Inseparable

On the side of the well-beaten sidewalk, outside a small country store with yellow and flickering bulbs, a headline glares up at the people passing by from a rack of local newspapers.

Bold and black and all around harsh, the front page proclaimes the unsafety of the town.

“Gas station destroyed and vandalized; Police say criminals are still at large.”

People walk past it, not giving the headline even a fraction of the attention it begs for. Everyone ignores it, except for one boy with a hood pulled far over his head. This boy glances at it, did a double take, shot quick glances over his shoulder before grabbing the paper and stuffing it inside his jacket.

Rain begins to pour from the clouds, slowly at first, the drops no bigger than a penny, and progressively it pours quicker and quicker and the drops increase in size, until heavy, cold, drops the size of a quarter are pounding relentlessly against the boy’s shivering frame.

His feet and the pavement are the most hypnotizing thing as he keeps his face and gaze directed downward. He can’t afford for someone to recognize him, especially not now, not with a stack of newspapers on the side of the street with a sketch artist’s rendition of his face plastered on them.

For a drawing based off of witness testimony, it’s scarily accurate. If someone were to compare his face and the sketch, they’d see it and say they’re the same person.

God fucking dammit.

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Kellin is curled happily around something warm. Emphasis on happily. He’s more than perfectly content in this moment.

That is, until the warm thing starts poking his cheek.

“Nooooooo,” Kellin whines, clinging to the warm thing like it’s the last lifejacket on a sinking boat.

“Yeeeeees,” The thing whines back in a mocking tone, poking Kellin’s face again.

He scowls and tries to bury his face in the warm thing.

“Dude, stop, that fucking tickles!”

Oh yeah. Frankie is here.

“You’re warm fucker, stay still and I’ll stop tickling you,” Kellin says, his voice muffled by Frank’s shirt.

Frank relents, falling still and curling himself back around Kellin.

“If someone were to walk in here right now, they’d think we’re very gay,” Frank muses.

“Well, we are very gay. Just not for each other. They probably wouldn’t understand that though, huh?” Kellin replies. Frank chuckles.

“No, probably not. We should maybe get up soon though. It’s like, two in the afternoon.”

“Well you’re really gay. And stupid. And gay.”

“Your insults suck ass when you’re tired.”

“Everyone’s insults suck ass when they’re tired. Stop holding me to impossible standards Frankie.”

“Never,” Frank declares as he pries Kellin off of him and wiggles his way down and off the bed.

“I fucking hate you. I’m cold now, you asshole,” Kellin groans. He gathers the blankets and pulls them close to his body, flopping onto his stomach and nuzzling his pillow.

“Poor baby. Get your ass up.”

With that statement, the blankets are yanked violently away from him. Kellin makes an inhuman noise in response, flailing his arms in the direction the blankets were taken.

“Up, assfuck, or I’ll tell Vic you already named your children.”

Kellin pushes himself up and off the bed, staring at Frank with wide eyes.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Frank laughs and bolts out of the room and down the stairs, Kellin on his heels.

“Oh, would you look at that! You’re up!” Frank cackles, collapsing against the kitchen counter where their chase had ended.

“Have I ever told you how much I hate you?” Kellin glowers, crossing his arms.

“Love you too. Pancakes?”

“...Sure.”

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Oli sits on a park bench, fiddling with his phone, trying to decide whether or not he wants to text Andy and tell him about this.

The newspaper sitting next to him is a little water damaged, but it isn’t anything truly significant. You can still read the print and see the picture that is so undoubtedly Oli. There is one of Vic next to him, and although it isn’t as obvious, the traits are similar enough that you can tell who it was.

To put it shortly, they are so, so fucked. Oli wonders how in the hell the cashier got a good enough view of either of their faces to describe them to a sketch artist. And there sre people that could identify them! Their teachers, their classmates, holy fuck.

He quit fiddling with his phone immediately and texts Andy, and then deciding better and texting the whole group.

To: All contacts in the group ‘Fucknuts’: Guys, we’re fucked. Like, hella fucked. Meet @ Vic’s?

