Riding With Private Way
Summary: "Frank’s eyes landed on the glove box, and he remembered what the note said: you’ll always be riding with Private G. Way. Well, shit, he didn’t think the note had been literal."
Rating: R/NC-17
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
A/N: This is a fic based on the song Riding With Private Malone by David Ball, so you might want to listen to that song before, after, or while you read this fic. Please don't let the fact that it's a country song deter you. It's a great song! But then, if country really isn't your thing, you don't actually need to have heard the song to appreciate this fic, so please continue on your way to reading! This is also my first bandom fic and livejournal entry ever! Yay! I hope you like it!
*
I’m finally home, thought Frank as he walked out to steal the newspaper from his neighbor’s driveway. Going back inside, he glanced at the camouflaged duffel bag he had yet to unpack, with the army issued uniform tossed unceremoniously on top, and decided unpacking could wait until after breakfast. He had only gotten back yesterday, after all; no one expected him to have all of his shit together yet.
With a sigh, Frank sat down with a mug of instant coffee and a couple of poptarts to read the paper. There wasn’t really anything of interest, mostly just news about the war ending, and the soldiers coming home, and the celebrations put on by family members and pacifists to welcome them back. He turned the page a little bitterly. There hadn’t been a party when he returned. There hadn’t been anyone to plan one. He came across the classifieds, and remembered that he’d have to find a job soon if he wanted to eat more than the stale poptarts in his cupboard that had been there since the last time he’d had leave.
He read through one boring job description after another, until he came to an ad. Old car, it said, unknown make and model, slight repairs needed, but otherwise good shape, $1000. After staring at the ad for a while, Frank made the decision to check it out. He’d need a car in order to get a job anyway, right? And a thousand wasn’t that expensive for a decent car these days. He called the number on the ad, and set up a time to go see the car.
*
“My dad loved this car,” the woman dressed in all black said, as she led Frank to the garage where it was kept. “He would come and just sit in it every day, right up until the day he died a couple months ago. He said it made him feel closer to his brother. The car was my uncle’s, before he died in a war.” The garage door opened and Frank’s breath caught in his chest. The car was a silver Trans-Am, potentially worth ten times what the lady was charging.
“I’ll take it,” Frank said without a second thought. He didn’t even know if it ran yet, but this opportunity was too good to pass up. He began to feel a little guilty about ripping the lady off as he counted out the bills, but the guilt went away instantly when he sat behind the wheel for the first time.
In a fit of excitement, he slapped the dash, causing the glove box to fall open and a piece of paper to flutter out. Picking it up, Frank realized it was a note, and began to read.
Hello, my name is Private Gerard Arthur Way, and if you’re reading this, then I didn’t make it home. But for every dream that’s shattered, another one can come true. This car was once a dream of mine, now it belongs to you. Though you may take her, and make her your own, you’ll always be riding with Private G. Way.
Frank stared at the old piece of paper for a while, a chill running down his spine, before putting it back and calling the nearest car shop.
*
It was at Brian’s Car Repair that Frank met Bob and Ray, and quickly became friends with them as they helped him fix up the old Trans-Am. After Frank helped Bob handle a particularly difficult customer when Ray was sick, Brian, the owner of the shop, offered him a job, and Frank was finally able to afford more than poptarts.
It didn’t take much to have the Trans-Am in pristine condition, and Frank started driving her around just because he could. He didn’t miss the way pretty girls stared as he drove past. Okay, so maybe there were more reasons than just because he could, but no one could really blame him.
The first girl he took home since getting back into the country pointed out that the buttons on the radio didn’t seem to work right. Frank hadn’t really noticed, since he’d liked the station it had been on when he got it. The girl pushed a few buttons only to find static and channels in other languages, and finally gave up with a frustrated huff after finding a decently clear talk show in English. Just as the lack of actual music was beginning to grate on Frank, the station changed back to the rock and roll it had been on before the girl had started fiddling with it.
“Thank you,” Frank said with more than a little bit of relief.
