Atomic Fic Challenge and yeahchemical Issues Challenge
This was written to fill the requirements for two different challenges. I apologise whole-heartedly to app1e_pi for not meeting the deadline for Atomic Fic.
Title: "You Don't Have To Do This Alone"
Author: plinkin
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Pairing: A tiny bit of Frank/Gerard, Frank-centric
Rating: PG
Summary: Frank has a problem.
Content/Warning: AU
Disclaimer: I don't own them, only the ideas.
Author's Notes: Written for the yeahchemical Issues Challenge. The prompt was phobias. Also written for the Atomic Fic challenge. Prompt: Listen to me now...I need to let you know...You don't have to go it alone. The song is "Sometimes You Can't Make It on Your Own." 1917 words that may be continued, because I enjoyed this. Man, was it ever hard to shake off the MonaBoyd and try something new.
The little sliver of sky that peeked at him through the curtains of his second story apartment was gray and heavy. That was great. It pretty much matched his mood. After hours of surfing the net and chewing on his nails, ragged from continued abuse, he was simply sitting and staring alternately between the wall and window. He hadn't been outside in several days and wanted to breathe some fresh air and feel the cool, drizzling rain mist his face and hair, really he did. Maybe later he'd go. Maybe when his hands weren't cold and clammy and his stomach wasn't knotted tighter than a hangman's noose, he'd go out. When the sky had faded from muddy to dark, maybe then he'd go.
The occasional but persistent sound of his IM was droning on in the background and he really should get up, climb cross-legged back into his chair and talk to whoever it was. Talking to Gerard usually helped, but lately he'd been pushing to move forward and it wasn't something that Frank was comfortable with. It was all well and good to slip outside, under cover of night. The little park out back wasn't closed in and in the evening hours it was deserted and quiet and safe. Why wasn't that enough? He knew why. Gerard said that he needed human contact and a normal existence. Eating delivery for days on end, just to avoid going outside, wasn't normal.
At first he'd been fine with visiting the small store a few blocks from the apartment, but the quiet snickering of two teen-aged girls had ruined that for him. Now the thought of the harsh, buzzing lights and brusque owner scared him shitless. He had been sure that the girls were quietly laughing at him: laughing at his tattoos and hair, as they went through the check-out line. He'd seen the owner glance up at him and sneer in what looked like agreement and immediately his heart had raced and he'd felt the hot rush of blood fill his face. He hadn't replaced the milk and bread that he'd been carrying, just dropped them to skitter outside and into the small alley beside the building. Kneeling, back to the filthy brick wall, he'd held his head between his knees until his breathing slowed and his jaw unclenched. The walk home was hurried, his head, hooded and downcast, his flushed face buried in his scarf.
He'd talked to Gerard for the first time that week. He'd been feeling helpless and pissed off, following a second disastrous attempt at shopping. He'd managed to get through the line and home that time, but not without severe trauma and more than a few worried looks from the smattering of people around him. It was all well and good to work from home and he'd been able to function on short trips to the store for cigarettes and food, but now he couldn't even do that without someone to hold his hand. Was he a fucking baby? Jesus. He couldn't call Ray or his mother every time he needed to shop.
After searching on-line for several hours and reading more about agoraphobia than he ever cared to know, he decided that he was having some sort of panic attacks. There was a local support chat on one site and he'd hit the button, not really expecting to find someone at 2am. Gerard had been sitting there. He'd said he was a licensed counselor and so Frank had talked to him for a while. Frank hadn't known what to say, so had just said hello and had asked him what was up and Gerard had responded in kind. Frank wasn't sure what he'd expected, but a conversation about on-line gaming and comic books didn't exactly fit the bill; that's what he got. The next night had been the same, but with the addition of splatter movies and music and the knowledge that Gerard had been a graphic artist before he'd been a counselor.
Several marathon chat sessions, and one invitation to play WOW, later, and Gerard finally asked Frank if he was ever going to get around to telling him what he was there for. Not that it wasn't nice to have someone to geek out with, but he was there to do a job and he wanted to help if he could. Frank had spilled it all in a rushed jumble of typos and run-on sentences and when he'd finally run out of steam , blinked at his screen and released a deep breath. Gerard had been patient and asked if he'd read up any on what he was going through and then they'd talked about it some more. Frank wasn't sure why that was supposed to help him, but went along with it anyway. Gerard was nice to talk to no matter what they happened to be talking about and soon it became routine for him to check in at the end of the day and let Gerard know how his day had been and what he'd managed to do or not do, as was more often the case.
