In Another Lifetime
Title: In Another Lifetime
Author: noestoybien
Rating: PG
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Summary: Gerard finds an old photograph taken twenty years ago, and he reminisces of the moment it was taken.
Beta: keepthefaithh
Disclaimer: I don't own them, this never happened, and I made it all up!
It was an old black and white photograph, torn at the edges, and wrinkled in the middle where it had been folded for years. Gerard had forgotten about it. When it fell out of an old book he curiously pulled out of its place in the bookshelf out of boredom, it was as a floodgate of memories had been opened.
He was twenty, and this was twenty years ago. Back when just the thought of being forty was unthinkable. Graying, thinning hair and crows feet were words nonexistent in his vocabulary. He picked it up off the hardwood floor and dusted it off. He smiled and closed the book, forgetting about it for a moment as he sat in his leather chair near the fireplace. Closing his eyes and tilting his head back, he thought back to the moment the photo was taken.
---
“Hold still, for once!” Gerard scolded the twitching, fresh-faced eighteen-year-old Frank. Frank had a difficult time keeping still. His mind and body were always on the go, and usually not in step with each other. He was naturally bursting with energy, but at times, he could be insufferable; and yet, Gerard always had the patience for his antics.
“Okay,” Gerard said from behind the camera. “It’s ready.” He quickly scurried to sit beside Frank on the stone steps in front of Gerard’s parents’ luxurious mansion. They smiled in preparation, but the timer was taking longer than they had anticipated.
“I want to remember us just like this,” Frank whispered. Gerard turned to him and grinned, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. Just then, Frank yelped and jumped up, furiously batting at his legs. Gerard was startled, and he jumped to his feet asking what was wrong. The camera flashed and Gerard cursed.
“That was my last roll of film!” he grumbled. “What’s the matter, anyway?”
“Something bit me,” Frank said searching himself for the culprit. “I could’ve sworn…I don’t see anything…it bit me… hard!”
“You’re just imagining things,” Gerard insisted, searching him over, just in case. He grabbed Frank’s hand, gripping it gently. Frank looked up, flushed and embarrassed.
“Yeah, I’m probably just imagining things.”
They stood in silence, holding hands, gazing into each other’s eyes. Just as they were closing in for a kiss, Gerard’s mother was at the door step asking for him.
“Gerard! I need you for something.”
The two men hastily separated.
“Yeah, I’ll be there in a bit, mom.”
“Okay, bring Frank, too!”
Once inside, in the kitchen where the walls were made of red brick, where it always smelled of cinnamon and where the sun shone brightest in the summer through the window near the table, Gerard’s mother pointed to a high, rosewood made shelf.
“I need the yeast from in there, but I can’t reach. I’m sure you boys could help an old lady, right?” she chuckled.
“Don’t look at me,” Frank said raising his arms in defeat.
Gerard reached as far as he could, on the tip of his toes, but he could only barely touch the shelf with the tips of his fingers. “Mom, why do you keep the yeast way up here in the first place?”
She shrugged, wiping sweat and flour off her forehead with her apron. Gerard scratched his head, thinking. Frank sat at the table, peering out the window.
“Aha!” Gerard proclaimed. He grabbed the chair beside Frank and used it to reach the cabinet.
“Here,” he said, stepping off the chair and handing his mother the yeast.
“Thank you, son,” she said, kissing him lightly on the forehead. She grinned sheepishly as she went back to her baking.
“Mrs. Way,” Frank said from the table, “you didn’t really need the yeast from way up there did you?”
“Well,” she said blushing, “a lady does get lonely, you know.”
Gerard put an arm around her shoulders and gripped her tight. “I know, mom. I know.”
It had been only a month and three days since her husband, Gerard’s father, had died, and they were all still feeling the harsh blow his death left them with. Gerard’s brother, Mikey, was still out of state, and had only come back down for the funeral. He was the type of person that needed to be left alone to his own devices to mourn. He only stayed three days with them, and then couldn’t bare another moment in the house where all his memories of his father still lingered. He was in the walls; he was in the sun that shone through the blinds in the windows. He was at the doorstep, where he sat every day for forty years after dinner.
