Love: The Package Deal, Part 2
Part 1
Frank can't sleep that night, either. The house is too quiet, too foreign and new. He sits up in the dark of the kitchen, with a notepad in front of him. He's trying to write a list - he's not sure of what, things he ought to research, questions to ask the doctor, major life events he's going to have to remind Gerard of - right now, the only thing that's on there is to buy orange juice, and get a book about AA.
He pours himself a bowl of cereal, eats half of it and then abandons it in the sink. Everything is fucked up. Frank is living in Gerard and Lyn-Z's new house, the place he never let himself think about because it always felt like they were going their separate ways, like it was a strange place he'd never find familiar and now he knows where they keep the towels and extra toothbrushes. Gerard is sleeping in his bedroom, Lyn-Z is sleeping in one of the guest rooms, and Frank is sleeping in the other. Motherfucking fucked up. Frank misses Jamia. He knows the middle of the night is the worst time to be alone, the worst time to try and sort things out. He always gets night sickness, the way thoughts seems scarier, larger, more confusing in the dark, in a quiet house.
"Make sure you get the kind without pulp," Lyn-Z says, and Frank jumps. When he turns, Lyn-Z is holding up Frank's list. "As for the other thing on your list...." she hands Frank a book. He squints at the title, and Lyn-Z flicks on the kitchen light. Alcoholics Anonymous, The Big Book. "I read some of it when we first started seeing each other, and it's good, but it's - " she stops, takes her glasses off and rubs her eyes. "I never knew him when he was drinking," she says. "I wasn't there when he got clean. You were," she says. They look at each other for a long time in the bright yellow light of the kitchen. "I'm glad you're staying," Lyn-Z says, and Frank flips to the index of the book. It’s all distantly familiar. It’s not as daunting because Frank's done this before, but at the same time, it’s worse, because Gerard has done this before but he doesn't remember now. Frank always knew what they’d have to do if Gerard fell off the wagon. None of them really expected it to happen, though, because the change in Gerard had been so transformative. It had changed them all, and Gerard had been committed to that change.
"I mean, I never really asked, did I?" Frank says. "How long I could stay."
"Of course you didn’t ask. You don't have to fucking ask."
"I mean - "
"I know what you mean, Frank. I know Gerard needs you. It doesn't threaten me."
It fucking threatens Frank, though, but he doesn't know how to tell Lyn-Z that.
Frank tries to focus on how things were before that - on how they really were before Gerard got so bad that he had to get sober. Gerard was drunk when they finished a show, and Gerard was all over everybody. Sometimes Frank was drunk, too, but sometimes he wasn't. Sometimes Gerard needed watching over, sometimes they needed to make sure he didn't go off and do something stupid - or go home with someone stupid. But most of the time, they finished a show, a rehearsal, a night of watching horror movies, and Gerard was drunk, warm, flirty and willing. This was the stage right before he was stupidly drunk and sick, and sometimes he fell asleep on the couch with his face pressed to Frank's neck. It was mostly just that, mostly just touching, the occasional rubbing, the half-hearted, breathy offer of a blow job.
Nothing ever really happened until Gerard was sober.
Frank doesn’t really remember what started it, though he does remember the first time - the first time that wasn’t Gee drying out. It was Gerard, unable to sleep, crawling over to Frankie and just asking, “Can I?” After that, it was after a show, or on the bus when they still had hours to go, or on hotel nights, and it wasn’t always Gerard. Sometimes Frank asked, or Frank started it, and that was ok, too. That still never really meant anything. They were just friends.
It didn’t even really change when Gerard met Lyn-Z, and so Frank didn’t really know what that meant either. He didn’t know if Gerard maybe wouldn’t need him anymore, if he was better now, healed. Lyn-Z and Frank argued, a lot at first, because she was always around and she didn’t get things right. She didn’t know when it wasn’t ok to wake up Gerard, she didn’t know what things not to make fun of him about, she didn’t know how to make small talk with the band. She was nice, and friendly, but just different, and still such a new part of Gerard’s life.
“Anyway, it’s nice not to have to do this alone,” she says, and Frank watches the way her jaw tenses, the way she tilts her head. He’s learning to read her body language, which feels oddly intimate. He’s known her all this time and never really paid attention. He gets the idea that, right now, she’s just trying to be polite, and that she wishes she did get to do this alone. Frank has never really considered before this moment how much Lyn-Z might resent him being here. He wants to say something, and he’s not sure whether he should be apologizing or justifying himself, but before he can figure it out, Lyn-Z says, “He's going out with Mikey tomorrow, after the doctor’s," Lyn-Z says. "They're all going to visit Elena's grave."
"Jesus, fuck," Frank says, his breath gone. When she died, Gerard had just kind of disappeared into himself for a lot longer than Frank had ever seen. Frank can’t imagine Gerard not remembering that, Gerard having to go through it again.
Lyn-Z says, "Yeah, Mikey seemed pretty nervous about it,” she says. “You’ll have to tell me how it happened,” she says, and goes back upstairs. Frank has the urge to follow her, to keep the conversation going, to try to ease some of the uncertainty in her voice, but he stops at the door to the kitchen, picks up The Big Book and starts to read.
In the morning, Frank and Lyn-Z wait in the empty examination room at the hospital, Gerard's jean jacket on the ugly exam table in the middle of the room. They've been waiting for ten minutes; the doctors had said the stress tests could take anywhere from thirty to forty five minutes, and if Gerard's blood pressure was fine, they were going to follow up with a second round of allergy tests.
"We should go out and get some coffee," Frank says, and Lyn-Z laughs, a little harshly, and looks down at her hands. "What?" Frank says. "Have you given up coffee and I've missed it?"
"No," Lyn-Z says, "It's just - I remember when Gee and I had just started seeing each other, you and I were waiting for him, after a show. Something had happened during the show, I don't even remember what now, but he was upset. He was talking to Schechter and I had the feeling it was going to be a while and I asked if you wanted to go get some coffee. The look on your face - "
Frank looks at her, trying to remember. He shakes his head. He thinks he remembers the show, thinks Gee was upset about someone in the audience crying and how sometimes he just wished he had the time to ask them what was wrong, if they were crying for joy or sadness or catharsis. It was an old conversation, but it upset Gerard every time.
"You looked at me like I was suggesting we lock Gerard out of the bus. Like I suggested we drive off without him."
"I'm sure I didn't - "
"You were an asshole to me, pretty much all of the time," Lyn-Z says, and Frank realizes that, yeah, she's totally right. "You thought I didn't care about Gee, like I didn't understand. I just wanted some coffee, wanted to pass the time. Thought maybe you and I could talk."
"What would we have talked about?" Frank says, feeling anger rise up in him.
"Anything," Lyn-Z says, "What do we talk about now?"
Frank shrugs, "I'm sorry," he says, after a moment.
"You don't have to be sorry. You've gotten a lot better at not acting like a jealous ex."
"I'm not a - "
Lyn-Z holds up her hands. "I want some coffee. Maybe a coffee cake. Do you think they have a Starbucks inside the hospital?"
They eventually find one, not inside the hospital, but just a block away, and Lyn-Z pays for Frank’s drink before he can stop her. “So, is this us going out for coffee?” he says.
“I guess it is,” she says. “Though we’re going it a bit out of order. I think you’re supposed to go on a date before you move in together.”
Their fingers brush as he takes the coffee she hands him, and Frank startles, but when he looks up into her face, Lyn-Z is already looking away.
The doctors can’t say anything conclusive about the tests, and so they schedule more for next week, while Gerard sulks and tugs at the bandage on his arm where they’ve drawn blood. Lyn-Z reminds Gerard that Mikey’s picking him up when they get back to the house, and Gerard snaps, “I know,” and sighs dramatically.
Frank’s about to reach over and smack Gerard and tell him to stop acting like a pissy teenager when he sees that Lyn-Z has tears in her eyes. She blinks them away quickly, but the drive back is quiet and tense, and once Gerard leaves with Mikey, Lyn-Z disappears into the studio and Frank doesn’t see her for hours.
Frank’s upstairs when he hears Mikey drop Gerard off. Frank’s in the right mindset, he’s been reading The Big Book all afternoon, and so he isn’t surprised at all when Gerard is looking in the cabinets when he comes downstairs. "There's no liquor, Gee, it's no good looking," Frank says without hesitation.
Gerard pales. "I wasn't looking."
