Fic: The Mansion (Not A Ghost Story)

[fluffontop]

Cappuccino

The Mansion (Not A Ghost Story)
Frank/Gerard, NC-17, 10,192 words
Summary: Was meant to be a Halloween fic, but then it didn't turn out creepy enough. Takes place while they were recording at the Paramour mansion.

Brothers

Mikey was in so much pain. Frank didn't understand exactly what was going on, but he knew it wasn't just the blue room getting to him, it wasn't just the combination of too much pills and booze, it wasn't just one of life's lows.

When they had first arrived, Mikey hadn't been a hundred percent, but then he got worse and quickly. Some mornings Frank hadn't even recognized him; he'd walk into the living room and Mikey would be sitting on the couch, looking like just another ghost.

"So we'll continue writing and then - " Gerard stopped speaking, abruptly, as if it was as far as he had rehearsed the speech and he suddenly realized he had nothing else to add. He was red-eyed, unshaven, he had recently cut his own hair and it was a mess.

"How's he doing?" Ray asked.

"Okay." Gerard shrugged. "He's seeing a doctor."

Gerard was currently distraught. He'd gone from uncommunicative to angry to impatient to pretty useless to worried and somewhat useful. Frank wished Gerard had been able to deal with it better, but it was only because he had always felt like a part of them, of Mikey and Gerard, and there was always room for wishes. Gerard had done the best he could, but Mikey was gone and no one thought he was coming back and Frank wanted to go back in time just a little bit and start over with all the new, useful knowledge he currently had about the five of them.

"So we'll just take it easy for a few days and then we'll see," Ray concluded. "I have some ideas. I'll work on them and let you guys see what you think."

Frank nodded. "Me too."

They all agreed. The equipment was still set up in the hall. Frank wished they were back in New Jersey.

The blue light

Frank's room was sparsely decorated, but it had a nice view. He hated it from the moment he first stepped into it. It felt as if the house had chosen that room just so it could laugh at him. It was the only room with a single bed, and Frank was alone again for the first time in seven years, and it felt as if the house deliberately wanted to hurt him. Like it found his one weakness and made it manifest.

He was going to bring it up with the other guys, but then they all gathered on the landing to stare at the odd, sickening angles of Mikey’s room and the eerie blue light that hung heavy and unyielding from the ceiling, and suddenly his own complaints seemed weak in comparison.

The waterfall

Bob was the first one with a supernatural experience. He took it well. For a creepy occurrence it was pretty funny: the bath filled up with water while Bob was taking a nap, and when he told them about it, they were all filled with horrified delight. It was sort of what they had hoped would happen and Frank had a feeling Bob didn't really think it was anything but leaky taps, even when there were random noises like a waterfall in his room at night, or even later when it got really scary.

The second time there was "an occurrence", as Frank came to think of them, it scared the shit out of them. Bob and Matt were playing videogames in the main living room and Mikey was sitting on the couch listening to his headphones, tapping his foot on the floor, his eyes in a faraway place, and Frank was watching the game on the screen, sort of transfixed, trying not to think about her, when suddenly there had been a cold breeze going through the room and the hood of Matt's sweatshirt had come off his head. There had been a brief pause of nothing, then they had all jumped up, swearing and looking around.

Gerard had missed it because he'd been locked in his room most of that day--it was one of the first days he hadn't come out until after sundown--but at dinner they told the story to the people who hadn't been there and everyone agreed that the place was living up to its reputation and that they should channel it into the album. But Frank had a feeling of cold unease in his stomach all through dinner. He didn't tell anyone, because he was a little embarrassed that he was the only one that had been affected; he just wished all the shit would stop and there would be no more "occurrences". He hadn't told them that he'd thought he had seen a shadow streak across the screen, inside the game.

He went outside that evening to get some air and get out of the house and collect his thoughts and hopefully realize how stupid he had been to be freaked out by his own imagination like that. The trees were rustling with the breeze and the grass was soft against his naked calves. He rolled his shoulders, closed his eyes for a second, trying to shake the feeling, because of course he was tense. It had all been too fast: they had broken up, then he'd stressed around to get everything ready for the temporary move and the recording, and the two moments had crashed, unhinging him a little. What he needed was some time to grieve the thing he'd left behind and shift his focus to what they were making for the future.

"They have their own pet cemetery," someone said and when he looked around, Gerard was standing on the grass, arms around himself as if he was cold.

Frank threw his cigarette on the ground and mashed it with his foot. "That's fucking creepy."

Gerard nodded. "Dog bones," he said, somewhat inexplicably. Then he looked at Frank, and said in a more normal voice, "How are you? How are...things?"

"Just needed to gather my thoughts," Frank mumbled.

"Yeah. It must be. I can't imagine. If you need to talk…"

Frank nodded. Gerard had been very sympathetic when Frank had told him, and Frank had thought, well, shit. They were close and should be able to talk about these things, but with Frank's messed up mind and the way Gerard tended to make it worse, it was one of the reasons she had given, and, if he was honest with himself, it should probably have been one of the reasons he gave as well. But whatever. It was what it was.

"Mikey's freaking out about his room," Gerard said after a few moments of silence.

Frank nodded again. "I don't blame him."

Gerard was still standing with his arms around himself, his face was shadowed. "I don't think we should switch," he said thoughtfully.

Frank knew perfectly well that there was nothing odd about Gerard's voice right then, but afterwards, he liked to imagine that it had been the house speaking through Gerard's mouth, because the thought that Gerard had made a conscious decision that ended up hurting Mikey wasn't how Frank liked to think about them.

The fourth occurrence

The fourth time they saw ghosts was in the kitchen. Frank wasn't actually there, he only heard Mikey and Gerard's shouts and the echoes of steps and voices. When he came down to the main room, Mikey was explaining how the basement door had suddenly opened and the kitchen had turned freezing cold while he and Gerard were in there and how they had just fled. Gerard had already gone back into the kitchen again, because even though there was a ghost in there, it was where their coffee was, sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter, and it would have been pretty hilarious if Frank hadn't just been on the phone to her and nothing seemed particularly hilarious at the moment. After, Matt refused to enter any room where the ghost had appeared, which by then was the kitchen, Bob's bedroom, the main living room, Bob's bathroom, and the inside of Halo 2.

