Inertia [5/14]
Title: Inertia [5/14]
Author: periculosa
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Fake.
Summary: The faster you’re going, the harder it is to stop. When MCR go to live at the Paramour in LA, strange happenings bring them closer together, as well as farther apart.
Notes: This chapter is going to take over the world. No, seriously. It just wouldn’t end. :/
| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |
Your misery and hate will kill us all (the five of us are dying).
When Gerard returned to his bed that night, he still couldn’t fall asleep. Despite the fact that he felt exhaustion weighing down on his eyelids like bags of sand, he continued to toss and turn, thinking about what had just transpired in the stone tower, and wondering if he was the only one dwelling on it. Frank and Gerard had sat there for a long time, hardly saying anything at all; however, the noise in Gerard’s head had more than made up for the lack of conversation. He found that he was far too aware of the way Frank’s body swelled and dipped as he breathed, and the musky smell of cinnamon mixed with honey that Frank’s hair gave off, and this made him simultaneously excited and frightened.
Frank seemed to grow heavier as the clock ticked on, and Gerard thought it was probably because more and more of his muscles were letting go as he relaxed, until he was leaning most of his weight on Gerard. It felt nice; it was more intimate than anything else the two of them had ever done, and the prospect of things continuing in that direction made blood rush to Gerard’s face, and caused his ears to tingle as if pins were being stuck into them. There were many words to describe said feeling, but “unpleasant” wasn’t one of them, and that much Gerard was sure of.
In any case, Gerard later determined that it had been around two in the morning when Frank had finally stirred, mumbling something about getting some sleep as he did so. Gerard withdrew reluctantly, and shifted on the bench while trying to look as casual as possible, given the current situation. Frank had smiled at him. “Aren’t you going to go to bed?” he had asked, his voice lowered to the point where Gerard could just barely hear him over the rain.
“I’m gonna stay here for a little longer,” Gerard had mumbled in response, his face turned more away from Frank than towards him.
Frank had shrugged. “Okay, whatever. Goodnight, Gee.” Frank was being sweet, and Gerard almost couldn’t stand it. Sure enough, before he turned to leave, he took a step closer and bent down, pressing a lingering kiss to Gerard’s temple before straightening up and heading towards the staircase. His hand stayed on Gerard’s shoulder a few seconds too long, and Gerard felt the weight of the situation in that simple gesture; it almost hurt, but Gerard knew he was just being overly dramatic by thinking so.
Gerard had let another hour pass before he returned to bed; the sound of the rain had been oddly soothing, and he found concentrating on it cleared his head a great deal. He had even lit another cigarette, finding himself glad that he had brought the entire pack as opposed to just one.
When he eventually fell into his bed, he found that sleeping wasn’t exactly at the top of his list of priorities at the moment. He knew it should have been, but that knowledge did nothing for his addled brains. He tried to blame it all on the excitement of moving into the enormous mansion, and he knew that was a large part of it, but he couldn’t convince himself that it was the only reason for his insomnia. After an hour or so of tossing and turning, he fell into a restless slumber.
[//]
When he was awakened seven hours later, he was completely delirious.
Bob shook him awake, and the first words out of his mouth were, “Don’t go with him!” Bob promptly gave him his best “what the fuck?” look, and backed off, waiting for Gerard to regain full consciousness and looking curiously out the window.
“Who?” Bob had asked cautiously once Gerard had blinked a few times and looked at him.
“Oh, uh,” Gerard spluttered, “I don’t know.” He was thoughtful for a moment, attempting to remember whatever dream had caused such an outburst, but to no avail. He did, however, recall a few random images, some of which were a man he didn’t recognize in a suit, running water, and an old-fashioned car. He didn’t even try to make sense of it.
“Okay,” Bob said dismissively. “Well, I suggest you get your ass in the shower or something, because we’re going to start practice in an hour.”
“What?” Gerard said, blinking. “We don’t even have our gear, dude.”
“Yeah we do. Some guys came by with it about a half hour ago, but you slept through it. It’s already eleven. How long have you been asleep, twelve fucking hours?”
Apparently, Frank hadn’t told any of the guys about the previous night in the tower. Somehow, this cemented the significance of it in Gerard’s mind, and he supposed that made sense.
“No, I didn’t sleep much, actually.” He sat up and stretched, tilting his head back and thrusting his chest forward.
“That’s rough. It took me a while to fall asleep, too.”
Gerard nodded. “But we’ll get used to it.”
“Yeah,” Bob agreed. It was silent for a few moments before Bob spoke again. “Like I said man, get your ass moving. Toro’s gonna be pissed if we have to wait for you.”
“Fine,” Gerard said, only acting annoyed. He was grateful for Bob’s normalcy in this crazy situation, and wondered if Bob was feeling the insanity too, but was just really good at hiding it. Either way, Gerard found talking to him soothing.
Bob left his room then, saying he was going downstairs to get something to eat. Gerard left a few minutes later after digging through his suitcases for some clothes, and then headed towards the nearest bathroom. Upon leaving his room, he could hear voices coming from downstairs, and smiled. He didn’t know why he was making such a big deal over this; he was just living in a house with his best friends. Granted, it was a huge house, and he didn’t necessarily know what was going on with some of those friends, but still. It wasn’t a situation he couldn’t handle.
When he stepped inside the bathroom closest to his room, he was immediately shocked. There was already someone in there, standing by the vast window, with her back turned towards Gerard. Not only did Gerard not expect anybody to be there, but he had never seen this woman before, and wondered what she was doing there.
“Uh, excuse me,” he said, fully intending to turn around and find another bathroom. The woman was fully clothed (nicely, too; she wore an old-fashioned dress and had her hair pulled into a tight bun), but he still felt like he was invading on something. However, when she turned around to look at him, something compelled him to stay.
She looked alarmed at first, as if she wasn’t aware of the fact that anybody but her was in the entire house, let alone the room. However, she quickly recovered. A smile crossed her face, and she took a step towards Gerard. “I’m sorry, did I frighten you?”
“Kind of,” Gerard said truthfully, fidgeting slightly.
“Well I’ll be getting out of your way now. I must have become distracted by the lovely weather.” She gestured towards the window and cast another look outside, smiling again.
Gerard stared at her, bemused. “I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but who are you?” It sort of just came out, and Gerard hadn’t really put much thought into what he was going to say.
“Terribly sorry,” she said immediately, taking a few more steps in his direction. “You can call me Elizabeth. I work here as a maid.” She lifted her chin and extended her hand towards Gerard politely.
Gerard shifted his clothes to his other arm and shook her hand; he was surprised at how cold it was, because she had color in her cheeks and she looked perfectly comfortable. “I’m Gerard,” he responded, suddenly painfully aware of the fact that his hair was thoroughly messed up, and that he was still in his pajamas. She looked too proper to be shaking hands with a guy like him: in addition to her neat dress and impeccable hair, she wore a necklace with multi-colored gems adorning it. She appeared to be in her early sixties, and she had a kind face. Gerard’s general impression was that she was too sophisticated to be a maid. Then again, she was a maid in a mansion and surely that was a step up and entitled her to wear fancy necklaces.
“That’s a lovely name. Is it French?” she asked, dropping his hand after a moment.
“Thanks. And everyone asks me that, but really I have no idea,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.
She laughed charmingly. Gerard noticed that her teeth were very straight. “Well that’s alright. The point is, it’s a lovely name.” They smiled at each other for another moment, and Gerard started to get nervous, because awkwardness was definitely inevitable in this situation.
“So you’re staying with friends?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.
“Yeah, we’re actually writing an album,” he explained, doubting that she had ever heard of them.
“Ah, I see. I saw one of your friends earlier today in the West wing. A tall, thin fellow with glasses?”
“Yeah, that’s my brother, Mikey,” he said, wondering if Mikey had been startled by her presence as well.
“He’s an interesting man,” she said, quirking an eyebrow. Gerard wasn’t quite sure how to take this. “Well, I’ll leave you to your shower. You’ll probably be seeing me around, as this place doesn’t exactly clean itself, which I’m sure you’ve realized.”
“That I have,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “It must be quite a task.”
She shrugged, smiling at the ceiling. “I’ve been working here a while, and I enjoy it. I’ve always loved big houses.” She bid him farewell one last time before exiting the bathroom and closing the door behind her. Gerard stared at himself in the mirror for a while, somewhat befuddled by what had just happened, before he finally got into the shower.