“I didn’t touch it,” the girl responded, looking at the radio in horror. Frank blinked and glanced at the radio, but he didn’t have much time to think about it, because they were pulling into his driveway and there were suddenly other things to be thinking about.
*
After dropping the girl off at her place around midnight, like she’d insisted, Frank headed back home, listening to radio, which had become a late-night oldies show. Stopped at a red light, he suddenly saw something out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look, there was nothing there.
By the time he’d made it to his house, this had happened three more times, enough that he now had an idea of what he was seeing. It looked like a man, dressed in an army-green suit, sitting in the passenger seat, but every time Frank turned to look, he was gone. Frank pulled into the driveway and just sat there, staring straight ahead, headlights reflecting off the house and back at him. He saw a flicker out of the corner of his eye and whipped his head around as fast as he could, to see a startled-looking man with slicked-back black hair in a green dress shirt, tie, pants, and jacket. The jacket had gold buttons on it. The man couldn’t have been more than 25 years old, and was very pale with dark hazel eyes. Frank only had a second to take this all in before the man disappeared, vanished as if he had never been there in the first place.
“No, wait!” Frank called, reaching out towards the now empty passenger seat. There was a flicker, and then the man reappeared, eyeing Frank cautiously, like Frank had been the one to appear out of nowhere and disappear again. After a second of staring at each other, the other man’s mouth quirked up into a nervous half-smile.
“Hi,” he said, with a tiny wave. Following the movement, Frank’s eyes landed on the glove box, and he remembered what the note said: you’ll always be riding with Private G. Way. Well, shit, he didn’t think the note had been literal.
“You’re Gerard, aren’t you,” he asked, mystified. The man nodded, smile widening. “But how…?”
“I’m a ghost,” Gerard said simply. “When I died in the war, I came back to this Trans-Am. Mikey had a conniption when he found me. Apparently, appearing to someone just after they get the letter saying that you’re dead is quite the shock.” He had a full-on grin now, and Frank noticed that Gerard’s teeth were abnormally small. It was kind of cute.
“Wait, so that’s why your brother kept the car for so long?” Frank’s mind was whirling. His car was haunted by an actual ghost! Awesome!
“Yeah,” Gerard said, his smiling taking on a sadder tone, “he’d come and talk to me every day, no matter what.”
“So, where is he now?” Frank asked, scanning the back seat, half expecting another ghost to appear out of nowhere.
“He moved on,” Gerard said, drawing Frank’s attention back to the ghost in the front seat. “Not all dead people become ghosts. When you die, you have a choice. You can either move on, or attach yourself to something and become a ghost. Then, when that thing dies or gets destroyed, it’s like you died again and you get to make the choice again. Mikey’s waiting for me on the other side, waiting for this car to meet its end, so I can join him there.” Gerard waved his hands around while he talked, like he was trying to draw a diagram in the air to help him explain.
On a whim compelled by curiosity, Frank reached out to poke at Gerard’s face, and was startled when he felt cool skin instead of just air. “I can touch you,” Frank said, breathless with awe. Then Gerard became visibly transparent, and Frank’s hand went right through his head.
“It takes a bit of concentration, but I can become solid if I want.”
Frank grinned, giddily, “Cool.” He giggled and Gerard grinned back at him.
*
Frank ran back to the Trans-Am, climbed into the driver’s seat and drove away quickly, swearing colorfully the whole way. As usual, Gerard appeared beside him in the passenger’s seat, but this time he had a perplexed look on his face as he tried to avoid staring at Frank’s very obvious erection. It had been a couple of months since Gerard had first shown himself to Frank, and he’d never seen Frank like this.
“What happened?” the ghost asked as Frank pulled over not very far down the road and started unbuttoning his pants.
“His mom came home and he shoved me out the back door,” Frank answered through gritted teeth as he finally got his pants open and wrapped his hand around himself. “So close, oh God, so close,” he keened, bucking into his hand, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. At the feel of another hand on his dick, Frank’s eyes flew open with a gasp and he turned to see Gerard staring intensely into his eyes, the ghost’s arm moving in tandem with the soft, cool hand on his burning flesh.