"You looked in crevasses we didn't even know existed in our apartments, the bus, our luggage, Gee, I know how you work."
Frank hears the doorbell, hears Lyn-Z come down the stairs to answer it.
"Last time," Gerard says, his expression blank, and Frank thinks maybe he’s shaking a little bit and so Frank goes over and hugs him. They're standing that way when Ray comes in behind Lyn-Z.
And Ray's face, oh, Ray's face. Frank tries to pull back but Gerard hugs him tighter, and if Schechter’s insinuations and Mikey’s warnings weren't enough, Ray's face is, because then Frank understands, finally faces what's happening. Frank understands that he’s given in to the temptation, that all Gerard had to do was need him just a tiny little bit and Frank was stumbling all over his own feet to give Gerard whatever he was asking for. It was completely dysfunctional, and what’s more, Frank had thought he’d gotten past it. Gotten past the thrill of being needed by Gerard, of wanting to see the look on Gerard’s face when Frank was there for him. He thought he’d gotten over how good it felt when Gerard reached out and Frank was the one who responded in kind.
Frank still wanted to be that person for Gerard, and he was still sore in all the tender places in his heart when he knew he wasn’t supposed to look.
He and Ray had talked about it once, just once. Ray had asked, and Frank had just been in the mood to talk, quiet and calm as they drove through Illinois.
"So what's going on with you and Gerard?" The question was so Ray, pointed and without judgment, just curiosity, interest.
And Frank has just said, "I'm kind of in love with him." And he had been. Kind of. It was the only way he could really explain the feelings that were more than friendship, but not quite romance. "But it's not - we're not - it's just how I feel." Frank had said. "It doesn't mean anything."
Now Ray was looking at him. And Frank knew Ray was thinking of that conversation.
Because the way it happened, they just - they just fooled around sometimes, sometimes they didn't. They were a family on tour and everything else just moved along. And then the tour ended, Gerard got married, and they all went home.
Ray looked at Frank like he knew everything, all of Frank’s secrets.
Frank had lost himself for a little a week after Gerard's wedding. He never really told Jamia why, even though she made him soup and let him sleep through the afternoons like he was sick, when he actually felt perfectly fine. He ignored Skeleton Crew and didn't answer the phone and just kind of lost it a little bit, chalked it up to having a hard time transitioning from being on tour. Jamia never really asked, which was good, because he didn't know what he would have said. It was Ray who had snapped him out of it.
Ray had come over and said, “We’re all in a little bit in love with Gerard. There’s no other way this band would work. We love him and we love the band, and that’s why we can keep doing this.”
Frank had nodded along, thinking, ok, maybe they all feel like this.
“You’re more than just a little in love with Gerard,” Ray had said and Frank’s chest had ached. “You’re a lot in love with Gerard. But you never told him that and now he’s gone and gotten married. So you’ve gotta deal with that, ok, Frank? I don’t know how things are with you and Jamia - ”and Frank had started to say something and Ray had held his hand up. “But this is between you and Gerard. So fix this, because otherwise you’ll both be miserable.”
And Frank had fixed it. He’d fixed himself. He’d decided to let it go, to be a better person and be happy for Gerard. He’d dismissed all his feelings, tucked them away, until they faded, and he’d gotten past it, or that’s what he desperately tried to convince himself he’d done.
And now Ray would figure it out. Ray would know, in a matter of seconds, that Frank had never fixed things at all. So, Frank gives Ray a quick hug and then practically runs out of the house. Jamia is supposed to be home tonight and so Frank goes home.
He walks around aimlessly with a cup of black coffee in his hand, for nearly an hour before Jamia comes back, her sunglasses pushed up over her forehead and two suitcases in her hand.
"Hey, sweetie," she says, setting the suitcases down and coming over to hug him. "Is he better?"
Frank just shakes his head. He can't seem to find his voice. "No. I just. I wanted to come home for a bit. Ray's visiting. Are you hungry? You want a sandwich?"
"You want to talk?" Jamia says, as Frank starts getting out four slices of bread, the container of hummus, the block of cheese, a tomato. Frank thinks the normality of the situation, making Jamia a sandwich, might kill him. He's not sure what it is, he's spent the last three days in a house, making food, watching TV, but he's also spent it trying to figure out how to keep Gerard in his sights the whole time, how to summarize four years of his life, how to keep Gerard sober. He's spent it with Gerard stroking his palm, Gerard leaning against him, Gerard kissing his jaw before he got up, Gerard giving him a look that he hadn't given Frank in years. On stage, it was different, it was a different look, it was about the music, it was about the stage, the audience. It was -
"I don't know," Frank says, and Jamia sits down at the table with him, picks up her pickle and eats it first. She just looks at him, and so Frank starts talking. "He's so different. Four years ago was...."
"He wasn't married," Jamia says and Frank nods. "You're still upset about that, huh," she says and it's not a question. "It doesn't mean that he loves you any less. I mean, you've got me and you still love him the same, right?"
Frank stands up so fast he knocks his chair over. He knows Gerard loves him, and he loves Gerard, but the way Jamia says it - "What did you say?" Frank says, his heart pounding in his ears.
Jamia smiles at him, this calm, quiet smile that makes him start to panic. "Oh, come on, honey, you think you're keeping this big secret? You think we'd still be together if I didn't understand?"
Frank doesn't understand. "What are you talking about?"
Jamia takes a bite of her sandwich. She looks at Frank until he picks up his chair and sits back down. “It’s ok,” she says, and smiles at him, and curls her fingers in his. Frank reaches over to his plate and takes half of his sandwich, and he eats it because he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what could possibly be ok about this situation. He thinks Jamia’s saying it’s ok because it’s in the past, it’s over, they made their choices, so even if Gerard has temporarily reverted - especially because Gerard has temporarily reverted, it’s ok for Frank to feel confused. And even if Jamia’s just saying it’s ok for him to still have feelings for Gerard, Frank doesn’t really think there’s anything ok about that at all. Even if there ever was a choice, it wouldn’t matter, because Gerard doesn’t love him back. Gerard moved on, and Frank’s the one lost back here, eating a sandwich and making himself and his girlfriend miserable.
“It’s ok,” Frank says, and Jamia squeezes his hand and smiles at him and Frank feels like maybe his lie is going to make it true.
Frank packs another bag with clothes, thinks about maybe doing laundry when he gets back, because it seems less weird than bringing his clothes back home to wash them, and while he’s debating this in his head, Jamia comes upstairs and sits down beside him on the bed, arranging things in his suitcase and then leaning over and kissing him. Frank sighs into it and Jamia breaks away to laugh, then kisses him again.
“Why don’t I come back with you?” Jamia says. She kisses him once more and then stands up, grabs a pair of jeans and throws them into his bag.
“Yeah,” Frank says, and then, getting up quickly, he says, “Make sure you don’t have anything alcoholic in your bag.”
“Of course,” Jamia says, and then, as she’s rooting through her purse to check, she holds up a small bottle. “Does perfume count?”
“Probably,” Frank says. “Just in case. And no pills, nothing except Tylenol.”
“You know I’ll punch Gerard if he starts going through my purse,” Jamia says, and Frank appreciates her trying to make a joke, but he’s still got a sinking feeling, like they’ve lucked out so far that Gerard hasn’t reached the point where he would dig through Jamia’s purse looking for something that could get him high, and that maybe it was only a matter of time.
Ray is gone when they get there, and Frank breathes a sigh of relief even if there is a phone message from Ray that Frank promises himself he’ll listen to later. Lyn-Z looks relieved to see Jamia, and they all sit around the kitchen table and catch up, though Gerard keeps stealing glances at the door.
Jamia pulls Frank aside maybe an hour later, telling him that she and Lyn-Z are going to go out for a while, and that, since she’s tired and a little jet-lagged, she’ll have Lyn-Z drop her off at home. Frank thinks it’s good for both of them to be going out together, and it’s not full of hidden meanings or desire for time alone with Gerard. He just wants Lyn-Z to have a break, and the clarity of that feeling makes him beam at Lyn-Z, probably a little too earnestly, because she looks back at him with a strange expression on her face.
