Frank's face, tilting his chin up. He blinked at me a few times and I sighed.

Frank's wounds hadn't been mended yet. I'd hurt him and I'd done absolutely nothing to try and fix it.

I kissed him, softly. "You're so pretty," I told him, under my breath.

His honey-hazel eyes closed, my breath against his cheek. "Boys aren't supposed to be pretty," he said, like it was a known fact and I was an idiot.

"You're beautiful, then."

He opened his eyes and kissed me on the forehead, his fingers touching my hair. "I love you," he said.

I kissed his jaw. "I know you do."

He paused, humming lightly when I kissed his neck, fingers curling tighter into my hair. "Still not saying it back, huh?"

I pressed my nose against his collar bone, wanting to change the subject. "You smell good. Like dirt and nicotine."

He laughed, putting his hands on my face and making me look at him. "You're such a freak," he told me, seriously but with a smile. "But I kind of like it." Then he kissed me on the lips, eyes closed.

"Eventually," I said, my lips parting from his. I tilted my face and his eyelashes brushed ever-so-softly against my cheek. "I'll say it eventually."

His fingers were playing with the hem at the bottom of my shirt and I wondered where his sudden confidence was coming from.

"How soon is eventually?"

"Soon enough." I kissed him again; open mouthed, sloppily. I loved him and I was scared but his lips were warm and safe and felt like home.

His fingers were slipping up my shirt, skimming across my skin. "You're a bitch," he said, voice low, barely breaking the kiss. Something about his tone told me that he wasn't joking.

I laughed at it anyway, pulling away, resting my forehead against his. He was hot when he was pissed off. "But I'm your bitch and you know you like it."

"You're right, I do." He smiled just barely, like it was forced, pressing his face against my neck.

"My little brother is right across the hall," I reminded him, all ten of his fingers pressed flat against my stomach, warm against my skin.

He mouth was pressed against my neck, and it didn't seem like he had any intentions of moving away from that spot. "Are you suggesting that you being my bitch is a sexual statement?"

I closed my eyes. "If you give me a hickey, Frank Iero-"

"Who the fuck is going to stop me, Gerard Way?"

I hummed, considering. I wouldn't stop him, that's for sure. He could have one hand halfway down my pants and I wouldn't stop him.

"Sleep with me tonight?"

He paused, leaning back, raising his eyebrows at me.

I rolled my eyes. "As in sleep in the same bed as me, you perverted shit."

He laughed, high pitched and cute; his voice still kind of annoyed sounding, though. "Of course I'll sleep with you."

"Really? How much do you charge?"

Before I was even finished with the sentence Frank was kissing me and I was falling sideways into the pile of blankets. Frank grabbed my shirt and pulled, rolling us over completely; first so he was on his back, and then so that he had me pinned down. It was hot and his skin was warm and I was sharply aware of my shirt sticking to my skin.

He was kissing me again.

"Where did all of this sudden confidence come from?" I asked, my breath hitching in my throat.

He was tracing kisses down my neck. "I don't know," he said. His skin was setting mine on fire. "But there is something I really want right now, that you could give me..." His voice was low and hushed and teasing and it was beautiful.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. He was moving his lips sloppily across my collar bones, his hands were flush against my hips. He could have asked me to do anything in the world right then and I would have willingly given in. "Yeah? What would that be?"

"A cigarette."

I paused and then laughed, looking at him and raising an eyebrow as he sat up. "And what makes you think that I'm going to share my cigarettes with you?"

"You're going to share your cigarettes with me," he said, sitting in the center of the pile of blankets and looking at me, "Because you owe me."

"What, exactly, do I owe you?" I asked, sitting up, supporting myself with my elbows.

"You owe me everything, Gerard Way." He leaned over and his fingers were on my face and he was kissing me, slowly, angrily, like he had a point to prove.

Part of me wondered if I should be the angry one- he had gone behind my back and kissed a boy who wasn't me. The other half of me felt like I deserved his attitude, though. I loved him and I knew it but I had just been too much of a coward to say it, and now that I want to say it, I had no idea how to.

He sat back up again and I closed my eyes, flopping onto my back. I could barely breathe and I wanted the smoke to make it worse and I wanted Frank to kiss me until I passed out. I wanted to smother myself in him. "Left pocket," I said, quietly, because he was right. I owed him everything. I'd hurt him, so impossibly much, I didn't know how or if I could ever make it up to him.

I didn't feel his fingers as he slipped the pack of cigarettes out of my pocket.

"Lighter?"

I fished it out of my back pocket, holding it out to him already lit. He put the cigarette between his lips and leaned forward again, letting me do the work for him.

I watched as he closed his eyes, breathing in deep, cigarette between his lips and fingers.

"Frank?" I said, softly. "Can I-"

He passed the cigarette and I took a long drag from it, enjoying the sting in my lungs, but he took it back before I could get my fill.

The cigarette was between his lips and the way he smiled made it look like he was kissing it.

I stared at him, watching him smoke. "Unbelievable," I said, quietly.

He raised his eyebrows, removing the pre-packaged cancer in question from between his lips. "What?"

"I'm jealous of a cigarette."

He grinned, holding it between two fingers, placing it slowly between those butterfly lips of his. He was kissing suicide and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

"You're gorgeous," I told him. "You're the most gorgeous boy in the whole wide world."

There was a short silence that consisted of him smoking and me just staring at him.

"Would you fuck me?" he asked suddenly.

I felt my eyebrows raise. "What?"

"Would you," he paused, touched the cigarette to his lips briefly, "Fuck me?"

I blinked a few times in quick succession. "Honestly, I'd rather you fuck me."

He laughed, just barely, one side of his smile raising higher than the other. "It's kind of funny," he said. "How this relationship started with me crying in your lap because I was confused about my sexuality and you telling me stories about how you got so confident with yours. It started with you making all the first moves and stuff."

"Why is that funny?"

"Because I ended up saying 'I love you' first and now you're the one too scared to say it back."

I looked away, because he was right.

"You do though, don't you?"

I glanced at him.

He nodded, taking a long drag from the cigarette, and then leaned over to smush it into the ashtray on my bedside table. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

"I didn't say that I don't," I said.

"Then if you do," he snapped, "Fucking say it already. Either that or just... Just stay away from me. Please. It'll be easier."

I sighed. "Frank, you can't just-"

"Trust you? To care about me?"

I sat up. "You can trust me," I insisted.

"Then tell me you love me."

I kissed him. "I love you."

His fingers were in my hair. "You mean it?"

I kissed him again, soft and half-there and unsure and terrified. "I love you. I mean it."

"I love you, too."

I leaned in to kiss him again, but he arched away sharply.

"I have to pee," he informed me, standing up.

I laughed, smiling. "Go, then. I'll miss you."

He kind of smiled as he walked to the door, dorky and still cute and sad, like he wasn't sure if he believed that I really loved him, or not. "Yeah. I'll miss you, too."