"The basement door was still open," Gerard said as he handed Mikey his cup, "I just kicked it and ran."

"You're fucking insane going in there again," Bob said, but with a grin, "What if the monster had dragged you into his lair?"

By dinner time, it took four people entering the kitchen together for everyone to feel safe, but the basement door stayed closed.

That night, Frank lay on his bed and watched the shadows move across the ceiling, waiting for the sun to come up. His head was spinning a bit, and he gave up on sleeping when his cell phone said 5:20, so he grabbed a t-shirt and went out of his room then stood on the landing dithering for a while. He had thought he'd go down and have something to drink and maybe play some video games until someone else woke up, but then he suddenly remembered were he was, and even if there weren't any monsters or basement ghosts, the room freezing over while he was on his own would make him wet himself, and he decided to spare everyone that.

The door to Gerard's room was closed. Frank didn't knock, just pushed it up as quietly as he could and poked his head inside. He could make out a lump on the bed and Gerard's hair tousled and smashed out all over the white pillowcase. Carefully, he closed the door behind him and tiptoed across the floor, because he didn't want to scare him. Gerard was asleep and breathing calmly, but when Frank sat down on the edge of the bed, he could see that Gerard's face was contorted. At first, he thought maybe it was just shadows moving, so he leaned forward and right then Gerard opened his eyes and Frank almost hit the ceiling. His heart started beating like a jackhammer and all he heard for a few moments was the thudthudthud from his chest. When he recognized Gerard again he started feeling really fucking stupid.

"The fuck?" Gerard murmured. He blinked a few times. "Frank? What?"

"Sorry," Frank whispered. "I can't sleep."

"Okay." Gerard rubbed his hair so that it stood out even more. "What - what time is it?"

"About 5."

"Okay," Gerard said again.

Frank shivered. Gerard pushed open the covers and Frank slid into his bed, curling up on his side. Gerard rolled over on his back.

Frank didn't close his eyes for a long time. There was a poster of Joan of Arc on the wall next to the bed, otherwise the wall was bare. Gerard had said something about staring at the painting, feeling like he was going crazy, and Frank didn't like it. He wanted to tear it down. He didn't like the idea that things taped up on the walls of this house could get any kind of power over any of them.

"It's almost morning," he whispered.

"Mm," Gerard said. He didn't sound like he'd been asleep though.

Frank inched back, and Gerard pulled back.

"Mikey seems a bit tired," Frank said.

Frank had noticed that Mikey had been pale and quiet for a while, and once he'd seen him crying, sitting on the couch with his bass as if no one could see him, but Frank was crying a little bit right now, so he thought it was probably just the pressure and the stress and life. He wiped his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Gerard asked. He must have heard him sniffing.

"Yeah. I'm just a little emotional."

"Well, that's understandable," Gerard said, but he sounded a bit uncertain.

After a while he put an arm around Frank, just lightly across his shoulder.

The kiss

He almost stumbled over the hunched-over figure sitting on the steps. "Mikey," he said when he had found his balance again. He had been very close to falling down the stairs and breaking his neck. Grabbing on to Mikey's shoulder was all that saved him. "God, what are you doing?"

"Sorry. I'm. I think I'm losing it," Mikey whispered. The stairs were cold and dark. He was shivering.

"Jesus, Mikey." Frank sat down and put an arm around him, rubbing his cold arm. "You're not losing it. Not more than the rest of us are."

He leaned his head against Mikey's and for a second Mikey pressed back, leaning his forehead against Frank's and breathing out. "Sorry. I'm so sorry," he said.

"Why? Don't be." Frank was confused, but he tried to sound reassuring.

Mikey turned to him and his eyes were just two dark hollows. Frank swallowed. He tried to shake the icy feeling gripping his heart, and he tried to remember what Mikey actually looked like: the curve of his mouth, the color of his skin, how his eyes gleamed, how funny he was and quirky and nice, and he thought about the time he had fallen asleep on Mikey's bed in the cold, two-bedroom apartment they had shared and how easy it had been when they had kissed, sleepily, in the early morning hours, how Mikey's mouth had been lazy and warm.

He tightened his arm around Mikey's shoulders. "If you... if you really feel you can't do this right now, we can always do it later at some point," he said, turning to face Mikey, "Just say so. We'll pack up and go home."

He didn't think about what he said. But Mikey's eyes disappeared further into shadow. His hand twitched in his lap. "No, no," he said. "It's fine."

They sat quietly listening to the silence in the stairwell. Frank had a feeling he had just made things worse. He knew he should have just let Mikey leave.

The bed

He and Gerard got some rock salt and crosses and went exploring and it was the most fun Frank had had in eight months. Gerard told the others that they were going ghosthunting. They opened doors that led to dark rooms and pushed each other to enter first.

The mansion was impressive; the grounds were beautiful; there was no denying that. The courtyard was straight out of a movie and even though the house was a bit imposing, it looked like everything it had promised to be. Frank had maybe felt a little bit apprehensive when he first stepped out of the car, but he had told himself that was the feeling the house should invoke. He had no memory of what the others' reactions had been and he couldn't even broadly recall what he had been wearing that day, but he remembered the exact pattern of the crack on the left side of the bottom window next to the entrance and how hot the limewashed stone steps looked in the sunlight. The heavy door handles of the front door shaped like a mouth. Inside, the high ceilings made everything echo. Balustrades curved upwards and inwards and the garden was stretching far and wide behind the house, visible through the back windows.

There was a corridor on the third floor of the tower that seemed a bit too long; there was something about it that wasn't right, Frank thought, but he couldn't articulate exactly what.