[//]
Their first practice went well, although not as well as it could have. They ran into a bit of trouble getting some of the equipment to work, but Ray was able to figure it out without too much difficulty.
They played for six hours straight; for a warm-up, they did “I’m Not Okay,” to sort of get them going. They’d played that song so many times that they could practically do it without thinking, and that’s the sort of thing they needed to start them off. The rest of the songs they played would require much more thought because they were so new and hadn’t been practiced much. Gerard found that he had some trouble concentrating on the task at hand, because of these looks that Frank kept giving him. They hadn’t spoken at all since the night before, but it wasn’t a cold silence; it was more of a ‘we’ll-talk-about-this-later’ silence. Gerard wasn’t quite sure what there was to talk about, because really, nothing too strange had happened; he supposed it was what didn’t happen that they were going to have to talk about, because they had both been thinking about it, and it almost felt like it was supposed to happen.
In any case, the look that Frank was giving him was nothing short of intense. It was painful for Gerard to so much as look in his direction, so he avoided it as much as possible, instead choosing to stay to Ray’s side of the room, and keep his eyes on the cavernous wooden ceiling, and the magnificent chandelier that hung over their heads. Ray was completely oblivious to what was going on, and for this Gerard was thankful. He was intensely focused on playing, as he usually was, and barely even looked up from his guitar. Gerard couldn’t see Bob, but he knew that he must have been feeling pretty normal, because he was perfectly on beat.
Mikey strayed into Gerard’s line of sight a few times, and from what Gerard could see, he was keeping his head down. This was a cause for concern, as Mikey generally played looking out ahead of him, but every time Gerard stared at him for too long, he’d see Mikey’s eyes glaring at him from under his flat-ironed bangs, silently willing him to look away and leave him alone. Gerard tried to push the thoughts out of his mind; he knew that Mikey was a big boy and could take care of himself, but he couldn’t completely ignore the voice in his head that was telling him that something wasn’t quite right with his brother. This wasn’t just Gerard being overly paranoid either; in the past, Gerard had very good instincts when it came to Mikey, and vice versa. Each of them always knew when the other was having a problem, whether or not he chose to voice it. Gerard feared that this was one of those times, but Mikey was less than open to letting Gerard in on whatever was going on.
The rain had been coming down hard all day, and still was once they decided practice was over. They all headed for the kitchen, and once there, proceeded to raid the refrigerator. There were all sorts of pre-packaged foods that just needed to be heated up, so they didn’t have much of a problem. Besides, out of the five of them, Ray was the only one with any sort of cooking skill, and he made it quite clear he wasn’t going to play housewife for the rest of them.
When they sat down to eat, they all crowded at one of the ends of the huge dining table. There were so many seats that they could have feasibly had about three per person, but it felt so unnatural to be that far apart when they were used to living in such cramped quarters. Mikey sat at the head, but contributed least to the conversation; at this point, Gerard wasn’t at all surprised. In fact, he was only surprised by the fact that Mikey said anything at all.
While most of them were drinking water or soda, Gerard noticed that Mikey had wasted no time in cracking open a beer. At first, Gerard didn’t think anything of it; he knew that Mikey enjoyed drinking, and would do it on a regular basis, but he also knew that Mikey was on antidepressants. He didn’t talk about it much, so it was easy to forget, but Gerard found that it was on his mind a lot because of his own past struggles with the alcohol-drugs combination. He knew that Mikey wouldn’t take kindly to Gerard telling him what to do, but after Mikey opened his third beer that night, Gerard felt like he had to say something.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he said once the conversation had died down a little. When Mikey looked at Gerard and saw that the question was directed at him, he raised his eyebrows and set the can down, crossing his arms.
“I don’t see why not,” Mikey said, his voice coming out louder than it had all day.
“But…” Gerard faltered, trying to come up with a combination of words that wouldn’t insult or embarrass Mikey. “It’s just… with the pills, you know? It can fuck you up, man.”
“Just because it fucked you up doesn’t mean the same will happen to me,” Mikey said, his voice very even, as if he were merely telling Gerard that it was raining outside. The words stung slightly, but Gerard told himself that Mikey hadn’t meant it that way. He was merely stating a fact; combining alcohol with antidepressants had fucked Gerard up, and it was true that it didn’t necessarily mean the same would happen to Mikey.
It was, however, very likely. At least as far as Gerard was concerned.
Even so, Gerard let it go. It was clear to him that nothing he said was going to change Mikey’s mind about what he felt like doing, and that was fine. He had said his piece, and now if Mikey did get fucked up, it was off his conscience. He couldn’t say Gerard hadn’t warned him. This didn’t stop Gerard from worrying about him, though.
A few minutes after the exchange, Mikey got up from the table, draining the rest of his beer as he did so. “I’m gonna make a call. I’ll be back in a little while.” He walked towards the kitchen, and Gerard saw him digging in his pocket for his cell phone.
“You could use the phone here, dude,” Bob called after him, turning his head in Mikey’s wake.
“Nah,” he replied, and from the other room Gerard could hear the sound of the garbage can sliding out of the cabinet, and then back in. “I feel like I need to get out of here for a bit anyway.” Gerard could understand that.
“Have any of you seen my sweatshirt?” Mikey asked a minute later, poking his head back into the dining room.
“I think it’s in the live room,” Frank answered, pointing in the direction. Mikey nodded and left.
He was gone for a while-at least an hour, by Gerard’s estimation. Gerard was thinking about him almost the entire time, even as he watched Bob and Ray play video games on the little television that had been wheeled into the live room. He thought that maybe if he had a one-on-one talk with Mikey, that maybe, possibly, he’d open up and tell Gerard what was bothering him. He felt the tension the most when they were playing, surprisingly. That was when Mikey seemed to be set off the easiest.
He was also worried about where Mikey was at that moment-he knew he went to look for cell phone reception, but Mikey didn’t have a driver’s license, so he would have had to walk until he got a signal. Gerard also wondered whom he could be calling; his fiancée was an obvious choice, but somehow, he felt it wasn’t her. Mikey hadn’t been talking about her much lately, and that led Gerard to believe that the two of them were feuding-another reason to be concerned about Mikey’s behavior.
In any case, his thoughts were cut short when Mikey returned; he was soaking wet, as Gerard had expected him to be, but he looked decidedly more chipper than he had before he left. Whoever he had spoken to had cheered him up, apparently.
“Who were you talking to?” Gerard asked once Mikey took a seat (probably ruining the sofa, Gerard thought).
“A friend,” Mikey said shortly. When he didn’t offer anything else, Gerard sighed and tilted his head back against the back of the couch. He really shouldn’t have been butting into his brother’s personal life so much, but he was concerned.
“Don’t you want to change out of those clothes?” he asked a few minutes later, afraid he’d be snapped at again. He recoiled slightly when Mikey looked at him, but Mikey didn’t look pissed, so he relaxed.
Mikey looked down at his clothes, seemingly just realizing that he was drenched. “Oh. Uh, I guess.” He got off the couch (leaving a small wet patch, Gerard noticed) and headed towards the staircase, presumably up to his room.
“What the fuck is up with him?” Bob said. Gerard looked at him and realized that he and Ray had stopped playing whatever they were playing, probably when Mikey got back.
“I have no idea,” Gerard said quietly, his brow furrowed.
Bob shrugged. “I guess if there was something really wrong he’d say something, right? I mean, sure he’s quiet, but if he’s having a problem he’d speak up. Right?”
Gerard was silent for a few seconds before answering. “I dunno, I guess. I’m kind of doubting that at the moment though, to be quite honest.”
“Yeah,” Bob said, nodding once. “We’ll just, you know. Keep an eye on him.” Gerard, Ray, and Frank nodded in agreement.
When Mikey returned to the room, they all turned their heads in his direction simultaneously.
“What?” he said, looking from one stony-faced band-mate to the other. “Were you guys just talking about me or something?”
“Of course not,” Frank said, rolling his eyes sarcastically. “We were just waiting to see what outfit you chose. That fashion sense of yours captivates the attention of many, you know.”
“Shut up,” Mikey said, shoving him as he walked past to sit on the couch.
Frank laughed. “See you guys, I told you he’d go with the Clandestine shirt. It must be that time of the month where he mopes about his ex-boyfriend. I hear that Pete Wentz sure can be a heartbreaker.”
