Envision The Magic [Frerard] [By innocent_wolves on LJ]

Chapter Seven

Heading down to The Colossus the next morning, Frank felt terribly nervous. Of course he'd slept uneasily; at one point last night he'd fallen into an uncomfortable daze that only seemed like it lasted for about five minutes. He then woke up an hour before his alarm clock was set to go off. It had been impossible to go back to sleep, but despite the restless night he wasn't tired; on the contrary, he was wide awake.

He hadn't been able to get Gerard off his mind. No matter how hard he tried to stop himself, to clear his head and think of something else, his thoughts always returned to that moment in the corridor. The same images swirled around in his head, constantly prodding at the visual center in his brain, almost magically conjuring up scenes from last night. They had been put on repeat, scenes that involved Gerard's lips on his, Gerard's fingers clutching his hair, Gerard's entire weight pushing him against the wall... Gerard, Gerard, Gerard. All the time, over and over again. Frank caught himself wondering what would have happened if his cell phone hadn’t started ringing, if the battery had just been flat. He tried to imagine how that would have turned out, maybe they –

What the fuck is wrong with you, Frank?! he thought to himself, interrupting his own trail of thoughts and pulling his hand across his face, as though embarrassed. He continued staring up at the dark bottom of the bunk above him, listening to his roommates snore heavily. You can't stand this guy. You hate his guts!

He realized however, as he lay there tossing and turning, that he didn't. He could want to hate him as much as he liked, he could say it out loud over and over again, but his entire mind and body was practically screaming the opposite. He still had to consciously struggle to keep his hands neatly folded on top of his blanket. He knew very well that he was falling for him; he was falling terribly hard and terribly fast, which was ridiculous seeing as he'd only known him for less than a week. Frank never fell that easily for anyone but now he was simply crashing to the ground, tumbling about in the air as he was senselessly hitting branches and twigs of doubt and uncertainty on his way down. The point was; he was still falling. It was all so hard to understand. This whole situation seemed to be based on hate, hate that had been built up to a point where it wasn't hate anymore, it was just an explosion of desire in its purest form, and in the end it had turned everything it was based on into infatuation. You didn't even see it coming. It was such a classic turn of events, but you wouldn't know what hit you before it had already given you a black eye. Maybe Frank had just been interested in him from the start. Maybe that's why he'd disliked him so much, because he didn't want to fall for a person like that; it wasn't how he wanted to be perceived. It wasn't how he wanted to perceive himself. It felt like he'd discovered a flaw in his personality that he hadn't been aware of until now, something that didn't match up to the image he was used to. One part of him loathed the mess he'd gotten into, while the other part seemed to be absolutely ecstatic about it.

Well, conflicting feelings or not, last night you were in on it yourself, he thought later, as he was absent-mindedly cleaning the bar counter. The past couple of hours his head had been constantly turning whenever someone entered the lounge, his peripheral vision responding automatically every time he detected the slightest movement. Just admit that you were playing along willingly.

"What did you say?"

Jill's question made Frank jump, and his hand jerked so violently that he immediately dropped the cloth he was holding. He realized he had been thinking aloud without even being aware of it.

"What? Oh, uhm, nothing. I was just, ah, talking to myself. You know."

He conjured up the most innocent smile he could muster and shrugged her an apology, hoping intently that his stuttering explanation was enough. Jill arched an eyebrow at him, smiling questioningly.

"It got late last night, in other words?" she asked.

"Yeah," Frank nodded quickly, grabbing the free opportunity given to him and played along with that, "it got kinda late, you can say that. There's, uhm, there’s a lot going on in that club."

"Mildly speaking. So… what happened? Did you meet someone maybe?" she added suggestively, leaning against the counter as though expecting a juicy dose of gossip.

"Nah," he said casually, shaking his head, "I wouldn't exactly say that. I mean, I know I returned to my quarters alone, so –"

He said that with a joking tone in his voice, but then again it wasn't entirely false either.

"Aw, well," she grinned, sounding as though she wasn't quite convinced but decided to let it go for now, "better luck next time then. Oh! By the way, I just remembered something about Gerard's usual drink for tonight," she added, and her speech became rapid, a reaction that always came when she suddenly recalled something that worried her.