There were so many questions Frank wanted to ask, but then Gerard did this little twist, and Frank’s mouth fell slack. He let go of himself, and started bucking into Gerard’s hand, his breath coming faster. He was close, so close, but he needed more, just a little more. He reached up around the back of Gerard’s neck and pulled him close so that their lips touched, Frank panting sloppily into the mouth that opened readily for him.
“Please,” Frank whispered, and Gerard bit his lip and pumped harder, and Frank was coming, moaning loudly. When he came down from his orgasm enough for conscious thought, Frank opened his eyes and looked over to see Gerard in the passenger seat, military slacks around his thighs, whining as he bucked into his own hand.
“Let me,” Frank said, reaching over to replace Gerard’s hand with his own. As Gerard fucked his hand, Frank noticed that his normally perfectly gelled and slicked-back hair was all over the place, sticking up where the headrest had rubbed against it, falling into his blown black eyes where it had fallen limp. With his free hand, Frank pushed Gerard’s hair back out of his eyes, ran his fingers through the soft black hair until his hand rested at the base of Gerard’s skull, and pulled him in for a bruising kiss. Just as Frank licked his way into the ghost’s mouth, Gerard moaned loudly and disappeared, causing Frank to fall head first into the passenger’s window.
“Ow, fuck,” he pushed himself back into the driver’s seat, rubbing his forehead, glaring confusedly at the empty seat next to him. After a couple of seconds, Gerard flickered back into existence next to him, looking utterly wrecked, pants still around his thighs.
“Sorry, Frankie,” he apologized in a raspy voice, “staying solid takes concentration, remember?” Frank frowned, but then it clicked, Gerard had disappeared because he couldn’t concentrate on staying solid while he… Oh. Frank relaxed back into his seat and stared at Gerard, listening to him pant and watching him become less transparent, more solid.
“So,” Frank said with an impish grin, “don’t ask, don’t tell, huh?”
“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” Gerard agreed, smiling back.
*
Three months later, and Frank was the happiest man alive. He blew Gerard a kiss as he walked in to work, but of course, they were in public, so Gerard was invisible, so it looked like Frank was blowing a kiss to his car.
“I swear, it’s like you’re having a relationship with that car,” Bob said, watching Frank oddly as he attempted to wipe grease off his hands with a dirty rag.
“So what if I do?” Frank responded, grinning widely.
“That’s messed up, dude,” Ray called from underneath a car. Frank fliped him off. It didn’t matter that Ray couldn’t see him, it was the thought that counts. Bob just shook his head and got back to work.
*
“Frank, I don’t think you should be driving, you seem a little drunk,” Gerard said worriedly as Frank started up the car.
“What, and leave you here while I walk home in the rain? No thanks,” Frank replied, pulling out of the parking lot of the bar where he’d been celebrating the weekend with Bob and Ray.
“You could have Bob or Ray drive you,” Gerard persisted. “Wasn’t Ray supposed to be the designated driver anyway?”
“Shut up, Gee, I know what I’m doing, I’m fine,” Frank snapped. Gerard stayed quiet after that, but didn’t stop fidgeting. Frank stopped paying attention to how fast he was driving, just wanting to get home where it was warm and dry. About a mile from his house, though, he took a turn too fast. The last thing he remembered was seeing Gerard’s panicked face as the Trans-Am flipped over.
*
Frank woke up to a loud beeping and a strong antiseptic smell. He groaned and opened his eyes to see the pure white of a hospital room. Looking around, he spotted a doctor at the foot of his bed, looking through papers on a clipboard.
“What happened?” Frank mumbled. His whole body felt sore and he was groggy in the way that only heavy-duty painkillers could achieve.
“Oh, you’re awake,” the doctor said, moving closer. “You were in a car crash. You’re lucky to be alive.”
Frank tensed. Gerard! “The car, what happened to the car?” he asked frantically.
