All We Need Is Daylight

Frank wakes up early Saturday morning. Far too early for a weekend, but just plain old early in general. It’s because Frank’s got a plan for today.

His plan involves a whole lot of Gerard. Frank didn’t catch what time Gerard said he’d actually like for Frank to come over, so Frank spends something like four hours pacing around the dorm trying to convince himself that he can go over to Gerard’s apartment now. The timing is all wrong every time he checks his watch. Also, time moves so slowly that Frank genuinely has to check three clocks to confirm that he’s reading it correctly. The minutes are going by at about an hour each, and he genuinely feels his own heart beating faster every single time that he does see the minute hand go past twelve, because it means he’s all the closer to seeing Gerard.

Frank has never actually spent any one-on-one time with Gerard, not really. He’s been alone with him in Gerard and Coach’s office, but that doesn’t really count because they were still technically in public, given that the office isn’t solely Gerard’s. They’ve been alone in the ice rink which also doesn’t count because there’s floor to ceiling windows in most of the lobby. He went out to breakfast with Gerard the first week he was here, but there were dozens of couples all eating in close proximity to him. Except they were all real couples instead of the couple that Frank wishes he and Gerard were.

Frank has thus far never been alone with Gerard, really alone, for much more than about ten minutes. It’s not like Frank is expecting anything to happen. He’s not expecting to walk straight into a porno, or to even get very close to Gerard, but it will still be the closest the two of them have ever been to each other, and that is good enough for Frank. Frank really wishes he were going over to Gerard’s place to have way more coupley fun, mostly just kissing and watching Netflix, with or without the chill part, he’s flexible.

It’s about ten when Frank decides that he has done enough waiting, and he makes his way out of the building. Frank makes it all of about ten feet before he realizes that he doesn’t know where he’s going and that he left his phone in his room.

Frank walks all the way back, sees Ray who is sitting upside down trying to read a textbook, but it’s not working very well for him. If his head gets about an inch closer to the ground, he could probably use his hair to sweep the floor below him. Frank crooks his head to the side a little bit, as much as he can so that his head is at the same angle as Ray’s without falling over.

“How’s it going?” Frank asks, as he searches his bedsheets for where he left his phone. He doesn’t actually remember having it on him at all today, which is a first for Frank. Frank is very used to having his entire life dictated by his phone, and it feels weird realizing that he hasn’t had it now for almost four hours of the day. He doesn’t know how on earth he was capable of functioning without it, Frank was sure that he would die if he ever didn’t have his phone on him, but he supposes that the power of merely imagining Gerard’s presence is enough to flip Frank’s whole world upside down, much like Ray is right now. That and the fact that someone had Property Brothers playing on the TV which kept Frank occupied for more time than he would care to own up to. Property Brothers and Gerard would be a deadly combination.

“Oh you know, just hanging out,” Ray replies, and Frank nods, which really messes with Ray’s center of gravity, and he, very gracefully, falls from his spot onto the floor. Luckily though, his hair breaks most of the fall. It does nothing for his ego though.

“I’d give it a 9, the landing could have been much more majestic,” Frank says, shaking his head as he finally gets his hand around his phone, which somehow wound its way under his pillow.

“Oh man, don’t know if I can study anymore,” Ray says, rubbing at his head as he turns himself around to sit upright on the floor.

“Yeah, you probably got a concussion, it was a long fall down,” Frank says, playing along, because Ray is clearly just trying to find an excuse to stop studying.

“Yeah, I’ll probably need surgery and six months’ rest.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Frank says, nodding.

“Well, now that I can’t study anymore, do you want to hang? Except maybe not upside down,” Ray asks.

“Can’t, I’m going over to Gerard’s place and he’s going to lend me like three million comics, give or take.”

“Oh,” Ray says, “I’ll just go hang out with Mikey then.”

“The lesser Way,” Frank says, joking.

“Well, you win some you lose some,” Ray jokes with a shrug. Frank rolls his eyes and then heads back out the door again. He reaches into his jacket pocket for where he put the lawn trimming brochure that Gerard wrote his address on, then consults Siri. Frank huffs, because the walk to his apartment is about fifteen minutes away and the weather outside is officially cold. Yesterday it had been cold in sheep’s clothing, but today, it’s just plain old cold. Frank stuffs his free hand into his pocket, and makes his way down the sidewalk, passing several students on his way.

Frank makes a grumpy face when he passes a couple, a straight couple of course, holding hands. Frank would love to be a couple who holds hands down the sidewalk at ten in the morning, but he doesn’t get that luxury. It’s not just because he doesn’t have a boyfriend, it’s because even if he did, he’d get stoned to death by his teammates for having a boyfriend in the first place. Well, maybe not stoned to death, but probably have his clothes stolen from his locker, his equipment sabotaged, pushed to the ground enough times that he’d start to bruise, and a whole assortment of other things that would eventually force him to quit, if they don’t demand that of him outright.

On that positive note, Frank sticks his headphones in and passes the rest of the walk to the apartment listening to Adele, because Adele is nice Saturday morning kind of music, whereas death metal is a bit on the heavy side for someone who’s only been awake a few hours. You have to have at least eaten lunch before you can crack out the death metal.

Frank makes his way to Gerard’s apartment, and when he finds it, he stares at the rather unintimidating height for several seconds before he actually walks up to the building. He looks at the windows, trying to determine how tall the building is, and concluding that it’s somewhere around five stories, which isn’t very tall, but it’s a small town, so it’s probably sufficient.