When Frank finds Gerard, he’s listening to Three Cheers on his and Lyn-Z's new fantastic speaker system. Frank lets him be, wanders off into the kitchen, opening the cabinets and not really looking for food, just trying to chase away the restless feeling he’s got. When Frank hears the opening of The Black Parade, he goes back into the living room, because Gerard doesn’t really know this album. Gerard is sitting there, quietly staring at the wall. Frank peeks into the room, but can't sit still and listen. There's too much in each song he's used to doing live, the studio version feels strange. He goes upstairs, unpacks his bag, piles up a bunch of dirty clothes, comes back just in time for the bridge of Famous Last Words, and he sees Gerard is crying. Not sobbing, just sitting there quietly with tears running down his face.
"I didn’t write this," Gerard whispers, when Frank runs over and wraps his arms around him. It’s as though Gerard can't believe he'd ever feel like that, ever write those words, that they could ever sound like a classic rock band with a loud, beautiful sound. And, Frank thinks, four years ago, Gerard might not have been able to imagine this record, these songs. Four years was a long time, and four years in Gerard's life was a lot like a whole lifetime.
"I need a drink," Gerard says, and Frank stomach twists, he thinks he might actually be sick.
"No you don’t," Frank says, harshly.
"I know you say I got sober, but I don't fucking remember it, and it's not - I don't know how to do it! I just want a fucking drink," Gerard says, and then he sits back down on the couch and starts to shake.
"But I remember," Frank whispers. "I remember," Frank says as he wraps his arms around Gerard again. Gerard doesn't resist, just curls further into himself. Frank sits there, holding Gerard, until Gerard at least stops shaking, until his breathe is slow and Frank feels him slowly start to relax. Gerard’s breathe is warm against Frank’s shoulder, and Frank just leans in and kisses him. He doesn’t mean to, or, well, sure, he means to, but he’s thinking he shouldn’t do it exactly at the same moment he actually does it, so Gerard’s kissing him back by the time Frank realizes it’s a bad idea, and by the time he realizes it’s already too late to resist, Gerard has got his fingers tangled in Frank’s hair and he’s kissing Frank slow and deep and Frank has no willpower, because he wants this so badly, even if he knows he and Gerard really ought to fucking talk about it. He’s never said no to Gerard, and Gerard’s smart enough to have caught on to the fact that this isn’t what they’re doing, this isn’t who they are now, but Gerard is stuck four years ago and Frank follows him, willingly, right back there, and when Gerard rubs this thumbs over Frank’s jaw, when Gerard mumbles, “Please, can we?” Frank follows right along with him to four years ago, even though Frank doesn’t have the excuse of amnesia. Frank follows Gerard as he stands, kissing slow and soft and Frank could do this for hours, and seriously, this isn’t that bad, this is just kissing. Gerard’s hands slide slowly down Frank’s back as he leads him down the hall, and Frank thinks, absurdly, that they’re going to the kitchen and maybe Gerard wants to make some coffee but then Gerard runs up ahead, up to the top of the stairs. Frank freezes at the bottom. He could shake his head no, he could walk away now. He isn’t in the thrall of Gerard’s kisses, Gerard so close to him. He should be good and fucking tell Gerard no, that this isn’t ok, whatever it is that Gerard thinks is going to happen upstairs. But Gerard is standing there, with this look on his face, and Frank doesn’t remember if it was like this four years ago, if there was so much agony, if there were all these choices that Frank didn’t feel like he actually got to make. He’s already going up the stairs before Gerard says, “Frank, please.”
Gerard goes into Frank’s bedroom and that’s safe, Frank thinks. They’ve done this before there, it’s familiar.
But then Gerard is stripping off his shirt and laying down on the futon, biting his lip and looking up at Frank. “Come kiss me over here,” Gerard says, and Frank does. He wants Gerard so much in that moment, Gerard underneath him, Gerard telling him what to do, Gerard arching his back and looking at Frank through lidded eyes.
“Yes,” Frank says, and he’s surprised to hear himself speak it aloud. He wants Gerard’s skin against his, and it’s easy then, to slide into Gerard’s arms, easy to take off his own shirt, easy to slide off Gerard’s pants, and then his, easy to be completely naked, sucking on Gerard’s collarbone, digging his fingers into Gerard’s arms, rocking his hips slowly, lost in the overwhelming warmth and intensity of Gerard.
“Can we?” Gerard asks, his eyes going dark, and Frank knows exactly what he’s saying, exactly what he means and it makes his throat go dry.
“Turn over,” Frank says, barely trusting his voice, his arms already shaking. Gerard does, turning to look over his shoulder at Frank. Frank licks Gerard’s spine, his hands cupping Gerard’s ass. They’ve never done this before. This is completely new.
Frank brings his nose to the crack of Gerard’s ass and breathes out. Gerard tenses, and then moans, his mouth pressed against the futon cushion. And yeah, Frank thinks, yeah, this is good. Frank licks, hesitantly at first, more like an open-mouthed kiss, wet and a little aimless, but the noise Gerard makes, Jesus Christ, it makes Frank shiver, it makes him hard and desperate and he licks all the way up Gerard’s ass, pressing his thumbs and spreading Gerard open, licking short and fast until Gerard is making a whiny, throaty noise and jerking his hips. Frank digs his fingers in to Gerard’s cheeks, because he’s not done, damn it, he doesn’t want this to stop, he hasn’t made Gerard want it enough. He presses his tongue in hard, feeling the muscle, presses harder and Gerard just kind of melts. Gerard’s shoulders drop, his forehead presses into the mattress, he breathes out noisily, and Frank does it again and again. He wonders if maybe he should make Gerard come like this, Frank’s tongue in his ass and Frank’s hand around his cock, but no, Frank thinks, they’ve gone this far, and Frank knows what Gerard wants.
“Stay here,” Frank says, biting Gerard’s thigh and getting up. He won’t let Gerard leave like last time. He’ll chase him down if he thinks he can be an asshole like that, if he thinks he can just leave.
He feels awkward and terribly nervous looking around in the linen closet for lubricant but he’s not fucking Gerard with just spit, not the way he wants to do it, and this is Gerard’s house, surely it’s somewhere. He finally ventures into Gerard and Lyn-Z’s bedroom, and after hesitating a moment, opens the drawer on the bedroom table, and finds what he’s looking for. He’s naked in Lyn-Z’s bedroom, and he wants to laugh, wants to just crack up, because it’s too strange, too ridiculous. He feels too turned on to even feel guilty, the urgency to get back to Gerard washing away the wrongness. When he comes back, Gerard is shifting so he’s up on his elbows, his knees tucked under him. Frank can’t help the sound he makes.
“Fucking Christ, Gee,” Frank says, coming up and kneeling back down, running his hands over Gerard’s back, down the pale curve, over the knobs of his spine. “That’s good, Gee, that’s really good,” Frank murmurs, kissing Gerard’s back.
Gerard stays like that, up on his elbows, craning his neck back to look at Frank, as Frank slicks his fingers and slides one, then two in, and it’s probably too fast but Gerard’s making a noise every time he breathes out, a pleased-sounding noise, and Frank’s really starting to lose control. He says, “Do you want - “ as he positions his cock at Gerard’s opening, and presses in.
Gerard actually laughs, and says, still laughing, “Jesus Christ, Frankie, yes,” and that’s the thing Frank thinks as he pushes all the way into Gerard, as he rocks his hips and then slams them hard against Gerard, as he wipes sweat from Gerard’s temples, as Gerard falls forward, his forehead pressed against the mattress, as Frank moves his hand under them and wraps it around Gerard’s cock. Frank thinks that Gerard laughing as they’re doing this is the thing that makes it real. Gerard looks over his shoulder, catches Frank’s eyes, and fucking grins just before he comes on Frank’s hand, and then Frank’s coming, too, shouting and laughing, his mouth against Gerard’s back as they collapse.
Frank falls asleep without really meaning to, cold and dirty and pressed up awkwardly against Gerard on the too-small futon, and even though he manages to pull a blanket over them, it’s uncomfortable enough that he doesn’t fall too deeply into sleep. He’s out long enough, though, that Lyn-Z is back, and when Frank opens his eyes, Lyn-Z is standing at the half-open door. Frank can’t read the expression on her face, but as soon as she sees that he’s awake, she closes the door and he hears her walk down the hallway. Frank stumbles up, wincing when he puts weight on the leg that’s fallen asleep. He fumbles for his clothes, and Gerard turns over, one bare arm falling from underneath the blanket.
“Everything ok, Frankie?” Gerard says, dazedly. Frank stops in the middle of buttoning his pants, leans close and kisses Gerard softly.
“It’s fine. You sleep,” and Gerard pulls the blanket up over his face, agreeing.