“I’m afraid your car is totaled, Mr. Iero,” the doctor replied in a monotone. “Which is why you are lucky to be alive. Witnesses said that they say a young man dressed like a soldier drag you out of the car just before the gas tank ignited. Apparently he ran off when it caught fire, though, as no one could find him.”
From there, the doctor began to relay all of Frank’s injuries and the recovery time, but Frank wasn’t listening. His brain was caught up in the realization that the Trans-Am was gone, and with it, Gerard. Frank just kept hearing Gerard’s words from the first time they met repeating themselves in his head.
When you die, you have a choice. You can either move on, or attach yourself to something and become a ghost. Then, when that thing dies or gets destroyed, it’s like you died again… Like you died again… Like you died again… Oh God, Frank thought, I killed Gerard.
*
The next time Frank woke up, there’s a nurse checking the machines he was hooked up to. She smiled at him, “Mr. Iero, good to see you awake! Your recovery is going well. I’ll go get the doctor, and he can talk to you about your physical therapy options.” With that, she left him alone to stare up at the ceiling.
“Gerard, why did you drag me out of the car? Why didn’t you just let me die?” he asked the air.
“Because it wasn’t your time yet.”
Frank turned his head so fast he felt it twinge all through his body, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care, because Gerard was standing there next to his bed, smiling down at him, slicked-back hair, tiny teeth and all.
“Gee!” Frank exclaimed, trying to reach for him, but being restricted by the IV on one arm and cast on the other.
“Shh, shh, Frankie, calm down,” Gerard said, chuckling as he came closer and put his hands on Frank’s shoulders, pushing him down onto the uncomfortable hospital bed.
“But how?” Frank protested, grabbing hold of one of Gerard’s hands with his good hand.
“When you die, you get to make a choice, remember? To come back and haunt something, or to move on.” Gerard’s free hand started to play with Frank’s hair.
“So you decided to haunt my hospital room? That’s not going to work out so well, Gee,” Frank sayed, relaxing into the hand in his hair.
“No, Frankie, I’m not that dumb. I’m haunting you,” Gerard replied with a laugh. “Think you can handle me being within, like, a mile of you for the rest of your life?”
Frank smiled, “I think I can live with that. Hey, wait,” he frowned, “What about your brother, Mikey? Isn’t he waiting for you?”
“Mikey will understand,” Gerard smiled softly and kissed Frank’s forehead. Frank hummed happily, when another question came to the forefront of his mind.
“I thought you were confined to the inside of the car. How’d you pull me out?”
“The bumper had fallen off,” Gerard explained, rubbing his thumb along Frank’s knuckles. “Since I was tied to the car, I was able to take drag you out to where the bumper was, which was far enough away from the fire, thank God.”
“And now you’re stuck with me,” Frank said grinning.
“Until the day you die.”
At that moment, a knock sounds on the door, and Gerard disappeared just before the doctor came in.
*
Frank wakes up in an all white room. There’s no pain here anymore. No aching bones. He feels stronger than he has in years.
“Where am I?”
“You’re dead,” Gerard says, walking into his line of vision and holding out a hand. Frank reaches out to him without thinking, and startles at the sight of his hand. There’s no wrinkles, his skin isn’t almost thin enough to see through any more, it’s a young hand. A healthy hand. He pats his face, finding the same lack of wrinkles, lack of aging. He’s young again.
“What happened?” he asks Gerard, finally accepting the hand offered to him and letting himself get pulled to his feet.
“You had a heart attack, the day after your eightieth birthday,” Gerard explains taking a step back. “Now you get to make the choice.” He motions to his left, where there sits a little globe, slowly spinning on its gold axis. “Over there, you can choose to return to Earth as a ghost, choose something to haunt, and live there until that thing is destroyed.” Then he motions to his right, where intricately designed golden double doors loom. “Or over there, you can choose to move on.”
Frank looks back and forth between the two options before his eyes rest on Gerard. “And you?” Gerard smiles.
“I will follow you wherever you go.”
Frank’s face splits in a grin easily. Man it feels good to be young again. “Well, I have waited a really long time to meet this brother of yours.”