Frank takes a couple of deep breaths, he’s far too nervous for a guy who’s hanging out with a guy to talk about comic books. Frank can’t help it if he has a wild imagination. Yes, he knows he’s going up there to talk about comics and have an unrequited swooning session, but in his dreams, Frank is stepping right into an adult film.

Frank looks at the brochure again to find the apartment number and then presses the correct button for Gerard’s apartment, feeling really weird about needing to be buzzed in to visit him, because Frank’s always lived in a house. He purses his lips when it takes Gerard a moment to respond. Frank feels uncomfortable, standing on the sidewalk, in relative silence as cars pass behind him. There’s only a few people out and about here, because Frank’s a few minutes off campus, but most of the apartments seem to be occupied by students anyway, if the giant Green Knights logo in one of the windows says anything. It’s obviously not for the hockey team, it’s just that all the sports teams have the same name.

After a minute or two, Gerard’s voice fills the air, rather boxy and distorted, but it’s Gerard’s voice nonetheless, so Frank smiles at the sound of it. Gerard buzzes him without small talk, saving that for when he actually sees Frank. Frank makes quick work of the stairs, rushing up them two at a time, really frightening an old lady on his way. By the time, he steps onto the correct landing, he realizes it didn’t take as long as it should have to get here. Frank doesn’t want to give Gerard the impression that he’s super eager, so he paces the hallway outside of Gerard’s door for a minute or two, trying to make it seem like he didn’t run up the stairs as quick as he could at the mere prospect of seeing Gerard.

Eventually, though, Frank settles with the fact that he’s going to have to knock on the door. He doesn’t know why, but now that he’s here, he’s not sure if he wants to be. He’s excited to see Gerard, unbelievably excited, more than he could say, but at the same time, he’s a wreck of nerves. He’s terrified of doing or saying something wrong around Gerard. He’s also wary of being so close to Gerard when he can’t have him. Frank is a little worried about his own instincts when he’s around the guy, it takes all of his heart to prevent him from kissing Gerard every time he sees him. It takes a huge part of him to even look away from Gerard when their eyes meet. Gerard really tears him apart, breaks him into tiny little pieces. It’s a very painful feeling, but it’s one Frank is addicted to. He kind of likes it.

Frank knocks on the door, feeling his pulse in every part of his body, from his ears to his feet somehow. It’s quicker than normal, but steadier than it had been previously today, and he doesn’t know why. Mostly, Frank thinks it’s because he’s not waiting to see Gerard anymore, he’s going to actually see him any second now.

Gerard comes to the door a mere second or two after Frank knocked, which makes Frank have an instant feeling of regret when he notices that Gerard has a peep hole. What if Gerard had been stood staring through the peephole ever since he buzzed Frank in? It’s entirely possible that Gerard just watched Frank pace outside of his door for three minutes.

Frank’s worry isn’t unfounded. Gerard had been waiting on the other side of the door, staring through the peephole, waiting to see Frank for the first time. He hadn’t intended to be creepy, he just wanted to get the initial aching of his heart out of the way so he wouldn’t accidentally whimper when he opened the door for Frank. Gerard can’t rationalize why on earth Frank had been pacing about outside his door, but when he opens it for him, he pretends that he saw nothing at all.

“Hey Frank,” Gerard says, with a smile that’s a bit too big on his face, not like Frank even notices. Frank is too busy turning a red color at the idea of Gerard having seen him, but he doesn’t say anything, he just nods politely at Gerard.

“Hey,” Frank says, biting his lip.

“Come in,” Gerard says to him, stepping back and holding the door open for Frank to enter. Frank smiles at him and doesn’t say anything more before he steps through the doorway and then immediately darts his head all around like he’s trying to drink every inch of the new environment in.

Frank’s very first impression is that the apartment is entirely and completely overwhelmed by the personality of Gerard. There’s Gerard everywhere. The most obvious example is the smell of Gerard which is like a punch in the face. It’s a sharp tangy smell which is very feminine, but with a hint of something a little less so. There’s an intrinsically sweet smell to it that Frank has never been able to put his finger on, but it just screams Gerard. His entire surroundings are a nest of the smell of him, one that honestly knocks him off his feet. He wants to smell it for every second of the rest of his life. He wants to cocoon himself in the smell, and just nest there, for as long as he can.

Besides the smell of him, the living room which he’s stepped into, is the most Gerard thing in the world. It’s kind of a mess, the kind of mess that you know someone spent a long time trying to clean up for appearances, but their version of cleaning up just means piling trash and hiding stuff behind furniture. As Frank had previously suspected, there’s a couple pizza boxes stacked up by the front door, obviously for the purpose of being taken to the garbage, but they never actually managed to wind up there.

The couch is a clear hand-me-down, probably from a grandparent, because it’s got a gaudy flower design on it, and the stuffing seems to be dwindling on the back support. The couch is facing a TV which has a logo bouncing across the screen. There’s also a little armchair which appears to have been purchased at a flea market for five bucks and a bag of funyuns.

What really sticks out is the wall décor. Gerard’s at that age where it’s socially unacceptable for a man to hang posters on his walls, so instead, Gerard has found a loophole, which is that he framed a bunch of posters and then he put them on the wall. There’s some posters with little pieces missing in the corners which lead Frank to believe they were once taped to a wall. Amid the posters are B horror movies that anyone other than Frank would never have heard of, as well as some band posters that look to be older than most middle schoolers.

There are shelves pressed up against the parts of the wall without posters, a rare occurrence, and those are filled with what appear to be just hundreds and hundreds of comics. Like, Frank had thought that Gerard was joking, that he was overexaggerating, but there’s actually got to be upwards of a few thousand comic books crammed onto three bookcases. Some of the shelves are littered with toys as well, Frank spots a couple action figures, and quite a few bobbleheads which Frank can’t say entirely surprise him but they also amuses him at the same time.