Ray cracked up, and Gerard covered his face with his hands to hide his grin. Frank was brave for making jokes about that, especially since he was probably right, to a certain degree. There was no way Mikey could wear that shirt without remembering the guy who gave it to him. Thankfully, Mikey chose to ignore Frank’s jibe in favor of snatching one of the video game controllers from Ray and proclaiming that he was going to kick Bob’s ass at Mortal Kombat III. However, after he won the first round, he turned around to look at Frank and said, “He wasn’t my boyfriend, by the way.”
Gerard snickered again, and when Mikey was once again absorbed in playing the game, Frank caught his eye and quirked an eyebrow. Gerard had to bite on one of his fingers to keep from laughing, and invoking Mikey’s wrath.
Bob had been strangely unresponsive throughout the entire exchange, and this got Gerard thinking. He wasn’t exactly sure where to start when it came to theorizing, though; the best he could come up with was that Bob knew more than the rest of them did. It was plausible, seeing as Mikey tended to confide in Bob more than anyone else, perhaps because out of the four of them, Bob was the least likely to talk about it later. Gerard and Frank both had big mouths, and Ray thought everything was a joke. Gerard found himself hoping that Mikey would open up to Bob about whatever was going on at the moment, because even if Bob was a good secret-keeper, he’d probably let Gerard in on it a little, if only to ease his mind a bit. Mikey had been afraid to tell Gerard things in the past because he feared it would get back to their mother. Gerard wouldn’t do something like that if he knew Mikey didn’t want him to, but even so, he could understand the concern.
In any case, Mikey perked up a little bit at that point, at least for the rest of the night. Gerard found that he was more at ease, and when he went to bed that night it was with more confidence than he had the night before. He knew that he was exhausted, and the instant he saw his bed, he felt it dragging him down like an excess of gravity. He figured he’d get a good sleep, but he wasn’t completely correct.
[//]
It came fast, and it immediately claimed all his senses. There were no waking dreams that night, and after he was under, he couldn’t hear the rain splattering against his windows, or the wind whistling past the walls of the house. It was as if someone had covered his eyes and ears with a thick cloth. Normally, Gerard wouldn’t complain about this; it usually resulted in a deep, refreshing sleep that would allow him to have a long, active, and enjoyable day. However, this wasn’t the case this time around.
He was instantly assaulted with images; in a dark room with a sliver of light, shadows lengthened in fast-speed; a baby crawled over a wooden floor backwards; he saw a hint of a smile with the rest of the face obstructed, suggesting the smile wasn’t as friendly as it appeared. A man turned his head back and forth, back and forth, so quickly that it looked like a blur. The running water was back, and this time he could see it was being spilled into a deep bathtub, but it was overflowing, splashing all over the tile floor and seeping underneath the door.
Gerard felt tired. The dreams he was having followed no logical pattern, and he felt like his brain was actually working harder than it was when he was awake. All the while, he was straining to hear anything-anything at all-but he found that there was nothing to hear. His dreams were all on mute, and the color saturation was turned way down, so he could only see gray tones that suggested colors.
In essence he was terrified. There was no moment where his mind was at ease, and he even started to feel short of breath. He wasn’t breathing, and even when he realized that yeah, he was asleep, he couldn’t quite shake himself out of it. Usually, that knowledge alone was enough to wake him up, but even by squeezing his eyes shut and trying to move one of his limbs of his own volition wasn’t doing anything to snap him out of the state he was in. That was when he started to panic.
Gerard really didn’t know how long he lied there, sweating and gasping and panting and possibly even crying out, before he was woken. All he did know was that all of a sudden, out of the blue, amongst all of his thrashing and terror and sweating and general discomfort, he felt someone gently lay a hand over his forehead.
He jolted awake, although he found himself unafraid once he was conscious, despite the fact that somebody was apparently in his room and touching him while he was asleep. He figured that he was already so frightened that nothing in the waking world could be worse than what he had been seeing when his eyes were shut, but perhaps he just sensed Frank’s presence.
After blinking a few times and staring wide-eyed into what seemed like nothing, he was able to discern the outline of another person sitting on the edge of his bed. He wasn’t quite sure why he knew it was Frank, but he did. “Gerard?” he heard Frank say quietly, a tremor in his voice as if he were as frightened as Gerard was before he woke up.
“Huh?” Gerard said, swallowing hard and bringing a hand up to his face in order to wipe the sweat out of his eyes.
“Are you… are you okay?”
Gerard pondered this for a long moment. “I don’t know. I am now, I guess.”
“You were making a lot of noise, crying out and everything. I guess you were having a nightmare?”
“Understatement,” Gerard muttered, scooting back and sitting up.
Frank chuckled. “I can imagine. You must have woken me up or something, because I swear, one minute I was dead asleep and the next I was staring at the ceiling. I passed your room on the way to the bathroom, and that’s when I heard you. I figured you must have been having a bad dream, ‘cause I never heard you make noises like that before.” Gerard could tell that Frank was a little shaken up, because normally he would have made a joke about being loud in bed by this point.
“Yeah, well, I appreciate it, man,” he said, taking a deep breath and relishing the feeling of his lungs being full. “I couldn’t wake up, even though I knew I was dreaming.” Frank made a noise of acknowledgement.
“Do you want me to turn on the light?” Frank asked, reaching for the lamp table.
“No, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay.” They were quiet for a while, but the silence between them was comfortable. “Are you sure you’re okay now?” Frank said after a few minutes, and Gerard really wasn’t sure how to answer him.
“To be honest? No, I’m not totally sure. That was some crazy dream I was having.”
Frank didn’t press him for information, and Gerard was thankful for that. It wasn’t like he was having some super-personal dream that he wouldn’t want anyone to know about, but it was very frightening, and he didn’t feel like reliving it quite yet.
“Do you need company or something?” Frank asked tentatively, as if he were afraid that Gerard would snap at him for being stupid.
Gerard looked at him as best as he could through the darkness. He wasn’t sure if Frank’s offer was completely innocent, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. “You know what? At the risk of sounding like a four-year-old, I think I do.”
Frank shifted so he was sitting entirely on the bed, and Gerard moved over to make more room for him. He got under the covers with his head resting against the headboard so he was sitting right next to Gerard. Gerard felt him put an arm around him, almost hesitantly, but when Gerard leaned into the gesture, Frank seemed to relax. Gerard was instantly brought back to the time they spent in the tower, and he wondered how many moments like this they’d have to endure before things came to a head. Gerard didn’t like to fuck around with subtleties, and the games that they were apparently playing were pissing him off. If something was going to happen, he wanted to get it over with. But still, he found that he was too comfortable with the present situation to be the one to make the next move.
“Are you going to try to sleep?” Frank said, and Gerard felt his mouth practically pressed up against his ear.
“I don’t think I can,” Gerard whispered in response, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. He felt as if moving too much would jar Frank to the point where he’d let go, and that was the last thing Gerard wanted. Even if he was having trouble admitting it to himself.
“Okay,” Frank said, and Gerard felt his fingers tighten on his shoulder in a reassuring squeeze. “Let me know if you want me to leave.”
Gerard shifted slightly, turning so that his body was facing toward Frank. He let his head fall to the spot between Frank’s neck and shoulder, and when he placed his hand on Frank’s stomach, he felt his breath hitch in surprise under his hand, before his chest continued to rise. “I, uh,” Gerard mumbled into Frank’s neck. “I don’t.”
Gerard could feel Frank smile.
[//]
The next week or so was absolutely miserable. Mikey was in the worst mood ever, ever, and nobody had any idea why. It was getting to the point where Gerard wanted to slap him around to bring him back to his senses. He was snapping at everyone, sleeping more than anyone Gerard had ever met, and drinking more than he should have been. They’ve all had periods of time where they were generally feeling like shit, but this was a bit excessive, especially since they hardly ever left that house. His mood was dragging down everyone else’s, and even though none of them would say it, Gerard knew that he was depressing the rest of them. There were less group activities, and there was much more of sitting in rooms alone, just thinking. They stopped having meals together, and if one of them felt hungry, he’d just go off and eat something on his own. Some of them were keeping crazy hours-Ray was always awake until very late, but waking up very early. He constantly had dark circles under his eyes.
Gerard wasn’t faring too well either, concern for his brother aside. The nightmares didn’t go away after that first night; they returned almost every night thereafter, causing him to dread falling asleep. He and Frank had hardly spoken since that night, as well; sometimes they’d exchange looks that lasted too long, and on occasion Gerard would wake up to the cool touch of Frank’s hand on his forehead, but he never stayed. He’d always just smile through the darkness and say, “Go back to sleep, Gee.” Sometimes he’d stop to caress his cheek, and sometimes he’s plant a kiss on his temple like he had that night in the tower. Sometimes he wouldn’t even say anything, and would just smile before turning to leave. Either way, he was like a phantom; he never acknowledged these things, or exhibited the same tender behavior, during the day.