Downstairs, Lyn-Z is opening mail. Frank hesitates at the bottom of the stairs and then goes into the kitchen. He’s conscious of how it must have looked immediately, how he must still look now, hair messy, sleep lines on his face, in the middle of the afternoon. He could have been just taking a nap, except that he was with Gerard, and the blanket can’t have covered much.
“Lyn - “ he starts, but she looks up at him and shakes her head slightly.
“I brought Jamia home,” she says, like she never came upstairs. “How’s Gerard?”
“Freaked out by listening to songs he doesn’t remember writing,” Frank says, and Lyn-Z nods. “Listen, about…”
“I just can’t talk about it right now,” Lyn-Z says.
“Ok, ” Frank says, and even though it’s not the right time, he has to tell her about Gerard talking about drinking. “Ok, but - just so you know, Gerard said he needed a drink again.”
“And so this was how you dealt with it?” Lyn-Z says quietly. She looks suddenly dangerously angry. “What would you do if I told you I needed a drink?”
Frank doesn’t know what to say.
“Do you remember our first fight?” Lyn-Z says after a moment. “Probably not. It was about a month since Gerard and I had been together, and we were going to a party. You told me not to let him get drunk? I slapped you?”
Frank feels his face flush. He remembered, all right. Lyn-Z had shouted at him, “I'm not Bert.”
And Frank had fucking replied, "We'll see." He remembers now, and he's appalled at himself. She wasn't anything like Bert, Frank should have seen that from the start. She was a whole other kind of person, and Frank was too busy dismissing her to realize she was going to be around for the long run and perhaps he ought to have put some effort into getting to know her.
“I’m sorry,” Frank says, and Lyn-Z shrugs.
“It’s fine,” she says dismissively. “If he gets bad, I’m ready.”
Frank isn’t sure she is, but he nods anyway.
He remembers how Gerard used to be, early afternoon, with a drink, later if there was a show, and ok, Frank tries to be honest with himself, he drank, too, but not in the way Gerard drank, like it was necessary, like it was medicine. Frank isn't sure that any of them could have made Gerard get sober, could have forced him into making that decision. But once he'd made it, they were all there for him, there to do whatever he needed. They could protect him, keep him from the poison, listen to him ask, in an uncertain voice, whether this was worth it, whether he was strong enough, whether it even mattered.
Frank doesn't have to try to remember what it was like, that level of vigilance, of concern, of whole-band devotion to Gerard. They did whatever he needed, said whatever he needed to hear. And Frank could do that again. If Gerard needed him, he could do it.
Frank tells Lyn-Z he thinks they're lucky Gerard isn't actually detoxing, so the desire for alcohol is entirely non-physical addiction-based. He's said a couple of times he wants a drink, but Frank thinks Gerard must be so shocked, he doesn't really know what he wants, what he needs.
It starts with cajoling. Gerard is disturbingly good at flattery, at enticement, to get what he wants, and Frank watches Lyn-Z's eyes flash the first time Gerard goes from having a pleasant, comfortable conversation with her to asking her to get him something to drink, please, just a drink. She handles it well, not acknowledging how egregiously Gerard has just broken all trust he was building with her, just changing the subject, but Frank pulls her aside later to make sure they're a united front. He doesn't want to get into it, doesn't want to have to explain to Lyn-Z how it was before, feels almost like he should protect Gerard from having Lyn-Z see that part of him, but he can't help it once Gerard shows he's not above sinking pretty low to get a drink.
Gerard doesn't start begging until 7 that night, and it's pathetic, and it hurts Frank as much as it fucking pisses him off, and he tries to just shut down, to take himself out of the equation. It doesn't matter what Gerard says, Frank just needs to keep Gerard in the house and away from the poison.
It's fucking exhausting, and when Gerard lets loose a final string of aspersions against their characters and calls them jailers once more and then declares he's going to bed, Frank thinks, good, they all need some rest. He and Lyn-Z agree to split shifts, Frank will sleep downstairs and Lyn-Z upstairs, and it isn't until Frank is blinking awake at the sound of someone dropping their keys repeatedly at the front door that he thinks he really should have made some coffee and stayed awake, and then his mind connects to the sound and he knows. He knows he's fucked up.
Frank opens the door, and Gerard is there, blinking at the bright light of the living room, smiling widely and completely drunk off his ass. He is carrying a bag that Frank tries to tug from him and Gerard tightens his grip.
"No," is the first thing Gerard says to him, and Frank just hopes that he can keep Gerard quiet enough so that they don't wake Lyn-Z, so that she doesn't see this. Doesn't blame Frank, doesn't see Gerard at his worst. Gerard would be so heartbroken and that's the thought that keeps Frank from taking a fucking swing at Gerard.
"Come inside," Frank whispers harshly.
"No," Gerard says, but a little less convinced. "You'll just lock me up again."
"Ok, you want to sleep out there, fine," Frank says and turns his back. Gerard follows him in, slams the door half on his own foot, and it bounces back open.
"Ow," Gerard says, and then he stumbles and falls. Frank takes the opportunity to grab Gerard's bag, which contains, as Frank suspects, two full bottles.
"This is shit, Gerard," Frank says, looking at it. "What were you going to fucking do with this, hide it in your bedroom?"
"Fuck you," Gerard says. He's still on the floor. Frank leaves him there, and goes into the kitchen to empty the bottles down the sink. He's not going to lose it, he's really not. He can handle this. Just pouring poison down the drain, because it isn't allowed in this house. The sharp smell of vodka fills the kitchen and Frank coughs.
Frank hears Gerard get himself up, walk into the kitchen. "Don't do that, Frankie," Gerard says, leaning in the doorway. His voice is soft, pleading. Frank can't look at him. "I'm sorry," Gerard says.
"No, you're not," Frank answers. "You're just saying what you think I want to hear."
Frank knows he's right when Gerard calls him a motherfucker and calls Lyn-Z a few names for good measure. “What does Jamia think you're doing here?" Gerard says, and apparently they’re at that part of the conversation, where Gerard gets mean. Frank breathes in deeply, tries not to be present, tries not to get into this with Gerard. He's here just to get Gerard to fucking bed.
"Where'd you go, Gerard?" he says instead of answering.
"I asked you a question first, motherfucker, what does your girlfriend think her amazing Frank is doing, sleeping over at some other woman's house?"
"She knows I'm here with you," Frank says calmly.
"You never liked me better than her," Gerard says sadly. Frank's heart thrums in his chest.
"Where did you go," he says, trying to take control of the conversation. "To a bar?"
"I went somewhere they'd give me a drink," Gerard spits.
"You waited until we were both sleeping and you snuck out of the fucking house to go get trashed. Isn't that pathetic, Gee?" Frank says. Gerard stares at him. "Look at you. You look terrible. Do you feel good?"
"I'm not drunk," Gerard says.
Frank can't help the groan that escapes his lips. "Is this the game we're playing tonight, Gee? You're not actually drunk? You dropped your keys four fucking times outside the front door and then fell on the floor when I let you in, and you're not drunk? At least admit that you went to get fucking trashed. I'm surprised you can even talk. At least you came home and we didn't find you asleep on the street."
"That never happened."
"Fucking right it did, Gee. You were so drunk you slept on the street and Mikey found you and brought you home."
"Fuck you," Gerard says, and he comes over to the sink to examine the empty bottles. "You don't get to tell me what to do. This is my own fucking house, and you're not my boyfriend. I don't even fucking know who you are, what the hell you're doing here," Gerard says.
"No, I'm not your boyfriend, Gerard, but I'm here because sometimes you can't take care of yourself. Now shut the fuck up and go to bed before I call your brother."
Frank wonders if it's the thought of him calling Mikey that makes Gerard puke or if it's just the timing, but Frank's thankful Gerard at least makes it to the sink, even if it's not the bathroom.
Frank runs the water, washing everything down the drain, and splashes some of it on Gerard's face, who is still gasping and dry-heaving a little. Frank wipes Gerard’s face, pushes back his hair when he stands up, and helps him, slowly and stumbling, up the stairs.
"I'm sorry, Frankie," Gerard says, as Frank half-drags him to the bed and covers him with a blanket, and Frank knows, this time, Gerard actually means it.
Lyn-Z comes downstairs as Frank is getting out the bleach.
"He snuck out?" she asks, and Frank runs the hot water.
"Yeah," he says, and then, "I'm sorry." It's his fault. He should know Gerard better.