There was a door to the right that seemed older than the rest of the doors, or just more worn down, and he suddenly couldn't breathe from fear when Gerard smiled at him and pushed it open. They stepped inside, but nothing happened. He had almost expected the demon from the painting downstairs to jump out at him. Then he had to laugh at himself, because he actually jumped a little when Gerard touched his shoulder.

"What is it?" Gerard said. He was holding the cross by his side, loosely gripping it, and Frank wanted to reach for it and make Gerard hold it more firmly.

"I'm just being stupid," he said. And then the door slammed shut behind them.

They both turned around at the sound and Gerard made a startled noise, but Frank was gripped with such sudden, powerful fear that he didn't even make a sound.

Gerard threw Frank a look and went over to the door.

"It's going to be locked," Frank said.

Gerard tried the handle. "Hmm, what the fuck," he said. He banged on the door and Frank wished he wouldn't. They should be quiet, not alert anything to their situation. "Mikey," Gerard shouted. "Bob, Matt, whoever, what the fuck, it's not funny."

"Shh," Frank said and Gerard turned to give him a look. "Don't."

"They're such fucking assholes," Gerard said.

"Yeah," Frank jammed his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt and tried to fight the sudden chill. He knew he probably had goosebumps on his arms.

"Let's climb out the window," Gerard said, nodding to the large, beautifully carved windows and Frank thought, yes. They were high up, but he thought they could probably climb across the roof to one of the bedroom balconies. And who cared if they fell, as long as they didn't have to spend the night in that room. There was still sunshine streaming in from outside, but it was gold and red.

"I think the window is nailed shut," Gerard said.

Frank sighed.

"I give up," Gerard said.

Frank dug through his pockets and found his cigarettes and a lighter. He lit one and held out the pack to Gerard.

Gerard looked around the room while he smoked. "I guess some of the rooms aren't as well-kept," he said. He ran a hand over the worn down dresser and dust swirled up. "There's what, twenty-two?"

Frank nodded ad he took a drag of the cigarette and eyed the flaking wallpaper. It had been beige with a brown lined pattern, but in the dusking light it was difficult to make out exactly what it had looked like, and there was wardrobes and paintings covering most of the walls.

There was a loud creak behind him and when he turned around, Gerard had sat down on the bed. "Should we put salt around the door and windows?"

Frank dropped the cigarette on the floor and squashed it with his heel. He took out the cross from his back pocket and sat down on the other side of the bed. "It's not funny," he muttered. The bedspread was flowery with a vague smell of perfume and damp.

"I sort of wish we had a guitar though," Gerard said. "It's a great room for inspiration."

Frank shook his head. He was glad Gerard didn't have a guitar. Who knew what demons that would conjure. "Maybe," he said.

The sessions hadn't been going that well lately. They could work for twelve hours straight but the kind of creativity they were used to just didn't seem to happen. It was like running through sand, Frank thought. He knew it frustrated them all. At the moment, nothing seemed to really work, that's why they were all so tired.

Gerard reached over and squeezed his shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?"

Frank closed his eyes for a second. "I'm going to try the door again," he said and got up, the cross in one hand. He walked across the floor and tried turning the knob, but it wouldn't turn, of course. He rattled the door then kicked it a little. When he turned back, the shadows seemed longer than they should be. The sun had set too fast, he thought.

Gerard was smoothing out the bedspread with his hand. "They're gonna make us stay the whole night, I fucking guarantee you," he said.

He put the cross in the middle of the bed, and then stretched out beside it on top of the flowery bedspread.

Frank watched him. He thought, at least I'm not alone in here, and felt a sudden affection towards the sprawling form of Gerard on the bed; he could have kissed him, but he just went over to the other side of the bed and lay down next to him.

Gerard lifted his head and looked at Frank. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.

"I'm actually really freaked out by this place," Frank admitted.

Gerard snorted and Frank pushed him in the side.

"Sorry," Gerard muttered, "Yeah, okay, it's fucking scary."

Frank smiled a little. He was glad it wasn't just him. It made it seem more like a trick of the light and less like he was going insane. The ceiling was white with two beautiful curved arcs and there was lace along the edges of the pillow that tickled his neck.

"It's haunted by this lady who died under mysterious circumstances," Gerard said, "I bet this is her room."

"Fuck you," Frank buried his face in the warm comfort of Gerard's hoodie. "You're a motherfucking asshole."

He could feel Gerard chuckle.

Frank rolled on to his back. He wanted another cigarette, but then he thought about the lace and flowers and whiffs of perfume and hesitated with his hand inside his pocket, then left it there.

"How is Mikey?" he asked after a while.

Gerard was quiet for a few moments. "Okay. He's just going through some shit. He'll be alright."

"This house isn't helping."

"No, the room still freaks him out. He comes and sleeps in my room."

Frank nodded. "I could switch with him."

But when he looked back on it, he wasn't so sure that's what he had said at all. If he concentrated hard and was honest with himself, he had a feeling what he had said was "we shouldn't switch."

He reached over to touch Gerard's shoulder. "We're all worried about him."

Gerard looked over and his eyes were warm. "Yeah."

"I made out with him once, did I tell you that?" Frank continued. "We didn't do anything, but fuck, I wanted to. Can you imagine what it would be like being sucked off by him, god, I should have."

"Frank!" Gerard said, alarmed. He sat up. "What, fuck?"

Frank pushed him back down and climbed on top of him, pinned him down. Gerard seemed shocked, but he fought back and they were surprisingly evenly matched. Frank had assumed he would be able to take Gerard in a fight. Mikey too. Not Ray. Maybe Bob.

His head was a little light, but not majorly so. They struggled until he had Gerard's wrists pinned again and could straddle him, trapping Gerard's legs under him "Don't pretend," he said through gritted teeth.

