Phantom & Venom

“I’d almost forgotten your name,” He confesses, sitting cross-legged in front of the younger man, voice low and soft, “It’s been so long”

The younger man looks down, but Gerard just smiles sheepishly,
“I repeat it everyday, a thousand times or more in my head- your name. I never want to forget you, Frankie. I wont, I refuse to.”

“You know we shouldn’t speak of names, Poison.” He looks up, eyes connecting with the red-haired beauty before him, voice dry.

“Please,” The elder wants to beg, but keeps his voice soft and low, straining to keep his tone even, “show me you haven’t forgotten.”

“It’s forbidden, Poison; all of this,” He waves his hand around slightly to emphasize his point, “We shouldn’t be here, alone- what if someone finds us? Wha-”

“Then let them find us, Frankie! Let them kill me stone dead, let them erase the rest of who I am before I forget it for myself” A tear falls silently down Gerard’s cheek, and he finally looks away from his love, to the ground beneath them.

“‘Party Poison’; that is who you are,” Frank reasons, trying to push all taboo emotions away.

“That is who they want me to be,” He corrects, softly, as if doubting his own voice.

A gentle shuffle is heard, and Gerard soon feels the breath of another close to his face, but still doesn’t look up.

Another tear escapes Gerard’s brilliant-hazel sadness-filled eyes, and a hand is placed under his chin, fingers tenderly splayed along his jaw and cheek. A kiss is placed to his sun-chapped lips, barely audible words spoken,
“I still love you, Gerard.”

Squeezing his eyes closed tightly, Gerard shakes his head gently,
“Then kill me, Frankie, kill me before they kill us both” A soft whimper and sob leaves his throat, jolting his body into movement.

“I couldn’t live without you, Gee, you know that as much as I do. But this cant happen, as much as I want it, it cant”

Gerard shakes his head again, finally opening his eyes, so close to the other that his vision is blurred.
“I can’t, will not, live if I am not allowed to be happy.”

“What about Star and Kobra, Poison? What about them?” Frank asks, almost pleading.

Gerard wants to shout at the younger, more beautiful man for calling him Poison again, but lets it go for fear of pushing him away even further. He moves back slightly, letting his eyes focus once again.
“I’d forgotten their names long ago, Ghoul” Standing, Gerard kicks at the floor, taking in the four walls of the small, dark room.

“Your brother?! How could you forget, Gerard?!” Frank stays sitting, not trusting his legs to let him stand without falling.

Turning to look at Frank, Gerard gives a hoarse, wry laugh,
“I don’t love them, Frank. Not like I use to. Not like I love you. It’s not sanctioned, but I can’t let go of you, Frank. I neglect to even try.”

Frank is speechless, or not exactly speechless, he just doesn’t know how to make sense of the situation or what he’s feeling.

Gerard, who had turned to pace the small space they occupied, suddenly turned to Frank, speaking quietly, but still sounding a little shocked,
“You called me ‘Gerard’”

Frank nods and looks down again,
“I’m only human.”

The redhead kneels down in front of the tattooed man, entwining his fingers into the knotted mess of dark hair that belonged to the other, resting their foreheads together,
“Frank Anthony Iero Jr,” Gerard’s speaks in a slow, soothing whisper, “born on the thirty-first of October, nineteen-eighty-one, Belleville, New Jersey. You have a tattoo of two swallows between your hips, either side of ‘and’ from your ‘search and destroy’ tattoo- one with a stripe over the eyes, the other with a cross. You’re addicted to Skittles, and you still smoke too much. You like, well, ‘like’ is an understatement, but never mind, coffee and miss ‘Pansy’- your Les Paul guitar . Frank, I still know who you are.”
Truth be told, Gerard remembered more about Frank than he did about himself.

Gerard, himself, is slightly surprised at what he’d just recited; but not nearly as much as Frank is, after all, Gerard had been telling himself these things, among others, every single day since being forced out into the desert.