Gerard holds out his left hand happily, “Then let’s go.” Frank places his right hand in Gerard’s left and, hand in hand, they walk forward and reach for the doors.
Rating: R/NC-17
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
A/N: This is a fic based on the song Riding With Private Malone by David Ball, so you might want to listen to that song before, after, or while you read this fic. Please don't let the fact that it's a country song deter you. It's a great song! But then, if country really isn't your thing, you don't actually need to have heard the song to appreciate this fic, so please continue on your way to reading! This is also my first bandom fic and livejournal entry ever! Yay! I hope you like it!
*
I’m finally home, thought Frank as he walked out to steal the newspaper from his neighbor’s driveway. Going back inside, he glanced at the camouflaged duffel bag he had yet to unpack, with the army issued uniform tossed unceremoniously on top, and decided unpacking could wait until after breakfast. He had only gotten back yesterday, after all; no one expected him to have all of his shit together yet.
With a sigh, Frank sat down with a mug of instant coffee and a couple of poptarts to read the paper. There wasn’t really anything of interest, mostly just news about the war ending, and the soldiers coming home, and the celebrations put on by family members and pacifists to welcome them back. He turned the page a little bitterly. There hadn’t been a party when he returned. There hadn’t been anyone to plan one. He came across the classifieds, and remembered that he’d have to find a job soon if he wanted to eat more than the stale poptarts in his cupboard that had been there since the last time he’d had leave.
He read through one boring job description after another, until he came to an ad. Old car, it said, unknown make and model, slight repairs needed, but otherwise good shape, $1000. After staring at the ad for a while, Frank made the decision to check it out. He’d need a car in order to get a job anyway, right? And a thousand wasn’t that expensive for a decent car these days. He called the number on the ad, and set up a time to go see the car.
*
“My dad loved this car,” the woman dressed in all black said, as she led Frank to the garage where it was kept. “He would come and just sit in it every day, right up until the day he died a couple months ago. He said it made him feel closer to his brother. The car was my uncle’s, before he died in a war.” The garage door opened and Frank’s breath caught in his chest. The car was a silver Trans-Am, potentially worth ten times what the lady was charging.
“I’ll take it,” Frank said without a second thought. He didn’t even know if it ran yet, but this opportunity was too good to pass up. He began to feel a little guilty about ripping the lady off as he counted out the bills, but the guilt went away instantly when he sat behind the wheel for the first time.
In a fit of excitement, he slapped the dash, causing the glove box to fall open and a piece of paper to flutter out. Picking it up, Frank realized it was a note, and began to read.
Hello, my name is Private Gerard Arthur Way, and if you’re reading this, then I didn’t make it home. But for every dream that’s shattered, another one can come true. This car was once a dream of mine, now it belongs to you. Though you may take her, and make her your own, you’ll always be riding with Private G. Way.
Frank stared at the old piece of paper for a while, a chill running down his spine, before putting it back and calling the nearest car shop.
*
It was at Brian’s Car Repair that Frank met Bob and Ray, and quickly became friends with them as they helped him fix up the old Trans-Am. After Frank helped Bob handle a particularly difficult customer when Ray was sick, Brian, the owner of the shop, offered him a job, and Frank was finally able to afford more than poptarts.
It didn’t take much to have the Trans-Am in pristine condition, and Frank started driving her around just because he could. He didn’t miss the way pretty girls stared as he drove past. Okay, so maybe there were more reasons than just because he could, but no one could really blame him.
The first girl he took home since getting back into the country pointed out that the buttons on the radio didn’t seem to work right. Frank hadn’t really noticed, since he’d liked the station it had been on when he got it. The girl pushed a few buttons only to find static and channels in other languages, and finally gave up with a frustrated huff after finding a decently clear talk show in English. Just as the lack of actual music was beginning to grate on Frank, the station changed back to the rock and roll it had been on before the girl had started fiddling with it.
“Thank you,” Frank said with more than a little bit of relief.
“I didn’t touch it,” the girl responded, looking at the radio in horror. Frank blinked and glanced at the radio, but he didn’t have much time to think about it, because they were pulling into his driveway and there were suddenly other things to be thinking about.