"Frank - "

The bedspread was slippery and slid under Gerard's back. He kept making these little noises as he tried to kick Frank or push him off. Frank felt anger rising in his chest as he rolled them over again, tightening his grip and pressing down harder. He managed to get his knee over Gerard's, right where it would hurt, and Gerard winced. "I broke up with her for you."

"God, stop it," Gerard mumbled, twisting to get his hands free. He managed to tip them sideways, but Frank took that opportunity to get his hand around Gerard's throat and Gerard stilled. Frank squeezed a little, just for show. He could feel Gerard swallow against his palm.

"Now what?" Frank said.

Gerard was quiet. He looked confused more than scared and he raised a hand as if he was going to make Frank lower his arm, but then he dropped it as if suddenly realizing that Frank's hand was just this side of not choking him - that the difference was just a fraction. He blinked and then suddenly he did look scared.

It was the change in Gerard's eyes that got to Frank. He thought it was the most natural thing in the world that he would be hurting Gerard, but he didn't think the new look in Gerard's eyes was normal. He let go and Gerard dropped his head forward, then took a deep breath and jumped up from the bed. "Frank," he shouted, "What the fuck? You fucking choked me. I was fucking choking." He went over to the door and tried the knob again. It was still locked and Gerard kicked the door. He touched his throat.

Frank felt strangely hot. "I'm sorry," he said. His head was a little mushy.

Gerard stood with his back pressed to the door and Frank sat kneeling on the bed and they stared at each other across the floor. Red bloomed on Gerard's neck. Frank knew he should be feeling guilty, but what he thought was, there's a first time for everything.

"I wanna get out of here," Gerard said, quietly. He turned and started yanking the door knob again. "You're fucking nuts. Everyone is lately."

Frank watched his back. He felt really calm. "You're - " he was going to say that Gerard could use some pointers on how to win a fight, but then he lost his thread of thought. "Uh."

Gerard glanced at him over his shoulder. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I don't know." Frank knew he had just been really angry, he could still feel the residue of it coursing through his body, but he was starting to forget why. Mostly, he wanted to curl up on the bed and sleep.

Gerard frowned. "What is it? What have you taken?" He was sounding a little less upset and a little more suspicious. "Is it prescription or..?"

Frank decided to lie, because it was probably better if Gerard thought he was on something. "Yeah, sorry," he said with a sigh, trying to look as if Gerard had caught him out. "I thought maybe it would help with the, you know, creativity."

"Right. Okay." Gerard seemed to relax. He let go of the door. "Are you and Mikey doing them together?"

"No. No." Frank shook his head.

So at least Gerard had noticed too that Mikey hadn't been sober a single night since they'd arrived. Frank thought that if someone should talk to Mikey about it, it was Gerard.

"Can I have some?" Gerard wasn't looking at him and at first Frank wasn't sure he had heard right.

"What?" he said.

"You know, for the creativity," Gerard mumbled.

"Gerard, are you - "Frank got up from the bed and walked across the floor to stand in front of him. His intention had been to hit Gerard across his dumb fucking face, but then he remembered that the door was still locked, and that they were evenly matched. So he took Gerard's hand instead. "Come to bed," he said.

Gerard blinked. He let himself be led to the bed. Frank pushed him down and crawled up next to him, wrapped his arms around him and pulled the duvet up around them, ignoring the damp smell.

"Let's just go to sleep. We'll talk in the morning. The door is locked, there's nothing we can do."

"Okay," Gerard said. He sounded a little hazy.

"I don't have any fucking pills with me, prescription or not," Frank said into Gerard's shoulder, "And you don't want any, I know that and you know that."

"Um, okay?" Gerard said again, sounding even more puzzled.

They lay quietly hugging for a long while, as the shadows and the moonlight slowly crept along the wall.

"Did you really break up with her for me?" Gerard whispered, and Frank had no idea what he was talking about.

--

When Frank woke up, Gerard's hand was on his thigh, his knuckles almost brushed against Frank's dick. Frank fought the fogginess and underwater feeling and opened his eyes in time to see Gerard flinch guiltily, so he had only been pretending to be asleep.

Frank grabbed Gerard's hand and pressed the palm against his dick. He was hard and aching and he thought that maybe this was the right time for this, finally. It was a relief.

Then he thought that the house had locked them into a room with a bed and maybe it wanted it to happen.

"Wait," he said and pushed Gerard's hand away.

Gerard frowned. "Uh, sorry."

"No, it's just - " Frank saw the way Gerard had turned red, the embarrassment of rejection written on his skin, "Not here."

"Oh." Some kind of hopefulness returned to Gerard's voice, but he still asked, "You don't want to?"

Frank wanted to, but he couldn't take the risk, not in this room, between these walls.

"What I really want is to fuck both of you," he said.

Gerard tensed. "What?"

Frank rubbed a hand over his own dick, which was still hard, and saw stars. "You and Mikey, together, at the same time."

Gerard pulled back. "Uh, Frank." He sat up and coolness hit Frank's overheated skin.

"Don't say you don't want it, you fucking liar," Frank said.

Gerard was silent. Frank wondered if he was going to start touching him again soon. He wondered what time it was. The sun was shining in through the windows now. He looked over at Gerard, a little blearily. "Um. What is wrong?" he asked when he saw Gerard's eyes.

Gerard blinked a few times. "Nothing," he said then.

The door was unlocked now. Frank was sure.

The kitchen counter

He noticed that Gerard started to avoid him and hoped he hadn't done anything to piss Gerard off.

He kept having dreams where he went into Gerard's room at night and Mikey was there, sleeping on the floor or in the bed or whatever, and he slid in between and it was so good, both of them inside him at the same time.

He cornered Mikey by the kitchen counter and told him, "Come with me to Gerard's room tonight, we'll surprise him, we'll go down on him together," and Mikey looked shocked, but secretly pleased.

