Wintertime (Frerard, Sequel to Summertime)

7: In Which We Learn That Gerard Way Is A Teenage Girl In Disguise

Gerard was still there, and Frank was almost surprised, because whatever this was, this was new, because Gerard wasn't the kind of guy you could be certain would be there in the morning.

Frank had insisted upon the sofa, Gerard had insisted otherwise, and Frank even began to wonder if ghosts actually needed to sleep at all. However, he didn't particularly fret over it, simply sitting up in bed and thanking the dear lord himself that it was the weekend.

He found himself a little nervous when it came to getting Gerard's attention, well touching him, but Frank exhaled loudly, and found himself gingerly extending his hand in the direction of the boy curled up on the other side of his bed.

They hadn't cuddled or fucked or anything, and they'd slept sort of apart, because although, deep down, they still sort of shared this mutual kind of affection for one another, it had still been ten years, and the constant reminder of that haunted Frank's mind in an entirely different manner to the way Gerard did.

Gerard stirred as Frank's hand was within centimetres of his back, rolling and turning in the bed to face Frank, who was sort of half sat up with the sheets twisting around his waist.

"You know what's nice about this? About being a ghost?" Gerard spoke after just a few moments of meeting Frank's gaze in a sort of unsubtle and totally mesmerised manner.

"You tell me, Gerard, I know for sure that I much preferred it when you hadn't killed yourself." Frank's tone was a little bitter, but the hour was early still, and Gerard seemed only slightly fazed as he too sat up.

"It's different to being human, you know? It feels different, and I experience things differently, especially with you, because I feel your energy, your entity, and your touch and... when you moved your hand closer, things stopped being cold inside my chest, I mean, my ribcage must get lonely without a beating heart in there-"

"Oh, fuck off, when did you become such the soppy romantic?" Frank shook his head, smiling and blushing a little as he turned to his bedside table, feeling no desire to get out of bed right now as he grabbed the packet of cigarettes and lit himself one.

"When did you become such a bottom?" Gerard retorted, pushing his hair away from his face as he watched Frank light the cigarette. "I wonder if I can actually smoke cigarettes still, I mean, I-"

"Maybe it'd work if you sat closer to me, or something... do you want to try?" Frank looked up, holding out the packet of cigarettes in Gerard's direction.

"I'd probably have to sit in your fucking lap, not going to lie." And the two laughed a little as Frank closed the packet and put it back on the table. "Is that you saying that you don't want me to sit on your lap? You know, I'm a ghost, I technically have no mass, it's not even going to-"

"Gerard, just... shut up." Frank shook his head, holding the cigarette between his two fingers. "It's been ten years, just because I've accepted that you exists doesn't mean that we're automatically boyfriends again."

Gerard nodded, sighing a little as he moved closer to Frank, laying his head on the now older man's shoulder, and letting out a slightly more content sigh. "You know, I've reckoned I've figured it out."

"What?" Frank asked, looking down at Gerard as he took a drag of his cigarette.

"I've figured you out, Frank Iero." Frank raised his eyebrows: apprehensive, but curious and eager for Gerard to continue. "You didn't get over me, you became me: you're the smoker, you're the bottom, you're the fucked up mind, you're the older one, you're the fucking hot one. I'm just waiting for the very day you're buying a fucking box of red hair dye."