Every single inch of the apartment is Gerard. Frank absolutely loves it.

“Sorry it’s kind of a mess,” Gerard says, closing the door behind him and then kicking the pizza boxes an inch or two to the left, as if moving them will make them disappear from Frank’s view.

Frank smiles, and then turns around to say, “I don’t mind. It looks like you.”

That’s when Gerard feels something deep in his bones like a wild animal or a waterfall bursting through him with such ferocity. Gerard suddenly feels every single fiber of his entire body feel what can only be described as the need to push Frank up against the wall and kiss him for so long that he can’t breathe. It’s a painful, digging, monstrous feeling which Gerard is only barely strong enough to hold at bay, and even then, it makes him feel like he’s just battled a great white shark. He can actually feel his heart completely explode with tremendous force. He’s not even willing to bet that it’s a metaphorical explosion, there’s a possibility that his heart actually just exploded.

Gerard stops and sort of stutters for a moment before regaining something similar to composure, as he invites Frank to sit down on his grandmother’s old sofa.

Frank grins back at him, completely unaware of what he’s doing to Gerard, not like he feels much different to him.

Through a hideously ugly cutout in the wall is the kitchen, and Gerard disappears through a door beside it. Frank can only see the top of his head because of the ugly cutout, which indicates that this apartment was clearly built sometime around the 80s. Frank bites his lip again, feels like a foreigner in Gerard’s apartment. It’s so very much him, like Frank has walked directly into his brain. It feels like he’s intruding on something personal. Frank loves it though, he loves seeing it, loves smelling Gerard all around him.

Frank never realized how much he loved the way Gerard smelled until now. He loves it so much. He could bury his face into Gerard’s neck and just take him in, breathe his scent for the rest of his life. It smells like happiness and like home. Gerard also sometimes smells like he needs to take a shower, but the one around Frank now is the smell that usually chases that one. This is the smell that Frank remembers about him.

Gerard returns to him, a moment later, offering him a glass of water which Frank is too shy to say no to.

Gerard, as per usual, launches into comic talk the second that he sits down beside Frank. He leaves at least a foot between himself and Frank on the couch, probably as much as he possibly can while still being on the couch. It’s not like Gerard doesn’t want to sit next to Frank, it’s just that he doesn’t want to torture himself with something that he can’t have. Being that close to Frank, being close enough to touch him, or actually touching him, that is just too much. It would kill him. He’d probably just keel over.

“-And like you can’t forget about Daredevil, right, because he’s the coolest fucking superhero there is! Like I’m not going to lie to you I’m a sucker for Wolverine, or any of the X-men really, but man I do fucking love Daredevil. I was raised catholic you know, and Matt Murdock is catholic, and I really identified with that growing up, course back then I didn’t realize that, I just thought it was cool how he beat people up who he couldn’t see, but I mean he’s so fucking cool. I always had daydreams about just like accidentally walking into radioactive goo or whatever and then waking up one day with superpowers. I’d always come up with like the same variation of the same story, and with different superpowers too, in fact I bored all of my English teachers with self-insert stories with the same plotline, basically just ripped off Spiderman’s origin story over and over again, but you know it’s the thought that counts-”

Gerard continues like that for about another ten minutes, and Frank just smiles back at him, and kind of wonders if Gerard is aware of how long he’s been talking or what, because it seems like it’s been a century or two, but Frank could easily listen for another couple millennia.

“-But see, new superheroes in general kind of suck, and every once in a while there’s like a diamond in the rough, and fuck, let me just tell you about Deadpool, because I don’t know why, you kind of remind me of Deadpool a little bit, not like in the face, because Mikey kind of reminds me of Deadpool in the face, ha, oh I really wish you got that joke because I’m really proud of myself, but anyway he’s just really cool and a lot of his power comes from the two warring halves of his persona, like this is a deeply depressing story which is brought to life by pure hilarity and eccentricity, and…. fuck,” Gerard starts, and then it’s like he suddenly realizes where he is. He looks around for a couple of seconds, as if he’s just been woken up from a thousand-year sleep and doesn’t know who he is or what’s happening to him. “How long was I talking?”

“Oh, like fifteen minutes,” Frank says with a shrug. Gerard’s eyes go bug eyed when Frank says that, a look of utter disbelief, much to the amusement of Frank.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Gerard asks, incredulous.

“I was enjoying it,” Frank replies, “You make it really interesting.”

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry,” Gerard says, “I didn’t mean to… I just I really like comics, you know? They’re one of my pillars.”

“Pillars?” Frank asks.

“Yeah, pillars. You know like the pillars that made you who you are? For me it’s comics, and hockey, and punk music.”

“Oh okay,” Frank nods, then tries to determine what pillars he has that aren’t hockey. All he can come up with is hockey and punk music. Then he remembers figure skating. Those would definitely be the three biggest things in his life, hockey and figure skating a little bit more so. He can’t tell Gerard that though, so he instead says, “I guess mine are just hockey and music.”

“Oh man, a week with me and we can add comics to that roster,” Gerard says grinning like a maniac, and then he leans over to grab a stack of comic books on the living room table in front of him. There’s about twenty or so, which is fewer than Frank had been expecting. “So I grabbed you like, the first editions of some of my favorites. There are some people who would give you like, the highlights of them, but I’m a purist, and I believe the only way to consume any materiel is from the beginning, so if they start out a little bit slow, just know that they do get better, but they’re all amazing so you won’t find any of them slow, but just in case you do, that’s why. So, I’ve got you some X-men, Daredevil, kind of wanted to just give you my copy of Watchmen, but I thought we’d start out slow, you know? Like don’t want to throw you into the deep end without giving you the chance to stick your toe in the water first. But anyway, I’ve got like, I mean I’ve got almost all of them because comics are my life. I’ve got a few like essentials collections which just compile all of the better stories into big volumes, but you should read the first ones first, right?”