"If I don't start mixing it at around seven, could just try to remind me? Usually he likes to come up here and do that himself – I mean, the guy's like clockwork; it’s part of his routines – but today he’s just not showed up at all, and he should have been here by now. I don't know what that's all about, but he never cancels a show and, more importantly, I know he always wants his drink, so I’m gonna prepare the Manhattan as usual... I'm just afraid that I'll forget all about it, so help me keep it mind, okay?"

Frank could feel his heart jump as soon as Jill mentioned Gerard's name. That was quickly interrupted by an abrupt, sinking feeling when he realized that he wasn’t going to show up before his act. He chewed thoughtfully on the inside of his cheeks for a little while. It could be just a coincidence, of course, but if he didn't know better he'd say it seemed as though he was deliberately avoiding the bar. Then he was suddenly struck by a moment of inspiration.

"Hey, I can bring his drink to him myself, if that's alright with you?" he suggested, continuing to clean the already sparkling counter, trying his best to sound indifferent.

"You want to bring Gerard his drink?" Jill repeated, blinking at him, a trace of doubtful amusement detectable in her voice. "Are you sure? Because as I recall, it's not like the two of you are best friends or anything."

"That's okay," Frank shrugged. "Like you said I can't let him get to me. Also, consider it as a cure for my clumsiness. It'll be the ultimate test."

***

Time edged past very slowly that evening. Every time he looked at his watch it was as if the hands hadn't moved at all, but then again he was probably checking it every third minute. Frank kept glancing up as random guests came by, his chin lifting obediently whenever his eyes detected movement, despite the fact that he knew Gerard most likely wasn't going to show up among them. Maybe he was just being paranoid about it all, maybe he was overanalyzing. The guy could simply be caught up in something that was more important than his routines. So what? It didn't necessarily mean that he was avoiding him.

Sometimes you just think like a girl, his inner voice said as he shook his head at his own behavior. And what the fuck does it matter anyway? Jesus Christ.

"Here."

A small silver tray was placed in front of him, and a single cocktail glass occupied it. It contained a dark amber liquid which gleamed in the dim bar lights; one cherry was bobbing slightly up and down in the bottom of the glass, while the other one was perching daintily on the rim. Gerard's special pre-show request; Manhattan, two cherries instead of one. It was common Envision knowledge, a tiny legend in itself.

"Two-thirteen," Jill explained carefully, "one flight of stairs – and one flight only – below the sun deck. And please don't drop it."

"Oh," Frank said, his hands surprisingly steady as he picked up the tray. "Right. One flight of stairs below the sun deck. No worries, I got this."

"Two-thirteen!" she called after him as he walked away.

"Two-thirteen," he repeated in what he hoped was his most reassuring voice.

"Good luck, Frank!"

Of course, Gerard didn't have quarters; that would be too simple for him, and he didn't exactly insist on living the simple life. Gerard had a suite. That's what it was like, being an Envision celebrity. He had his own show, he had his free drinks, he had his admirers and he had his suite. Frank felt his fingers tighten around the handles of the tray, making the drink wobble slightly, so he forced himself to relax. He couldn't have cared less about his accommodations. The only thing he could think about was the fact that the one time the magician doesn't appear at the bar himself to remind the bartender of his drink, the one time he actually breaks his pre-show routine, is the day after he makes out with one of the bar staffers. That was typical. He had forgotten all about not falling for the temptation of over-analyzing; now the question was just why he didn’t show up. Frank wanted to know. He hated to admit it, but he was kinda starting to take it personal.

He reached the deck where the entertainers and staff with the somewhat "glamorous" job positions had their lodgings. It was a lot brighter up here than down where his own quarters were, which was no surprise considering that this was way above sea level. It allowed the sun to shine in; there were no tiny, permanently locked portholes, and it also provided a splendid view. Even the carpet on the floor was different to the sickly orange one covering the floors in his own corridor; this one was a pleasant purple and crimson, much like the colors dominating The Colossus. It felt a lot softer to walk on too.