Eventually they'd moved from the chat site to IM because Gerard thought that it was more personal, and it was. The night that Gerard asked for his phone number put Frank off talking to him for three days. He'd looked at the blinking cursor, swallowed hard and crawled into bed. He didn't say yes, no or goodnight; he'd just left the computer, IM still running and although he didn't know it, he'd left a slightly panicked Gerard. He'd fallen asleep wondering what Gerard's voice was like, but still sweating at the idea of hearing it. The next morning he'd shut down the computer without looking at the screen and then spent the next three days playing his guitar and silk-screening shirts. If he'd left his IM running he'd have seen the almost constant stream of messages trickle off to a few hopeless pokes and apologies.
When he finally did log back in he found that it was almost a relief to see Gerard there and waiting for him. He read through the back-log of messages and then sat, hands clenched, before typing out a tentative greeting. Gerard didn't mention being left without notice, and he didn't ask what Frank's fucking damage was. Frank didn't know why; it's what he would have done. Gerard had just asked how he'd been doing and said that he was glad to see him. After nearly chewing through the skin on his thumb, Frank had simply typed in his phone number and waited. He likes think think that maybe Gerard's jaw dropped. He's not sure that's what happened, but it's fun to think about.
When his cell phone rang, he nearly jumped out of skin, knocking his coffee off the desk and cursing. His fingers had immediately gone cold and his head fuzzy and he'd looked blankly at the phone until the sound of an IM had brought his attention back to the screen. Gerard hadn't expected him to answer the phone but had left him a voice mail and told him to listen to it when he felt like it. Frank said OK.
He didn't feel like listening to it right then but he did later that night. Safely tucked under the blankets on his couch, he'd flipped open his phone and pressed it to his ear, pulse jangling madly. It was a nice voice. It was a voice he could easily listen to. Gerard didn't sound at all like a counselor. The slightly shy, nasal tone was one he could get used to and somehow he screwed up the courage right then and there to redial the number and listen to several rings before he snapped the phone closed and shoved it between his side and the couch cushion. If he'd been able to see himself, he'd have seen that his face was scrunched into a smile and that he was gnawing fretfully on the hoop in his lip.
The next time he'd dialed the number he'd let it ring through and sputtered out a rushed response to Gerard's warm hello. Talking to Gerard wasn't really scary at all and he wasn't nearly as shy as he'd sounded in that voice mail. He rambled on at length about anything and everything and occasionally prodded Frank about maybe making a trip to the store or to the park. Frank was always resistant and the subject would be dropped for the day, only to resurface latter and with more regularity as the days went by. That's where they were now. That's exactly where they were. Frank was still sitting on the couch and looking out the window and listening to an occasional IM popping up and he knew that if he didn't answer, that eventually his phone would ring. He wasn't disappointed.
Gerard's direct request for his address didn't really phase him. He'd been expecting it. Frank gave it to him, trying not to over-think the situation and trying not to think about the fact that he didn't really know Gerard all that well. For the first time since that initial voice-mail Frank heard Gerard sound a little shy. He told Frank that he was going to come to see him. Frank didn't have to answer the door if he didn't want to. If he just wanted to peek out the curtains at him, that was fine. He told Frank what he'd be wearing and that according to Mapquest it would take him about forty-five minutes to get there, if he didn't get lost. Then he laughed and said he hoped that Frank appreciated the effort since Gerard hated driving. He wouldn't drive that far for just anyone. Frank did feel special but didn't say so.
Six cigarettes and several rounds of straightening the sofa cushions later, there was a soft rap at the door. Glancing through the peep-hole, Frank saw a mop of black hair and the smudge of dark eyes standing out starkly against pale skin. Although Gerard had been looking off, towards Frank's windows, he turned back towards the door now and Frank almost gasped as the fish-eye of the peep-hole distorted Gerard's face and brought those dark eyes into sharp focus. Before the hesitant looking man on the other side of his door could leave, Frank opened it a crack and slowly edged an eye around the door to glance out. The smile that lit up Gerard's face warmed the pit of Frank's belly and spread quickly through the rest of his body.
“So, you wanted me to get out of the house and I've wanted to take a walk all day. Do you want to see the park that I go to?”
“Well, hello to you too, Frank. You know, it's getting dark and it's kind of wet out here, but alright. If you're really sure that you're OK with it.”
“Yeah, I think I'd like that. Man, it's nice to finally meet you. Let me get a sweatshirt and I'll be right back.”
Frank grabbed his cellphone and keys and pulled on a worn sweatshirt, smiling to himself. He could do this. Gerard was still waiting for him and smiled again as Frank came out and locked his apartment. As Frank led Gerard across the wet grass a warm hand was slipped into his own and he startled before grasping it tightly with a small smile.
