All We Need Is Daylight

Life can be very hard sometimes. No one would find this to be news. It can kill you, rip out your insides, stomp on them, and then shove them back inside of you so that you have to continue to suffer through the torment of existence. But like, as half of what you were. And no one can see what you’ve been through except yourself.

And that’s just the nature of things sometimes. Most of the time. Life is messy. It’s hard, and painful, and the fact that people put themselves through it all the time seems tedious and idiotic. There are moments in between however, that make everything worth living.

For Frank to say he’s not miserable would be a lie, because he is. But misery does imply one thing for absolute certain. Misery implies perseverance. If you are miserable, you’re still alive. And Frank is still breathing. He’s pushing through it; however difficult it may be.

Between piles of homework which have made him miserable and with the threat of quizzes, tests and his future looming over him, it’s a wonder he’s able to keep going. It’s not too bad though. It’s a distraction. Why do Germans assign genders to every fucking inanimate object? He doesn’t know, but he’s memorizing all of them. Why is their actual fucking Greek in his Calculus class? He’s still not sure but he’s working through it. What white person killed another white person sometime in the late 1300s over something Frank could probably thumb wrestle over? Probably money, history is always the same. These are things Frank finds tedious but everything that distracts him is what he needs.

He also needs a distraction from his own distractions sometimes. And the best distraction in the world is Gerard. Life is at its peak when he’s watching black and white murder mysteries and eating pizza. But only when it’s with Gerard.

“You know, I’ve said it before,” Gerard says between bites of pizza, “Agatha Christie is the true monarch of crime fiction. Conan Doyle is all well and good but fucking hell, Sherlock Holmes is annoying as shit. Sometimes it’s not about being clever, sometimes it’s just about a good fucking murder.”

Frank doesn’t particularly care for murder mysteries, and he knows he’s a minority, but he doesn’t care. He just likes how much Gerard does. Gerard has many traits which make Frank’s stomach flutter. One of the best examples of this is simply watching movies or TV with him. Frank’s not so much watching the movie as he is watching Gerard.

“God, I love a good murder,” Gerard says, and Frank laughs. “Not like real murder. Real murder is bad. I like fake murder because it’s all the joys of murder but without nearly as much death. Fuck, I mean, like it’s fictional death so it’s not real death, so I don’t feel to guilty about enjoying it like I would if it were real death which is bad. I’m not a sociopath.”

“You’re such a fucking nerd,” Frank says, laughing at him.

“It’s fun sometimes! Murder is interesting. I like not knowing things. Us humans, we always have to fucking know everything. Nothing’s ever exciting anymore. Sometimes murder can be refreshing.”

“Gerard, why are you like this?” Frank asks, hitting him in the side of the arm.

Gerard blushes. Frank has a spell over him that he can’t seem to break. He looks over at Frank and it gives him that same electric current he always gets. He wants so badly to kiss him right here and now, to hold the sides of his face and never let go. To have him, and protect him.

He just makes sense so much. He is an ocean. He’s the moon and the stars.

“You can’t say your any different. You love horror movies. All you really watch are horror movies. So you like murder too!”

“Not like you. I like adrenaline, that, like, that feeling you get in your chest when you’re scared shitless and it feels like you could punch the sun,” Frank corrects him. “And gore. God, I love gore. Nothing better than blood fucking everywhere. Gallons of it. That’s the life.”

“I just kind of like everything,” Gerard shrugs, because there’s not much in a movie he doesn’t like. He supposes he’s not fond of the forced heterosexual relationships that are pushed into movies for no cause. Really, Gerard’s perfect movie wouldn’t have any of that. Lots of people would be murdered, there would be a lot of blood everywhere, someone at some point gets chopped in half brutally, and it ends with the satisfaction of knowing who did it. Maybe a romantic gay subplot if you have to add a cheesy romance.

In his head, Frank’s mind reverberates the words “I just like you” back and forth, with the hunger to say the words out loud, but he doesn’t. At least not in words anyway. His eyes tell a different story.

Everyone looks stunning with the lights off and only the colors of a TV reflecting on their face. It’s a fact of life. It’s impossible not to look like a model. Gerard is no different. With the lights off, and the screen casting white light on him, he’s beautiful. Black and white movies are especially good for this effect, so Frank looks at him, and he’s brilliant. It’s a perfect shot.