Gerard couldn’t feel sorry for himself though, because he knew that whatever Mikey was going through had to be ten times worse. As the days went on, he made more frequent trips down the road in order to get cell phone reception, and Gerard knew that he was aching to get out for a while, on his own. Unfortunately, this was quite impossible, as he couldn’t drive, and there was nothing within walking distance worth going to.
About a week and a half into their stay, however, Mikey did leave for a while. After practice one day, he informed them that he was going out, and had left for his room to get changed before any of them could ask where he was going or how he was getting there. Gerard waited for him near the front door, and when he was about to leave, he stopped him.
“What are you going to do?” he asked, trying to keep suspicion out of his voice.
“I’m getting picked up,” Mikey said, shrugging off Gerard’s concerned hand.
“By who?”
Mikey looked at him. “Pete.” After Mikey answered, Gerard understood that the look was meant as a challenge; an I-dare-you-to-make-fun-of-me look.
Gerard was taken aback by this information. “Oh. But. Where does… Doesn’t he live in Chicago?”
Mikey sighed and crossed his arms. “Jesus, you’re worse than a chick’s dad on prom night. No, he doesn’t. He moved to LA recently.”
“Ah,” Gerard said. Well, that made sense. It also explained all the phone calls. At that moment, Frank walked into the room and looked between Gerard and Mikey suspiciously.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his tone of voice refreshingly light. Gerard filled him in, and Frank laughed. “Oh, so that’s how it is. Well, let me know if his bed is comfortable, Mikey.” Frank ran out of the room laughing before Mikey could retaliate. Gerard glared after Frank, somewhat angry that he had taken a jab at Mikey when he was obviously not in a very good place mentally. He turned back towards his brother and gave him an apologetic look. Mikey just shook his head and sighed.
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Frank’s an ass,” Mikey said decisively.
“Yeah, but that’s why we love him.” Gerard smiled.
“Yeah,” Mikey agreed. He looked at his watch. “I’ve gotta go. Don’t have too much fun without me.” Mikey seemed to know the irony in that statement, because he gave Gerard a crooked smirk before leaving the house.
Gerard stood by the door a few minutes after Mikey left, just thinking. If anything, he was kind of relieved that it was Pete Mikey was going to be with-the guy didn’t drink, so it wasn’t like Mikey was going to get wasted. Hopefully he’d be cheered up a little bit, even if Gerard didn’t want to know what said cheering up might involve.
Eventually, Gerard climbed the stairs to the second floor and entered his room. The bed was made, and he instantly thought of Elizabeth. He hadn’t seen her around much over the past couple weeks, but when he did, she always had a smile on her face and something nice to say. She always seemed to show up at the worst times, though-when Gerard was about to go to sleep, when he had just woken up from a nap, or when he was about to take a shower. It seemed like she’d never see him when he looked presentable.
Gerard crossed the room and opened the doors that led to the balcony, stepping out and then closing them behind him, taking care to make sure the lock didn’t accidentally close. He stepped up to the railing and leaned on it, looking out at the huge pool as he lit a cigarette. It was nice here, it really was, but Gerard was already looking forward to leaving. Thankfully, they’d have a bit of a break: in about a week, they’d be heading to Austin in order to play SXSW. It’d be the first show they played in months, and Gerard supposed it would be refreshing. Maybe Mikey would perk up a little bit. Maybe they all would.
The last ashes of his cigarette were burning out when Gerard heard a noise behind him. He turned around to see the other door opening, and Frank stepping out gingerly. When he saw Gerard, he froze and looked back towards the door. “I’m sorry, did you want to be alone?”
Gerard shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine.” Frank nodded and walked right up to him, pausing for a moment before wrapping one of his arms around Gerard’s waist.
“Thank God we’re doing this together, man,” he said softly. “I think I’d go crazy here if it weren’t for you guys.”
“You and me both,” Gerard said, tipping his head onto Frank’s shoulder.
Frank looked at him long and hard, his lips pressed together tightly and his eyes half-lidded. In the setting sun, Gerard could see flecks of gold in his green-tinted eyes. Only when he noticed this did he realize how physically close they were. Gerard made to take a step away, but he felt Frank’s hand loosely encircle his wrist, then a soft tug forward. “You’re not getting away that easily,” Frank murmured, the kind of smile that Gerard wanted to photograph blossoming on his face. Gerard was under the impression that Frank didn’t know what he was saying, and he didn’t blame him; in fact, Gerard probably murmured something appropriate (and painfully sappy) in response, but that really wasn’t important. He was far too preoccupied by the way the sunset made Frank’s skin glow, and the way the fingers of his right hand were lacing with those of Gerard’s left. His brain was whispering something about this being a bad idea, but Gerard didn’t really give a shit.
And that was it. Frank’s left hand on Gerard’s right cheek, his thumb grazing the spot under his lip, and then they were kissing, the whole deal, with eyes closed, heads tilted, hands touching, hearts pounding.
And now it’s happening, Gerard found himself thinking. After four years and four months of knowing Frank, this was the first time, off the stage and on the lips. Nobody was watching, nobody was fucking around, and there was nobody to piss off. They were standing on a balcony in the fucking sunset, and the pads of Frank’s fingers were rough against Gerard’s cheek.
They separated briefly, and Frank turned into Gerard’s neck, kissing him there too. It wasn’t overly forward; it was just a gentle pressing of the lips, no teeth, no tongue. Frank’s nose was cold against his heated skin. Gerard brought a shaky hand to Frank’s head, running nervous fingers over and through his hair.
“Um, Frank? Is this-”
Frank brought a hand up to Gerard’s mouth, covering it quickly. “No talking,” he murmured. “Not yet.” Gerard nodded and Frank let his hand drop, pulling away from Gerard’s neck and stepping back so he could see his face. Gerard thought for a moment that Frank was going to say something, but he didn’t; instead, he kissed Gerard again. And he was right, this was better than talking.
[//]
When Mikey came home four hours later, there was something overall suspicious about his appearance. His hair was wet, despite the fact that it wasn’t raining outside (for once, Gerard thought), and his clothes appeared neater than they had been before he had left. Gerard also noticed that he gave off a faint fragrance; one that did not come from the soap that he usually used. Also, he seemed to be tugging at the neck of his shirt nervously, as if he had something to hide (which, Gerard suspected, he did).
By looking at the faces of the other guys, Gerard quickly determined that he was not the only one who found something odd about Mikey’s behavior; Ray looked like he was fighting laughter, Frank appeared to be trying to figure out the best way to tease him, and Bob looked like he was going to vomit. Gerard wasn’t sure which reaction was worse.
“Well, I don’t think we have to ask you if you had a good time,” Frank said, smirking.
“Shut up, Iero,” Mikey said, still tugging at his shirt.
“Where did you go, to a Laundromat?” Ray asked, eyeing Mikey up and down.
“So he ironed my shirt for me, big deal. It was wrinkled,” Mikey said, rolling his eyes and sitting on the couch opposite the rest of them.
“Yeah, but need I remind you that in order to iron something, you generally have to take it off?” Frank said, the smile never leaving his face.
“You know what? Just, whatever,” he said, his face turning red as he got off the sofa and headed for the stairs.
“I guess his bed was comfortable then,” Frank called after him.
Mikey stopped and turned around, a look of defiant resignation on his face. “Oh yes,” he said slowly and carefully. “Best fucking mattress I’ve ever screwed on.”
Everyone shut up, which was apparently the desired effect. Mikey left the room, plodding up the stairs with their eyes on his back.
“Was he joking?” Ray whispered once Mikey left.
“I don’t know,” Bob said, a grimace on his face. “I hope so, to be honest.”
Gerard shrugged. “It’s no big deal. He can do what he wants. I guess.”
“But... he’s supposed to get married, dude,” Bob said, obviously distressed by the situation. “I mean, what if she finds out?”
“Cool it. You’re already talking about what if she finds out when we don’t even know if he was serious,” Ray said hopefully.
“Yeah, well,” Bob said, standing up. “I don’t like where this is going. I’m worried about him, and things can only get worse from this point.”
Gerard didn’t say anything, but he silently agreed.