"Gerard tricked us into relaxing and then took advantage of our exhaustion and went out and got trashed. How is any of that your fault?"
"I should have been awake. I should have stopped him."
Lyn-Z gives him a look he's never seen before. It's long and Frank feels like it's both wonder and disapproval. "Frank," she says, her hand on his arm, her glasses falling down her nose, incredibly warm and close. "I know you think you know Gerard better than anyone besides his little brother, and ok, maybe you do, but did you ever think that, if it’s all your fault, then it means that you’re the only one who can make things better? That’s just not fair to me.”
She kisses Frank on the cheek, and then takes the bleach from him, plugs the drain, pours a little into the sink, and runs the water again. "Go upstairs, I'll take care of this."
He just stands there, and when she turns and sees he's still there, she goes to push at his chest, but then, Frank isn't really sure what makes him do it, dead tired and strung out, and chasing after the warmth he felt when she was close, but he leans up and kisses her. "Oh," she gasps, and then kisses him back. The kitchen smells like vodka and bleach and Frank kisses Lyn-Z a little desperately, a little frantically, his hands sliding down her back and when his fingers touch the warm skin where her tank top has ridden up, Frank chokes and pulls away.
His fingers go to his lips and he's staring at the floor. When he looks up, Lyn-Z is smiling.
"That was...."
"Really wrong, I'm sorry, I don't even - " Frank stops, because he has no idea what he's trying to say.
"Confusing," Lyn-Z says. "That was confusing." She reaches up and almost touches Frank's arm but stops. "I’ll take care of this,” she says again. “I'll see you in the morning, ok?" Frank nods, still stunned, and goes upstairs to bed.
“Look, we need to talk,” Lyn-Z says, the next morning. Gerard is still asleep, or still pretending to be asleep. Frank’s checked on him twice already. “Let’s go out. I’ve called Mikey. He’s promised not to give Gerard a hard time about last night,” Lyn-Z says. “I believe him.”
“Yeah, Mikey knows what to do. He always has.” Frank says.
“Mikey’ll be here in a minute. I’m sure it’s safe for us to leave.”
Frank hesitates, and Lyn-Z looks at him even harder. “He has a key?” Frank says because he’s not sure what else to say.
“Yeah, of course he does,” Lyn-Z says with an easy laugh. Frank doesn’t know what he’s more shocked about, that he thought Mikey wouldn’t have a key to Gerard’s place, or that he’s surprised Lyn-Z thought of it before he did.
The walls of the restaurant are orange and everything on the menu is vegan, and the waitress smiles at Lyn-Z and beams at Frank but doesn't dissolve into giggles, doesn't ask for an autograph, and Frank isn't sure she actually knows who they are or if she's just super friendly. "What'll you guys have?" she says, like they're guests at her house.
Frank orders tea and Lyn-Z orders lemonade for herself and for Frank, because she insists he try it, and Frank thinks it's a shame he didn't get to know her better first, before she became Gerard's wife, because she's done something everyday that surprises him. Little things, the jokes she makes, the things she knows about Gerard. He doesn't know what it is about it that surprises him, other than that he clearly didn't trust Gee's judgment. It happened so fast, was such a surprise, it wasn't like with Alicia, who was around for a while before it seemed like she and Mikey got serious, and then Alicia was there for Mikey during his breakdown. Frank doesn't want to admit that he feels like he needs the people who love his bandmates to prove themselves worthy, but that's exactly it.
"So I guess this is me talking to you about what happened last night?" Lyn-Z says, and then, "You ought to try the lemonade, it's the best." Frank tries it, looks at the calluses on Lyn-Z's fingers, at her easy smile. "I mean, maybe it doesn't hurt to look at it like we are actually four years ago, for just a little while. Maybe it will help us figure out what Gee needs."
Frank still doesn’t say anything and Lyn-Z sips her lemonade. “How about this. Pretend that I’m Gerard’s new girlfriend, and you’re checking me out to make sure I’m worthy.”
There’s a smile, but Frank feels like she knows, right then, that he never thought her worthy. And that’s not true, it’s not that he never thought her worthy, it’s just that he never got the chance to check her out. He never got the chance to know her. She was just there, all the time, and Gerard talked about her and they toured together and Frank kept to himself and then - and then -
"Well," Frank thinks, because it's not a crazy idea at all, maybe, to pretend, even if it’s after the fact, "You're in a band, so you know what touring's like, and you know how weird it is to go from touring with your band to home without them. Gerard doesn't like to be alone."
Lyn-Z smiles, and Frank can see in her eyes that she already knew this, and it's a relief to him, because it's hard to explain some things about Gerard if you don't already know them.
"You should also talk to Mikey. No one knows Gee like this brother, and they're close. And if you think of the way Gerard talks and talks and doesn't always say what he means, Mikey doesn't, Mikey just says what he means, and sometimes it's vague, but sometimes it makes all the sense you need. Gee's calmer when he goes to AA, and sometimes he won't shut up about it and sometimes he won't say a word, and neither of them means one thing or another, you know? It's not like, when he says nothing that it means something's wrong, it's just the way his head works. Sometimes he can't spend too much time thinking about himself."
"Did you guys ever date?" Lyn-Z says, and Frank chokes on his lemonade. "What?" she says, not letting up, looking innocent. Frank admires her, so much in that moment, can totally see how she handles all the boys in her band, how she handles the scene. She's tough, she's confident, and she knows how to play. "I don't actually know the answer," she says, quietly, outside of the game now.
"We never dated, no," Frank says, and because Lyn-Z's staring at him and because he knows this is for Gee, he says, "I don't know how to talk about this."
"It's ok, I can ask Jamia," Lyn-Z says and their sandwiches come and Frank can hardly hang on, because he's trying to think how he'd explain what happened with him and Gee, because he's never explained it to himself. He just…knew how things were. He wasn’t lying when he said it wasn’t something he knew how to talk about it.
“I don’t know what Jamia will be able to tell you,” Frank says, and Lyn-Z frowns at him.
“Ok…” she says, hesitantly, pushing back in her chair. “Is it a secret? Because you can just tell me that. I’m not trying to get into the middle of anything, I’m just trying to understand.”
“It’s not a secret, not, it’s just….complicated,” Frank says.
“Ok,” Lyn-Z says, and watches Lyn-Z’s throat as she takes a sip from her glass and swallows. “While we’re talking about complicated, do we want to talk about us kissing last night?”
Frank stares down at his plate, feeling like he just got caught watching her. “Can I say no?”
“Well, you can, but it’s not going to make this any easier. Look, I’m trying, Frank. I come home and you were in bed with Gerard and I don’t want to talk about that but we need to, at some point, because I don’t understand. And then you kiss me, and maybe you were just blowing off steam or maybe you want to fuck us both or, I don’t know. The only other possibility is that you’re screwing around with me and if you’re doing that because I married Gerard, if this is some sort of vengeance thing - ”
“No,” Frank says, panicking, his mouth dry. “No, I wouldn’t do that. It’s just - Gerard and I used to have a thing. Four years ago. And then he met you, and, it stopped.”
“Yeah, I got that part,” Lyn-Z says, clearly getting impatient. “I’m trying to figure out what that thing was, and what it means.”
“I don’t know,” Frank says, a little helplessly.
“You really don’t, do you?” Lyn-Z says, looking at him for a long time. “Ok,” she says, and she reaches across the table and brushes the tips of her fingers over Frank’s arm, letting them drift just under his wrist, as though testing him. He shivers, and she smiles, and Frank wishes he had some idea what was going on.
The thing is, Lyn-Z does ask Jamia, that afternoon, a little while after they get back. Frank is playing with his guitar in the living room while Mikey and Gerard glare at each other, hug, and then glare at each other. Frank remembers that, too, and he doesn’t know why they’re all doomed to repeat this awful time, what they did or didn’t do or who they fucked over, but he’s not happy about it. And then Frank hears Jamia’s name, looks around and realizes that he’s only hearing Lyn-Z’s voice and she must be on the phone and Jamia isn’t here. He feels a sudden homesickness, and sets his guitar down, and gestures to Lyn-Z that he wants the phone when she’s done. After a few minutes, Lyn-Z says, “Thanks, honey, yeah, come over for dinner, next week, maybe? Ok, here’s Frank.”
“Hi, honey,” Frank says, and Jamia laughs.
“It’s like musical house guests,” she says, “How are you?”