Beeps indicating responses flood in within seconds, directions being exchanged and confirmations of Oli’s request causing the phone to make relentless noise.

Once the phone comes to a slow silence, Oli gathers all his strength and begins the slow trudge to Vic’s house.

For the first time that he can remember, Oli is genuinely scared.

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The room is silent. Painfully silent. Seriously, Gerard feels like the silence is wrapping its hands around his throat and slowly cutting off his air supply.

Oli and Vic’s sketches glare up at him, paired with the headline and article. Everyone in the room is visibly shaken, even Andy.

“Maybe... Maybe we just got too reckless.” Andy says at last, his voice hoarse and cracking, even more painful to hear than the silence.

“We have to do something. We can’t just sit here and let this boil. We gotta take the metaphorical pot off the stove and somehow get this shit to simmer,” Ashley says, leaning forward so he can get a little better view of the article.

“I… Yeah. I’ll think of something. For now, uh, everyone but Oli, Vic and Gerard can go. Sorry guys, I’ll let you know the details and shit in a bit,” Andy says.

The room empties slowly, Tony muttering things about driving the people who walked, people muttering back at him. Patrick throws one last glance behind his shoulder, looking downright terrified.

As soon as they’re all alone, Andy buries his face in his shaking hands.

“What are we going to do, what are we going to do?” Andy says. Gerard flinches, if he didn’t know better, he’d say Andy is crying.

“We can’t lose you guys. We fucking can’t. I won’t fucking stand for it. We have to do something, anything. I will literally sell my soul if it means you guys get to stay.”

Oli scoots forward and rests his head against Andy’s knee.

“I’m scared,” Oli whispers, hardly loud enough for everyone else to hear.

After a few moments and a couple shaky breaths, Andy replies: “Me too.”

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“Hey Frankie, you have to come look at this!” Kellin calls.

“What? What is it?” Frank replies, reappearing from the living room and coming into the kitchen where Kellin had decided the leftover pancakes from early in the morning are a good lunch item as well.

“Look,” Kellin says and thrusts the newspaper into his friend’s hands.

Frank’s face immediately loses all color. “Holy fucking shit.”

“Yeah. That’s Vic, and that’s that lanky shit that keeps trying to kill me with his eyes, right? Gerard’s friends?”

Frank nods and hands the paper back. “That’s definitely them. No doubt about it.”

“It says here that they robbed a gas station, and the police suspect that they were responsible for that jewelry store robbery a few weeks back, as well as some other things prior to that. Frank, what the fuck have you gotten yourself into with that boy?”

“Touché, motherfucker. Our boys are in that shit together. Should we do something?” Frank asks, shuffling his feet.

“I don’t fucking know. What could we possibly do?” Kellin says, setting the paper aside and sitting in one of the chairs situated at the table.

“Ask them, maybe? I have Gerard’s number,” Frank suggests.

“But then we’d be putting ourselves on the line too,” Kellin points out.

“And? Would you rather Vic and Oli got sent to prison, or that we put some shit on the line to make sure they’re okay, even if it’s only for a little bit?”

Kellin sighs and runs his hands through his hair.

“You should give Gerard a call.”

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The initial shock of Andy and Oli’s proclamation of fear has faded slightly when Gerard’s phone rings. Vic looks at him with a raised eyebrow when Gerard reads the caller ID.

“It’s Frank,” He says, his voice shaking.

“Answer it. Go over that way, we’ll be okay,” Vic says, gesturing towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, alright,” Gerard replies.

With a deep breath, he answers the phone.

“Hello?”

“Gerard? Hi, it’s Frank.”

“Hi,” Gerard says, shifting his weight awkwardly. His brain really isn’t functioning right now, how the fuck do you conversation?

“I’m just going to cut to the chase: Kellin and I saw the headline, and we want to help in any way we can.”

Gerard freezes.

“No, I can’t let you do that,” He says, his voice dropping any nervousness the second the words are out of Frank’s mouth.

“You’re funny. It’s kind of obvious you all are in a lot of shit right now, and going anywhere or with anyone with a criminal record will be the first place they look. Like fuck they’re going to check a couple teenagers that have completely clean record’s houses,” Frank says.