When Frank smiles, it always starts with the left side of his mouth. It always starts there and melts across his face. Gerard doesn’t know why he picked up on it. Gerard doesn’t know why he’s picked up on anything with Frank. Frank always smells very much like himself. Playing any kind of sport means that you tend to be smelly, and usually that’s a bad thing, but Gerard doesn’t mind the way Frank smells. It’s not even that bad. He recalls someone telling him that liking the way someone naturally smells means that you’d make a great baby with them. He’s sure he would make a great baby with Frank. It would be adorable. What that really means is that you’re just more compatible with them biologically speaking, but their lovechild would be the most adorable thing. That baby would be weird as shit but it would run the fucking world.

Gerard has started planning his own future with Frank which is stupid because he doesn’t have one, but he’s thought about it anyway. They’d have three kids, maybe four. Gerard would love to have twins. They’d have one of those cookie cutter suburban houses in Jersey so that their kids can have the same experiences Gerard did, which were weird and grimy but worth it. It’s also imperative that their kids grow up supporting the Devils even if they are a shitty team, because Gerard could never raise a Blackhawk fan.

Frank will be an NHL player, of course, and Gerard would be a comic book artist, or a coach for the NHL and they’ll have at least one dog and one cat but realistically two of each. Gerard will read the kids The Hobbit as a bedtime story, and he’ll have to explain to Frank why it’s inappropriate to read your children Goosebumps before bed. He’ll eventually settle and let Frank read them Coraline when they’re a little older.

They’d have a good life. A really good life. Frank and Gerard would be the best goddamn parents and the best fucking couple. Gerard can see all of it when he looks at Frank. Sees all of it like a Taylor Swift music video.

Looking out the window is a distraction, but it’s not much of one. The sky outside is dark, and the day is almost coming to a close, becoming tomorrow. It’s a Thursday night so Frank should really be in bed right now. The team has a game tomorrow so Gerard should also probably be in bed.

Hockey doesn’t seem terribly important to Gerard right now. It’s still a lingering feeling deep inside of him, but the need for winning isn’t in him the way it used to be. In a way, Frank has given him reason to see beyond just hockey. Even though hockey is everything to Frank, it’s also quite stunning to see who he is without it.

Frank, these last few days, is not his former self, and no one would claim that he is. But he’s definitely trying, and that’s something everyone would be able to attest to. He’s putting a lot of effort into existing, which isn’t really how existing is supposed to work, but for Frank, it’s a lot of work to do just about everything. And he’s miserable, by god is he miserable, but it’s not so bad.

Hockey is still deeply important to him, and Gerard can see that, but Frank is still himself even without it. No, he’s not his former self, but that person is gone, and Gerard has learned to be okay with that. Frank is changed and will remain changed and he doesn’t know if it’s for the better, but it’s a certainty all the same.

Seeing Frank makes him wonder what else he might be doing. Where would he be right now if he didn’t have this job? Would he be a coffee shleper for some big cartoon agency? Would he be living in his mom’s basements drawing comics and working at a Dairy Queen? What does he have to fall back on?

Art is always going to be his answer. And the more he knows Frank the more it feels like it’s calling him. It’s not calling him away from hockey, but there’s a need inside him to be more. Because he’s not as good as Frank is at hockey, nor is he even a good enough coach for someone like Frank. The only thing he’s got that he’s good at, unparalleled, is art.

Gerard’s taken to noticing the way Frank’s face looks. Not just in a hormonal way, but the way it looks. The angles, and dips, and edges, and curves. It’s a perfect model for creativity, in all honesty. Gerard’s mind keeps painting pictures of him, and in his free time, they’ll occasionally become sketches that he hides in his paper strewn desk at the rink. Frank has an amazing face. It’s just amazing. Anyone would want to sketch it. It just so happens that Gerard happens to be in love with him, so he sketches it more than he probably should.

Gerard’s getting lost in him again. He’s always getting lost.

There comes a certain point in falling in love with someone where the slow decline becomes a sheer drop. You’re on a steady trek downhill and then it’s like a rope being pulled taut. Gerard’s falling faster than he can keep himself ahead of.