Frank tells her about the lunch place he and Lyn-Z went to, about an idea he has for Skeleton Crew, and when she asks about Gerard, he just hmmms, and she says, “It’s ok, you can tell me about it later when he’s not right there.”
“So, what were you and Lyn-Z talking about?” Frank asks.
Jamia says, “You and Gerard,” and Frank had almost forgotten.
“Oh,” he says, and then, his voice sounding more unsteady than he means it to, “So what did you tell her?”
"You want to know what I told Lyn-Z?” Jamia asks, her voice tight, “Or you want to know what happened between you and Gee?"
“I just - ” Frank says and stops.
“We should probably talk when I come by later,” Jamia says, and then, firmly, “Let me talk to Lyn-Z again, I wanted to ask her something about the label.”
Frank hands the phone back, stunned, picks his guitar back up and starts playing, trying not to pay attention to Gerard and Mikey, to Lyn-Z on the phone, to the house or the voices in his head, to the weird feeling wrapping itself around his throat.
Things get worse when Mikey goes home. Gerard keeps walking out on conversations with Lyn-Z each time Lyn-Z says his name, incase he forgot that she was actually saying something to him and not just to talking to hear herself talk, and each time, Gerard doesn't even pause, and so she just watches him go. The third time, Frank offers to go and speak to Gerard and Lyn-Z shouts, angry and frustrated, "No, it's fine. If he doesn't want to know what the doctor said about his test results, then that's fine with me, really, but he could fucking tell me. He could say the words, ‘I don't care’ instead of just walking off like I'm not even here."
"I'll go talk to him," Frank says, already halfway out of the room after Gerard.
"Oh, sure," Lyn-Z says. "Because I won't resent that at all."
She turns and goes out onto the porch and Frank wants to say something about how that wasn’t how he meant it, but he thinks he'll only make it worse.
So he does go and try to talk to Gerard, because maybe Gerard will listen to him when he's not listening to Lyn-Z and even if it's stupid and even if it makes Lyn-Z angry, it's not really about her. It's about Gerard being an idiot, forgetting that people sometimes need to come first, before his thoughts, no matter what he's thinking.
"Asshole, come back here," Frank says, because as soon as he goes into the living room, Gerard gets up and walks out.
"Leave me alone," Gerard says. His hands are balled into fists at his side.
"I want to talk to you about what you just did to your wife."
"Stop calling her that," Gerard bites out.
Frank stops, and catches his breath. "That's who she is," he says, after a moment, because he's not sure what else to say.
Gerard just shrugs.
"Ok, it shouldn't matter who she is, you're being a jerk," Frank says, when he doesn't get any other sort of response from Gerard. "You're not the fucking center of the universe, so stop and listen to what people are saying because when it's Lyn-Z and I talking, we're pretty much always talking about you."
"I thought you said I wasn't the center of the universe,” Gerard says, and slams the door of the studio in Frank’s face.
And that’s about the limit of Frank’s patience and so he decides to leave Gerard be and to go try and smooth things over with Lyn-Z. He goes out to the porch, where she’s still standing, looking out at the street. He lights a cigarette, offers her one, which she refuses. "He's just being an asshole," Frank says, and Lyn-Z turns glares at him.
"Oh, I know. You think I’ve never seen Gerard be an asshole before?"
Frank takes several drag from his cigarette before saying, “I don’t know what you want me to do.”
“I want you to stop acting like you can fix everything,” she says
Frank never gets to respond, because Gerard comes out onto the porch, launches in a screaming fit about how he isn't hung over and he didn't do anything wrong the other night and he wants a drink and it's fucking stupid that they're holding him prisoner here. Gerard takes a swing at Frank and hits him in the stomach and Frank swings right back at Gerard's jaw, not as hard as he could have, but harder than he should have. He just wanted to shake some sense into Gerard because when Gerard was angry like this, it was blind rage, he was just so caught up in feeling out of control. Lyn-Z just stands at the doorway, like she had no idea what was going on.
"You might need to hit him, too" Frank says, as Gerard hurries down the hallway, and Frank distantly hears another door slam. Frank clutches his stomach and winces as he tries to stand up straight.
"Looks like it's done a lot of good," Lyn-Z says, and Frank turns on her.
"You don't fucking know him at all." Frank shouts.
"No, I don't know him at all,” she says, cool and dry, “I married a stranger. I picked the first singer that smelled like success and I tricked him into marrying me."
Frank just walks away, but she follows.
”Let's bring him to Mikey's if you think that'll help,." she says, and when he looks back, she seems at least conciliatory.
"Mikey knows what Gerard's like when he's like this," Frank says.
"And I don't. That's the problem?” Her face heats back up again, her whole body wound tight. “I’ve never had to punch my husband?"
"You shouldn't have to!" Frank shouts, surprising himself, and wincing again when his stomach twinges. "He's supposed to be better for you."
Lyn-Z pushes right up into Frank’s space, her fingers tight on his arm. "So you only get the fucked up Gerard? You don't get to have him when he's better, when he's fixed?"
Frank freezes. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Jesus Christ, Frank, this is what I'm talking about," she says, and slams into him, like she's trying to knock him over, except that she's kissing him, and all of Frank's breath is gone. He kisses her back, really feeling it this time, really paying attention to how Lyn-Z tastes, to how her mouth feels. She pulls back first, but her hand stays on his neck.
"Um," Frank says, and Lyn-Z shakes her head.
"I want the whole Gerard, too. I want him exactly as he is,” Lyn-Z whispers, and then she wraps her arms around him. Frank hesitates, then does the same, holding her close. “I didn't take him from you," she says, and Frank listens to her breathe, and tries to figure out how to tell her he doesn't think that, how to tell her he never had Gerard in the first place.
Part 3
Frank can't sleep that night, either. The house is too quiet, too foreign and new. He sits up in the dark of the kitchen, with a notepad in front of him. He's trying to write a list - he's not sure of what, things he ought to research, questions to ask the doctor, major life events he's going to have to remind Gerard of - right now, the only thing that's on there is to buy orange juice, and get a book about AA.
He pours himself a bowl of cereal, eats half of it and then abandons it in the sink. Everything is fucked up. Frank is living in Gerard and Lyn-Z's new house, the place he never let himself think about because it always felt like they were going their separate ways, like it was a strange place he'd never find familiar and now he knows where they keep the towels and extra toothbrushes. Gerard is sleeping in his bedroom, Lyn-Z is sleeping in one of the guest rooms, and Frank is sleeping in the other. Motherfucking fucked up. Frank misses Jamia. He knows the middle of the night is the worst time to be alone, the worst time to try and sort things out. He always gets night sickness, the way thoughts seems scarier, larger, more confusing in the dark, in a quiet house.
"Make sure you get the kind without pulp," Lyn-Z says, and Frank jumps. When he turns, Lyn-Z is holding up Frank's list. "As for the other thing on your list...." she hands Frank a book. He squints at the title, and Lyn-Z flicks on the kitchen light. Alcoholics Anonymous, The Big Book. "I read some of it when we first started seeing each other, and it's good, but it's - " she stops, takes her glasses off and rubs her eyes. "I never knew him when he was drinking," she says. "I wasn't there when he got clean. You were," she says. They look at each other for a long time in the bright yellow light of the kitchen. "I'm glad you're staying," Lyn-Z says, and Frank flips to the index of the book. It’s all distantly familiar. It’s not as daunting because Frank's done this before, but at the same time, it’s worse, because Gerard has done this before but he doesn't remember now. Frank always knew what they’d have to do if Gerard fell off the wagon. None of them really expected it to happen, though, because the change in Gerard had been so transformative. It had changed them all, and Gerard had been committed to that change.
"I mean, I never really asked, did I?" Frank says. "How long I could stay."
"Of course you didn’t ask. You don't have to fucking ask."
"I mean - "
"I know what you mean, Frank. I know Gerard needs you. It doesn't threaten me."
It fucking threatens Frank, though, but he doesn't know how to tell Lyn-Z that.
Frank tries to focus on how things were before that - on how they really were before Gerard got so bad that he had to get sober. Gerard was drunk when they finished a show, and Gerard was all over everybody. Sometimes Frank was drunk, too, but sometimes he wasn't. Sometimes Gerard needed watching over, sometimes they needed to make sure he didn't go off and do something stupid - or go home with someone stupid. But most of the time, they finished a show, a rehearsal, a night of watching horror movies, and Gerard was drunk, warm, flirty and willing. This was the stage right before he was stupidly drunk and sick, and sometimes he fell asleep on the couch with his face pressed to Frank's neck. It was mostly just that, mostly just touching, the occasional rubbing, the half-hearted, breathy offer of a blow job.
