All We Need Is Daylight

It turns out to be a very long, very depressing night for Frank. Walking back to Gerard’s apartment is hard enough, but he’s lost all of his energy in it. Now he finds himself sitting on the floor of Gerard’s shower for long enough that Gerard knocks on the door repeatedly to see if he’s alright.

“I’m fine,” Frank says. Physically, that’s the truth. He is fine. Mentally, he feels like staying under the warm water for as long as he can. Why does he keep pretending it’ll wash things away? He can’t make his memories and grief melt off like he wants. All he can do is watch the day swirl circular into the drain.

The room smells like Gerard’s shampoo, which Frank might have guessed is woman’s shampoo, the source of the femininity behind his usual scent. Now Frank will smell a little bit like Gerard, and maybe he likes that idea. But that doesn’t take anything away. It’s weird, the things he thinks he wants, the things he really does want, don’t really do anything to stop him being in pain. They sometimes just manage to distract him.

The water is starting to get colder, and he keeps turning the knob, but the water is surely going to be freezing if he stays here for any longer. Why doesn’t warm water last forever? It feels like futility. Anyone could stand in a shower for hours comforted by the warmth, but in most showers, you’ve got thirty minutes top. It’s a fucking metaphor.

Frank looks down at the ground like he’s hypnotized by it. The drain is only working at eighty percent so he’s standing in about a centimeter or so of water that hasn’t drained away yet. He remembers that night lying on the shower floor of the hockey rink, scrubbing his own skin, scratching at it until blood flowed into the drain like water. It’s been almost two weeks since it happened, but there’s still marks all along his body from where he’d scratched. His thighs got the worst of it, it looks like a werewolf tried to claw him apart. Frank rubs his hands against the marks there. He sniffles, and his tears mix with the spray of the shower head.

Shouldn’t he be better by now? He’s with Gerard, the boy he’s in love with. Shouldn’t it feel better by now? He always knew love wasn’t a cure, but god he hoped it would do something. What’s the point in a distraction if it only distracts for a little while?

Gerard knocks on the door again. “Frank, I made you some hot chocolate. You don’t need to drink it, but if you do, it’s out here.” Frank sighs. Gerard is so good to him. He shouldn’t have to put up with this. Less than a day and things are already bad. Now it’s the middle of the night, pushing four in the morning and it feels like all the monsters have come out to play. The night makes it harder to escape his demons.

The water is cold now. His feet are getting cold. Frank reaches up above him, reaching for the shower knob but unwilling to look directly at it and get water in his face. Once he turns it, the water slows, and goes down to a trickle. He sits for a few minutes, feeling air that probably isn’t cold hitting his wet skin which makes him start to shiver. He doesn’t want to stand up, but he’ll be warmer outside of the shower in a towel. Maybe he does want hot chocolate. He knows for sure he wants clothes.

Frank stands up very carefully, Gerard’s apartment is old, and the bottom of the shower has been worn down from use, so the floor is slippery. Frank finds the towel that Gerard had grabbed for him, wraps it around himself and then just looks around. The fog on the mirror has left behind the remnants of an old message Gerard wrote for himself, telling him to buy more soap. He looks at it and tunes out of the world. He doesn’t make any move to actually dry himself off, but rather wears the towel as a cape. Warmer than the shower. But the cold air hits his legs which he doesn’t like. He wants to be with Gerard, that’s the warmest place he can picture himself being.

Gerard laid out some clothes of his for Frank. Maybe he should bring some of his own clothes if he’s going to be spending as much time in his apartment as he thinks he probably will. Gerard would probably give him a key and half of the dresser in the bedroom if Frank asked for it. Maybe he just wants a drawer for now. He’ll mention that later. For now, Frank puts on the shirt and the sweatpants, which are both just slightly too big for him, but he doesn’t mind. More of that Gerard smell, which is a comfort. Frank can’t imagine anything more comforting. If he’s going to have a breakdown, or whatever this is, at this point something more zombie-like and numbing, he wants to at least be surrounded by anything and everything Gerard.