Frank’s not too far behind. He’s never been in a relationship in his entire life. He’s barely ever even had friends. So, Gerard is more than uncharted territory. But things are turning in a way. Something is changing between the two of them. He can feel it. There is a closeness forming that is not typical. But he’s hesitant to think too much on that because he’s sure he’ll let himself down.

Frank misses the end of the movie. Gerard forgets they’re even watching the movie. Both of their eyes are fixed on the screen. They’re definitely looking at it. Some part of their brains even hears the words being spoken. But none of it is reaching them. Gerard’s seen this movie two or three times, so he knows how it ends. But when the credits come onto the screen, he doesn’t remember any of it.

“Good movie,” Frank says. It’s the same kind of small talk that a cashier has with a customer. It’s not real or in the right reality.

“Yeah,” Gerard nods.

There’s an uncomfortable silence but neither of them is sure if the other one knows it’s an uncomfortable silence, because it might just be a silence, the nature of it being uncomfortable is entirely in their own minds. But it’s an uncomfortable silence nonetheless.

“I should head back to my dorm,” Frank says, standing up. “Ray will get worried. He’s been like my second mom lately.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gerard says, standing up. He wishes Frank would stay, but it’s not in his power to make that happen. Frank slept over about a week ago, and it wasn’t under pleasant circumstances. Frank should go, but watching him leave is hard.

Frank grabs the coat that he threw on Gerard’s kitchen counter which he uses as a coat rack, because, in Gerard’s own words “if it takes more than five minutes and a handful of pasta to create, then I won’t cook it.” Gerard’s whole apartment kind of looks like that. He’s not necessarily a slob, but he’s not very tidy. It’s not disgusting or anything, but a tornado might make it tidier. He’s still got a tower of pizza boxes on the counter, and a few pans hanging above the stove which are honestly spotless so Frank doubts they’ve ever been used. But it could be no one’s apartment but Gerard’s and that’s what matters.

Honestly, Frank loves Gerard’s apartment. He likes that it’s old, and poorly decorated and messy. He likes that it feels like walking into Gerard’s brain by stepping foot into it.

He could see himself in this apartment. Not as his own, or anything, but he could see them both in it. He’d probably clean it up some. Frank’s not a particularly messy person, but it doesn’t bother him too much. He’d at least like a more coherent path on the ground. But everything else, he’d keep basically the same. He’d add a few posters to the parts of the wall that need them, framed of course, because Gerard is an adult who has framed posters rather than sticking them on the wall with blue tac. The tower of pizza boxes would probably go, and they’d put a welcome mat in front of the door so that Gerard doesn’t have a big trail of sand and mud in that corner of the apartment. But other than that, it’d be just about the same. He can only imagine living with Gerard and all of his comic books. Probably being given a new one daily to read. And he would read it.

Frank begins pulling his coat on and walking to the door when he sees Gerard grabbing his own coat, and then stuffing his foot into a pair of shoes that have seen better days.

“Wait, where are you going?” Frank asks, when Gerard not only holds the door for him but then pulls it shut behind the both of them. His keys tinkle as he searches for the right one to lock the door behind him.

“Walking you home,” Gerard says, as if it’s obvious.

“You don’t need to do that,” Frank replies, and he’s glad the lighting is dim so that Gerard can’t see him blushing.

“Maybe not,” Gerard shrugs, “but I’m going to anyway.”

“It’s like a twenty-minute walk,” Frank says.

“But you’ll be safer,” Gerard says, and those words seem to mark the end of any discussion. Frank can’t argue with him.

Come to think of it, he’s extremely thankful. Frank hasn’t been out alone at night since that day he came running to Gerard’s apartment in hysterics. He was honestly too depressed to have considered it then, but now it seems like a very real fear. Frank shouldn’t have stayed with Gerard this long, but he also doesn’t regret it. A few hours more with Gerard are a few hours more with him feeling a little less empty.

Being outside at night is scary, especially on a college campus. Frank never would have seen it that way before, but now it’s apparent. He’s not a girl, but he knows they should be scared alone. Now he knows to fear it. Because there are bad people about. There’s a very bad person somewhere in this town and he haunts Frank’s every waking moment. Being alone is terrifying because of him.

“That’s really sweet of you,” Frank says. He questions whether ‘sweet’ is the word he wants to use. Would a straight guy call another straight guy sweet? Probably not. Shit.