“Frank, you don't have to do this alone.”
Title: "You Don't Have To Do This Alone"
Author: plinkin
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Pairing: A tiny bit of Frank/Gerard, Frank-centric
Rating: PG
Summary: Frank has a problem.
Content/Warning: AU
Disclaimer: I don't own them, only the ideas.
Author's Notes: Written for the yeahchemical Issues Challenge. The prompt was phobias. Also written for the Atomic Fic challenge. Prompt: Listen to me now...I need to let you know...You don't have to go it alone. The song is "Sometimes You Can't Make It on Your Own." 1917 words that may be continued, because I enjoyed this. Man, was it ever hard to shake off the MonaBoyd and try something new.
The little sliver of sky that peeked at him through the curtains of his second story apartment was gray and heavy. That was great. It pretty much matched his mood. After hours of surfing the net and chewing on his nails, ragged from continued abuse, he was simply sitting and staring alternately between the wall and window. He hadn't been outside in several days and wanted to breathe some fresh air and feel the cool, drizzling rain mist his face and hair, really he did. Maybe later he'd go. Maybe when his hands weren't cold and clammy and his stomach wasn't knotted tighter than a hangman's noose, he'd go out. When the sky had faded from muddy to dark, maybe then he'd go.
The occasional but persistent sound of his IM was droning on in the background and he really should get up, climb cross-legged back into his chair and talk to whoever it was. Talking to Gerard usually helped, but lately he'd been pushing to move forward and it wasn't something that Frank was comfortable with. It was all well and good to slip outside, under cover of night. The little park out back wasn't closed in and in the evening hours it was deserted and quiet and safe. Why wasn't that enough? He knew why. Gerard said that he needed human contact and a normal existence. Eating delivery for days on end, just to avoid going outside, wasn't normal.
At first he'd been fine with visiting the small store a few blocks from the apartment, but the quiet snickering of two teen-aged girls had ruined that for him. Now the thought of the harsh, buzzing lights and brusque owner scared him shitless. He had been sure that the girls were quietly laughing at him: laughing at his tattoos and hair, as they went through the check-out line. He'd seen the owner glance up at him and sneer in what looked like agreement and immediately his heart had raced and he'd felt the hot rush of blood fill his face. He hadn't replaced the milk and bread that he'd been carrying, just dropped them to skitter outside and into the small alley beside the building. Kneeling, back to the filthy brick wall, he'd held his head between his knees until his breathing slowed and his jaw unclenched. The walk home was hurried, his head, hooded and downcast, his flushed face buried in his scarf.
He'd talked to Gerard for the first time that week. He'd been feeling helpless and pissed off, following a second disastrous attempt at shopping. He'd managed to get through the line and home that time, but not without severe trauma and more than a few worried looks from the smattering of people around him. It was all well and good to work from home and he'd been able to function on short trips to the store for cigarettes and food, but now he couldn't even do that without someone to hold his hand. Was he a fucking baby? Jesus. He couldn't call Ray or his mother every time he needed to shop.
After searching on-line for several hours and reading more about agoraphobia than he ever cared to know, he decided that he was having some sort of panic attacks. There was a local support chat on one site and he'd hit the button, not really expecting to find someone at 2am. Gerard had been sitting there. He'd said he was a licensed counselor and so Frank had talked to him for a while. Frank hadn't known what to say, so had just said hello and had asked him what was up and Gerard had responded in kind. Frank wasn't sure what he'd expected, but a conversation about on-line gaming and comic books didn't exactly fit the bill; that's what he got. The next night had been the same, but with the addition of splatter movies and music and the knowledge that Gerard had been a graphic artist before he'd been a counselor.
Several marathon chat sessions, and one invitation to play WOW, later, and Gerard finally asked Frank if he was ever going to get around to telling him what he was there for. Not that it wasn't nice to have someone to geek out with, but he was there to do a job and he wanted to help if he could. Frank had spilled it all in a rushed jumble of typos and run-on sentences and when he'd finally run out of steam , blinked at his screen and released a deep breath. Gerard had been patient and asked if he'd read up any on what he was going through and then they'd talked about it some more. Frank wasn't sure why that was supposed to help him, but went along with it anyway. Gerard was nice to talk to no matter what they happened to be talking about and soon it became routine for him to check in at the end of the day and let Gerard know how his day had been and what he'd managed to do or not do, as was more often the case.