The fight

Gerard cornered him outside the kitchen and hit him across the face. Frank was stunned out of existence for a few seconds then automatically hit Gerard back. They had a good old fashion fist-fight, crashing into the walls. Bob and Matt had to pry them apart. Everyone was very upset. Frank didn't think it had been that bad. They were fine; he was laughing and talking to Gerard like normal just a few hours later.

The heavy room

Then Mikey moved out and Frank went berserk. He called him repeatedly on his cell phone, but Mikey didn't answer, so Frank left messages calling him out on being a quitter and a pussy and a fucking traitor. Stacy must have listened to them, or Mikey showed them to her, because she told Brian and he came over to take Frank into one of the smaller heavy rooms for a talk.

"He quit," Frank explained, impatiently, annoyed that Brian could sit there and question him. "We're all feeling this fucking house, but you don't see us leaving."

"Mikey's actually sick, though," Brian said.

Frank glared at him across the table. He wondered if Brian had been on a bender on their expense for the month they had been cooped up in there.

"Frank, look, I know you've been going through a rough time." Brian seemed to hesitate. "But you seem to be self-medicating, and. Gerard said you're on something but he doesn't know what it is. Everyone's worried about you. And you keep upsetting people."

"Mikey's the one self-medicating. You should bring him in here for a talk, not me." Frank grabbed his cigarette pack and Brian's lighter and took one out, lighting it. He gestured at the ceiling. "You haven't seen him lately, but I bet you he's upstairs in his room right now getting wasted."

Brian gave him an odd look.

Frank ashed into the coffee cup.

He didn't like the heavy rooms. He seemed to always be dragged in there for no reason. He sat back and watched Brian sigh and rub his face. Total bender hangover, he thought, and decided to talk to the guys about it. Brian was a problem, always had been.

The moon

The real unfairness of it was that Gerard was the one who was actually going crazy. After Mikey left, he spent most of the time in his room, and he only came out at night, and he talked about how he might suffocate in his sleep and Frank was sure he went out to the pet cemetery to pray at night. He sat by his door waiting to catch him night after night, but Gerard must be really sneaky about it.

One night when he was half-asleep with his chin against the door and a bottle of beer between his legs, he was sure he heard Gerard's door open and he thought fucking finally, and opened his own door quietly to follow him. But Gerard was standing right outside in the dark hallway, his hand stretched out as if he'd been about to open Frank's door, and for a few moments they just stared at each other.

"You're not asleep?" Gerard asked.

"You're not dressed?" Frank said.

Gerard didn't look like he was sneaking out. He was wearing a pair of pajama pants, but he was shirtless and Frank thought that was really odd. Gerard was just standing there, and he was bare-chested and the moonlight was bathing his skin in a ridiculously erotic way and his hair was standing up on one side, and Frank said, "You wanna come in?"

"Shh," Gerard whispered and pointed at the door across from Frank's, which had been Mikey's.

Once Frank had closed the door behind them, Gerard turned to look at him.

"You wanna sleep here tonight?" Frank asked and Gerard nodded again.

They stood hesitating for a few moments, then Frank went up to him and pressed a hand to his chest, sliding it down, feeling Gerard's skin and muscles and his ribs and the way he inhaled sharply. He watched his eyes flutter and when he looked down, Gerard was already fully hard.

"Shit," Frank mumbled, because he had never seen Gerard with an erection before, even if it was still covered. He slid his hand down and touched it tentatively through the fabric and he could tell that Gerard dick was bigger than his own and fucking perfect and all Frank wanted suddenly was to be naked.

"Can we..." Gerard seemed a little gone. "Please."

"Yeah, yeah," Frank said.

Gerard got naked.

"Whoa," Frank laughed, pulling at his own t-shirt. "That was easy."

"We're staging an intervention tomorrow. I wanted to fuck you before you come to your senses again," Gerard said.

Frank wasn't sure whether to laugh or not. "You can stage an intervention all you like. I'm not leaving until we have an album done."

Gerard pushed him down on the bed. He'd had lube and a condom in his pajama pocket, and Frank had never been fucked by a guy before, but he rolled his eyes when Gerard used half a tube and still looked concerned. Frank finally had to climb on top of him. "You're hung," he said and grinned down at Gerard, feeling a little wild. "But you're not that big, to warrant all of this."

Gerard sputtered a little. Then he tensed when Frank positioned himself. He didn't say anything about foreplay. When Gerard first pushed up, Frank had a quick dizzying thought of what the fuck are we doing? but he was aching for it, and the overuse of lube had him slipping and sliding a bit, but they were almost there and he thought that he really wanted to feel it. "How about we get rid of the condom," he said, daringly.

Gerard's eyes were dark with pleasure, but he stopped him when Frank started to pull off. "Um. No."

Frank was surprised. "Why not?"

"Honestly. You've been sleeping around a bit."

Frank blinked. He stopped moving.

Gerard raised his head and kisses him on the mouth. "It's okay. But leave it on."

Frank stared at him.

"Shit," Gerard said. "You don't remember?" His eyes widened. There was real concern in them and Frank felt ice gather in his guts.

"N-no. I. No."

"That's really bad," Gerard whispered. "If you don't know what you've been doing. You really don't remember any of them?"

Frank closed his eyes. "I- I haven't had sex in seven months. And we were faithful. I - I haven't been sleeping around with anyone." He didn't want to hear any more.

Gerard put a hand on his shoulder, comforting, and Frank pulled him close, moving sideways until Gerard followed. Gerard rolled on top of him, sliding inside again, and Frank dug his nails into his shoulders, pressing his face into Gerard's neck.

"I'll remember this," he whispered.

"We've already done this," Gerard said.

Frank closed his eyes. He felt his throat tighten. "No."

"After she came to see you."

Frank's eyes flew open again. "She came here?"

"You don't remember?"

"No." Frank slammed his hand against the mattress, then gripped the sheets. "Fuck."

"Maybe it's better if you don't remember," Gerard said and Frank felt dread pool in his stomach.