He walks out into the living room, to find Gerard sitting at the dining room table, which Frank didn’t know he had because it’s usually covered in too many pizza boxes to see. He must’ve cleaned it off while Frank was in the shower. Gerard, who had been looking at his phone, looks up immediately when he sees Frank. They look at each other. Gerard looks disheveled, his hair in that particular pattern that says his hands have been through it a dozen times. Frank actually doesn’t look terrible all things considered. Gerard’s gotten used to his eyes looking sunken in like that.

“Hey,” he says, concern in his voice. Frank doesn’t want him to always be so worried for him, but he’s got a feeling that things are just going to be like that for a while. When things get better for Frank, he won’t need to be so worried, but now, he supposes it’s inevitable.

“I’m sorry,” Frank says. He’s just standing there next to the couch, the placement of which is the only indication that the kitchen and living room are two separate spaces. He tries suppressing his tears but that’s something he used to be good at, not anymore. It’s hard to suppress tears when it feels like your walls are caving in.

“You don’t need to be sorry for anything, why would you think that?” Gerard asks, and he pushes the mug beside him a little closer to Frank, to indicate it’s for him. Frank debates whether he’s going to sit across from Gerard or beside him. He decides on neither.

He turns around slightly and takes a seat on the couch. He prefers cushions to the hard Ikea chairs. He hears rustling, then finds Gerard coming around to the other side, taking a seat far enough away from Frank that it’s his choice to either stay separate or to come in a little closer. Frank had held onto him in the handicap bathroom, but he doesn’t want to take anything for granted by assuming he still wants to be held. It turns out Frank does, because he curls up into Gerard the second he sits down.

“I just feel like I’m putting all this pressure on you, and I ruined your night, and I’m such a fucking pathetic-”

“You know I don’t think any of those things,” Gerard runs his hand through Frank’s wet hair. Why can’t Frank see that he would do anything for him? How does he not understand? He’s in love with this guy, he’s not going to just abandon him when times are tough. That’s not what love is, you love them even more to make up for the fact that times are hard.

“We’ve been dating for what, like twenty-four hours now, and I’ve already cried a bunch and broken down so much, and you just don’t deserve to have to put up with me. It should be all sunshine and rainbows after we waited so long, but here I am just fucking it up.”

“Don’t say that! Listen, Frank, I’m never going to see you as a burden. I’m never going to be angry or upset by you needing me to be here for you like I am right now. Like that’s just never going to happen. I mean, obviously I want you to be happy, I want to make you happy and be everything you need, but when you’re not happy I want to be here for you through that too. It’s not just about the good things in a relationship, you know. Like that’s why when people get married they say, ‘for better or for worse.’ I’ll be here for your best and your worst, and you’ll be there for me too. Don’t ever think I don’t want to be here, okay? Being with you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I mean that. Even when we were just friends and helplessly in love with each other, sitting on this goddamn couch watching TV and movies, like, that was perfect. You’re perfect. For me at least.”

Frank sniffles, wipes away some of the tears on his face, though there’s a wet spot on Gerard’s shirt from where his cheek has been. “I just wish that we could be like normal. Not just like, I want to tell everyone I love you, but also, like I don’t want to be going through shit. I want everything to be perfect like it was supposed to be. Three weeks ago, when we could’ve done nothing but laugh and have fun. When things weren’t bad. Back when I was still innocent and clean.”

“What happened doesn’t change you Frank, you’re not dirty.”

“But I’m not the same I’m never going to be,” Frank says.

“Who said changing was bad? I’ll fall in love with every new version of you. And we’ll be alright. We’re gonna be just fine, Frank. The prettiest hockey player ever and his dumb artsy boyfriend.” Frank laughs at the words, but then sniffles.

“Things will get better won’t they?” Frank asks. The question rises in the air like a puff of smoke, and Gerard doesn’t know what to do with it. Frank isn’t sure himself what he’s asking. Will he get over the rape? Is that wound ever going to heal? Or is he asking about the two of them? Is their relationship going to move past the door of this apartment? When? When will it be safe to tell the world, or when will they be ready to face that? Why is it that you can love one person and the whole world hates you for it? He just wants to be with Gerard and he wants everyone to know, but the world’s not ready for him, which is stupid because he didn’t do anything wrong.