Frank sighed. Growing up as Gerard’s most beloved friend, he knew his father and the rest of the family well. He missed him too. Gerard set the chair back in its place beside Frank and sat beside him. Frank peered at him through the corners of his naturally sleepy eyes and smirked.
“Let’s go to my room,” Gerard said.
“I can’t wait for dinner, Mrs. Way ,” Frank said excitedly as the two men walked up the stairs.
“It’ll be ready in about thirty minutes!” she called.
Once they were in Gerard’s room, the two plopped themselves on Gerard’s queen sized bed, facing each other. Gerard gently stroked Frank’s soft, black hair, which was getting a bit long. Frank closed his eyes. He looked so peaceful and angelic, Gerard thought. He wished they could stay like this forever.
“Gerard?” Frank said, almost whispering, eyes still closed. “Why can’t we tell anyone?”
“Tell anyone what?” he said, continuing to stroke his hair.
“You know…about us?”
“Oh, that.” He stopped stroking Frank’s hair and turned to lie flat on his back. Frank opened his eyes and looked up at him.
“Can we ever tell anyone?” Frank asked.
“I don’t know.” Frank scooted in closer and hugged Gerard close, laying his head on his chest and closing his eyes again. “I don’t know,” Gerard echoed his own words, whispering into Frank’s hair.
---
Gerard smirked, gazing at the photo. There they were, twenty years younger, in black and white, and in a frantic, sudden, human moment. He sighed and placed it back in the book from where it fell out of.
And now here he was, forty, alone in a big, empty house. He hadn’t spoken to Frank in fifteen years, when his mother died. Frank moved out of state to pursue a career, never to return, and Gerard was left alone. Their romance was short lived, and all traces they had of each other through postcards and letters slowly dwindled through the years.
Gerard sighed and reopened the book, grabbed the photo and turned it around.
It read: Gerard, I’m writing you this message because I want you to remember me…remember us like this forever. When we’re old and gray, we can look back at all the fun we had and remember how good it was. I love you, no matter what. Forever.
"I still don’t know,” he sighed, and returned the photo and the book back to their place, to be forgotten for another lifetime.
Author: noestoybien
Rating: PG
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Summary: Gerard finds an old photograph taken twenty years ago, and he reminisces of the moment it was taken.
Beta: keepthefaithh
Disclaimer: I don't own them, this never happened, and I made it all up!
It was an old black and white photograph, torn at the edges, and wrinkled in the middle where it had been folded for years. Gerard had forgotten about it. When it fell out of an old book he curiously pulled out of its place in the bookshelf out of boredom, it was as a floodgate of memories had been opened.
He was twenty, and this was twenty years ago. Back when just the thought of being forty was unthinkable. Graying, thinning hair and crows feet were words nonexistent in his vocabulary. He picked it up off the hardwood floor and dusted it off. He smiled and closed the book, forgetting about it for a moment as he sat in his leather chair near the fireplace. Closing his eyes and tilting his head back, he thought back to the moment the photo was taken.
---
“Hold still, for once!” Gerard scolded the twitching, fresh-faced eighteen-year-old Frank. Frank had a difficult time keeping still. His mind and body were always on the go, and usually not in step with each other. He was naturally bursting with energy, but at times, he could be insufferable; and yet, Gerard always had the patience for his antics.
“Okay,” Gerard said from behind the camera. “It’s ready.” He quickly scurried to sit beside Frank on the stone steps in front of Gerard’s parents’ luxurious mansion. They smiled in preparation, but the timer was taking longer than they had anticipated.
“I want to remember us just like this,” Frank whispered. Gerard turned to him and grinned, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. Just then, Frank yelped and jumped up, furiously batting at his legs. Gerard was startled, and he jumped to his feet asking what was wrong. The camera flashed and Gerard cursed.
“That was my last roll of film!” he grumbled. “What’s the matter, anyway?”
“Something bit me,” Frank said searching himself for the culprit. “I could’ve sworn…I don’t see anything…it bit me… hard!”
“You’re just imagining things,” Gerard insisted, searching him over, just in case. He grabbed Frank’s hand, gripping it gently. Frank looked up, flushed and embarrassed.