“Gerard, I’ll just read whatever you tell me to,” Frank says, smiling as Gerard gives him the giant stack which is a lot heavier than Frank had anticipated. Frank has never actually read a comic, like never read a paper comic before. Frank never had the money or the time to waste on comic books, so he never got the chance. Also, it helps if you have a parent who gets you into comics, but Frank didn’t have that either, so he’s lived a comic-less life up until now. However, if Gerard loves something this much, Frank’s sure he won’t be able to stop himself from loving them.

Frank would love anything if Gerard likes it, he can’t help himself. Frank will change opinions he’s already made if Gerard is cute enough about it. Frank is not a huge fan of swiss cheese, but if Gerard declares himself to be a big fan of swiss cheese then Frank will decide swiss cheese is the best goddamn food on the face of the planet.

“So which one do I start with?” Frank asks, because there’s still twenty comics here.

“Um, I guess it depends on what you want, like are you into teams or solo heroes?”

“I don’t know,” Frank shrugs.

“Well what superhero movie was your favorite?” Gerard asks.

“Uh, well probably the Avengers,” Frank says, because he’s only ever actually seen five, but he doesn’t want to admit to that, because he thinks it might make Gerard cry. One of them was the Fantastic Four so Frank’s opinion of superhero movies is not incredibly high.

“Okay, well I gave you Avengers, so start with that one,” Gerard says, “and be careful with that one, it’s one of my older ones, it’s not exactly mint or anything, but I protect my comics like they’re my children.”

Frank grins at him, a big toothy smile, which makes Gerard feel like a popsicle in a hundred degrees getting blow dried. Gerard melts so damn fast that there’s a good chance he was never even solid to begin with.

“What’s your favorite?” Frank asks. “Like your favorites series?”

“Um, I mean, the X-men,” Gerard says, “probably. Oh shit, but I’ve got so many favorites. Doom Patrol, Watchmen, fucking Daredevil. Dude, it’s a toughie. I’m very spread out. I’ve got many loves.”

“You know how you said if you ever quit hockey you want to do comics? I think that you’d be pretty at amazing at that. If the way you talk about them is anything to go by, I think you’d be the best comic book writer in the world.”

At that, Gerard turns the same color as The Flash. He goes so fucking crimson that Frank actually gets a little worried about him for a second.

Gerard has trouble taking compliments. It’s not that he can’t accept them or that he doesn’t believe them, he just has trouble responding to people when they compliment him. He wants to say thank you, but he doesn’t get flattered all that often so he wants to say more than just thank you because compliments really do get to him in a very real and enormous way. So, when someone compliments him he never has the words to say all of what he wishes he could.

It doesn’t help that Frank’s the one who complimented him, Frank is the love of his fucking life and here is handing out probably the best compliment Gerard could ever receive so readily. Frank has actually said a similar thing to him before, it’s just that, he said that before Gerard ranted on and on about comics for fifteen minutes. Frank thinks he’d be good at it, and Gerard believes that Frank isn’t just saying that to be nice. Frank’s the kind of guy who compliments people very genuinely. Frank actually thinks Gerard would be good at writing comic books. Gerard loves him.

Gerard splutters for a good thirty or forty seconds, no words coming out, or at least no decipherable ones. At some point, Gerard just gives up and goes silent. He stares at the carpet as an excuse to not have to look at Frank, and it works until he realizes that he should say words now.

“So, um, lunch, do you want to get some lunch? I’m hungry,” Gerard says and his voice is kind of high, but he’s managed to get words out and that’s what counts.

Frank smiles, but Gerard doesn’t look at the smile, because he doesn’t think his heart could bare it. “Yeah, I could eat,” Frank says, “What’s good around here? You’ve lived here for like five years, I’ve been here for like three weeks, so whatever you want, I’m game.”

“Um, well, there’s a great pizza place just a block away,” Gerard says.

“Yeah?” Frank asks, as if he can’t tell that Gerard likes their pizza, given that he has a stack a mile high of their boxes only like three feet away from where Frank currently sits. “I like pizza.”

“We can get pizza then!” Gerard says, jumping up quickly. Gerard is struck with an idea as he’s walking around the couch, and he turns back to look at Frank, who turns his attention to him. Gerard’s apartment is fairly dark, because he keeps the shades closed every day, not necessarily to make his neighbors think he’s a vampire, but that is an added bonus.

“Oh, do you want to get it delivered? Cause there are a bunch of superhero shows on Netflix?”

Frank grins that big toothy grin of his again, and Gerard whimpers inaudibly to himself. He can practically feel his heart beating out of his chest every time Frank flashes that smile at him, it gives Gerard heart palpitations. He feels like a car that won’t start, trying to get the engine to turn over, but as many times as he tries, it just doesn’t happen. Gerard feels like his entire body is the engine. He becomes a fucking shell of a human when Frank is around him.

Frank refrains from making a Netflix and chill joke, because he can’t tell why, but he’s pretty sure Gerard is internally combusting right now, and he doesn’t want to push the limits. There’s a good chance Gerard literally would just break apart if Frank were to say the wrong thing. He doesn’t know exactly why Gerard is like that, but it’s not the kind of thing he thinks he needs to worry about. Gerard’s probably just nervous that Frank’s not going to like the comics he’s picked out for him, that’s all.