[//]
chapter six
Author: periculosa
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Fake.
Summary: The faster you’re going, the harder it is to stop. When MCR go to live at the Paramour in LA, strange happenings bring them closer together, as well as farther apart.
Notes: This chapter is going to take over the world. No, seriously. It just wouldn’t end. :/
| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |
Your misery and hate will kill us all (the five of us are dying).
When Gerard returned to his bed that night, he still couldn’t fall asleep. Despite the fact that he felt exhaustion weighing down on his eyelids like bags of sand, he continued to toss and turn, thinking about what had just transpired in the stone tower, and wondering if he was the only one dwelling on it. Frank and Gerard had sat there for a long time, hardly saying anything at all; however, the noise in Gerard’s head had more than made up for the lack of conversation. He found that he was far too aware of the way Frank’s body swelled and dipped as he breathed, and the musky smell of cinnamon mixed with honey that Frank’s hair gave off, and this made him simultaneously excited and frightened.
Frank seemed to grow heavier as the clock ticked on, and Gerard thought it was probably because more and more of his muscles were letting go as he relaxed, until he was leaning most of his weight on Gerard. It felt nice; it was more intimate than anything else the two of them had ever done, and the prospect of things continuing in that direction made blood rush to Gerard’s face, and caused his ears to tingle as if pins were being stuck into them. There were many words to describe said feeling, but “unpleasant” wasn’t one of them, and that much Gerard was sure of.
In any case, Gerard later determined that it had been around two in the morning when Frank had finally stirred, mumbling something about getting some sleep as he did so. Gerard withdrew reluctantly, and shifted on the bench while trying to look as casual as possible, given the current situation. Frank had smiled at him. “Aren’t you going to go to bed?” he had asked, his voice lowered to the point where Gerard could just barely hear him over the rain.
“I’m gonna stay here for a little longer,” Gerard had mumbled in response, his face turned more away from Frank than towards him.
Frank had shrugged. “Okay, whatever. Goodnight, Gee.” Frank was being sweet, and Gerard almost couldn’t stand it. Sure enough, before he turned to leave, he took a step closer and bent down, pressing a lingering kiss to Gerard’s temple before straightening up and heading towards the staircase. His hand stayed on Gerard’s shoulder a few seconds too long, and Gerard felt the weight of the situation in that simple gesture; it almost hurt, but Gerard knew he was just being overly dramatic by thinking so.
Gerard had let another hour pass before he returned to bed; the sound of the rain had been oddly soothing, and he found concentrating on it cleared his head a great deal. He had even lit another cigarette, finding himself glad that he had brought the entire pack as opposed to just one.
When he eventually fell into his bed, he found that sleeping wasn’t exactly at the top of his list of priorities at the moment. He knew it should have been, but that knowledge did nothing for his addled brains. He tried to blame it all on the excitement of moving into the enormous mansion, and he knew that was a large part of it, but he couldn’t convince himself that it was the only reason for his insomnia. After an hour or so of tossing and turning, he fell into a restless slumber.
[//]
When he was awakened seven hours later, he was completely delirious.
Bob shook him awake, and the first words out of his mouth were, “Don’t go with him!” Bob promptly gave him his best “what the fuck?” look, and backed off, waiting for Gerard to regain full consciousness and looking curiously out the window.
“Who?” Bob had asked cautiously once Gerard had blinked a few times and looked at him.
“Oh, uh,” Gerard spluttered, “I don’t know.” He was thoughtful for a moment, attempting to remember whatever dream had caused such an outburst, but to no avail. He did, however, recall a few random images, some of which were a man he didn’t recognize in a suit, running water, and an old-fashioned car. He didn’t even try to make sense of it.
“Okay,” Bob said dismissively. “Well, I suggest you get your ass in the shower or something, because we’re going to start practice in an hour.”
“What?” Gerard said, blinking. “We don’t even have our gear, dude.”
“Yeah we do. Some guys came by with it about a half hour ago, but you slept through it. It’s already eleven. How long have you been asleep, twelve fucking hours?”
Apparently, Frank hadn’t told any of the guys about the previous night in the tower. Somehow, this cemented the significance of it in Gerard’s mind, and he supposed that made sense.
“No, I didn’t sleep much, actually.” He sat up and stretched, tilting his head back and thrusting his chest forward.
“That’s rough. It took me a while to fall asleep, too.”
Gerard nodded. “But we’ll get used to it.”
“Yeah,” Bob agreed. It was silent for a few moments before Bob spoke again. “Like I said man, get your ass moving. Toro’s gonna be pissed if we have to wait for you.”
“Fine,” Gerard said, only acting annoyed. He was grateful for Bob’s normalcy in this crazy situation, and wondered if Bob was feeling the insanity too, but was just really good at hiding it. Either way, Gerard found talking to him soothing.
Bob left his room then, saying he was going downstairs to get something to eat. Gerard left a few minutes later after digging through his suitcases for some clothes, and then headed towards the nearest bathroom. Upon leaving his room, he could hear voices coming from downstairs, and smiled. He didn’t know why he was making such a big deal over this; he was just living in a house with his best friends. Granted, it was a huge house, and he didn’t necessarily know what was going on with some of those friends, but still. It wasn’t a situation he couldn’t handle.
When he stepped inside the bathroom closest to his room, he was immediately shocked. There was already someone in there, standing by the vast window, with her back turned towards Gerard. Not only did Gerard not expect anybody to be there, but he had never seen this woman before, and wondered what she was doing there.
“Uh, excuse me,” he said, fully intending to turn around and find another bathroom. The woman was fully clothed (nicely, too; she wore an old-fashioned dress and had her hair pulled into a tight bun), but he still felt like he was invading on something. However, when she turned around to look at him, something compelled him to stay.
She looked alarmed at first, as if she wasn’t aware of the fact that anybody but her was in the entire house, let alone the room. However, she quickly recovered. A smile crossed her face, and she took a step towards Gerard. “I’m sorry, did I frighten you?”
“Kind of,” Gerard said truthfully, fidgeting slightly.
“Well I’ll be getting out of your way now. I must have become distracted by the lovely weather.” She gestured towards the window and cast another look outside, smiling again.
Gerard stared at her, bemused. “I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but who are you?” It sort of just came out, and Gerard hadn’t really put much thought into what he was going to say.
“Terribly sorry,” she said immediately, taking a few more steps in his direction. “You can call me Elizabeth. I work here as a maid.” She lifted her chin and extended her hand towards Gerard politely.
Gerard shifted his clothes to his other arm and shook her hand; he was surprised at how cold it was, because she had color in her cheeks and she looked perfectly comfortable. “I’m Gerard,” he responded, suddenly painfully aware of the fact that his hair was thoroughly messed up, and that he was still in his pajamas. She looked too proper to be shaking hands with a guy like him: in addition to her neat dress and impeccable hair, she wore a necklace with multi-colored gems adorning it. She appeared to be in her early sixties, and she had a kind face. Gerard’s general impression was that she was too sophisticated to be a maid. Then again, she was a maid in a mansion and surely that was a step up and entitled her to wear fancy necklaces.
“That’s a lovely name. Is it French?” she asked, dropping his hand after a moment.
“Thanks. And everyone asks me that, but really I have no idea,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.
She laughed charmingly. Gerard noticed that her teeth were very straight. “Well that’s alright. The point is, it’s a lovely name.” They smiled at each other for another moment, and Gerard started to get nervous, because awkwardness was definitely inevitable in this situation.
“So you’re staying with friends?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.
“Yeah, we’re actually writing an album,” he explained, doubting that she had ever heard of them.
“Ah, I see. I saw one of your friends earlier today in the West wing. A tall, thin fellow with glasses?”
“Yeah, that’s my brother, Mikey,” he said, wondering if Mikey had been startled by her presence as well.
“He’s an interesting man,” she said, quirking an eyebrow. Gerard wasn’t quite sure how to take this. “Well, I’ll leave you to your shower. You’ll probably be seeing me around, as this place doesn’t exactly clean itself, which I’m sure you’ve realized.”
“That I have,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “It must be quite a task.”
She shrugged, smiling at the ceiling. “I’ve been working here a while, and I enjoy it. I’ve always loved big houses.” She bid him farewell one last time before exiting the bathroom and closing the door behind her. Gerard stared at himself in the mirror for a while, somewhat befuddled by what had just happened, before he finally got into the shower.