Frank had almost forgotten most of this information; it wasn’t necessary- pretty much useless, trivial stuff. But Gerard knew it, and that suddenly made it important.
“‘Gerard and Frank’” Frank talks quietly, his eyes closed gently, remembering the day he’d gotten the ink done, “That’s what the tattoo is, ‘Gerard and Frank’. The bird, with the band over its eye is you, back when we were making music. I can’t really remember when that was, but that’s what you used to do for our shows- paint a band over your eyes. And then, the bird with the cross, that’s me, when I’d draw the ‘X’s on with your eyeliner that I’d stolen. When I was getting it done, I couldn’t help but smile like an idiot; I couldn’t wait to show you, but I was also nervous as hell.
It was the perfect place to put them, either side of ‘and’- it was a show of our friendship, our deep connection that everyone could tell we had, but also, my secret love for you; back when I was just as terrified of love as I am right now”

No more words needed to be said, instead, with his eyes still closed, Frank gently nudged Gerard’s nose with his own, making them both smile like lovesick fools before (and while) their lips met in a simple kiss that took them back to when they were younger- when they were rockstars and they’d share a hotel room with two beds, but only one was used, when Gerard had to hide out in Starbucks whenever Frank was getting inked, when lay-ins were the best thing ever (and not getting your ration of cigarettes) and the world wasn’t falling apart around them.

Pulling away, both were still smiling, their hands finding the other’s and lacing their fingers together before Gerard spoke,
“Do you remember the name of our band?” He asked quietly, frowning ever so slightly.

“You don’t?”

“No,” Shaking his head, Gerard looks down, ashamed that he’d forgotten something that had been such a big part of their lives.

“My Chemical Romance” Frank smiled slightly; this was what he did to try and keep what was left of his sanity- he remembered. Everything he could, he’d reminisce.

Gerard looked to Frank with doe eyes, silently pleading for him to continue. To Gerard, it felt as if whatever Frank had to say was the most exciting thing in the world.

“Mikey came up with the name- found it somewhere in the bookstore he was working in, I think,” Frank furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, trying to remember if that was as correct as he thought.

Gerard, however, looked completely lost; like he’d knocked his head and had amnesia, and now somebody was telling him about his life, just waiting for it all to be remembered.

“Kobra, Gerard, Kobra Kid- he’s Mikey, your brother,” Frank looked at the older man sympathetically, not knowing who to feel more sorry for- Mikey, for having his brother forget him, or Gerard, for forgetting his own baby brother.

Gerard closed his eyes and let out a sigh, trying his best to remember.
“When we were making music,” He spoke thoughtfully, eyes scrunched shut “he’d play something.. He’d never sing..”

Frank nodded, even though he knew Gerard couldn’t see him, a small smile gracing his lips once again.
“Do you remember what he played, Gee?”

“You had Pansy,” Gerard was confident at that, “..and, Star.. He played guitar, too, you and Star use to sing backing vocals and..” Gerard trailed off, getting frustrated with himself for not remembering.

But that’s what happens when you don’t think about something often enough; you forget it. Like your favourite toy when you were a child, you tend to forget what it was as you grow older, along with forgetting many other things.

Gerard shook his head, he could see them playing a show, he looked around him; seeing Star and Frankie on either side, and then Kobra, he saw him, too, slightly to the back, but he couldn’t for the life of him see what he was playing.
“No, Frankie, I can’t,” He sounded so broken and fragile, like he’d just breakdown at any given moment.

Frank pulled him into his arms properly, kissing the top of his head lightly, his warm breath becoming lost in the vibrant red of Gerard’s tousled hair.
“Bass, Gee. Mikey played bass.”

Nodding a little, Gerard sniffled, his voice a tiny bit croaky,
“I’m sorry.”

Frank hushed the man in his arms,
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Gee. We’ve been out here so long, I’m surprised that we even remember our own names, let alone others.”