“Everything gets better if you give it time. Except maybe capitalism,” Gerard says, and Frank chuckles again. “And I know you, I know you so well. I don’t know everything, which I’m working on, but I know you’re strong. You’re strong, and talented, and you can do anything.” Frank wants to respond with all the things about Gerard that are amazing but there’s not enough time in one day, and he doesn’t have the air capacity to list them. You’re beautiful. You’re funny. You’re passionate. You’re creative. You’re my best friend. Kiss me.

“I don’t deserve you,” He says. Gerard scoffs. Frank doesn’t want to hear him be self-deprecating about himself, because try as hard as he might, there is nothing this man could conceivably do to convince Frank that he’s anything but wonderful. Imperfect, yes, Gerard is definitely that, but that’s what makes Frank like him so much. Frank’s allowed to be self-deprecating because he’s a mess, but Gerard’s not allowed because Frank knows none of it would be.

“I’m just a fucking mess,” Frank says.

“Everyone is. We can be messes together.” He lets the room sit like that for a while. Gerard listens to Frank breathing. In. Out. Soft. Frank is so soft. Gerard’s not used to being around people this closely. Frank’s body pressed up against him. Frank’s so vulnerable but he trusts Gerard, and he’d never give him any reason not to. Gerard reaches behind him for the blanket he keeps on the couch, then throws it over the two of them. Frank makes a soft sound.

Frank grabs for Gerard hand and then looks at it. He can see Frank analyzing his hand, taking it in. His eyes look at the fingers, the veins, the little grey mark Gerard has from the time he stabbed himself with pencil. He studies it for a few moments before he intertwines their fingers and holds their hands up so that he can look at them. They look right together, Gerard’s almost white skin next to Frank’s which is nearly as pale. Gerard has such a strong looking hand, Frank’s doesn’t seem nearly as angular or sharp in comparison. Frank should probably cut his fingernails while Gerard needs to stop biting his. Gerard brings their hands closer to him, kisses the top of Frank’s.

Frank has stopped crying. Neither of them know when that happened. How long have they been sitting here now anyway? The hot chocolate is cold. Frank had kind of wanted it. He looks up at Gerard, who immediately matches his gaze. That’s the only face that matters. Frank brings his hand to Gerard’s neck, and pulls him down so that he can kiss him. Frank doesn’t want to under appreciate what it’s like to kiss him. Before Gerard he’d never gotten to do that before. Kissing him is magic. Why is it nice? It shouldn’t be nice, two mouths just on top of each other, but it is.

It’s not quite a deep kiss, but it’s a long one. Minutes are slow. It really is just the two of them. People always say that. That they’re the only two people left in the world, but it happens all the time with Gerard and maybe it’s because they are the only two people in the world. It’s just them. The world doesn’t need to have anyone else in it when it’s them.

Frank pulls away eventually, and they look at each other again. Frank can’t believe those are the lips he just kissed. How is any of this possible. He puts his head against Gerard’s chest again, who wraps both of his arms around Frank and adjusts his body against the couch to be more comfortable. He holds him tightly for a second, a sudden stab in his heart at the idea of ever letting him go. Then he just listens to Frank breathing again. In. Out. In. Out.

It doesn’t take long before Gerard realizes Frank’s fallen asleep. It warms him up in a way that he can’t describe. Two nights in a row, Frank Iero falling asleep in his arms. Gerard carefully finds a more comfortable position with his head against the armrest of the couch. He’s getting older, his back is going to hurt in the morning from this, but it’s not like he’s about to wake Frank up any time soon. This is nice, even at the angle because it’s the two of them.

Maybe he’s getting good at this, calming Frank down. He thinks he’s good for Frank. He knows Frank is good for him.

Things don’t feel like they’ve changed even though they have. Frank is definitely a different version of himself, but it’s still Frank. The two of them can still talk about bands, and Frank loves to listen to him when Gerard talks too much, which he knows he does a lot. Having dinner with him is fun because he’s still Gerard’s best friend. Frank’s really silly, he wonders if anyone else has noticed that, but he’s got quite the spirit inside him. Fuck, whenever Frank tells him about all the tattoos he’s going to get and how much he loves his mom. Every tiny little thing, his favorite coffee, how he wants to try nail polish, how he still knows the fifty-state song he learned in third grade. Why is it so enchanting?