[//]
Their first practice went well, although not as well as it could have. They ran into a bit of trouble getting some of the equipment to work, but Ray was able to figure it out without too much difficulty.
They played for six hours straight; for a warm-up, they did “I’m Not Okay,” to sort of get them going. They’d played that song so many times that they could practically do it without thinking, and that’s the sort of thing they needed to start them off. The rest of the songs they played would require much more thought because they were so new and hadn’t been practiced much. Gerard found that he had some trouble concentrating on the task at hand, because of these looks that Frank kept giving him. They hadn’t spoken at all since the night before, but it wasn’t a cold silence; it was more of a ‘we’ll-talk-about-this-later’ silence. Gerard wasn’t quite sure what there was to talk about, because really, nothing too strange had happened; he supposed it was what didn’t happen that they were going to have to talk about, because they had both been thinking about it, and it almost felt like it was supposed to happen.
In any case, the look that Frank was giving him was nothing short of intense. It was painful for Gerard to so much as look in his direction, so he avoided it as much as possible, instead choosing to stay to Ray’s side of the room, and keep his eyes on the cavernous wooden ceiling, and the magnificent chandelier that hung over their heads. Ray was completely oblivious to what was going on, and for this Gerard was thankful. He was intensely focused on playing, as he usually was, and barely even looked up from his guitar. Gerard couldn’t see Bob, but he knew that he must have been feeling pretty normal, because he was perfectly on beat.
Mikey strayed into Gerard’s line of sight a few times, and from what Gerard could see, he was keeping his head down. This was a cause for concern, as Mikey generally played looking out ahead of him, but every time Gerard stared at him for too long, he’d see Mikey’s eyes glaring at him from under his flat-ironed bangs, silently willing him to look away and leave him alone. Gerard tried to push the thoughts out of his mind; he knew that Mikey was a big boy and could take care of himself, but he couldn’t completely ignore the voice in his head that was telling him that something wasn’t quite right with his brother. This wasn’t just Gerard being overly paranoid either; in the past, Gerard had very good instincts when it came to Mikey, and vice versa. Each of them always knew when the other was having a problem, whether or not he chose to voice it. Gerard feared that this was one of those times, but Mikey was less than open to letting Gerard in on whatever was going on.
The rain had been coming down hard all day, and still was once they decided practice was over. They all headed for the kitchen, and once there, proceeded to raid the refrigerator. There were all sorts of pre-packaged foods that just needed to be heated up, so they didn’t have much of a problem. Besides, out of the five of them, Ray was the only one with any sort of cooking skill, and he made it quite clear he wasn’t going to play housewife for the rest of them.
When they sat down to eat, they all crowded at one of the ends of the huge dining table. There were so many seats that they could have feasibly had about three per person, but it felt so unnatural to be that far apart when they were used to living in such cramped quarters. Mikey sat at the head, but contributed least to the conversation; at this point, Gerard wasn’t at all surprised. In fact, he was only surprised by the fact that Mikey said anything at all.
While most of them were drinking water or soda, Gerard noticed that Mikey had wasted no time in cracking open a beer. At first, Gerard didn’t think anything of it; he knew that Mikey enjoyed drinking, and would do it on a regular basis, but he also knew that Mikey was on antidepressants. He didn’t talk about it much, so it was easy to forget, but Gerard found that it was on his mind a lot because of his own past struggles with the alcohol-drugs combination. He knew that Mikey wouldn’t take kindly to Gerard telling him what to do, but after Mikey opened his third beer that night, Gerard felt like he had to say something.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he said once the conversation had died down a little. When Mikey looked at Gerard and saw that the question was directed at him, he raised his eyebrows and set the can down, crossing his arms.
“I don’t see why not,” Mikey said, his voice coming out louder than it had all day.
“But…” Gerard faltered, trying to come up with a combination of words that wouldn’t insult or embarrass Mikey. “It’s just… with the pills, you know? It can fuck you up, man.”
“Just because it fucked you up doesn’t mean the same will happen to me,” Mikey said, his voice very even, as if he were merely telling Gerard that it was raining outside. The words stung slightly, but Gerard told himself that Mikey hadn’t meant it that way. He was merely stating a fact; combining alcohol with antidepressants had fucked Gerard up, and it was true that it didn’t necessarily mean the same would happen to Mikey.
It was, however, very likely. At least as far as Gerard was concerned.
Even so, Gerard let it go. It was clear to him that nothing he said was going to change Mikey’s mind about what he felt like doing, and that was fine. He had said his piece, and now if Mikey did get fucked up, it was off his conscience. He couldn’t say Gerard hadn’t warned him. This didn’t stop Gerard from worrying about him, though.
A few minutes after the exchange, Mikey got up from the table, draining the rest of his beer as he did so. “I’m gonna make a call. I’ll be back in a little while.” He walked towards the kitchen, and Gerard saw him digging in his pocket for his cell phone.
“You could use the phone here, dude,” Bob called after him, turning his head in Mikey’s wake.
“Nah,” he replied, and from the other room Gerard could hear the sound of the garbage can sliding out of the cabinet, and then back in. “I feel like I need to get out of here for a bit anyway.” Gerard could understand that.
“Have any of you seen my sweatshirt?” Mikey asked a minute later, poking his head back into the dining room.
“I think it’s in the live room,” Frank answered, pointing in the direction. Mikey nodded and left.
He was gone for a while-at least an hour, by Gerard’s estimation. Gerard was thinking about him almost the entire time, even as he watched Bob and Ray play video games on the little television that had been wheeled into the live room. He thought that maybe if he had a one-on-one talk with Mikey, that maybe, possibly, he’d open up and tell Gerard what was bothering him. He felt the tension the most when they were playing, surprisingly. That was when Mikey seemed to be set off the easiest.
He was also worried about where Mikey was at that moment-he knew he went to look for cell phone reception, but Mikey didn’t have a driver’s license, so he would have had to walk until he got a signal. Gerard also wondered whom he could be calling; his fiancée was an obvious choice, but somehow, he felt it wasn’t her. Mikey hadn’t been talking about her much lately, and that led Gerard to believe that the two of them were feuding-another reason to be concerned about Mikey’s behavior.
In any case, his thoughts were cut short when Mikey returned; he was soaking wet, as Gerard had expected him to be, but he looked decidedly more chipper than he had before he left. Whoever he had spoken to had cheered him up, apparently.
“Who were you talking to?” Gerard asked once Mikey took a seat (probably ruining the sofa, Gerard thought).
“A friend,” Mikey said shortly. When he didn’t offer anything else, Gerard sighed and tilted his head back against the back of the couch. He really shouldn’t have been butting into his brother’s personal life so much, but he was concerned.
“Don’t you want to change out of those clothes?” he asked a few minutes later, afraid he’d be snapped at again. He recoiled slightly when Mikey looked at him, but Mikey didn’t look pissed, so he relaxed.
Mikey looked down at his clothes, seemingly just realizing that he was drenched. “Oh. Uh, I guess.” He got off the couch (leaving a small wet patch, Gerard noticed) and headed towards the staircase, presumably up to his room.
“What the fuck is up with him?” Bob said. Gerard looked at him and realized that he and Ray had stopped playing whatever they were playing, probably when Mikey got back.
“I have no idea,” Gerard said quietly, his brow furrowed.
Bob shrugged. “I guess if there was something really wrong he’d say something, right? I mean, sure he’s quiet, but if he’s having a problem he’d speak up. Right?”
Gerard was silent for a few seconds before answering. “I dunno, I guess. I’m kind of doubting that at the moment though, to be quite honest.”
“Yeah,” Bob said, nodding once. “We’ll just, you know. Keep an eye on him.” Gerard, Ray, and Frank nodded in agreement.
When Mikey returned to the room, they all turned their heads in his direction simultaneously.
“What?” he said, looking from one stony-faced band-mate to the other. “Were you guys just talking about me or something?”
“Of course not,” Frank said, rolling his eyes sarcastically. “We were just waiting to see what outfit you chose. That fashion sense of yours captivates the attention of many, you know.”
“Shut up,” Mikey said, shoving him as he walked past to sit on the couch.
Frank laughed. “See you guys, I told you he’d go with the Clandestine shirt. It must be that time of the month where he mopes about his ex-boyfriend. I hear that Pete Wentz sure can be a heartbreaker.”
