Wintertime (Frerard, Sequel to Summertime)

13: In Which Gerard Promises Frank Endless Sexual Favours

Late nights and troubled minds would always be better shared with Gerard, even it was exactly him who'd put Frank into the position of agonising insomnia, because Frank knew his own insecurities will enough to know that he'd most certainly have it no other way.

There was something about him that just put Frank's whole head at ease, and perhaps it was just a case of familiarity and comfort, or perhaps there really was something there when they met one another's gaze and the whole universe seemed to fit together a little better.

Or perhaps Frank was just good at lying to himself, or perhaps Gerard was simply exercising his already well-practised talent of lying to the whole damn world, but somehow, for some godforsaken reason, Frank had the idiocy to convince himself that things would be different this time, and maybe, for the first time in his life, well... death, now, technically, Gerard Way could tell someone he loved them and truly mean it.

It was a phenomenon unbeknownst and unfamiliar to Frank, though, and it plagued both his mind and heart, as the night dragged on without him, because he should really know by now that the world didn't just stop for anyone, but still, he seemed to go on like it did, and like he could just waste away hours in silence, staring at Gerard, and keeping everything up inside his head, like that would ever do any good.

Frank was both a waste of time and a waste of space, and he reckoned that a perfectly concocted combination of the two was quite the achievement, so he had that to his name, at the very least; that, and this boyfriend of his, and perhaps most importantly, the only thing that had come from the events of the past few days, and the meetings with Brendon and Ryan was of course that Gerard was indeed real, and now there was no denying that.

Because Frank just didn't know whether it could possibly be for the worse or the better, because, realistically, his head was still trapped inside the hospital, and the ward, and the room of his therapist's office, and the words that seemed to bounce of the wall, bearing little meaning to Frank at all, and the pills he took everyday, as if to lull himself into nothingness: back then, Gerard had insisted he stopped taking the pills, and eventually Frank did, and eventually Frank found himself ready to kill himself too, and now, just a few hours ago, when Frank had taken them for the day, Gerard had also suggested to him that he didn't need them, and Frank had of course fucking considered it, as if he lived in utter oblivion to the mess that had come of it last time around.

But Frank's one true vice was the one beside him: silent with his hand in Frank's, and his gaze fixated elsewhere, most likely deep in thought, and Frank both yearned and dreaded to know just what went on inside Gerard Way's mind, or whatever there was left of it now.

There always was, and always would be just something off about Gerard, and Frank reckoned he'd just have to grow to live with that, because the possibility of him simply living without Gerard, just didn't seem to sit right in his mind.

And perhaps conversation, and questions, and answers, were the answer, but perhaps Frank found himself turning back to the man beside him, and feeling his whole body shake, because he was scared, so fucking scared, too fucking scared, and forever like that, because he shouldn't be, but he was, because Gerard was too bold, and too careless, and too beautiful, and too fucking dead, like seriously, Frank was dating a ghost, but that seemed pretty irrelevant in the scheme of things and the moment and the thudding of Frank's heartbeat.

"What's wrong?" Gerard eventually asked, perhaps even speaking for Frank, which made the 'older' man just a little uneasy, but in truth, just as, or if not more, grateful, "I know something's wrong, Frank, I can feel it... it's a thing, you know?"

"A dead thing?" Frank let out a sigh, raising his eyebrows a little.

Gerard stifled a laugh, "yeah, something like that, a ghost thing? I don't know... but, that's irrelevant, tell me what's wrong, will you?" Frank remained silent. "It's getting really late, as well; we should get to bed, I want to go to bed, but I don't want to leave you here- in fact, I can't leave you here... I forget that sometimes... I really do."