“I mean, I’m up for it if you are,” Frank says. He’s started to actually feel comfortable in Gerard’s apartment. It probably happened sometime during the fifteen-minute spiel about superheroes. He actually took in every single word Gerard said like he’s a sponge. Frank can’t find it in himself to be bored by anything Gerard has to say.

Gerard makes a weird nose that’s something like a groan and a whine, and then he goes into the room adjacent to the living room, which Frank assumes is his bedroom. The sound is actually a product of Gerard being angry at himself for how much he likes Frank, which is so much that his anger at himself got a little bit caught up in his heart, which is what caused the whining sound. When Gerard disappears into his room, he sits his head against the wall for a couple of seconds, makes something like a crying sound and then stands up straight again and walks back out.

Gerard comes back with his phone in one hand, and then he sits back on the couch. Frank gives him his pizza order which is simply, “whatever their pizza with a shit ton of veggies is minus the olives,” because that’s Frank’s order at every pizza place. Gerard calls the pizza place, has a friendly chat with the guy who picks up the phone, a guy who he presumably speaks to a lot if the number of pizza boxes is anything to go by.

Gerard then stares at Frank, too excited about forcing him to watch superhero shows to remember how much it hurts to look at Frank.

“Okay, so what kind of superhero show do you want to watch? Dark and gritty, or like whimsical but not as suspenseful?”

“Well what’s your favorite show?” Frank asks.

“Oh, Daredevil by a long shot. Most accurate superhero show probably ever. Fucking amazing. The Flash is like good for casual viewing, but like, it’s not really my cup of tea. To me superheroes should be suspenseful and dark first and then comedy added in later, not the other way around.”

“Then we watch Daredevil,” Frank says.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Gerard says with a voice that sounds more like he’s talking about sex then a TV show, but Frank’s into it. Frank’s just along for the ride at this point, he doesn’t understand what the hell is happening around him, he just knows that Gerard is so pretty that it makes his bones hurt. Even his teeth. Gerard’s so gorgeous that Frank can feel it in his fucking teeth.

Gerard makes quick time of pulling up Daredevil on Netflix, like he’s done this several times before. Frank takes a peak at some of the things he’s got on his list, and there’s a surprising number of chick flicks, but Frank decides to pretend that he hadn’t seen them. Maybe Gerard just really likes the hot girls who star in them. Who is Frank to judge when he’s seen The Proposal at least twelve times?

Frank doesn’t start out particularly into Daredevil, because Frank usually starts out bored and the real test of a movie or show is make him not bored anymore. This is usually accomplished by pouring several buckets of blood on everything, which Daredevil does not have. Ten minutes through, though, Frank decides that he’s starting to enjoy it.

Their pizza arrives at about the halfway point, and Gerard pauses, then has to fend off Frank who tries to offer to pay, but Gerard completely refuses to allow him to.

“Listen, I’m forcing you to read a million comics, the least I can do is pay for the goddamn pizza,” Gerard says.

“But-”

“Hey, it’s my house, I make the rules. I say I’m paying for pizza,” Gerard replies. Frank sighs, but he accepts and allows Gerard to go to the door and get the pizzas.

Gerard comes back a minute later with two boxes, and then he presses play on Daredevil before Frank even has the chance to say anything. Not like he had much of anything to say other than something like, “hey Gerard whenever I look at you, it proves why humanity was created. The existence of life is just so that someone as perfect as you could eventually come along.” He probably shouldn’t say that out loud, though.

Frank stays on his side of the couch for most of the show, looking at Gerard every so often and thinking about how amazing it would be to kiss him right about now. Gerard’s so entranced by the show that he forgets he’s meant to be eating, so every now and again Frank will turn to him, blue light from the TV illuminating his face, and he’ll stop in the middle of chewing to just sort of gaze off lovingly at the screen. It’s the kind of stare Frank wishes were aimed at him instead of a TV show. He wishes that Gerard looked at him like he looks at Superheroes.

Gerard looks at him far more lovingly than at Superheroes, it’s just that Frank is too far in denial to notice it. Gerard looks at Frank the way you would look at a stack of a billion dollars in cash, or at the lost city of gold. Gerard looks at him like Frank is the answer to the universe which he’s been searching for all his life. Gerard looks at him like he’s never looked at anything before, with pure adoration and awe.

Frank remains relatively quiet throughout the first episode, and by the time that the credits come on, he turns to look at Gerard who’s giving him this highly anticipatory gaze which warms Frank heart more than he could ever have thought possible. Even if Frank didn’t like the show, which would be inaccurate to say, he couldn’t do or say anything that would hurt Gerard’s feelings.

Gerard’s got a look in his eyes asking, “so what did you think?” Frank smiles back in return, wishing that he could kiss Gerard as an answer. Show him how much he liked it rather than tell him.

“It’s really good,” is what Frank ultimately ends up saying.

“Yeah?” Gerard asks, excited to hear Frank say the words out loud. “Want to watch the next episode then?” He so wishes he could grab Frank and pull him close, so that they can cuddle while watching Daredevil. Hold Frank closer to him, with his head on Gerard’s chest, a blanket swathing them in warmth. He could stay like that forever, keep Frank close to him, so close that he can hear Frank’s heartbeat. So close that their heats start to beat together.

“Definitely,” Frank says, because he’s not an idiot so as to say no to spending more time with Gerard. He would spend the rest of his life on this couch with Gerard if he offered.