"Two-thirteen," he muttered to himself, looking at the numbers on the doors, feeling how his heart rate increased once he reached two-ten. This was like a countdown. "Just a couple more doors, just a co–"

He abruptly cut himself off as the door to suite two-thirteen suddenly swung open, hitting the wall with a sharp bang. He twitched with surprise, almost spilling the drink. An unfamiliar, loud and slightly obnoxious laughter came dancing through the door first, before Gerard came stumbling, almost falling backwards through it, his hair more ruffled than usual and his crimson vest unbuttoned. He was followed closely by a young, unknown man who seemed to have locked his arms permanently around Gerard's waist. Both of his hands were clutching a good handful of his untucked shirt; they were just one movement or two away from sliding up beneath the fabric. His hair was a soft and golden brown mess, the black t-shirt he was wearing making the dark blonde color pop; Frank just barely noticed that the word "CREW" was printed in bold, white letters on the back, spaciously spread out between his shoulder blades, just like the first face-up cards in a round of Texas hold 'em. A large black and white tattoo of some kind of Chinese dragon covered his entire upper arm, giving the impression of crawling down towards his elbow, its thick, scaly tail disappearing beneath his sleeve. The two men appeared to be in the middle of a conversation.

"Whatever, Gerard," the other one said, grinning widely, "you're so full of crap. As if you don't pull that lousy schoolboy analogy every time you want your way with someone."

"Just admit that you fell for it," Gerard shrugged, unfazed. "You, like everybody else."

The young man cocked an eyebrow at him and smiled, biting his lip. His eyes were fixed on Gerard's mouth.

"You're a slut, you know that?" he teased, laughing, before leaning in close so he could kiss him.

Frank had frozen entirely on the spot, nailed thoroughly to the floor, and he couldn't have looked away even if he wanted to. He was stupidly holding the silver tray up in front of him, just gawking at the two of them, who were too absorbed in each other to be aware of his presence. At last, as though he suddenly sensed that someone was watching, Gerard opened his eyes momentarily, glancing sideways, his mouth still comically glued to Mr. Dragon Tattoo. He quickly tore away when he noticed Frank, the disconnection creating a loud and rude smack between them. For a second he just stared, his lips parting in slight surprise. Apparently the sight of him had been the last thing he had expected. The young man frowned and turned his head in the same direction.

"Oh," he said casually, his dark blue eyes flashing. "I guess your drink's here, boss."

A heap of random thoughts raced through Frank's head; the first one he got a proper hold of told him that he was admitting to himself that he had hardly ever seen a more attractive jawline or more perfectly shaped eyebrows on a guy before. Parts of his hair fell effortlessly into his face, as though they had been pre-programmed to do so. He had the tiniest hint of a chin dimple, something that just emphasized how good-looking he was. The young man's eyes searched him quickly, and Frank picked up on the indifferent expression on his face. His arms were still clinging tightly, almost rudely, to Gerard's waist.

Frank and Gerard continued to stare at each other, locked in a gaze that seemed to last forever. Then, as if someone had splashed a bucket of ice water in his face, or pushed him right over board, Frank finally snapped out of his trance. His heart was sinking faster towards the pit of his stomach than an anchor could hit the bottom of the sea, and suddenly he felt a little sick. With a buzzing sound filling his head he put the tray carefully down on the floor, his arms trembling wildly, before he spun around and hurriedly started walking away. He wanted to run but he felt like he couldn’t; he was still in his uniform, he was still at work. He had to stay cool, calm, collected. A burning feeling in his chest was screaming at him, urging him to Run, just run! but he ignored it, trying to picture himself putting out the fire. It sure as hell didn’t work but he didn’t break into a run either.

"Frank –" Gerard began, calling after him, but he didn't pay any attention to it, he just kept walking, his arms swinging brusquely. He could feel his hands balling themselves into hard fists in an attempt to stop them from trembling.

He heard Mr. Dragon Tattoo laugh again, the sound quickly following the length of the corridor, reaching his ears in a matter of split seconds.

"Frank? You mean you actually know this guy?" he asked, a clear, detectable amount of amusement in his voice. "What a weirdo."

"Shut the fuck up," Gerard snapped suddenly. "You have a job to do in the showroom and it happens to be for my act. You're already running pretty darn late, so get your things and get the hell out."

This was followed by a very heavy stretch of silence, before it got interrupted by a door slamming shut. Just when Frank heard footsteps that were quickly catching up with him, he spotted a door leading out to the upper deck. He eventually lost a little control and hurled himself at it, his body thrown into the chilly open. He didn't get to slam the door shut before Gerard had grabbed him by the elbow and followed him outside.

"Hey, could you just wait a sec?" he said intently, pulling his arm and forcing him to a halt.