Gerard has to admit, he makes a compelling point. But he can’t do this, all he can think of is Andy and Juliet, and he doesn’t want that for Frank.

“I’m sorry, but I just. I can’t. I don’t want to risk you two getting caught up in all… this,” He says, making vague circle motions with his hands that he realizes Frank can’t see and feels like an idiot for making.

“You’re right, you can’t risk it. But we can. And we are willing.”

“Frank, no. This is... No. You’ll get hurt, both of you, I can’t have that. I don’t want to live with myself if something happens to either of you. Especially you,” Gerard replies, the last two words nearly being lost because of how softly Gerard says them.

“You keep saying if. There are a lot of probabilities, and even though it is important to think about the negative ones, Oli and Vic need help now. Kellin and I are willing to do anything we can.”

Gerard sighs heavily.

“I’ll talk to Andy. No promises anything will come of it though, okay?”

“Okay. Talk to you later?”

“Yeah. Bye Frankie.”

“Bye Gerard.”

With the dial tone buzzing in his ear, Gerard manages to hang up the phone and wanders back into the living room.

“So?” Vic prompts.

Gerard takes a deep breath. “Kellin and Frank want to help us.”

“What? No. No way,” Andy says.

“That’s what I told him, but he was pretty insistent. He says they’re willing to help in any way they can.”

“Wait. Hang on. I have an idea, sort of. Would they be willing to let Oli and I stay with them?” Vic says, leaning forward, eyes ablaze with a fragment of hope.

“I’d assume so,” Gerard replies.

“Perfect. So, Oli and I stay with either Kellin or Frank, maybe split us up and one stays with Kellin and the other with Frank, and we’re out of the public eye and shit. Get someone to hack into the school’s attendance system and mark us as present every day, and we’ll be in the clear.”

The room is silent for a few painstaking moments.

“I don’t want to do it, but it’s not like we have very many options,” Andy says at last. “Give him a call.”

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“Okay, so. Here’s the thing: Kellin and I usually stay together at one’s house. Our parents aren’t too spectacular at the parent thing, so we stay together and help each other out and shit. Does that work for you guys? It’ll be a little cramped, since there’s going to be four of us.”

A small group of people sat in the living room of Frank’s house, Vic and Oli with backpacks containing what they deemed necessary to have with them while they hide from the law. Andy is sitting next to Oli, looking, to put it bluntly, absolutely paranoid about everyone’s safety. Gerard and Frank are next to each other, legs touching, trying their best to focus on the matter at hand rather than each other. Kellin is in the floor (spread eagle like a weirdo) and Vic is sitting on the couch a few feet away from him, staring at him like he’s a new exhibit in the freak show. All around, tensions are high, unless you’re Kellin and have consumed more than twice your body weight in caffeine in the last few hours.

“Yeah, it’ll work. I don’t think we’ll have too much problem sharing space. We do it a lot anyway,” Oli replies.

“Do you think flowers have feelings?” Kellin asks from the floor, his gaze coming back into focus for a quarter of a second before fuzzing out again.

“Also, that. You have to deal with that. Please note, it does indeed get weirder,” Frank says, gesturing to Kellin.

“Fuck you, Frankie, I am a very normal person with very normal thoughts. I just happen to be concerned about the emotional welfare of daisies. How do they feel about being called weeds? Does it hurt them? Is it like bullying, but for flowers? Is that even a thing?”

“You’re a thing. I don’t fucking know Kellin, why don’t you go ask one?” Frank responds, rolling his eyes when Kellin raises his arm to flip him off.

“You’re racist Frank,” Kellin states bluntly.

“How the everlasting fuck am I racist?”

“You insulted the flowers. You’re fucking racist.”

“Okay, I’m done with you. Vic, Oli, if you come with me I can show you where we’ll be sleeping. It’s a bit of a mess, so apologies in advance,” Frank says, standing up from the couch.

The three leave, abandoning Andy and Gerard alone with Kellin.

“What do you think, Gerard? Do flowers have feelings?”

“Um... Yes?” Gerard says, confused as to whether or not there’s even a correct answer to begin with.