Ray cracked up, and Gerard covered his face with his hands to hide his grin. Frank was brave for making jokes about that, especially since he was probably right, to a certain degree. There was no way Mikey could wear that shirt without remembering the guy who gave it to him. Thankfully, Mikey chose to ignore Frank’s jibe in favor of snatching one of the video game controllers from Ray and proclaiming that he was going to kick Bob’s ass at Mortal Kombat III. However, after he won the first round, he turned around to look at Frank and said, “He wasn’t my boyfriend, by the way.”
Gerard snickered again, and when Mikey was once again absorbed in playing the game, Frank caught his eye and quirked an eyebrow. Gerard had to bite on one of his fingers to keep from laughing, and invoking Mikey’s wrath.
Bob had been strangely unresponsive throughout the entire exchange, and this got Gerard thinking. He wasn’t exactly sure where to start when it came to theorizing, though; the best he could come up with was that Bob knew more than the rest of them did. It was plausible, seeing as Mikey tended to confide in Bob more than anyone else, perhaps because out of the four of them, Bob was the least likely to talk about it later. Gerard and Frank both had big mouths, and Ray thought everything was a joke. Gerard found himself hoping that Mikey would open up to Bob about whatever was going on at the moment, because even if Bob was a good secret-keeper, he’d probably let Gerard in on it a little, if only to ease his mind a bit. Mikey had been afraid to tell Gerard things in the past because he feared it would get back to their mother. Gerard wouldn’t do something like that if he knew Mikey didn’t want him to, but even so, he could understand the concern.
In any case, Mikey perked up a little bit at that point, at least for the rest of the night. Gerard found that he was more at ease, and when he went to bed that night it was with more confidence than he had the night before. He knew that he was exhausted, and the instant he saw his bed, he felt it dragging him down like an excess of gravity. He figured he’d get a good sleep, but he wasn’t completely correct.
[//]
It came fast, and it immediately claimed all his senses. There were no waking dreams that night, and after he was under, he couldn’t hear the rain splattering against his windows, or the wind whistling past the walls of the house. It was as if someone had covered his eyes and ears with a thick cloth. Normally, Gerard wouldn’t complain about this; it usually resulted in a deep, refreshing sleep that would allow him to have a long, active, and enjoyable day. However, this wasn’t the case this time around.
He was instantly assaulted with images; in a dark room with a sliver of light, shadows lengthened in fast-speed; a baby crawled over a wooden floor backwards; he saw a hint of a smile with the rest of the face obstructed, suggesting the smile wasn’t as friendly as it appeared. A man turned his head back and forth, back and forth, so quickly that it looked like a blur. The running water was back, and this time he could see it was being spilled into a deep bathtub, but it was overflowing, splashing all over the tile floor and seeping underneath the door.
Gerard felt tired. The dreams he was having followed no logical pattern, and he felt like his brain was actually working harder than it was when he was awake. All the while, he was straining to hear anything-anything at all-but he found that there was nothing to hear. His dreams were all on mute, and the color saturation was turned way down, so he could only see gray tones that suggested colors.
In essence he was terrified. There was no moment where his mind was at ease, and he even started to feel short of breath. He wasn’t breathing, and even when he realized that yeah, he was asleep, he couldn’t quite shake himself out of it. Usually, that knowledge alone was enough to wake him up, but even by squeezing his eyes shut and trying to move one of his limbs of his own volition wasn’t doing anything to snap him out of the state he was in. That was when he started to panic.
Gerard really didn’t know how long he lied there, sweating and gasping and panting and possibly even crying out, before he was woken. All he did know was that all of a sudden, out of the blue, amongst all of his thrashing and terror and sweating and general discomfort, he felt someone gently lay a hand over his forehead.
He jolted awake, although he found himself unafraid once he was conscious, despite the fact that somebody was apparently in his room and touching him while he was asleep. He figured that he was already so frightened that nothing in the waking world could be worse than what he had been seeing when his eyes were shut, but perhaps he just sensed Frank’s presence.
After blinking a few times and staring wide-eyed into what seemed like nothing, he was able to discern the outline of another person sitting on the edge of his bed. He wasn’t quite sure why he knew it was Frank, but he did. “Gerard?” he heard Frank say quietly, a tremor in his voice as if he were as frightened as Gerard was before he woke up.
“Huh?” Gerard said, swallowing hard and bringing a hand up to his face in order to wipe the sweat out of his eyes.
“Are you… are you okay?”
Gerard pondered this for a long moment. “I don’t know. I am now, I guess.”
“You were making a lot of noise, crying out and everything. I guess you were having a nightmare?”
“Understatement,” Gerard muttered, scooting back and sitting up.
Frank chuckled. “I can imagine. You must have woken me up or something, because I swear, one minute I was dead asleep and the next I was staring at the ceiling. I passed your room on the way to the bathroom, and that’s when I heard you. I figured you must have been having a bad dream, ‘cause I never heard you make noises like that before.” Gerard could tell that Frank was a little shaken up, because normally he would have made a joke about being loud in bed by this point.
“Yeah, well, I appreciate it, man,” he said, taking a deep breath and relishing the feeling of his lungs being full. “I couldn’t wake up, even though I knew I was dreaming.” Frank made a noise of acknowledgement.
“Do you want me to turn on the light?” Frank asked, reaching for the lamp table.
“No, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay.” They were quiet for a while, but the silence between them was comfortable. “Are you sure you’re okay now?” Frank said after a few minutes, and Gerard really wasn’t sure how to answer him.
“To be honest? No, I’m not totally sure. That was some crazy dream I was having.”
Frank didn’t press him for information, and Gerard was thankful for that. It wasn’t like he was having some super-personal dream that he wouldn’t want anyone to know about, but it was very frightening, and he didn’t feel like reliving it quite yet.
“Do you need company or something?” Frank asked tentatively, as if he were afraid that Gerard would snap at him for being stupid.
Gerard looked at him as best as he could through the darkness. He wasn’t sure if Frank’s offer was completely innocent, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. “You know what? At the risk of sounding like a four-year-old, I think I do.”
Frank shifted so he was sitting entirely on the bed, and Gerard moved over to make more room for him. He got under the covers with his head resting against the headboard so he was sitting right next to Gerard. Gerard felt him put an arm around him, almost hesitantly, but when Gerard leaned into the gesture, Frank seemed to relax. Gerard was instantly brought back to the time they spent in the tower, and he wondered how many moments like this they’d have to endure before things came to a head. Gerard didn’t like to fuck around with subtleties, and the games that they were apparently playing were pissing him off. If something was going to happen, he wanted to get it over with. But still, he found that he was too comfortable with the present situation to be the one to make the next move.
“Are you going to try to sleep?” Frank said, and Gerard felt his mouth practically pressed up against his ear.
“I don’t think I can,” Gerard whispered in response, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. He felt as if moving too much would jar Frank to the point where he’d let go, and that was the last thing Gerard wanted. Even if he was having trouble admitting it to himself.
“Okay,” Frank said, and Gerard felt his fingers tighten on his shoulder in a reassuring squeeze. “Let me know if you want me to leave.”
Gerard shifted slightly, turning so that his body was facing toward Frank. He let his head fall to the spot between Frank’s neck and shoulder, and when he placed his hand on Frank’s stomach, he felt his breath hitch in surprise under his hand, before his chest continued to rise. “I, uh,” Gerard mumbled into Frank’s neck. “I don’t.”
Gerard could feel Frank smile.
[//]
The next week or so was absolutely miserable. Mikey was in the worst mood ever, ever, and nobody had any idea why. It was getting to the point where Gerard wanted to slap him around to bring him back to his senses. He was snapping at everyone, sleeping more than anyone Gerard had ever met, and drinking more than he should have been. They’ve all had periods of time where they were generally feeling like shit, but this was a bit excessive, especially since they hardly ever left that house. His mood was dragging down everyone else’s, and even though none of them would say it, Gerard knew that he was depressing the rest of them. There were less group activities, and there was much more of sitting in rooms alone, just thinking. They stopped having meals together, and if one of them felt hungry, he’d just go off and eat something on his own. Some of them were keeping crazy hours-Ray was always awake until very late, but waking up very early. He constantly had dark circles under his eyes.
Gerard wasn’t faring too well either, concern for his brother aside. The nightmares didn’t go away after that first night; they returned almost every night thereafter, causing him to dread falling asleep. He and Frank had hardly spoken since that night, as well; sometimes they’d exchange looks that lasted too long, and on occasion Gerard would wake up to the cool touch of Frank’s hand on his forehead, but he never stayed. He’d always just smile through the darkness and say, “Go back to sleep, Gee.” Sometimes he’d stop to caress his cheek, and sometimes he’s plant a kiss on his temple like he had that night in the tower. Sometimes he wouldn’t even say anything, and would just smile before turning to leave. Either way, he was like a phantom; he never acknowledged these things, or exhibited the same tender behavior, during the day.