But Gerard doesn’t notice it. He’s blind to all the signals Frank gives him. It’s kind of obvious if you know what to look for. Mikey is the only person in the world who knows that both of them like each other, but his ‘knowledge’ of Frank liking Gerard is only suspicion and not enough to give Gerard any certainties. But he’s been feeding Gerard that intuition lately, and Gerard just doesn’t see it.

The two of them walk down the stairs together slowly. Gerard’s building isn’t the Ritz by any means, but it’s got heating and heating is one of mankind’s most useful inventions. It’s certainly welcome the minute the both of them step foot outside.

It seems like the weather has finally made up it’s mind about what season it is. It is mid-November after all, so the snow should have been coming down weeks ago, but it’s starting to drift its way down to the ground. It’s not the feathery snow that they’ve had a few times, but the thicker stuff, that’s more likely to stick to the ground, and when packed tightly, would make one hell of a snowball.

“I don’t know about you,” Gerard says, “but I prefer snow. To most things. Snow is elegant, and it makes everything prettier.” Frank’s dark hair catches some of the snow which clings to him, giving his hair contrast and glamor. Yes, snow definitely makes things prettier.

“I do too,” Frank replies. “I think my favorite thing is when the sun is up and it makes the snow too bright to look at.”

The snow does have its disadvantages though. They pass a few leaves, but they’re all either covered in snow or too damp to be worth their while. Every season has its flaws.

Everything outside seems very quiet. It’s rare that you’re outdoors and hear absolutely nothing. This isn’t quite a busy street, but it’s a street, so it’s odd that there aren’t any cars passing by. It’s too late in the day to hear the sound of birds. There doesn’t even seem to be wind. There’s just snow falling around them, and it feels like a movie scene. It feels like something pivotal and emotional. But it’s just simple. Sometimes simplicity is elegance.

“You know that horror movie thing Pete wants to go to?” Frank asks.

“Yeah, I told him I probably wasn’t going,” Gerard says.

“I was thinking that I actually would go.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. What better to do on a Saturday night then watch people get brutally murdered and shit. I miss normal things like that. First I thought I didn’t really care anymore, but then I realized there was no point pulling myself away from the things I like. I’m working on that, but it’s a work in progress. But in any case, I know I’ll regret not going.”

“Good,” Gerard nods. “I’m happy. I wanted to say I’m proud of you but that sounds condescending, but like, I am, I guess.”

“Are you coming too? Pete said you weren’t sure if you wanted to go, but I was hoping you would. You got me that big stack of horror movies for my birthday and I promised you a marathon, and what better way to do that than on a theater screen? Might not be the same movies, but there will be equal amounts of blood. And blood is really all that matters isn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah,” Gerard says nodding, because if Frank wants him to go he will go. If Frank tells him to jump he will ask how high. Frank has got a hold on him.

Frank smiles. He wouldn’t want to go with anyone else. Frank loves a jump scare, the adrenaline it gives him is a high he craves like drugs which he’s not allowed to use since he’s on the hockey team. He’s not necessarily scared by jump scares so much as surprised. But fuck if he wouldn’t hide in Gerard’s arms when the movie gets particularly scary.

Thinking about that is a mistake. Gerard would be so warm. And he’d smell so damn good. And he’d hold Frank close to him, maybe too tightly, and they’d breathe together. He’d be able to hear Gerard’s fast beating heart, trying to pretend he’s not scared because if you’re holding someone in your arms you’ve got to be the strong one, but he’d probably jump even higher.

“We also need to marathon The Flash. And Supergirl. Possibly Batman the Animated Series.” Gerard loves any TV show based on comics. It’s just the kind of person he is. Even the shitty ones. He loves superheroes. There is something deeply nostalgic about someone in a mask saving the day. It makes Gerard feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to do that,” Frank jokes.

“Not if you go back to Boston next year,” Gerard says, and he hadn’t even really known he was still bothered by that. He should’ve moved on to bigger things considering a lot of bigger things have happened, but he can’t stop himself from thinking about that. Frank might leave him. And he probably should. He should probably get as far away from the memories of this place as he can. Morgan will be graduating after this semester, but even if he’s gone those ghosts will still be here forever.