Nothing ever really happened until Gerard was sober.
Frank doesn’t really remember what started it, though he does remember the first time - the first time that wasn’t Gee drying out. It was Gerard, unable to sleep, crawling over to Frankie and just asking, “Can I?” After that, it was after a show, or on the bus when they still had hours to go, or on hotel nights, and it wasn’t always Gerard. Sometimes Frank asked, or Frank started it, and that was ok, too. That still never really meant anything. They were just friends.
It didn’t even really change when Gerard met Lyn-Z, and so Frank didn’t really know what that meant either. He didn’t know if Gerard maybe wouldn’t need him anymore, if he was better now, healed. Lyn-Z and Frank argued, a lot at first, because she was always around and she didn’t get things right. She didn’t know when it wasn’t ok to wake up Gerard, she didn’t know what things not to make fun of him about, she didn’t know how to make small talk with the band. She was nice, and friendly, but just different, and still such a new part of Gerard’s life.
“Anyway, it’s nice not to have to do this alone,” she says, and Frank watches the way her jaw tenses, the way she tilts her head. He’s learning to read her body language, which feels oddly intimate. He’s known her all this time and never really paid attention. He gets the idea that, right now, she’s just trying to be polite, and that she wishes she did get to do this alone. Frank has never really considered before this moment how much Lyn-Z might resent him being here. He wants to say something, and he’s not sure whether he should be apologizing or justifying himself, but before he can figure it out, Lyn-Z says, “He's going out with Mikey tomorrow, after the doctor’s," Lyn-Z says. "They're all going to visit Elena's grave."
"Jesus, fuck," Frank says, his breath gone. When she died, Gerard had just kind of disappeared into himself for a lot longer than Frank had ever seen. Frank can’t imagine Gerard not remembering that, Gerard having to go through it again.
Lyn-Z says, "Yeah, Mikey seemed pretty nervous about it,” she says. “You’ll have to tell me how it happened,” she says, and goes back upstairs. Frank has the urge to follow her, to keep the conversation going, to try to ease some of the uncertainty in her voice, but he stops at the door to the kitchen, picks up The Big Book and starts to read.
In the morning, Frank and Lyn-Z wait in the empty examination room at the hospital, Gerard's jean jacket on the ugly exam table in the middle of the room. They've been waiting for ten minutes; the doctors had said the stress tests could take anywhere from thirty to forty five minutes, and if Gerard's blood pressure was fine, they were going to follow up with a second round of allergy tests.
"We should go out and get some coffee," Frank says, and Lyn-Z laughs, a little harshly, and looks down at her hands. "What?" Frank says. "Have you given up coffee and I've missed it?"
"No," Lyn-Z says, "It's just - I remember when Gee and I had just started seeing each other, you and I were waiting for him, after a show. Something had happened during the show, I don't even remember what now, but he was upset. He was talking to Schechter and I had the feeling it was going to be a while and I asked if you wanted to go get some coffee. The look on your face - "
Frank looks at her, trying to remember. He shakes his head. He thinks he remembers the show, thinks Gee was upset about someone in the audience crying and how sometimes he just wished he had the time to ask them what was wrong, if they were crying for joy or sadness or catharsis. It was an old conversation, but it upset Gerard every time.
"You looked at me like I was suggesting we lock Gerard out of the bus. Like I suggested we drive off without him."
"I'm sure I didn't - "
"You were an asshole to me, pretty much all of the time," Lyn-Z says, and Frank realizes that, yeah, she's totally right. "You thought I didn't care about Gee, like I didn't understand. I just wanted some coffee, wanted to pass the time. Thought maybe you and I could talk."
"What would we have talked about?" Frank says, feeling anger rise up in him.
"Anything," Lyn-Z says, "What do we talk about now?"
Frank shrugs, "I'm sorry," he says, after a moment.
"You don't have to be sorry. You've gotten a lot better at not acting like a jealous ex."
"I'm not a - "
Lyn-Z holds up her hands. "I want some coffee. Maybe a coffee cake. Do you think they have a Starbucks inside the hospital?"
They eventually find one, not inside the hospital, but just a block away, and Lyn-Z pays for Frank’s drink before he can stop her. “So, is this us going out for coffee?” he says.
“I guess it is,” she says. “Though we’re going it a bit out of order. I think you’re supposed to go on a date before you move in together.”
Their fingers brush as he takes the coffee she hands him, and Frank startles, but when he looks up into her face, Lyn-Z is already looking away.
The doctors can’t say anything conclusive about the tests, and so they schedule more for next week, while Gerard sulks and tugs at the bandage on his arm where they’ve drawn blood. Lyn-Z reminds Gerard that Mikey’s picking him up when they get back to the house, and Gerard snaps, “I know,” and sighs dramatically.
Frank’s about to reach over and smack Gerard and tell him to stop acting like a pissy teenager when he sees that Lyn-Z has tears in her eyes. She blinks them away quickly, but the drive back is quiet and tense, and once Gerard leaves with Mikey, Lyn-Z disappears into the studio and Frank doesn’t see her for hours.
Frank’s upstairs when he hears Mikey drop Gerard off. Frank’s in the right mindset, he’s been reading The Big Book all afternoon, and so he isn’t surprised at all when Gerard is looking in the cabinets when he comes downstairs. "There's no liquor, Gee, it's no good looking," Frank says without hesitation.
Gerard pales. "I wasn't looking."
"You looked in crevasses we didn't even know existed in our apartments, the bus, our luggage, Gee, I know how you work."
Frank hears the doorbell, hears Lyn-Z come down the stairs to answer it.
"Last time," Gerard says, his expression blank, and Frank thinks maybe he’s shaking a little bit and so Frank goes over and hugs him. They're standing that way when Ray comes in behind Lyn-Z.
And Ray's face, oh, Ray's face. Frank tries to pull back but Gerard hugs him tighter, and if Schechter’s insinuations and Mikey’s warnings weren't enough, Ray's face is, because then Frank understands, finally faces what's happening. Frank understands that he’s given in to the temptation, that all Gerard had to do was need him just a tiny little bit and Frank was stumbling all over his own feet to give Gerard whatever he was asking for. It was completely dysfunctional, and what’s more, Frank had thought he’d gotten past it. Gotten past the thrill of being needed by Gerard, of wanting to see the look on Gerard’s face when Frank was there for him. He thought he’d gotten over how good it felt when Gerard reached out and Frank was the one who responded in kind.
Frank still wanted to be that person for Gerard, and he was still sore in all the tender places in his heart when he knew he wasn’t supposed to look.
He and Ray had talked about it once, just once. Ray had asked, and Frank had just been in the mood to talk, quiet and calm as they drove through Illinois.
"So what's going on with you and Gerard?" The question was so Ray, pointed and without judgment, just curiosity, interest.
And Frank has just said, "I'm kind of in love with him." And he had been. Kind of. It was the only way he could really explain the feelings that were more than friendship, but not quite romance. "But it's not - we're not - it's just how I feel." Frank had said. "It doesn't mean anything."
Now Ray was looking at him. And Frank knew Ray was thinking of that conversation.
Because the way it happened, they just - they just fooled around sometimes, sometimes they didn't. They were a family on tour and everything else just moved along. And then the tour ended, Gerard got married, and they all went home.
Ray looked at Frank like he knew everything, all of Frank’s secrets.
Frank had lost himself for a little a week after Gerard's wedding. He never really told Jamia why, even though she made him soup and let him sleep through the afternoons like he was sick, when he actually felt perfectly fine. He ignored Skeleton Crew and didn't answer the phone and just kind of lost it a little bit, chalked it up to having a hard time transitioning from being on tour. Jamia never really asked, which was good, because he didn't know what he would have said. It was Ray who had snapped him out of it.
Ray had come over and said, “We’re all in a little bit in love with Gerard. There’s no other way this band would work. We love him and we love the band, and that’s why we can keep doing this.”
Frank had nodded along, thinking, ok, maybe they all feel like this.
“You’re more than just a little in love with Gerard,” Ray had said and Frank’s chest had ached. “You’re a lot in love with Gerard. But you never told him that and now he’s gone and gotten married. So you’ve gotta deal with that, ok, Frank? I don’t know how things are with you and Jamia - ”and Frank had started to say something and Ray had held his hand up. “But this is between you and Gerard. So fix this, because otherwise you’ll both be miserable.”