"What the hell do you want?" Frank snapped, yanking his arm out of his grip.

His reaction was met with a frown.

"What are you so damn angry about?"

Frank let out a sharp, sarcastic laugh; he could hardly believe what he was hearing.

"You're kidding, right? You're really that fucking stupid?"

Gerard just stared blankly at him in response.

"Unbelievable," he muttered, shaking his head impatiently. "Whatever, Gerard, you know what this is about."

They stood there in silence for a short while. Gerard genuinely looked like he didn't know what was going on, and Frank had almost started to believe him when the expression on his face gradually started to change, as though something was finally dawning on him.

"Yeah, maybe you're right," he began, looking at him with a strange kind of wonder, "maybe I do understand what this is all about. If you think that last night was –"

"No, shut up," Frank cut him off angrily, taking a step forward, "I'm gonna tell you what I think last night was. I think that last night was just another night where you grabbed hold of the first and best you came across. You just tried to win me over with another version of your lousy schoolboy analogy. That's what I think."

There was a soft drizzle escaping the semi-darkness; the raindrops were lukewarm but mixed with the late evening breeze they turned cold. Yet again Gerard's response had been reduced to that same, three-second stare. He looked pale and slightly cold, a strong opposite to the festive and bright outdoor lights; the breeze was playing with his hair, making it dance across his face. Then his expression suddenly hardened.

"Okay, wow. I see. You thought last night actually meant something, didn't you?" He laughed, sounding a little incredulous. "You took all that crap seriously and actually thought we had something more going on, and now you're throwing a tantrum because you just realized you were wrong."

"No, I didn't," Frank claimed, although he knew his answer had been too quick and abrupt; it only ended up sounding unsure.

"Oh yes, you did," Gerard nodded, and he was undeniably a little amused. "I just watched you go through at least three stages of shock back there, and I guess that had to do with our little incident last night. Well, for your information, Frankie; I was drunk," he added, as though that justified everything that came out of his mouth. "So whatever other impressions I must have given you can't really be all that valid."

Frank shook his head again; he couldn't believe he had the nerve to just stand there and blame it all on something as cheap and cowardly as being drunk.

"That's bullshit. You hardly touched your drink; none of us did."

"Okay, so what else can I tell you?" he said, throwing his hands up in some sort of mock apology. "What do you want to hear? Huh? Do you want me to say I'm sorry?"

He looked questioningly at him. Frank kept quiet. He didn't buy his fake sincerity for a second; there was still an obvious sarcastic tone in his voice.

"Alright, fine. So…" he began, pretending to count carefully on his fingers, "I'm sorry that you got wrapped up in some misunderstanding, and I'm sorry that you're blaming me for it. Uhm, what else? I'm sorry that you actually didn't manage to put two and two together, and most of all I'm sorry that you're taking everything so damn seriously. Are any of these excuses good enough? You can pick whichever you like."

"You're an asshole," Frank snapped furiously, not able to contain himself. "You're nothing but a wannabe big shot who just wants to shag his way through life. And lucky for you that you've got so much to pick from and such a varied taste. I mean, you didn't get past first base with me but that's fine because you can just move on to the next. I guess fucking some random guy in your crew was just convenient this time, or what?"

His words fell like pin drop sounds that immediately drowned in complete silence. Gerard's eyes narrowed threateningly, and he moved in so close and so suddenly that Frank for a moment thought he was going to punch him. Automatically, he jumped a step back.

"Look," he said intensely, his voice harsh, "I don't really care about the crap your little brain has made up, but God, you are such a whiny bitch! I can't recall having said anything concerning us when I left you last night. I didn't thank you for anything, I didn't ask you to call me, I didn't promise you shit. Still you've been walking around all day thinking that what I meant by finding you interesting was that I wanted to be with you on a regular basis. And look where all that's brought you; you're standing out here in the rain. You've gained absolutely nothing. How fucking sad. Oh, and the funny thing is," he added, and moved even closer, forcing Frank to lean awkwardly against the railing, "if my phone hadn't interrupted me, I would have had things my way, as usual, and you would have left for work this morning from my suite, and you know what? That would have been all, and I would have expected you to move the fuck on."