“Yeah, I’m probably just imagining things.”
They stood in silence, holding hands, gazing into each other’s eyes. Just as they were closing in for a kiss, Gerard’s mother was at the door step asking for him.
“Gerard! I need you for something.”
The two men hastily separated.
“Yeah, I’ll be there in a bit, mom.”
“Okay, bring Frank, too!”
Once inside, in the kitchen where the walls were made of red brick, where it always smelled of cinnamon and where the sun shone brightest in the summer through the window near the table, Gerard’s mother pointed to a high, rosewood made shelf.
“I need the yeast from in there, but I can’t reach. I’m sure you boys could help an old lady, right?” she chuckled.
“Don’t look at me,” Frank said raising his arms in defeat.
Gerard reached as far as he could, on the tip of his toes, but he could only barely touch the shelf with the tips of his fingers. “Mom, why do you keep the yeast way up here in the first place?”
She shrugged, wiping sweat and flour off her forehead with her apron. Gerard scratched his head, thinking. Frank sat at the table, peering out the window.
“Aha!” Gerard proclaimed. He grabbed the chair beside Frank and used it to reach the cabinet.
“Here,” he said, stepping off the chair and handing his mother the yeast.
“Thank you, son,” she said, kissing him lightly on the forehead. She grinned sheepishly as she went back to her baking.
“Mrs. Way,” Frank said from the table, “you didn’t really need the yeast from way up there did you?”
“Well,” she said blushing, “a lady does get lonely, you know.”
Gerard put an arm around her shoulders and gripped her tight. “I know, mom. I know.”
It had been only a month and three days since her husband, Gerard’s father, had died, and they were all still feeling the harsh blow his death left them with. Gerard’s brother, Mikey, was still out of state, and had only come back down for the funeral. He was the type of person that needed to be left alone to his own devices to mourn. He only stayed three days with them, and then couldn’t bare another moment in the house where all his memories of his father still lingered. He was in the walls; he was in the sun that shone through the blinds in the windows. He was at the doorstep, where he sat every day for forty years after dinner.
Frank sighed. Growing up as Gerard’s most beloved friend, he knew his father and the rest of the family well. He missed him too. Gerard set the chair back in its place beside Frank and sat beside him. Frank peered at him through the corners of his naturally sleepy eyes and smirked.
“Let’s go to my room,” Gerard said.
“I can’t wait for dinner, Mrs. Way ,” Frank said excitedly as the two men walked up the stairs.
“It’ll be ready in about thirty minutes!” she called.
Once they were in Gerard’s room, the two plopped themselves on Gerard’s queen sized bed, facing each other. Gerard gently stroked Frank’s soft, black hair, which was getting a bit long. Frank closed his eyes. He looked so peaceful and angelic, Gerard thought. He wished they could stay like this forever.
“Gerard?” Frank said, almost whispering, eyes still closed. “Why can’t we tell anyone?”
“Tell anyone what?” he said, continuing to stroke his hair.
“You know…about us?”
“Oh, that.” He stopped stroking Frank’s hair and turned to lie flat on his back. Frank opened his eyes and looked up at him.
“Can we ever tell anyone?” Frank asked.
“I don’t know.” Frank scooted in closer and hugged Gerard close, laying his head on his chest and closing his eyes again. “I don’t know,” Gerard echoed his own words, whispering into Frank’s hair.
---
Gerard smirked, gazing at the photo. There they were, twenty years younger, in black and white, and in a frantic, sudden, human moment. He sighed and placed it back in the book from where it fell out of.
And now here he was, forty, alone in a big, empty house. He hadn’t spoken to Frank in fifteen years, when his mother died. Frank moved out of state to pursue a career, never to return, and Gerard was left alone. Their romance was short lived, and all traces they had of each other through postcards and letters slowly dwindled through the years.
Gerard sighed and reopened the book, grabbed the photo and turned it around.
It read: Gerard, I’m writing you this message because I want you to remember me…remember us like this forever. When we’re old and gray, we can look back at all the fun we had and remember how good it was. I love you, no matter what. Forever.
"I still don’t know,” he sighed, and returned the photo and the book back to their place, to be forgotten for another lifetime.