Gerard lets the episode play by itself, and Frank sighs sadly to himself when he remembers the space between them. They’re so dreadfully far apart when they could be next to each other, and he wants so much to make this couch smaller. He wants the couch to be a loveseat, forcing the two of them together. But unfortunately, it’s big enough that he can’t rationalize getting any closer to Gerard in a non-gay way. There’s simply no way to bridge the gap between them without it being a blatantly flirtatious move.

They stay like that throughout the next episode. And then the next. And the next four. Followed by a couple more.

Honestly, Frank’s not even aware that the sun has gone down, but eventually they’re on the final episode of the first season and Frank genuinely has no idea how the day got past him. He swears they only watched like four episodes. He doesn’t know how four somehow turned into thirteen. He’s also extremely annoyed that of those thirteen episodes, he made physical contact with Gerard like once when they brushed hands as Gerard handed him a can of coke. Definitely not the rough sex Frank had dreamed about last night.

“Holy fuck, is that the time?” Frank asks when he looks down at his phone to see that it’s somehow become ten at night, which means that he has managed to spend quite literally half a day in Gerard’s apartment. He can’t help but to think about how much sex they could’ve had in that time. He wipes that image from his brain as quickly as it appears because it actually makes him blush just to think about.

“Shit,” Gerard says when he checks his own watch. “I didn’t even mean for that to happen, I thought we would just go out for lunch and then you’d leave. Sorry about that.”

“No, no I’m totally okay with it. I really liked the show,” Frank says.

“Yeah?” Gerard asks, looking very happy about that. “You’re going to love the comics then. They’re actually really accurate. The actors on the show are really perfect for the characters.” Gerard leaves out the part where he’d totally fuck Matt Murdock against a wall, because he feels like that’s ill placed. Also, he’d still rather fuck Frank against a wall.

“I should head back home, though,” Frank says, “I mean, it’s getting kind of late.”

“Yeah, probably not a bad idea,” Gerard says. “I’m really glad we did this, though, I’m glad you liked the show. Now it’ll be easier for you to get into the comics, right? Cause like, now you know how amazing they can be.”

“Definitely,” Frank says, and he grabs the stack of comics Gerard had given him which he’d set down on the coffee table.

Gerard walks him to the door, Frank making it as slow a procession as he possibly can. He wants to spend more time with Gerard. Even though they’ve literally spent the whole day together, it doesn’t feel like enough. Frank is actually completely wiped, though, even though all he’s done today is watch TV and eat pizza. He also did a lot of longing over Gerard which is a very exhausting days’ work, considering how many times Frank had to remind himself that he doesn’t get to have Gerard, each time he did so having taken at least five years from his life.

“I really hope you like them,” Gerard says, “tell me as soon as you finish any of them, okay? I’m totally prepared to have a three-hour long rant about the shading or the lettering or literally anything. Comics are my fucking life, there’s nothing I don’t love about them.”

“I will,” Frank says, smiling. “Though not tonight because I need to sleep.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Gerard replies. They exchange a few more pleasantries, it’s a little too formal considering they just spent the better part of a day together watching TV, but Frank doesn’t mind it so much.

He fills the walk back to his dorm with thoughts of Gerard. All he can think about is the magnificence of him. He’s so beautiful, and funny, and passionate. Gerard is nothing if not passionate. When he likes something, he doesn’t half ass it, not even slightly. Gerard loves with all of his heart. Frank wishes that Gerard loved him the way that he loves comics.

Frank peers into the ice rink because it’s on his way. It appears deserted, which is abnormal for the rink. He can’t quite see onto the ice itself, but the lights have been half turned off in the lobby, so clearly there is no one there. They usually have a practice on Saturday’s, however Coach decided to give them a break today because of their victories this week. Usually there’s only one Saturday a month where they get the day off, and that had been last week. Frank’s not exactly complaining, he needed the day off. He needed a lazy day all to himself. And with Gerard, of course.

Frank walks groggily through the door to his room a quarter past eleven, and he finds it surprisingly deserted. He supposes that Ray is out on the town or doing something far more interesting than spending all of his day watching TV and fawning over someone he can’t have. Frank collapses at his desk, his every thought filled with Gerard.

He realizes now how empty he feels out of Gerard’s company. In the absence of Gerard’s smell is the room around him, which smells like dirty laundry and febreeze. It’s not nearly as warming a smell as the one surrounding Gerard. Frank wishes he could bottle it, and keep it with him. Whenever he feels sad, Gerard would be able to cheer him up. He’d also be able to bring him down, because Gerard has that effect over him. Gerard is going to be his ultimate defeat, but he’s also his secret weapon.

Frank looks around his room, with the inadequacy of it becoming stronger at every glance around him. It’s just not as good as Gerard’s place. There’s more posters, and far less clutter, but it’s not Gerard’s apartment, which suddenly makes everything in it seem lesser. If it’s not Gerard, what’s the point of it at all?

Frank doesn’t want to be here right now, he can’t explain why, but he knows it’s the truth. Frank sighs, thinking about what he can do right now. He doesn’t know where Ray is, so he can’t join him. He could always text him, but that seems like too much effort. He also kind of just wants to be by himself so that he can think about Gerard, and if he’s in someone else’s company, he won’t have that. All he’ll have is the feeling that they are not as good as Gerard. Gerard is good company even when the two of them sit on the couch doing nothing but watch Daredevil.

Frank then remembers the empty rink, and he makes his mind up very quickly after that thought. Frank grabs his skates from where he hides them in the space between his desk and the wall. He checks what he’s wearing, debating whether it’s worth it to change, but he decides that it doesn’t really matter that much, so he’s out the door very quickly, only a couple of minutes after he’d come through it.