Eventually they'd moved from the chat site to IM because Gerard thought that it was more personal, and it was. The night that Gerard asked for his phone number put Frank off talking to him for three days. He'd looked at the blinking cursor, swallowed hard and crawled into bed. He didn't say yes, no or goodnight; he'd just left the computer, IM still running and although he didn't know it, he'd left a slightly panicked Gerard. He'd fallen asleep wondering what Gerard's voice was like, but still sweating at the idea of hearing it. The next morning he'd shut down the computer without looking at the screen and then spent the next three days playing his guitar and silk-screening shirts. If he'd left his IM running he'd have seen the almost constant stream of messages trickle off to a few hopeless pokes and apologies.
When he finally did log back in he found that it was almost a relief to see Gerard there and waiting for him. He read through the back-log of messages and then sat, hands clenched, before typing out a tentative greeting. Gerard didn't mention being left without notice, and he didn't ask what Frank's fucking damage was. Frank didn't know why; it's what he would have done. Gerard had just asked how he'd been doing and said that he was glad to see him. After nearly chewing through the skin on his thumb, Frank had simply typed in his phone number and waited. He likes think think that maybe Gerard's jaw dropped. He's not sure that's what happened, but it's fun to think about.
When his cell phone rang, he nearly jumped out of skin, knocking his coffee off the desk and cursing. His fingers had immediately gone cold and his head fuzzy and he'd looked blankly at the phone until the sound of an IM had brought his attention back to the screen. Gerard hadn't expected him to answer the phone but had left him a voice mail and told him to listen to it when he felt like it. Frank said OK.
He didn't feel like listening to it right then but he did later that night. Safely tucked under the blankets on his couch, he'd flipped open his phone and pressed it to his ear, pulse jangling madly. It was a nice voice. It was a voice he could easily listen to. Gerard didn't sound at all like a counselor. The slightly shy, nasal tone was one he could get used to and somehow he screwed up the courage right then and there to redial the number and listen to several rings before he snapped the phone closed and shoved it between his side and the couch cushion. If he'd been able to see himself, he'd have seen that his face was scrunched into a smile and that he was gnawing fretfully on the hoop in his lip.
The next time he'd dialed the number he'd let it ring through and sputtered out a rushed response to Gerard's warm hello. Talking to Gerard wasn't really scary at all and he wasn't nearly as shy as he'd sounded in that voice mail. He rambled on at length about anything and everything and occasionally prodded Frank about maybe making a trip to the store or to the park. Frank was always resistant and the subject would be dropped for the day, only to resurface latter and with more regularity as the days went by. That's where they were now. That's exactly where they were. Frank was still sitting on the couch and looking out the window and listening to an occasional IM popping up and he knew that if he didn't answer, that eventually his phone would ring. He wasn't disappointed.
Gerard's direct request for his address didn't really phase him. He'd been expecting it. Frank gave it to him, trying not to over-think the situation and trying not to think about the fact that he didn't really know Gerard all that well. For the first time since that initial voice-mail Frank heard Gerard sound a little shy. He told Frank that he was going to come to see him. Frank didn't have to answer the door if he didn't want to. If he just wanted to peek out the curtains at him, that was fine. He told Frank what he'd be wearing and that according to Mapquest it would take him about forty-five minutes to get there, if he didn't get lost. Then he laughed and said he hoped that Frank appreciated the effort since Gerard hated driving. He wouldn't drive that far for just anyone. Frank did feel special but didn't say so.
Six cigarettes and several rounds of straightening the sofa cushions later, there was a soft rap at the door. Glancing through the peep-hole, Frank saw a mop of black hair and the smudge of dark eyes standing out starkly against pale skin. Although Gerard had been looking off, towards Frank's windows, he turned back towards the door now and Frank almost gasped as the fish-eye of the peep-hole distorted Gerard's face and brought those dark eyes into sharp focus. Before the hesitant looking man on the other side of his door could leave, Frank opened it a crack and slowly edged an eye around the door to glance out. The smile that lit up Gerard's face warmed the pit of Frank's belly and spread quickly through the rest of his body.
“So, you wanted me to get out of the house and I've wanted to take a walk all day. Do you want to see the park that I go to?”
“Well, hello to you too, Frank. You know, it's getting dark and it's kind of wet out here, but alright. If you're really sure that you're OK with it.”
“Yeah, I think I'd like that. Man, it's nice to finally meet you. Let me get a sweatshirt and I'll be right back.”
Frank grabbed his cellphone and keys and pulled on a worn sweatshirt, smiling to himself. He could do this. Gerard was still waiting for him and smiled again as Frank came out and locked his apartment. As Frank led Gerard across the wet grass a warm hand was slipped into his own and he startled before grasping it tightly with a small smile.
“Frank, you don't have to do this alone.”