“Yeah,” Frank shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m not sure what I’m doing next year yet. I’m not sure if I’m staying here, or going somewhere else or what. I’ll be honest, I’m not sure what I’m doing tomorrow let alone next year.”

“I know it’ll sound selfish but I hope you stay here. Not necessarily because of the team, but because I’ll miss you. As mushy as it sounds.”

Frank blushes, because who wouldn’t at a sentence like that? Gerard wants him to stay here. Obviously, Frank’s going to consider what he wants first, but Gerard wants him here. That means a lot to him, because he feels like he means nothing to Gerard even though Gerard means everything to him. It’s hard to know what he means to Gerard.

“I really don’t know.”

“I mean, I want you to do whatever you need to do, but like, I’ll still want you here no matter what you do. But your decision is what matters. I just hope you know that you’re deeply wanted here.”

“I appreciate that. I do really love the people I’ve met here. Ray, Pete, Patrick, even Mikey.”

“Ugh, Mikey,” Gerard says, making a face, and Frank just rolls his eyes because he may say otherwise but they both know that Gerard would step in front of a bullet for Mikey.

“You know, I’ve never had friends like you guys. I’ve never really had friends at all before this place,” Frank says, and it’s startling for him to realize that he’s never really told anyone that before. He’s never really had friends, and it’s been okay, but it is a whole lot of fun to know people and to be excited just to see someone. He didn’t really know how much he was missing out on before coming here.

In elementary school he had kids who he’d play with, but he wasn’t like best friends with anyone at all. He played a lot of kickball and four square during recess. He was only ever invited to birthday parties back when you invited everyone in your class. He ate the middle pieces of a lot of birthday cakes at Chuck E Cheese. But no one who he’d go over to their place and watch TV shows or just talk with.

Everyone here makes Frank feel wanted. Pete is always excited to see him, and he’s excited to see most people, but that doesn’t devalue him in anyway. Pete just genuinely loves to hang out with people. And Ray is the best roommate a guy can ask for, he’s funny, kind, understanding, and caring. Patrick is the sweetest dude on the face of the planet, and damn talented too. Mikey is Mikey, but he’s refreshing. Travie is inspirational and almost otherworldly. Even Brendon makes Frank feel at least comforted.

“I find that hard to believe,” Gerard says. “You’re like, the nicest dude ever. Like not in the bland way that the word ‘nice’ connotates, you’re just like, you’re just really kind and fun to be around.” Frank wonders if that’s something a straight guy would say, but he rushes that thought from his head because he knows it leads nowhere he wants it to go.

“You’re a nerd,” Frank replies, and Gerard punches him in the shoulder. Frank’s laughter fills the quiet around them.

Frank used to like being outside at this hour even if he shouldn’t; when light is created by only lamppost and moon. Everything is quiet, the world is resting. Things are simple. Life isn’t simple anymore, and the nighttime doesn’t make it so. And right now, it’s not doing much. Frank still feels pain and hurt. He longs more for the day when the sun drowns out panic.

“Whatever you do, Frank, just make sure it’s what you want to do,” Gerard says, finally. “Whether you stay here, go back to Boston, or just go somewhere else entirely, make sure you’re doing what you know is right. Hell, even if you’re not playing hockey. Maybe you can figure skate. I don’t know a lot about it, but I know you could kick ass.”

“I’m actually not very good,” Frank says, “I know the basics, but I’ve never had a coach or anything. You just think I’m good because you’ve never watched figure skating before. But it’s damn hard. I’d say it’s a mountain harder than hockey.” Frank is not a professional by any means. He’s a beginner even if he’s been doing it for most of his life. Without a coach, it is just a hobby. It’s a skill, but it’s not a career. Besides, he’s getting old as far as a figure skating shelf life is concerned. He should’ve been out there competing years ago if he ever wanted to do it professionally.

“I don’t know a lot, but that doesn’t mean you’re not good,” Gerard says. “You should show me some time. Maybe you can change my mind even more.”

“I think watching anyone figure skate would change your mind. If you knew what we were doing out there, there’s no way you’d call it easy.”

“Then show me, yeah?” Gerard asks. “If you want, I mean. But like, there’s no one I’d rather have introduce me to figure skating than you.” Frank can’t help but to ask himself if that sounds like flirting. It doesn’t sound straight to him, but Frank is looking for Gerard to be gay. He might just be seeing it because he wants it to be there.