The distance to the ice rink seems to get shorter every time Frank walks the path. It’s a familiar path, as well, one he knows incredibly well. He hasn’t practiced figure skating in nearly two weeks now, he just hasn’t found the time or the energy.

The doors are locked when Frank gets there, which is a good sign for him, because it means that someone who was here before him decided to close it up for the night. Frank takes out the key Gerard gave him, unlocking the doors and then locking them again right behind him. It’s a little riskier doing this right now rather than in the early hours of the morning, so he doesn’t want anyone to be able to get in behind him.

Frank shuts off all of the lights that are still on as he walks through the entrance into the locker room. He makes quick work getting his skates on and shoving everything else into his locker.

Frank’s on the ice before he even thinks about it, so hungry to feel the ice beneath his feet. Every time he does this it feels like it’s been years. It’s a secret between him and the rink, and it gives him somewhat of a rush as well as a panic knowing that he could get caught at any time.

Frank doesn’t even give himself any tasks this time around, he doesn’t care about actually practicing, he honestly just wants to be on the ice. He doesn’t care if it’s good or bad, or anything really. He doesn’t care what he looks like. Frank just wants to skate, wants the familiarity of it all.

He spends ten or twenty minutes just skating around the perimeter of the ice, doing nothing overly adventurous. Frank does a couple single and double axles not quite landing all of them, but he doesn’t care. Mostly he does various spins, all of which come easy to him. Usually he’s very harsh on himself, beating himself up over every little error, but today he’s kind of on a high from being with Gerard, and he’s letting the skating represent that. It’s not about being good or doing his best, it’s just about representing his own emotions.

He’s all over the place mentally. He can’t stop thinking about Gerard, and it’s thinking about him that drives and motivates him now. All he can think about is how he wants to show the way he feels about Gerard through his skating.

He can’t do this in hockey, hockey isn’t about grace or about beauty. Hockey is about getting where you need to go, taking out anyone who tries to get in your way, showing the room who’s boss. Figure skating is a dance, a game of visual appeal. Frank wants to represent all the emotions he has and the only way to do that is on the ice.

Meanwhile, Gerard trundles through the cold air, thinking about how absent he feels now that Frank isn’t with him. The world seems a crueler place when he’s not here. It’s like all the hate and the misery in the world are more prominent, vividly so, all around him. Everything just seems so terrible, so unworthy of Frank’s existence. Because really, Frank is too good for everything that Gerard knows. He’s too good for the team, too good for the lesser players who he competes with and against. He’s too good for Gerard, that’s for certain. He’s just too good for all that there is, and it’s a miracle that the world would ever allow such an angel to be surrounded by such darkness.

Gerard stares at the building looming over him which he knows Frank is currently in, possibly already asleep. He wishes he could crawl into bed next to him and hold him close, but he doesn’t get that luxury. Gerard takes a sharp turn before Lancaster hall for the ice rink, pulling the keys out of his pocket as he does so. The lights are already off, indicating that Coach has left for the day, so he’ll have the building to himself. Gerard just needs to take his mind off of Frank by busying himself with all the things that he really should’ve done today anyway. He just got so focused on spending time with Frank that he kind of forgot he had other responsibilities besides Frank.

The second that Gerard steps foot into the rink, he knows something is off. The lobby is dark and empty, but the lights to the rink itself are on. He walks the short distance to the top of the stands and then he sees a figure on the ice, which is unexpected to say the least.

Gerard stares down at them, and rolls his eyes when he notes that they’re figure skating, which is one of Gerard’s least favorite things in the world. He leans against the wall for a minute, watching them, thinking a whole assortment of snarky things about them as he watches.

Gerard notes that it’s a boy, which surprises him considerably, because he doesn’t think he’s ever actually seen a male figure skater, but to be fair, Gerard does avoid figure skaters as best as he possibly can, because his hatred of it is very strong. He knows that boys figure skate, it’s not like he’s unaware that they do, he just doesn’t care.

He can’t see the boy’s face because he’s moving too fast, and he’s too far away. The boy hasn’t noticed Gerard watching him, though. He seems to be far too busy figure skating, too locked away in his own little word to even think that someone could be spying on him. It’s not like anyone would expect to be spied on right now, it’s getting quite late, and there haven’t been any practices here at all today, the rink has been relatively empty all day.

Then it occurs to Gerard that the door had been locked. It’s the kind of door that you need a key to both lock and unlock. That means that whoever is down there must somehow have gotten ahold of a key. Gerard has a bit of a panic for a second, thinking that he lost his own key, but then remembers that he used it to get in here, so he clearly didn’t.

It all clicks in Gerard’s head as quickly as a snap of his fingers. The boy has black hair, just like Frank. He’s got a key and managed to get in here, just like Frank. He skates with femininity and confidence, just like Frank.

The person on the ice stops for a second, his head facing the direction Gerard’s in, but his head is down as he tries to catch his breath, so he hasn’t noticed his audience yet. Gerard takes the opportunity to duck and hide behind the seats. As he peers through the gap between the seats, he manages to make out the face of the figure below him. What he sees confirms his suspicions. It’s Frank.

“Frank?” Gerard asks himself, almost too aghast to comprehend that that even is Frank on the ice.

How can it be Frank? It’s not even possible. Frank is a hockey player, he’s not a figure skater. He’s the best player on the team, he’s not… he can’t be.

But it is Frank. That’s Frank’s face. Those are the same clothes that Frank had been wearing earlier while he was with Gerard. Everything about this person is Frank. And yet Gerard can scarcely believe it. How on earth could this person be Frank?