Frank blinked as the words almost got spat in his face, and he didn't know what to say. He could feel his eyes sting, and he was a little shocked that his feelings were responding like that, but Gerard's words were like arrows. They were well chosen and thoroughly sharpened, and each and every one of them hit him mercilessly.

"Sorry for spoiling your daydreams, Frankie," Gerard shrugged, smirking at him, with that placing the cherry on top of his harsh little speech.

Frank made an honest attempt at pulling himself together, forcing himself to ignore what he’d just been told; if he was going to sink that low and embarrass himself by crying then he would certainly not do it in front of him.

"Why did you even run after me?" he asked, trying to collect all the strength he could to help keep his voice steady, to mirror the magician and make it seem as though this didn’t really affect him all that much either. "If this isn't such a big fucking deal to you and I'm just one of many, then why did you stare at me like you got caught red-handed? Couldn't you just let me leave?"

Gerard snorted, producing a smile that didn't reach his eyes at all.

"Obviously you needed it," he replied scathingly; his face was already falling into the old familiar folds of arrogance. "You can walk around with delusions for all I care, just don't involve me in them. And you're right; you are one of many. I've told you before but it won't hurt to tell you again: You shouldn't flatter yourself too much. Do yourself a favor and let it go."

He turned his back on him and headed for the door to leave.

"You treat everybody like they're just another card trick," Frank heard himself say.

He had started to shiver; his trembling lips were a clear sign of that. He wasn't sure whether it was because he was angry or because he was hurt or simply because he was cold. Either way it affected his voice, making it sound like he was fragile and weak. It didn't matter how hard he tried to do something about it, it seemed impossible, so he just kept talking.

"You – you make people appear and disappear whenever you want. You've always got everyone right where you want them. Sometimes you make the situation seem like one thing when it's not, and… I don't fucking know. I guess that's just for the sake of it, just because you think it's fun, or whatever. I don't know how you think. Anyway, it's the same damn trick. You keep pulling it over and over again, but you don't care. Hell, no one cares! Although everyone knows you're one of the most obnoxious people in existence. You even know that yourself. But fuck all that. Right? Because you're Gerard Way, and everyone's fine with whatever you say or do or want. You get to treat people the way you like because for whatever stupid reasons, they'll just let you. It doesn't matter if they find your offensive pickup strategies attractive or not, because you're sure you'll get them in the end. So of course, when someone actually calls you out, you tear them down. It didn't go as planned so you tell them you don't care. You can just... just spew out whatever insults you can think of, because it's no big deal. Blame it on them. But you know what, Gerard? You're a fucking joke. And the day you realize that it'll be too late for you to fix it."

Gerard had frozen on the spot, his hand resting stiffly on the door handle. Frank's head was burning, and suddenly he felt a little awkward and embarrassed in the silence that followed. Maybe this had just been his disappointment talking, or his bruised heart, because he had no idea that he was even able to come up with all that. He watched Gerard's immovable body, trying to catch the expression on his face but it was hidden in the shadows. For a second he was sure he would turn around again, and maybe this time he would punch him in the face, but that moment never came. Eventually he just opened the door and disappeared inside without another word.

Frank was left staring at the closed, heavy door, breathing rapidly. He stared so intensely it almost seemed as though he was trying to send a message through the white painted steel, somehow pulling Gerard back and forcing him to apologize for being such a dick. He sighed. He wasn't sure what he was trying to do. He wasn't even sure what he was thinking; his head was just one big mess. All he knew was that at one point, Gerard had been right; he had actually thought last night had meant something. He thought it had been a genuine moment. Frank cursed at himself, feeling stupid and humiliated. Of course he should have known. He knew what the guy was like, how he used to play – and still he fell for it. Like everybody else, he fell for it, except he'd gone a step further and taken it to heart.

He looked up. The rain had increased in strength; the heavy raindrops settled on his face and made their way through the thick fabric of his shirt, creating grey little circles on the white surface. Down below, over a distance that seemed greater than ever, he could hear the faint, rhythmic rushing of the masses of water boiling underneath the ship's belly. They were just a moving blip somewhere in the Caribbean and that was it. When he first set out on this trip he'd looked forward to it, thinking he'd be in his own little sanctuary where no one could reach him. He would be able to escape completely for a few days. Now he just wanted to get away from Gerard as far as possible and as soon as possible, but the ship had definitely seemed to shrink. In the end he was sure it would be reduced to nothing but a cage.