Gerard isn’t aware of falling asleep. He’s only aware of waking up to Frank’s phone ringing that same guitar riff as it had done yesterday. Why is this happening? He doesn’t want to open his eyes but when he does they’re assaulted by the light streaming in through the windows which have shitty blinds that do little to block out the sun.

“Fuck, where’s my phone,” Frank says in that sleep heavy voice that sounds a notch away from what his actual voice sounds like. He pulls himself off of Gerard whose shirt sticks to him a little from sweat that must’ve built up over the night from Frank’s body heat. Nevertheless, Gerard groans when Frank gets up, hurriedly searching the coffee table for his phone, which is not where it is. Gerard is so viscerally bombarded with sound and sight and he does not have enough time to process it right now.

Gerard, groggy, watches Frank through blinking eyes as he follows the source of the sound, into the bedroom, where he comes back a moment later, holding his own pants and digging through the pocket. Of course, he looks in the wrong pocket first, but he finally finds it on what Gerard swears is the hundredth ring. How does his phone ring that long before a call goes through to voice mail? Why is it so loud this early in the morning? Who gave it the right?

“Ma?” Frank says when he answers the phone. “Oh, right I almost forgot!” Had he forgotten that his mom was coming? That she’s on her way to Gerard’s apartment right now to make him food. Even Gerard didn’t forget that. He slept on the couch though, his hair must look a mess and he’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday. He knew she was coming, he should’ve planned better, set an alarm for an hour ago or something. Christ, when did he go to sleep? He’s so fucking tired. What time is it now? Gerard is not in a great mood.

Frank goes back around to the couch to take a seat, looking far more awake than Gerard is at this given time. Gerard pulls himself up into a sitting position, rubs the sleep from his eyes a bit before he scoots on down the couch to sit almost behind Frank. Frank will make his mood better. Cute, soft, warm Frank who should never have left him in the first place. He wraps his arm around Frank’s neck and then kisses his cheek, before resting his head in the crook of his neck, almost able to hear both sides of the conversation but not quite.

“Twenty minutes? Okay, yeah.” There’s some talking on the other end. “You don’t need a door code, no, we’ll just buzz you in.” Gerard kisses him again, and he sees Frank trying to hide his smile by biting his lip. This makes him very happy. Frank is definitely in a better mood. It’s the nighttime, he suspects, and a new day. End of the day you’re tired, you don’t want to think about anything hard which is why you think of everything awful there is to think about. Brand new day sun streaming in, more energy coursing through you, the world is brighter physically and emotionally. Yeah, I think you’re really going to like him, he’s one of my favorite people ever. Besides you of course.”

It’s a mother thing, Gerard assumes, because it takes another five minutes to hang up with her even though she’s literally going to be seeing him in person in only a few minutes. “Yes, I’m very excited to see you, Ma. And Hayley too. Okay. Yeah. Okay. I love you, Ma. Okay. Bye. Yes, Ma. Okay. Bye.” By the time Frank does hang up, Gerard has physically aged.
It takes Frank barely a moment of pause before he jumps up into action. “Oh my god, we need to clean a little bit, I forgot she was coming! Or maybe I didn’t forget, but like, fuck, we only have like fifteen minutes, oh god. I have to brush my teeth! Fuck, oh my god, okay, I’m going to brush my teeth, can you like, do whatever you can to make it look a little more presentable. I know it’s your apartment and I shouldn’t boss you around, but this is my mother.”

Gerard nods, “no problem, go brush your teeth, Frank. And I’ll change clothes. We can clean up as much as we can.”

Frank nods, running into the bathroom. He hurries brushing his teeth, with his finger because he doesn’t have a toothbrush here, which might be a smart idea. He should be used to this he sets his alarm for twenty minutes before his first class, but this is different because it’s his mom. It’s not like she’s going to think he can’t take care of himself, but what if she sees him looking like this mess who woke up ten minutes ago and didn’t sleep and is having a bad go of life right now. She cannot know any of that.