*
After dropping the girl off at her place around midnight, like she’d insisted, Frank headed back home, listening to radio, which had become a late-night oldies show. Stopped at a red light, he suddenly saw something out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look, there was nothing there.
By the time he’d made it to his house, this had happened three more times, enough that he now had an idea of what he was seeing. It looked like a man, dressed in an army-green suit, sitting in the passenger seat, but every time Frank turned to look, he was gone. Frank pulled into the driveway and just sat there, staring straight ahead, headlights reflecting off the house and back at him. He saw a flicker out of the corner of his eye and whipped his head around as fast as he could, to see a startled-looking man with slicked-back black hair in a green dress shirt, tie, pants, and jacket. The jacket had gold buttons on it. The man couldn’t have been more than 25 years old, and was very pale with dark hazel eyes. Frank only had a second to take this all in before the man disappeared, vanished as if he had never been there in the first place.
“No, wait!” Frank called, reaching out towards the now empty passenger seat. There was a flicker, and then the man reappeared, eyeing Frank cautiously, like Frank had been the one to appear out of nowhere and disappear again. After a second of staring at each other, the other man’s mouth quirked up into a nervous half-smile.
“Hi,” he said, with a tiny wave. Following the movement, Frank’s eyes landed on the glove box, and he remembered what the note said: you’ll always be riding with Private G. Way. Well, shit, he didn’t think the note had been literal.
“You’re Gerard, aren’t you,” he asked, mystified. The man nodded, smile widening. “But how…?”
“I’m a ghost,” Gerard said simply. “When I died in the war, I came back to this Trans-Am. Mikey had a conniption when he found me. Apparently, appearing to someone just after they get the letter saying that you’re dead is quite the shock.” He had a full-on grin now, and Frank noticed that Gerard’s teeth were abnormally small. It was kind of cute.
“Wait, so that’s why your brother kept the car for so long?” Frank’s mind was whirling. His car was haunted by an actual ghost! Awesome!
“Yeah,” Gerard said, his smiling taking on a sadder tone, “he’d come and talk to me every day, no matter what.”
“So, where is he now?” Frank asked, scanning the back seat, half expecting another ghost to appear out of nowhere.
“He moved on,” Gerard said, drawing Frank’s attention back to the ghost in the front seat. “Not all dead people become ghosts. When you die, you have a choice. You can either move on, or attach yourself to something and become a ghost. Then, when that thing dies or gets destroyed, it’s like you died again and you get to make the choice again. Mikey’s waiting for me on the other side, waiting for this car to meet its end, so I can join him there.” Gerard waved his hands around while he talked, like he was trying to draw a diagram in the air to help him explain.
On a whim compelled by curiosity, Frank reached out to poke at Gerard’s face, and was startled when he felt cool skin instead of just air. “I can touch you,” Frank said, breathless with awe. Then Gerard became visibly transparent, and Frank’s hand went right through his head.
“It takes a bit of concentration, but I can become solid if I want.”
Frank grinned, giddily, “Cool.” He giggled and Gerard grinned back at him.
*
Frank ran back to the Trans-Am, climbed into the driver’s seat and drove away quickly, swearing colorfully the whole way. As usual, Gerard appeared beside him in the passenger’s seat, but this time he had a perplexed look on his face as he tried to avoid staring at Frank’s very obvious erection. It had been a couple of months since Gerard had first shown himself to Frank, and he’d never seen Frank like this.
“What happened?” the ghost asked as Frank pulled over not very far down the road and started unbuttoning his pants.
“His mom came home and he shoved me out the back door,” Frank answered through gritted teeth as he finally got his pants open and wrapped his hand around himself. “So close, oh God, so close,” he keened, bucking into his hand, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. At the feel of another hand on his dick, Frank’s eyes flew open with a gasp and he turned to see Gerard staring intensely into his eyes, the ghost’s arm moving in tandem with the soft, cool hand on his burning flesh.
