Wintertime (Frerard, Sequel to Summertime)

3: In Which Frank Asks Brendon To Buy Him A Dildo

You would expect that in a 'waking nightmare' where the monsters of your darkest nightmares have the courage to stand out in the real world amidst the sunlight, your sleep would be somewhat peaceful in comparison, but Frank Iero was very quick to learn that it was nothing but the opposite.

He'd dreamt about G-him, the figure, whatever, for the past few nights in a row now, and even though he hadn't seen- hallucinated it properly since, he still found himself horribly unable to rid all, or even any thoughts of the figure, the hallucination, Gerard fucking Way, from his head.

It was a Saturday, and only just, and perhaps that was what kept Frank staring at the bright red LED numbers on his alarm clock for just so long after he'd woken up in nothing more than a cold sweat.

Frank watched as the time ticked from one thirty seven to one thirty eight and let out a sigh, before getting out of bed and slamming his hand against the wall: a vague guess in the dark for the location of the light switch - eventually, he found it, and a bright light poured into the room, waking up the two dogs that had curled up at the end of his bed, but seriously, this was his bedroom, and if they were going to sleep in his bed, then they were going to have to put up with him waking up at half one in the morning.

Frank turned on the main light of the apartment, and turned the one off in his bedroom, and receiving some sort of appreciative grunt from his dogs in reciprocation of his kind and considerate gesture.

And with that, Frank made his way into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water: holding it loose and kind of awkwardly in his hand, before glancing to the packet of cigarettes on the table top and taking them outside onto the balcony with him.

Sleep seemed like a lost cause at this point, and well, Frank was really more irritated than frightened. After all, he'd been sectioned with schizophrenia for years, one little nightmare wasn't going to scare him, was it?

But of course, it was less of the nightmare and just what was causing them that was the issue here, but Frank chose to brush it off as he placed his cup of water down on the table on the balcony and lit himself a cigarette.

Being just about quarter to two in the morning now, the skies were pitch black, well, more of a inky dark navy blue colour: illuminated in places from street lights and shop signs, car headlights and the odd star. In a city like this, you could never truly get real darkness, and Frank wondered whether that was a bad thing or not, because sure enough, it polluted the skyline, but with hundreds of little lights across the city below him, Frank couldn't help but feel a little less alone.

Frank hadn't really ever seen true darkness, except perhaps that one time when he was sixteen, in the woods behind his house: the night he'd camped out there alone and just watched the world and the stars, and basked in the pitch black above him - it was true solitude, but then, Frank felt the least alone he'd been in his life, but then again, that forest would always be special to him: whether it was the person who'd showed him it - his mother - or the person who'd left him there: curled up on the ground with the pills beside him... Gerard.

And honestly, Frank had been doing so fucking good when it came to not thinking about him, even with these 'hallucinations', but right now, he knew just how unbelievably fucked he was, because whether it was from the thoughts of him plaguing Frank's mind, or the habit he'd picked up in the absence of his boyfriend and motherfucking second hand smoke.

Frank glanced at the cigarette between his fingertips and glared it like it was nothing but his worst enemy. Of course, Frank was wrong, as he had no greater enemy than his own mind and the corrupted nature of his subconscious, but he was desperate in his search for something other than himself to blame.