He washes his hands for a minute longer than he needs to and also his face. Then he spends time making sure his hair looks great and adjusting his clothes, which his mother will probably know immediately don’t belong to him, which will mean she’ll know he borrowed someone’s clothes and she’s smart enough to know that means he probably slept over here in Gerard’s apartment and she’s going to have questions which he knows she will not verbalize to Frank with Gerard present but he’s definitely going to have answer them. He tries to calm his breathing down. Maybe if he tucks the shirt in it’ll look a little smaller and then maybe it’ll look like his because Frank listens to The Stooges maybe it is his shirt and maybe she’ll just think he bought a new shirt. The pants though, Frank doesn’t wear sweatpants that often, she’ll figure that one out pretty quick, and who tucks a t-shirt into sweatpants?

Frank runs out of the bathroom, sees Gerard clearing off the kitchen counter, and watches him for a second. He should really help out, because it’s him who’s causing the intrusion to Gerard’s backstage, which really only Frank is supposed to see. It’s messy in the same way Gerard is when he speaks. Frank knew the first time he came over that Gerard rarely invites people over. And now comes his boyfriend’s mom who doesn’t know he’s dating her son, but first impressions are important, and Gerard curses himself for not clearing up a little earlier.

He definitely doesn’t have enough time to think about the fact that Gerard looks super fucking sexy. He changed into dark jeans that are the slightest bit tighter and Frank might be an ass man, he never really considered it before, but damn Gerard looks good in tighter pants. Gerard definitely tried to pat his hair down but it’s still sticking out, it’s so cute, Frank loves his long hair. Gerard’s kind of scruffy this morning, he must grow facial hair faster than Frank, because Frank shaves like once a week and even that is probably more than he needs. Gerard is like a fucking man, and that is so hot. Frank hasn’t yet moved past the point of seeing himself as a child, but like he’s gonna start having to with Gerard because wow he’s dating a man who has his own apartment and can grow facial hair. Is Frank horny or is he just hormonal in the morning and never noticed it?

He doesn’t have time for this. Frank goes into the bedroom where threw his pants from yesterday, pockets both inside out from looking for his phone. You can wear jeans a few days in a row, right? It’ll be fine, they don’t smell when he gives them a sniff, so his mom won’t notice. He changes into the pants, and then tucks the back of the shirt into the pants because that makes it look smaller but doesn’t make him look ridiculous. He runs back into the bathroom. Does he look okay? He wishes he could do something about his eyes which look so tired, he definitely didn’t look like this in high school. It’s been nearly three months since he last saw his mom, but she’s going to notice he looks tired before she notices anything else.

The shirt, though. This could be Frank’s shirt. She knows what kind of music he listens to, and he does own a lot of band shirts. It’s black, that’s very in keeping with Frank’s style. Frank untucks the shirt. No, it is too big. He tucks it back in, at the front this time, Queer Eye has taught him a few tricks at least.

Why is this such a big deal? Why does he care? She probably won’t notice one way or the other, but all Frank can think about is that she’s going to know he’s dating Gerard based of the shirt he’s wearing. What if she does ask? He can just tell his mom that he stayed over at Gerard’s house. What were they doing? He went to a late-night movie marathon and was tired and Gerard’s apartment was closer than going back to his dorm. He didn’t want to wear day old clothes, so he borrowed some of Gerard’s. That’s not that weird, people can share clothes, especially if you stay at their apartment for a night. He smells like Gerard’s shampoo. Well obviously because he needed to shower and that was the shampoo that was there, duh. Where did he sleep? On the couch, and Gerard slept in his bed, because obviously.

It’s fine, it’ll be fine, everything is fine.

“Oh fuck.” Frank sighs to himself. He makes seriously long, hard eye contact with himself in the mirror. Your name is Frank Iero, your mom is coming, you’re in love with your best friend and he loves you back, and that makes you really really happy, and oh my god your mom is going to be here any second. He swears a few more times to himself before he calls out to Gerard in the other room, “Gerard, can we talk about something really quick?”