There were so many questions Frank wanted to ask, but then Gerard did this little twist, and Frank’s mouth fell slack. He let go of himself, and started bucking into Gerard’s hand, his breath coming faster. He was close, so close, but he needed more, just a little more. He reached up around the back of Gerard’s neck and pulled him close so that their lips touched, Frank panting sloppily into the mouth that opened readily for him.
“Please,” Frank whispered, and Gerard bit his lip and pumped harder, and Frank was coming, moaning loudly. When he came down from his orgasm enough for conscious thought, Frank opened his eyes and looked over to see Gerard in the passenger seat, military slacks around his thighs, whining as he bucked into his own hand.
“Let me,” Frank said, reaching over to replace Gerard’s hand with his own. As Gerard fucked his hand, Frank noticed that his normally perfectly gelled and slicked-back hair was all over the place, sticking up where the headrest had rubbed against it, falling into his blown black eyes where it had fallen limp. With his free hand, Frank pushed Gerard’s hair back out of his eyes, ran his fingers through the soft black hair until his hand rested at the base of Gerard’s skull, and pulled him in for a bruising kiss. Just as Frank licked his way into the ghost’s mouth, Gerard moaned loudly and disappeared, causing Frank to fall head first into the passenger’s window.
“Ow, fuck,” he pushed himself back into the driver’s seat, rubbing his forehead, glaring confusedly at the empty seat next to him. After a couple of seconds, Gerard flickered back into existence next to him, looking utterly wrecked, pants still around his thighs.
“Sorry, Frankie,” he apologized in a raspy voice, “staying solid takes concentration, remember?” Frank frowned, but then it clicked, Gerard had disappeared because he couldn’t concentrate on staying solid while he… Oh. Frank relaxed back into his seat and stared at Gerard, listening to him pant and watching him become less transparent, more solid.
“So,” Frank said with an impish grin, “don’t ask, don’t tell, huh?”
“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” Gerard agreed, smiling back.
*
Three months later, and Frank was the happiest man alive. He blew Gerard a kiss as he walked in to work, but of course, they were in public, so Gerard was invisible, so it looked like Frank was blowing a kiss to his car.
“I swear, it’s like you’re having a relationship with that car,” Bob said, watching Frank oddly as he attempted to wipe grease off his hands with a dirty rag.
“So what if I do?” Frank responded, grinning widely.
“That’s messed up, dude,” Ray called from underneath a car. Frank fliped him off. It didn’t matter that Ray couldn’t see him, it was the thought that counts. Bob just shook his head and got back to work.
*
“Frank, I don’t think you should be driving, you seem a little drunk,” Gerard said worriedly as Frank started up the car.
“What, and leave you here while I walk home in the rain? No thanks,” Frank replied, pulling out of the parking lot of the bar where he’d been celebrating the weekend with Bob and Ray.
“You could have Bob or Ray drive you,” Gerard persisted. “Wasn’t Ray supposed to be the designated driver anyway?”
“Shut up, Gee, I know what I’m doing, I’m fine,” Frank snapped. Gerard stayed quiet after that, but didn’t stop fidgeting. Frank stopped paying attention to how fast he was driving, just wanting to get home where it was warm and dry. About a mile from his house, though, he took a turn too fast. The last thing he remembered was seeing Gerard’s panicked face as the Trans-Am flipped over.
*
Frank woke up to a loud beeping and a strong antiseptic smell. He groaned and opened his eyes to see the pure white of a hospital room. Looking around, he spotted a doctor at the foot of his bed, looking through papers on a clipboard.
“What happened?” Frank mumbled. His whole body felt sore and he was groggy in the way that only heavy-duty painkillers could achieve.
“Oh, you’re awake,” the doctor said, moving closer. “You were in a car crash. You’re lucky to be alive.”
Frank tensed. Gerard! “The car, what happened to the car?” he asked frantically.
“I’m afraid your car is totaled, Mr. Iero,” the doctor replied in a monotone. “Which is why you are lucky to be alive. Witnesses said that they say a young man dressed like a soldier drag you out of the car just before the gas tank ignited. Apparently he ran off when it caught fire, though, as no one could find him.”