Gerard couldn’t feel sorry for himself though, because he knew that whatever Mikey was going through had to be ten times worse. As the days went on, he made more frequent trips down the road in order to get cell phone reception, and Gerard knew that he was aching to get out for a while, on his own. Unfortunately, this was quite impossible, as he couldn’t drive, and there was nothing within walking distance worth going to.
About a week and a half into their stay, however, Mikey did leave for a while. After practice one day, he informed them that he was going out, and had left for his room to get changed before any of them could ask where he was going or how he was getting there. Gerard waited for him near the front door, and when he was about to leave, he stopped him.
“What are you going to do?” he asked, trying to keep suspicion out of his voice.
“I’m getting picked up,” Mikey said, shrugging off Gerard’s concerned hand.
“By who?”
Mikey looked at him. “Pete.” After Mikey answered, Gerard understood that the look was meant as a challenge; an I-dare-you-to-make-fun-of-me look.
Gerard was taken aback by this information. “Oh. But. Where does… Doesn’t he live in Chicago?”
Mikey sighed and crossed his arms. “Jesus, you’re worse than a chick’s dad on prom night. No, he doesn’t. He moved to LA recently.”
“Ah,” Gerard said. Well, that made sense. It also explained all the phone calls. At that moment, Frank walked into the room and looked between Gerard and Mikey suspiciously.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his tone of voice refreshingly light. Gerard filled him in, and Frank laughed. “Oh, so that’s how it is. Well, let me know if his bed is comfortable, Mikey.” Frank ran out of the room laughing before Mikey could retaliate. Gerard glared after Frank, somewhat angry that he had taken a jab at Mikey when he was obviously not in a very good place mentally. He turned back towards his brother and gave him an apologetic look. Mikey just shook his head and sighed.
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Frank’s an ass,” Mikey said decisively.
“Yeah, but that’s why we love him.” Gerard smiled.
“Yeah,” Mikey agreed. He looked at his watch. “I’ve gotta go. Don’t have too much fun without me.” Mikey seemed to know the irony in that statement, because he gave Gerard a crooked smirk before leaving the house.
Gerard stood by the door a few minutes after Mikey left, just thinking. If anything, he was kind of relieved that it was Pete Mikey was going to be with-the guy didn’t drink, so it wasn’t like Mikey was going to get wasted. Hopefully he’d be cheered up a little bit, even if Gerard didn’t want to know what said cheering up might involve.
Eventually, Gerard climbed the stairs to the second floor and entered his room. The bed was made, and he instantly thought of Elizabeth. He hadn’t seen her around much over the past couple weeks, but when he did, she always had a smile on her face and something nice to say. She always seemed to show up at the worst times, though-when Gerard was about to go to sleep, when he had just woken up from a nap, or when he was about to take a shower. It seemed like she’d never see him when he looked presentable.
Gerard crossed the room and opened the doors that led to the balcony, stepping out and then closing them behind him, taking care to make sure the lock didn’t accidentally close. He stepped up to the railing and leaned on it, looking out at the huge pool as he lit a cigarette. It was nice here, it really was, but Gerard was already looking forward to leaving. Thankfully, they’d have a bit of a break: in about a week, they’d be heading to Austin in order to play SXSW. It’d be the first show they played in months, and Gerard supposed it would be refreshing. Maybe Mikey would perk up a little bit. Maybe they all would.
The last ashes of his cigarette were burning out when Gerard heard a noise behind him. He turned around to see the other door opening, and Frank stepping out gingerly. When he saw Gerard, he froze and looked back towards the door. “I’m sorry, did you want to be alone?”
Gerard shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine.” Frank nodded and walked right up to him, pausing for a moment before wrapping one of his arms around Gerard’s waist.
“Thank God we’re doing this together, man,” he said softly. “I think I’d go crazy here if it weren’t for you guys.”
“You and me both,” Gerard said, tipping his head onto Frank’s shoulder.
Frank looked at him long and hard, his lips pressed together tightly and his eyes half-lidded. In the setting sun, Gerard could see flecks of gold in his green-tinted eyes. Only when he noticed this did he realize how physically close they were. Gerard made to take a step away, but he felt Frank’s hand loosely encircle his wrist, then a soft tug forward. “You’re not getting away that easily,” Frank murmured, the kind of smile that Gerard wanted to photograph blossoming on his face. Gerard was under the impression that Frank didn’t know what he was saying, and he didn’t blame him; in fact, Gerard probably murmured something appropriate (and painfully sappy) in response, but that really wasn’t important. He was far too preoccupied by the way the sunset made Frank’s skin glow, and the way the fingers of his right hand were lacing with those of Gerard’s left. His brain was whispering something about this being a bad idea, but Gerard didn’t really give a shit.
And that was it. Frank’s left hand on Gerard’s right cheek, his thumb grazing the spot under his lip, and then they were kissing, the whole deal, with eyes closed, heads tilted, hands touching, hearts pounding.
And now it’s happening, Gerard found himself thinking. After four years and four months of knowing Frank, this was the first time, off the stage and on the lips. Nobody was watching, nobody was fucking around, and there was nobody to piss off. They were standing on a balcony in the fucking sunset, and the pads of Frank’s fingers were rough against Gerard’s cheek.
They separated briefly, and Frank turned into Gerard’s neck, kissing him there too. It wasn’t overly forward; it was just a gentle pressing of the lips, no teeth, no tongue. Frank’s nose was cold against his heated skin. Gerard brought a shaky hand to Frank’s head, running nervous fingers over and through his hair.
“Um, Frank? Is this-”
Frank brought a hand up to Gerard’s mouth, covering it quickly. “No talking,” he murmured. “Not yet.” Gerard nodded and Frank let his hand drop, pulling away from Gerard’s neck and stepping back so he could see his face. Gerard thought for a moment that Frank was going to say something, but he didn’t; instead, he kissed Gerard again. And he was right, this was better than talking.
[//]
When Mikey came home four hours later, there was something overall suspicious about his appearance. His hair was wet, despite the fact that it wasn’t raining outside (for once, Gerard thought), and his clothes appeared neater than they had been before he had left. Gerard also noticed that he gave off a faint fragrance; one that did not come from the soap that he usually used. Also, he seemed to be tugging at the neck of his shirt nervously, as if he had something to hide (which, Gerard suspected, he did).
By looking at the faces of the other guys, Gerard quickly determined that he was not the only one who found something odd about Mikey’s behavior; Ray looked like he was fighting laughter, Frank appeared to be trying to figure out the best way to tease him, and Bob looked like he was going to vomit. Gerard wasn’t sure which reaction was worse.
“Well, I don’t think we have to ask you if you had a good time,” Frank said, smirking.
“Shut up, Iero,” Mikey said, still tugging at his shirt.
“Where did you go, to a Laundromat?” Ray asked, eyeing Mikey up and down.
“So he ironed my shirt for me, big deal. It was wrinkled,” Mikey said, rolling his eyes and sitting on the couch opposite the rest of them.
“Yeah, but need I remind you that in order to iron something, you generally have to take it off?” Frank said, the smile never leaving his face.
“You know what? Just, whatever,” he said, his face turning red as he got off the sofa and headed for the stairs.
“I guess his bed was comfortable then,” Frank called after him.
Mikey stopped and turned around, a look of defiant resignation on his face. “Oh yes,” he said slowly and carefully. “Best fucking mattress I’ve ever screwed on.”
Everyone shut up, which was apparently the desired effect. Mikey left the room, plodding up the stairs with their eyes on his back.
“Was he joking?” Ray whispered once Mikey left.
“I don’t know,” Bob said, a grimace on his face. “I hope so, to be honest.”
Gerard shrugged. “It’s no big deal. He can do what he wants. I guess.”
“But... he’s supposed to get married, dude,” Bob said, obviously distressed by the situation. “I mean, what if she finds out?”
“Cool it. You’re already talking about what if she finds out when we don’t even know if he was serious,” Ray said hopefully.
“Yeah, well,” Bob said, standing up. “I don’t like where this is going. I’m worried about him, and things can only get worse from this point.”
Gerard didn’t say anything, but he silently agreed.
[//]
chapter six