“You’re a good person. What about you, tall thing? Do flowers have feelings?”

“Flowers are stupid,” Andy replies. Kellin gasps.

“FRANK! FRANK COME HERE, THE TALL ONE WITH THE PRETTY EYES CALLED THE FLOWERS STUPID! FIX IT!” He yells at the top of his voice.

“NO,” Is all he receives in response.

“You all are lucky I have the attention span of a heavily caffeinated hamster,” Kellin says, scooching on his stomach until his hand can reach Andy’s shoe. From his new position, he plays with Andy’s shoelace, perfectly distracted by the simple thread.

“Have you ever stolen a car?” Kellin asks.

“Once,” Andy replies, glancing at Gerard.

“Was it fun?”

“I’m not going to answer that, because I have a feeling you’ll go and try to steal a car if I say yes.”

“Psssshh, why would I wanna steal a car? Cars are stupid and can kill people. Cars can kill many people. At once. Cars can kill many stupid people at once. Can I steal a car?” Kellin rambles, tugging on the shoelace idly.

“Why does Frank even let you have caffeine in the first place?” Gerard asks.

“He doesn’t,” Kellin says. “I sneak into the kitchen when he isn’t looking and down a whole bunch. Apparently it’s not a nice thing to do, but I do it anyway.”

“Sorry guys, is he bothering you?” Frank says, reappearing with Vic and Oli close behind him.

“Not really,” Andy says. “He’s kind of entertaining. Like a small, hyperactive kitten.”

“Screw you pretty eyes, I am not a kitten. I’m a motherfucking tiger. Roar, bitch,” Kellin says, smacking Andy’s shoe a couple times, as if that will punctuate his point.

“Okie doke Kells, whatever you say. C’mon, up. You have to release Andy’s shoe so he can go be illegal and shit,” Frank says, walking around the couch and picking up Kellin’s arm and tugging it upward.

“Nooooo. I like this shoe. It’s a good shoe.”

“You’re weird as fuck. That’s it, I’m cutting you off from caffeine forever if you don’t get up right now.”

Kellin scrambles to his feet. “Can I keep the caffeine now?”

“No. I lied. Quick, Andy, get out of here now before he reattaches himself to your shoe!” Frank says, jumping on Kellin and holding him back just long enough for Andy to duck out the door. Gerard chooses to hang back so he can say goodbye to Frank.

Kellin fake sniffles and punches in the general direction of Frank’s arm. “You’re a meanie beanie. That was an amazing shoe.”

“Uh huh, cool. Why don’t you go show Oli and Vic the rest of the house?” Frank suggests, widening his eyes and trying to communicate to Kellin with a look that he wants to talk to Gerard, preferably alone.

A grin races its way across Kellin’s face, comprehension flooding with it. “Okay!” he says, gesturing wildly and talking about stairs as he leads Vic and Oli upstairs to show them the rest of this house.

“Hi,” Gerard breathes after a moment.

“Hi,” Frank smiles back.

Like a fucking otherworldly force, they aren’t even aware that they’re holding each other until the act is already committed, Frank encased tightly in Gerard’s arms, one of Gerard’s hands at the back of Frank’s skull, the other tight around his waist, keeping him as close as he possibly can. Frank is holding on to Gerard just as hard, like if he lets go, they’ll float away.

“How do we always end up holding each other like this?” Gerard asks, his voice muffled because of how he’s got his face pressed into Frank’s neck.

“Damned if I know. I’m not complaining though, definitely not complaining,” Frank says, pulling Gerard impossibly closer to him and sighing happily.

“I should get going,” Gerard whispers after a long while.

“I want you to stay.”

“I know. And I want to stay. I want to stay forever. But I can’t. Andy’s probably freaking out already.”

“Stay safe, please,” Frank says after they’ve pried themselves apart.

“I will. I promise,” Gerard says, running his hand affectionately down the side of Frank’s face. Frank absentmindedly leans into Gerard’s touch.

“Bye, Frankie,” Gerard whispers.

“Bye Gee.”

And with nothing more than a quick kiss on the lips, Gerard is out the door and gone.
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