Gerard's eyes were black in the dark room. All Frank could think was that he hadn't had sex for a long time and he was heartbroken and he was angry a lot of the time, but he never intentionally hurt people.

"It's the house making me do these things," he gritted out.

Gerard was braced above him, and Frank arched and tilted his hips up so Gerard sank in deeper. Gerard groaned. He started fucking Frank in earnest and Frank could tell he wasn't going to stop again.

"It's not," Gerard said through gritted teeth, "Anyone who knows you can tell. It's not the house. It's you." He closed his eyes, "Fuck, I'm gonna - "

His mouth fell open and he came inside Frank, pressing into him almost painfully. Frank closed his eyes, and Gerard's hand was clutching his; their palms were pressed together, and Gerard was still hard inside him, Gerard's stomach was rubbing against his dick, and it felt so good; Frank felt heat start spreading from his spine through his stomach and chest and limbs, and he knew he hadn't done this before. He was still shuddering when Gerard collapsed against him, hot and sweaty.

"I love you," Frank panted.

Their hands were still clutching.

"You hate me sometimes," Gerard mumbled. "You think I'm cold and selfish."

Jesus, Frank thought.

The talk

"So apparently when I lose my mind, I become horribly mean and I sleep with a lot of people." Frank shook his head. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Gerard was sitting on one of the chairs in Frank's room, hands folded neatly in his lap.

"Apparently."

Gerard had been really nice to him. When everyone was sitting around the table talking sternly to Frank about how he kept upsetting people and why he had to shape up or come clean, Gerard had defended him. Gerard had spoken up when they had tried to make Frank feel guilty about causing problems when Mikey was the one who should be getting the attention, and when Frank started to explain that he didn't remember and that was why he wasn't apologizing, Gerard had quickly interrupted. In hindsight, Frank could see why it wouldn't have been a good idea to tell everyone he was having astral sexual experiences he didn't remember afterwards.

He sighed, his shoulders in a tired slump. "Who do I have to apologize to again?"

"Me," Gerard said, "Ray. Brian. Matt. Mikey, of course."

"Mikey still won't return my calls."

"Just give it some time."

Gerard's voice was soft and reassuring and Frank was suddenly so fucking grateful that he was there.

He dropped his head to his hands. "This is insane."

Gerard smiled a little. "You're an X-file."

Frank looked up. "Yeah, it's this chip in my neck."

"I wanna be Scully," Gerard said.

Frank laughed

"Please tell me I only been a slut in front of strangers, at least," he said then. "I haven't come on to you or anything, have I?" He rubbed his eyes. "When I start trying to score with you guys, someone's going to have to step in and cart me off for rest and medication."

"Right," Gerard said. "Really. Yeah."

When Frank looked over, there was a frown deepening on Gerard's forehead. He thought that Gerard must have seen him bring home a lot of people--and at least a few boys--these last few weeks during his amnesia, and he thought about New Jersey and a period of time when he had been almost exclusively into guys for a few months and how they had all been essentially the same: dark-haired, pale, arty, complicated and smarter than him. He wondered what Gerard had been thinking. He bit his lip. "I'd like to be able to apologize if I… tried anything," he said.

Gerard shook his head. "You have nothing to apologize for."

Frank knew there was a possibility he would, judging from his tastes, and he wanted to make sure that Gerard knew he didn't mean to screw anything up. "You know I think of you as family, right?" He stumbled a little on the words. "You and Mikey, you're like my brothers. I would do anything for you."

Gerard blinked. "Oh. Okay."

"My head's messed up, and I love you, but I don't actually want to sleep with you."

"Right," Gerard said.

"I mean, it's been fucking forever since I even - " Frank grimaced, "That I remember anyway." He put his hand over Gerard's, which was resting on his knee. "I don't know how I would have gotten through this - this weirdness without you."

Gerard patted his hand in a friendly gesture, but something around the curve of his mouth had slowly tightened until there was just a line and a dip and Frank noticed for the first time that his eyes were hollowed, almost as bad as Mikey's had been.

The kitchen

Frank wasn't the type who could sit in his room for days and stare into his soul waiting for inspiration to hit him, so he got up in the mornings, got dressed, ate and sat on top of the equipment with his guitar trying to write parts for other parts while he smoked and tried not to upset anyone who might come by. Everyone was frustrated. They had agreed that they were going to take the pressure off for a while and just see what happened, which was generally nothing. Gerard hardly ever showed up for the sessions at all, and he only left his room to speak on the phone or do something with the art work.

One morning, Frank was in the kitchen with Ray, playing around with some ideas that Ray had come up with that were sort of interesting.

Ray got up from the floor and said, "I'm making something to eat. You want some veggie lasagna or something?"

Frank shook his head, and plucked at the strings.

"You know," Ray said with a small laugh, "I don't think I've seen you eat for over a week."

Santa Monica

"Can you drive me down to Santa Monica?" Gerard said.

Frank looked up. "Um. Why?"

"I need to meet with this guy." Gerard held up a spread and Frank recognized the photographs and got excited.

"Cool. He's in Santa Monica?"

Gerard nodded. "It won't take more than a few hours. We'll be back by the evening."

Gerard slept the whole way and Frank was annoyed. A roadtrip with a friend didn't mean driving for hours with no one to talk to through some giant radio shadow. They stopped at a drive-through and Frank pushed Gerard hard in the shoulder to wake him up. Gerard ordered a burger and coffee, then drank the coffee and left half the burger on the edge of the seat in Frank's car and promptly fell asleep again.

The meeting went well even though Frank was stiff from the drive and still annoyed and didn't contribute very much more than "amazing". He thought Gerard sneered at him and thought about hitting him across the face.

On the drive back, Gerard was awake and alert and just looking out of the window so it was still a pretty shitty roadtrip.

"Nice to get out of there," Gerard said suddenly.

"I liked him," Frank said.

"I didn't mean him... I meant it's good to get away from the mansion for a bit." Gerard glanced over and Frank could feel his eyes scrutinize him. "Maybe we should stay somewhere else for a little while? We could take in somewhere, just for the night."