From there, the doctor began to relay all of Frank’s injuries and the recovery time, but Frank wasn’t listening. His brain was caught up in the realization that the Trans-Am was gone, and with it, Gerard. Frank just kept hearing Gerard’s words from the first time they met repeating themselves in his head.
When you die, you have a choice. You can either move on, or attach yourself to something and become a ghost. Then, when that thing dies or gets destroyed, it’s like you died again… Like you died again… Like you died again… Oh God, Frank thought, I killed Gerard.
*
The next time Frank woke up, there’s a nurse checking the machines he was hooked up to. She smiled at him, “Mr. Iero, good to see you awake! Your recovery is going well. I’ll go get the doctor, and he can talk to you about your physical therapy options.” With that, she left him alone to stare up at the ceiling.
“Gerard, why did you drag me out of the car? Why didn’t you just let me die?” he asked the air.
“Because it wasn’t your time yet.”
Frank turned his head so fast he felt it twinge all through his body, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care, because Gerard was standing there next to his bed, smiling down at him, slicked-back hair, tiny teeth and all.
“Gee!” Frank exclaimed, trying to reach for him, but being restricted by the IV on one arm and cast on the other.
“Shh, shh, Frankie, calm down,” Gerard said, chuckling as he came closer and put his hands on Frank’s shoulders, pushing him down onto the uncomfortable hospital bed.
“But how?” Frank protested, grabbing hold of one of Gerard’s hands with his good hand.
“When you die, you get to make a choice, remember? To come back and haunt something, or to move on.” Gerard’s free hand started to play with Frank’s hair.
“So you decided to haunt my hospital room? That’s not going to work out so well, Gee,” Frank sayed, relaxing into the hand in his hair.
“No, Frankie, I’m not that dumb. I’m haunting you,” Gerard replied with a laugh. “Think you can handle me being within, like, a mile of you for the rest of your life?”
Frank smiled, “I think I can live with that. Hey, wait,” he frowned, “What about your brother, Mikey? Isn’t he waiting for you?”
“Mikey will understand,” Gerard smiled softly and kissed Frank’s forehead. Frank hummed happily, when another question came to the forefront of his mind.
“I thought you were confined to the inside of the car. How’d you pull me out?”
“The bumper had fallen off,” Gerard explained, rubbing his thumb along Frank’s knuckles. “Since I was tied to the car, I was able to take drag you out to where the bumper was, which was far enough away from the fire, thank God.”
“And now you’re stuck with me,” Frank said grinning.
“Until the day you die.”
At that moment, a knock sounds on the door, and Gerard disappeared just before the doctor came in.
*
Frank wakes up in an all white room. There’s no pain here anymore. No aching bones. He feels stronger than he has in years.
“Where am I?”
“You’re dead,” Gerard says, walking into his line of vision and holding out a hand. Frank reaches out to him without thinking, and startles at the sight of his hand. There’s no wrinkles, his skin isn’t almost thin enough to see through any more, it’s a young hand. A healthy hand. He pats his face, finding the same lack of wrinkles, lack of aging. He’s young again.
“What happened?” he asks Gerard, finally accepting the hand offered to him and letting himself get pulled to his feet.
“You had a heart attack, the day after your eightieth birthday,” Gerard explains taking a step back. “Now you get to make the choice.” He motions to his left, where there sits a little globe, slowly spinning on its gold axis. “Over there, you can choose to return to Earth as a ghost, choose something to haunt, and live there until that thing is destroyed.” Then he motions to his right, where intricately designed golden double doors loom. “Or over there, you can choose to move on.”
Frank looks back and forth between the two options before his eyes rest on Gerard. “And you?” Gerard smiles.
“I will follow you wherever you go.”
Frank’s face splits in a grin easily. Man it feels good to be young again. “Well, I have waited a really long time to meet this brother of yours.”
Gerard holds out his left hand happily, “Then let’s go.” Frank places his right hand in Gerard’s left and, hand in hand, they walk forward and reach for the doors.