“Maybe,” Frank shrugs. “But only if you’ll show me some of your art sometime. All I really know about your interests is hockey and comics. But I’ve never gotten to see your art, which is weird for a guy who majored in it.”

“It’s a deal,” Gerard nods. He doesn’t know if he really cares that much for figure skating, but he think he might if Frank showed him how. Gerard is of the opinion that Frank is the best in the world because no matter how good a figure skater you are, it’s hard to be as beautiful as Frank is when doing it. Not just graceful, but fucking magnetic. That’s what Frank is. Magnetic.

Gerard will have to hide the drawings he’s done of Frank if he shows him his art. There aren’t that many, but there are quite a few. He’s a little nervous that he’s not talented enough, and that he’ll embarrass himself by showing Frank. But he reminds himself that he did make it through art school. So if he’s good enough for that, he must be good enough for Frank.

Good enough for Frank. Like there’s such a thing.

Gerard sees Lancaster Hall, and he hates to see it because that means Frank will be gone soon. Gerard is sick of wishing he could spend every moment with him, but that’s how he feels. He wishes he were waking up beside him. He wishes that Frank’s closeness belonged only to him.

He hates how hard it is to have that. Even if Frank never loves him back, Gerard has so few people to pick from and there’s no reason for why any of them should ever want him. Frank wouldn’t even want him if he were into guys. Because Gerard’s not good enough for him and he knows that. Gerard’s not talented enough, not attractive enough. He’s a whole different class. And Frank will always be too good for him. Too good for everybody.

Frank turns to him when they stop in front of the main doors. Frank is unsure of what to say. Gerard’s making him tongue tied. He looks so pretty in the moonlight, not like he doesn’t always look pretty but there’s a different contrast. His features are darker, and his hair looks softer. His hair looks obscenely black and his skin too white. He’s so pretty. He’s the kind of guy who you could see on posters hanging on people’s walls, and he might be someday.

“I’ll see you at the horror movie thing on Saturday?” Gerard offers.

“Yeah,” Frank nods. “Maybe tomorrow too. We’ll see.”

Gerard doesn’t want to get his hopes up about tomorrow. Their game is tomorrow, but Gerard doubts Frank wil be playing, and Coach might not let him play anyway. She’ll let Frank back on the ice for practice, but not until he attends practice again. Gerard hopes that Frank will be back to playing by their next hockey game, which is at a school a few hours away next Saturday. They really need him. Things are looking bleak for the Green Knights.

It’s not just the team that needs Frank. He thinks Frank might also need the team. Frank is truly happy when he plays hockey. It’s obvious. It might be hard to get back out there, but Gerard truly believes that playing hockey will help him. It helped him the other day when the two of them went to the rink together. Ball is life, as they say.

At the very least, Gerard hopes Frank might come to watch their game. Frank should see how bad they are without him, they’re an entirely different team. Without Frank there to finish the line, one of their flexible players, Trystan, has been forced to pick up the slack, and he’s not bad, but he’s not Frank. No one is Frank. Frank is unbeatable. He must know that the team is poor without him, but if he actually saw just how much it’d surprise him.

“I hope so,” Gerard says. Frank scans himself into the building as Gerard says it, and Gerard steps forward a little bit, not prepared to see him go. This is where he’d give Frank a good night kiss if he could.

“See you, Gerard,” Frank says, smiling. Gerard has learned to treasure every one of Frank’s smiles. He used to take them for granted, but it’s harder to pull a smile to Frank’s lips nowadays so whenever he sees it, it brightens his day.

Gerard doesn’t say ‘I love you, Frank.’ Instead he goes with the ever eloquent “yeah.” Frank walks through the door and lets it close behind him and Gerard wishes to god he were going with him. He misses him already and he’s barely been gone a second.

Gerard stands outside looking at the spot where Frank was for quite some time. He just looks and wishes Frank were still there. He just wants to look at him. To take him in. He wishes Frank was always where Gerard can see him. He wants to protect him, to shower him with adoration, and to make him know that he’s the best goddamn human the world has ever seen. Gerard wants Frank to see himself the way Gerard sees him.

“Fuck,” Gerard whispers to himself. Because honestly, fuck.