Frank frowned. "We told the others we'll be back tonight. And we have a session in the morning. It'll look strange if we suddenly book into a hotel."

"Yeah, okay." Gerard nodded.

He was cradling a huge coffee cup in his lap, and he had showered for the meeting, so his hair was fluffy and shinier, but it still stood out at odd angles.

After a while, Frank said, "We can, like, pull over and sit for a bit, if you want. Just to talk."

"Okay," Gerard said. He took a sip from his coffee.

Frank slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road. It was dark and the road was pretty empty. There were low dry bushes on either side and hills in the distance. They sat for a while just looking at the last strands of sunset chasing across the sky by the hills. Gerard had a string of hickeys around his neck that stood out against his pale skin and Frank thought bitterly that apparently he couldn't find the time to hang out with them, but he found time to get laid.

"So, are we okay?" Frank asked.

Gerard nodded. "Yes."

"So I didn't do anything else awful, then?"

"No. You've only done nice things for a while," Gerard said.

Later, when he was braced on his hands and knees in the backseat, and with too many clothes still on, Frank thought, this was all that mattered, him and Gerard, finally; Gerard's breath was against his neck, and his pants were pushed down, and they didn't have lube or condoms, but it was almost a relief because Frank wasn't sure if he would be able to jump into the deep end like that. He thought that since they were away from the house and it was Gerard, he must, must remember.

The end

"What are you doing?"

Gerard found him sitting cross-legged at the edge of the pet cemetery, looking out over the little grassy circle, the hood of his sweatshirt up, freezing a little.

"I need inspiration," Frank said.

"Okay," Gerard said, "Sorry, I'll leave you alone."

"Hey," Frank half-turned to look at him, "How come I forget that I even like the people here, but I still remember that I broke up with her? In sharp detail." She had apparently called him a few days ago, but he didn't know what he had said to her and she hadn't called again.

Gerard crossed his arms over his chest. "You'll have to ask the demons or ghosts or whatever."

"Yeah." Frank nodded. "I fucking will."

Then he realized that it was the first time he'd seen Gerard out of his room for two days.

"How is Mikey doing?"

"Okay," Gerard said, because that was what he always said.

"Good." Frank looked back over the small graveyard.

They didn't seem to have anything to say to each other. They weren't playing together very often and Gerard rarely came out of his room and Bob and Matt had started talking about getting a place downtown and coming up every day instead and everyone was distracted and Ray was currently the only one with any real work ethic, Frank thought.

"See you later," Gerard said.

"Sure," Frank said.

The third time

"I've been thinking," Frank whispered, sitting on the edge of Gerard's bed, palm pressed down on top of the sheet where he thought Gerard's hip should be. His heart was beating hard in his chest; he was nervous and excited and he couldn't believe what he was about to do. "Maybe we could…you and I."

"Wha - oh, right, yeah," Gerard was blinking blearily, moving to sit up, and lifted the duvet so Frank could climb in, "'k."

Then he rolled Frank over and quickly stripped out of his t-shirt and pressed a kiss to Frank's throat, pressing his legs apart, without even completely opening his eyes. Frank was a little stunned; he had expected it to be clumsy and uncoordinated and to have to struggle just to get Gerard to take off his shirt.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, breathlessly.

"Hmm? Yea, 'm sure," Gerard mumbled. He had pinned Frank's wrists to the bed and looking down on him a little hazily. His hair was sticking out on the side he had been sleeping on and his real hair color was starting to show through. "Wait, I'm just going to get a condom," he muttered and slid out of bed and left Frank lying on his back, panting.

"We've done this before," Gerard said later, when Frank was sitting on the window sill, smoking and watching the rain.

Frank looked over at him with a frown.

"It's quite mindblowing in a way," Gerard rubbed a hand over his face and dropped his own cigarette in the coffee cup that may have been sitting on the bedside table for quite a few weeks.

"The fuck?" Frank said.

Gerard touched the row of fading hickeys on his neck. "You think it's the first time every time."

The Notebook

He decided to write down every time he had sex with Gerard, or anyone else important. He got a notebook that had some scribbled lyrics in it that he tore out and threw in the trash, and then he flipped it to a new page and wrote: Thursday, 26th, I went to G's room, had sex 1 time, used condom, slept in G bed.

He looked at the words. It was so strange to think that they would soon be falling out of his head.

Then he added: Didn't talk about anything special or important.

He made the mistake of closing the notebook and putting it on top of the rest of the crap on the desk. A few days later when he had to apologize to Matt for something he didn't remember, Gerard mentioned that Frank had said he used a notebook to document "stuff" in and that was when he came back to his room and saw it again, lying at the corner of the desk. He read the first entry, blankly, then realized he obviously had to try to be smarter than he generally was and wrote AMNESIA NOTES in black marker across it and put it next to him in the bed, and the next time he woke up in Gerard's bed, he quickly fetched it to note down the fact that it had been a Thursday and they'd had sex--which was still swirling through his mind dizzyingly-- and this time he already knew that there was a previous entry when he opened the page to start writing. But underneath the first entry there was another one that said: Friday, 28th, slept in G's bed, used condom but not w/ bj, G kept waking up from nightmares.

He threw the book across the room.

The house

He remembered that Gerard had told him that he should ask the ghosts or demons or whatever why they were doing this to him, and sort of brashly decided to take his advice.

After dinner, he went out to the pet cemetery and sat on the grass inside the circle, watching the sky turn golden and admittedly it wasn't very scary; it was actually quite nice. There was a nice breeze and the smell of grass and he felt relaxed and ready to face whatever. Anything. The little graveyard was pretty. The stone in front of him had a bone carved into it, the kind of bone dog's toys were shaped as. It was kind of cute. He traced it with his finger.

Nothing happened and when he started to ache from sitting on the ground, he got up, brushed his legs and went inside again to get a coffee and get rid of the stiffness and the chill.

