The World Is Ugly (But You're Beautiful to Me) | Completed

Chapter 5

Gerard Arthur Way is an American artist and comic book writer. He wrote the Esiner Award winning comic book The Umbrella Academy...

Frank stared for the hundredth time that night at Gerard's Wikipedia page. He had left the living room only a few minutes earlier after finally getting over the shock of Gerard's sudden return to mood swings. He had come up to his bedroom determinedly deciding not to think of what happened and planning on sleeping. As it was becoming clearer, that wasn't happening.

He surprisingly hadn't even found himself feeling like a zombie like he usually did by that hour at night. It was certainly a first. Trying to make much out of it and considering he still had a day off the next day, he took a long bath then tried reading and eventually played his guitar for a few hours, something he hasn't done in weeks (at least, not for hours on end, he usually got a few minutes play every other day). Usually, he couldn't wait till he could jump straight into bed after managing to read to or force Diana to shower or do something before sleep. Of course, with that and after being stuck at work all day, thinking before falling asleep was a luxury he didn't have in years. Tonight, it was a whole other story.

Frank checked his laptop clock, it was getting closer to three in the morning and his brain had no interest in sleeping or anything apperantly other that re-reading Gerard Way's Wikipedia page.

Admitedly, Frank had read the article before, back when Emilia told him to so he wouldn't screw up his new job. So eventually, he searched Gerard's name in the news section of Google, coming up with hundreds of articles, the latest of which was a taploid story about Gerard seeing some celebrity, which Frank knew was a lie.

He scrolled down and found older articles, dating back to the begining of Gerard's fame and started reading.

After almost an hour of reading, all what Frank's gathered was this: Gerard was twenty-four years old. His father was an architect and had made the family fortune out of that. Donna and Donald Way, Gerard's parents, died years ago, while Gerard was at art school still, the only family Gerard had now was a younger brother, Michael Way, of which absolutly no information was mentioned.

Gerard apparently had graduated SVA and lived in the city ever since, making himself a name as a talented artist in just a couple of years since he graduated. Frank was impressed, Gerard hadn't even used his family fortune for that, he started selling his paintings at some point in art school and got involved in comics for a couple of years before finally committing to painting.

No information of Gerard's current private life was mentioned anywhere, safe for the tabloids, of course. There were a few rumors about him being bisexual, but Frank tried to not think about that.

All in all, Frank felt frustrated as he read more and more about the man. He groaned and slammed his laptop shut, then laid back on the bed with his hands knitted under his head.

What was it about Gerard that made him care so much? It was true that he had instantly felt something towards him, but he could never act on that, there was so much as stake. First of all, he wasn't going to do that to Diana, not emotionally, nor was he going to jeopardize the first job he got that was so good for both of them. Besides, it wasn't like Gerard was actively trying to become his best friend anyway. If Frank thought about it, he could even say that Gerard only tolerated his existence for the sole sake of running his life for him, something Frank knew that Gerard would never be able to do on his own.

So why did he care?

....

There was no moon that night.

That was the first thing Gerard noticed as he made his way out of his car, it reminded him of another similar night, but he forced himself not to think about it and rubbed his face with his hands before finally getting enough energy to make it to the door.

He was always exhausted coming home at night like this. His fingers ached for something, and wasn't he so tired he couldn't stand or keep his eyes open, he would've got himself to his studio; paint the feelings away. After all, it was better than thinking about what he really wanted in his hands, but he never would. After all what happened, he still remembered his promise.

The stairs looked so long from where he stood that suddenly the idea of getting himself upstairs, to his bedroom then his bed felt like too much work. He instead found himself going to the living room.

"Gerard?"

Gerard had just stepped into the dark room when he heard that. He looked at the sofa in front of the tv and found the the person who called setting and holding the remote control in his hands, the light coming from the tv lighting his face.

Gerard stood there and stared for a second, he had no idea why it felt weird to find Frank there. He knew the other man had been living in his house for a week now, but seeing him there, in his pajamas watching tv in the middle of the night, made it feel more real somehow.

"Gerard, are you okay?" Frank asked with more worry than shock in his voice now.

"I'm fine," Gerard lied and took his jacket off, tossing it on a nearby chair, "what are you doing here?"

Frank looked embaressed for a second. No, Gerard didn't mean that. He didn't mean it like he knew frank took it. "I couldn't sleep," he answered sheepishly, stopping the words that were going to make their way out of Gerard's mouth.

Gerard decided somewhere in the back of his mind that he hated that look on Frank's face. It didn't seem natural for some reason. Maybe because he was so used to fire in his eyes that he found it disturbing to see him apolagitic for something he didn't need to be apolagitic for.

"You look tired," Frank said a moment later, "are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm not," Gerard found himself answering truthfully. He didn't know where the I'm fine lie went. He was just too tired.

In a second, Frank was up, walking slowly to him. Gerard didn't move, he just kept thinking how Frank's touch was coming, but Frank hesitated on the last step and stood before him, too close.

Frank stuffed his hands in his hoodie's pockets and looked down then slowly up. It felt like it took too long, but Frank must've seen something in Gerard's eyes, because he got his hands out of his pockets and reached over, for Gerard's shoulder.

Gerard didn't know if it was disappointment or relief that he felt when Frank's hand fell lightly on his arm instead. He could instantly feel his touch warming his skin through his shirt. He shivered. Why was he so cold?

A moment passed and Gerard realized he had closed his eyes, Frank's grip on his arm wasn't tight, or even holding him, but he felt like it was steadying him. Like he was the only thing stopping him not to fall. Like Frank was his last grip on reality.

What was he doing?

"You should go to sleep," Frank's words came in whisper, shutting Gerard's racing thoughts. He opened his eyes and looked into Frank's, before nodding, but made no attempt at moving. Why did he just notice Frank's eyes? The dim light did little about illuminating them, but he could still see the green streaks in the mix of the hazel irises. Gerard blinked at the sudden need to draw them, he hadn't felt that about anything since—

"Thank you for today," Frank was saying now, looking back at him, though Gerard doubted he could see the shock in them as he was giving his back to the light.

Gerard blinked again. "What?"

"Today. For Diana," Frank explained, "you didn't have to do it and I never got the chance to thank you."

Gerard suddenly got what Frank meant. He remembered that evening with Frank and Diana and he wanted to smile, but couldn't make up the energy for it. It felt so distant now, like it happened a very long time ago.

"You don't have to thank me," Gerard said sincerely, "I wanted to do it."

Frank smiled. Gerard blinked.

Gerard didn't know what his expression was like, but it must've reflected some form of incomprehension because Frank said, "thank you anyway."