Frank is figure skating. He’s a fucking twirler. One of the things in the world Gerard hates most, a fucking figure skater, but it’s Frank. Frank is one of his favorite goddamn things in this world, and yet he’s doing Gerard’s least favorite thing in the world.

He becomes a rivaling clash of a thousand different emotions. He’s mostly filled with denial, and confusion. He can’t believe that this could possibly Frank, it feels like his eyes are deceiving him. It’s simply not possible for the man that has scored basically half of all of the goals they’ve gotten this season could possibly be the same man who is now spinning with his foot in the air like that. No way for this to be the same person.

Underneath his confusion, Gerard’s a little bit angry. He’s angry that one of the best hockey players that the team has ever seen could ever dirty his reputation by twirling. How could Frank betray the sport like that? How could he ever think that it’s okay? It’s not okay to figure skate. Figure skating makes hockey a joke. It trivializes all the effort and strength that goes into hockey. It’s an insult. It personally offends Gerard to his very core.

Beneath even that is something that resembles being impressed, though Gerard would never in a million years admit to it. He hates figure skating, absolutely loathes it, but despite that, he can’t help but be amazed at how good Frank is at it. He hates himself for thinking it, but it’s actually impressive. He jumps into the air, spins, and then lands back on the ice with only one foot, which Gerard refuses to admit is an astonishing task, even though it is. Gerard could never do anything like that, though he’s never skated in anything but hockey skates. It’s undeniably impressive, but that doesn’t stop him from denying it anyway.

Gerard is caught between a whole assortment of options at this whole thing. He can either laugh his fucking ass off right here and now, and then proceed to make fun of Frank to his face. He can take a video of him fucking twirling, post it on Facebook and publicly shame him into exile. He can leave right now and then tell the whole team tomorrow so that he can spare Frank the public humility a little bit, but resign him to a life of shame amongst the team.

Gerard can, and he very much should, do all of these things.

What he does instead, is crouch further in his spot hidden in a seat and watch him. Though he doesn’t know the terminology of it, he watches Frank land a triple lutz like it’s nothing, like he does it in his sleep. Gerard suppresses what he thinks might be a laugh, but it’s more likely a gasp. It’s really up to interpretation. He doesn’t want to accept it within himself that he’s fascinated by watching him. He’s actually enthralled by Frank’s form, by watching his grace. He’s absolutely majestic, simply breathtaking.

Frank just sort of glides, that’s the thing. He doesn’t look clunky and massive like he does in his hockey gear. He just looks like a swan who’s having a relaxing little swim while no one is watching. He’s dazzling, gorgeous, somehow more beautiful than he usually is which is saying something.

Gerard watches him for several minutes, doesn’t know how long it’s been, because he’s so mesmerized by Frank’s performance. He doesn’t notice any of Frank’s stumbles, doesn’t know that he’s even making any mistakes. He doesn’t know what to look for, though. He just thinks Frank is gorgeous out there.

Frank comes out of his final triple into a perfect pose, his back facing Gerard as he addresses the spot where the judges would be, and Gerard feels the urge to clap for him, because that’s what you’re supposed to do at the end of a routine, unless of course, you are a hockey player, in which the correct response is to boo, throw tomatoes, or just run onto the ice and push the guy over.

Gerard can see how heavy Frank’s chest is rising, deep, hard breaths coming in and out that Gerard can practically hear from here. He can tell Frank’s exhausted, completely worn out. He can practically feel how tired Frank’s bones are. He hates figure skating, always accredits it to being easy, but he can tell right now that what Frank just did was not easy, not by any means.

He feels like he just witnessed an entirely too personal moment. This is worse than walking in on a dude jerking off, because at least both parties go to bed that night knowing that the other person jerks off all the fucking time too. This is just way more emotional. This is catching someone doing something way bigger than masturbating. This is a monumental thing, the sort of dance that Frank just performed only for himself, it’s something that you wouldn’t even share with other people, obviously not given that Gerard never even knew Frank figure skated. This is like walking into someone’s brain and watching the inner most mechanics of their mind.

Gerard should leave. He shouldn’t have been here at all. He shouldn’t have barged in on a moment as personal as this.

He stays though, mesmerized by Frank going back in and starting off anew, as if what Gerard just witnessed wasn’t good enough. Gerard just went through an emotional ordeal simply watching him, there’s no way that what he just witnessed wasn’t good enough. But Frank goes again, letting his body move him differently, trying to interpret the way he feels like it’s a totally new medium. Every move of his is flawless to Gerard, every single second he spends on the ice forcing Gerard to question everything he knows about the world.

He needs to leave, he shouldn’t be here. Gerard stands up slowly, and he walks quietly up the few steps and into the shadow of the hall before Frank can see him, but it’s not like he’s going to notice him as he does a sit spin that seems to go on forever.

Gerard gets a few last glances at Frank, this is his last moment to take a video that will permanently scar Frank for the rest of his life.

Gerard walks back the way he’d came, not allowing himself to turn back, not allowing himself to even consider trying to cause a scandal. Frank doesn’t deserve that, not when he almost made Gerard fucking cry with what he just witnessed.

Gerard doesn’t bother going into the office to do the work he’d come here to do. He doesn’t want to even stay in the ice rink, he’s too terrified of what Frank would say if he found out Gerard had been here. So, Gerard instead walks to the door, opening it quietly, and slipping back to the world outside where everything is normal, in no way changed by the alternate reality Gerard just walked into.

Gerard walks along the pavement, his heart beat erratic, footsteps heavy, and his thoughts infinitely changing. He can’t explain it, but Gerard feels different, and he’s not entirely sure it’s a bad thing.