While he was pouring the coffee into the cup, he happened to throw a glance at the basement door.

Frank had to admit that he didn't have any desire to go down into the basement alone. If he was going to confront the ghost, he wanted to do it in a nice, peaceful place with plenty of exits.

The basement door creaked when he opened it, of course. There were worn wooden stairs leading down and Frank thought about Salem's Lot and how the stairs had ended and the victims had fallen right down into the basement and their deaths. That didn't happen, though, the stairs led him safely all the way down, and once in the cellar he stood on the cement floor for a moment, looking around. There was no natural light and no flooring, but there was a bulb hanging over the stairs and a few shelves and boxes and there was a pool table tipped up against a wall. The air was cool. He cleared his throat.

Then he thought, what the fuck is wrong with me, and sat down on the hard floor, putting the coffee cup in front of him by his knees and felt really embarrassed, because it was just a room. An hour later, he was still a little tense, but the scariest thing he had seen was a web hanging off the handrail.

He could hear people moving around in the kitchen upstairs and his coffee was cold by now. He really just wanted to get a fresh cup and make sure he didn't have any spiderweb on him.

Bob and Matt stared when he came up through the basement door, as if they had seen a ghost.

"Hi," he said. "I was just checking it out."

They laughed and patted him on the back and said he was fucking brave, but Frank felt sort of stupid. They didn't know that he had been scared the whole time and that the reason he'd gone down there in the first place was because he wanted to start remembering when he sneaked into Gerard's room and begged to be fucked.

He could hear Bob and Matt settle in the living room as he went up the stairs, and he remembered that Bob's room was one of the places the ghost had been haunting. He tried the door, but it was locked and he stood for a while with his hand on the doorknob, wondering if he should go down and ask Bob for the key. Then he remembered that Bob had been sleeping with the ghost busily running water features and he still seemed to remember everything he did.

He wasn't sure what to do next. By now, the sun had set and he was starting to feel less gung ho about the whole thing. A part of him just wanted to go downstairs and play videogames with the others and eat cheese puffs and remember what normal life was like.

When Frank was young, he had dared a friend to go look if the thing sticking out from under a bit of plastic in the canal was a dead body, and in return he had to jump over the boards of the high fence around the derelict house that someone had been murdered in -- tortured and murdered, and possibly set on fire - and then they had drunk a bottle of Cinzano in the park and had both been arrested. There wasn't anything wrong with his imagination, but he had never been the type of kid who spun stories and fairytales.

He thought there was no way the too long corridor and the too unkempt room that he and Gerard had been locked inside would be there anymore, because it was obviously something from another realm, only there to serve the purpose of the house. But the stairs in the tower hit a turn and he recognized it immediately. His heart sank a little at the sight of the carpet and the doors and the paintings, because a part of him had wanted to think of it as a supernatural experience that had taken control of their minds for a little bit. And he had been with Gerard the last time, but now he was here alone and the room was right there, in this realm.

Trying to stop his heart from beating its way out of his chest, he put a hand on the door and pushed carefully, and nothing happened, it didn't creak open like an invite in a movie. Dropping his hand to the door handle, he turned it and pushed and the door opened with a small sound. He opened it wide then stood in the door opening for a while, just gathering himself. The scent of damp and perfume was familiar. He hadn't realized how dark it had gotten outside, but he had to squint to see the bed by the window.

It was so ridiculous, but he suddenly knew that this was the only place to greet the ghost. He wanted to turn and run away.

Stepping inside the room took some courage, but once he was inside he wasn't sure what to do. The flagging wallpaper was the same. The dusty headboard of the bed and the old dresser, it was all exactly like they had left it. He could see the clean stripe on the dresser where Gerard had wiped the dust off.

When he turned and looked back over his shoulder, he half expected the door to have closed behind him, but it was still opened, the corridor outside the room was still visible. He turned back to the dresser and opened one of the drawers. There was nothing in the first one. The other one had a few strips of wallpaper in it. The third one was also empty. He went over to the mirror and studied his own reflection in the dusky light. Nothing appeared behind him.

Beside the mirror, there was a small vanity table and there was a perfume bottle on it that he recognized the smell of. It was three quarters empty, but still poignant. He put it down again and some of the scent had gotten on his fingers. He went back and looked in the mirror, and nothing happened.

He was still scared, though. He wanted to leave, but the room was still quiet and dark and he had come there for a reason. He was ready to face his fears to find out what was going on. Well, he wasn't ready to face his fears exactly, but he had managed not to run away screaming so far, he might as well stick it out for a little longer.

Taking a deep breath, he went over and closed the door.

The room didn't get a lot darker, but he was suddenly absolutely alone with whatever was in there. Goosebumps rose on his skin. He knew it was a lady.

He went over to the windows and studied the frame. Gerard had been right, it had really been nailed shut. He could see the flattened heads of the spikes at the corners.

He went over and crawled up on the bed and lay on his side listening to his own heartbeats and the creak of the wind against the roof outside the window. If he fell asleep he would have no defenses against what the house wanted to do to him. He looked over at the closed door. If he found that it was locked, he would choke on his fear. They'll never find this room, he thought, they'll never find my skeleton.

He didn't try it. Instead he stared into the darkness and thought about how much he missed her. He knew it had been the right thing to do, at least his heart knew that, but his head had to catch up. He felt tears slide out of his eyes and down on the lacy pillow, but still nothing happened.

He thought about Gerard and how they had touched in this room. In the lonely darkness, he could admit that it was absolutely what he wanted. His heart was sure. His head was catching up. He closed his eyes.

In the morning, he woke up and the room was brighter, the sun was up and nothing had happened. He had spent the night in a haunted room and all he felt was a cigarette craving.

--

It wasn't the house. Gerard had been right: it was him. So in the end it didn't matter where he stayed. He took his own ghosts and demons with him everywhere, wherever he went, all over the world.