And Frank had fixed it. He’d fixed himself. He’d decided to let it go, to be a better person and be happy for Gerard. He’d dismissed all his feelings, tucked them away, until they faded, and he’d gotten past it, or that’s what he desperately tried to convince himself he’d done.
And now Ray would figure it out. Ray would know, in a matter of seconds, that Frank had never fixed things at all. So, Frank gives Ray a quick hug and then practically runs out of the house. Jamia is supposed to be home tonight and so Frank goes home.
He walks around aimlessly with a cup of black coffee in his hand, for nearly an hour before Jamia comes back, her sunglasses pushed up over her forehead and two suitcases in her hand.
"Hey, sweetie," she says, setting the suitcases down and coming over to hug him. "Is he better?"
Frank just shakes his head. He can't seem to find his voice. "No. I just. I wanted to come home for a bit. Ray's visiting. Are you hungry? You want a sandwich?"
"You want to talk?" Jamia says, as Frank starts getting out four slices of bread, the container of hummus, the block of cheese, a tomato. Frank thinks the normality of the situation, making Jamia a sandwich, might kill him. He's not sure what it is, he's spent the last three days in a house, making food, watching TV, but he's also spent it trying to figure out how to keep Gerard in his sights the whole time, how to summarize four years of his life, how to keep Gerard sober. He's spent it with Gerard stroking his palm, Gerard leaning against him, Gerard kissing his jaw before he got up, Gerard giving him a look that he hadn't given Frank in years. On stage, it was different, it was a different look, it was about the music, it was about the stage, the audience. It was -
"I don't know," Frank says, and Jamia sits down at the table with him, picks up her pickle and eats it first. She just looks at him, and so Frank starts talking. "He's so different. Four years ago was...."
"He wasn't married," Jamia says and Frank nods. "You're still upset about that, huh," she says and it's not a question. "It doesn't mean that he loves you any less. I mean, you've got me and you still love him the same, right?"
Frank stands up so fast he knocks his chair over. He knows Gerard loves him, and he loves Gerard, but the way Jamia says it - "What did you say?" Frank says, his heart pounding in his ears.
Jamia smiles at him, this calm, quiet smile that makes him start to panic. "Oh, come on, honey, you think you're keeping this big secret? You think we'd still be together if I didn't understand?"
Frank doesn't understand. "What are you talking about?"
Jamia takes a bite of her sandwich. She looks at Frank until he picks up his chair and sits back down. “It’s ok,” she says, and smiles at him, and curls her fingers in his. Frank reaches over to his plate and takes half of his sandwich, and he eats it because he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what could possibly be ok about this situation. He thinks Jamia’s saying it’s ok because it’s in the past, it’s over, they made their choices, so even if Gerard has temporarily reverted - especially because Gerard has temporarily reverted, it’s ok for Frank to feel confused. And even if Jamia’s just saying it’s ok for him to still have feelings for Gerard, Frank doesn’t really think there’s anything ok about that at all. Even if there ever was a choice, it wouldn’t matter, because Gerard doesn’t love him back. Gerard moved on, and Frank’s the one lost back here, eating a sandwich and making himself and his girlfriend miserable.
“It’s ok,” Frank says, and Jamia squeezes his hand and smiles at him and Frank feels like maybe his lie is going to make it true.
Frank packs another bag with clothes, thinks about maybe doing laundry when he gets back, because it seems less weird than bringing his clothes back home to wash them, and while he’s debating this in his head, Jamia comes upstairs and sits down beside him on the bed, arranging things in his suitcase and then leaning over and kissing him. Frank sighs into it and Jamia breaks away to laugh, then kisses him again.
“Why don’t I come back with you?” Jamia says. She kisses him once more and then stands up, grabs a pair of jeans and throws them into his bag.
“Yeah,” Frank says, and then, getting up quickly, he says, “Make sure you don’t have anything alcoholic in your bag.”
“Of course,” Jamia says, and then, as she’s rooting through her purse to check, she holds up a small bottle. “Does perfume count?”
“Probably,” Frank says. “Just in case. And no pills, nothing except Tylenol.”
“You know I’ll punch Gerard if he starts going through my purse,” Jamia says, and Frank appreciates her trying to make a joke, but he’s still got a sinking feeling, like they’ve lucked out so far that Gerard hasn’t reached the point where he would dig through Jamia’s purse looking for something that could get him high, and that maybe it was only a matter of time.
Ray is gone when they get there, and Frank breathes a sigh of relief even if there is a phone message from Ray that Frank promises himself he’ll listen to later. Lyn-Z looks relieved to see Jamia, and they all sit around the kitchen table and catch up, though Gerard keeps stealing glances at the door.
Jamia pulls Frank aside maybe an hour later, telling him that she and Lyn-Z are going to go out for a while, and that, since she’s tired and a little jet-lagged, she’ll have Lyn-Z drop her off at home. Frank thinks it’s good for both of them to be going out together, and it’s not full of hidden meanings or desire for time alone with Gerard. He just wants Lyn-Z to have a break, and the clarity of that feeling makes him beam at Lyn-Z, probably a little too earnestly, because she looks back at him with a strange expression on her face.
When Frank finds Gerard, he’s listening to Three Cheers on his and Lyn-Z's new fantastic speaker system. Frank lets him be, wanders off into the kitchen, opening the cabinets and not really looking for food, just trying to chase away the restless feeling he’s got. When Frank hears the opening of The Black Parade, he goes back into the living room, because Gerard doesn’t really know this album. Gerard is sitting there, quietly staring at the wall. Frank peeks into the room, but can't sit still and listen. There's too much in each song he's used to doing live, the studio version feels strange. He goes upstairs, unpacks his bag, piles up a bunch of dirty clothes, comes back just in time for the bridge of Famous Last Words, and he sees Gerard is crying. Not sobbing, just sitting there quietly with tears running down his face.
"I didn’t write this," Gerard whispers, when Frank runs over and wraps his arms around him. It’s as though Gerard can't believe he'd ever feel like that, ever write those words, that they could ever sound like a classic rock band with a loud, beautiful sound. And, Frank thinks, four years ago, Gerard might not have been able to imagine this record, these songs. Four years was a long time, and four years in Gerard's life was a lot like a whole lifetime.
"I need a drink," Gerard says, and Frank stomach twists, he thinks he might actually be sick.
"No you don’t," Frank says, harshly.
"I know you say I got sober, but I don't fucking remember it, and it's not - I don't know how to do it! I just want a fucking drink," Gerard says, and then he sits back down on the couch and starts to shake.
"But I remember," Frank whispers. "I remember," Frank says as he wraps his arms around Gerard again. Gerard doesn't resist, just curls further into himself. Frank sits there, holding Gerard, until Gerard at least stops shaking, until his breathe is slow and Frank feels him slowly start to relax. Gerard’s breathe is warm against Frank’s shoulder, and Frank just leans in and kisses him. He doesn’t mean to, or, well, sure, he means to, but he’s thinking he shouldn’t do it exactly at the same moment he actually does it, so Gerard’s kissing him back by the time Frank realizes it’s a bad idea, and by the time he realizes it’s already too late to resist, Gerard has got his fingers tangled in Frank’s hair and he’s kissing Frank slow and deep and Frank has no willpower, because he wants this so badly, even if he knows he and Gerard really ought to fucking talk about it. He’s never said no to Gerard, and Gerard’s smart enough to have caught on to the fact that this isn’t what they’re doing, this isn’t who they are now, but Gerard is stuck four years ago and Frank follows him, willingly, right back there, and when Gerard rubs this thumbs over Frank’s jaw, when Gerard mumbles, “Please, can we?” Frank follows right along with him to four years ago, even though Frank doesn’t have the excuse of amnesia. Frank follows Gerard as he stands, kissing slow and soft and Frank could do this for hours, and seriously, this isn’t that bad, this is just kissing. Gerard’s hands slide slowly down Frank’s back as he leads him down the hall, and Frank thinks, absurdly, that they’re going to the kitchen and maybe Gerard wants to make some coffee but then Gerard runs up ahead, up to the top of the stairs. Frank freezes at the bottom. He could shake his head no, he could walk away now. He isn’t in the thrall of Gerard’s kisses, Gerard so close to him. He should be good and fucking tell Gerard no, that this isn’t ok, whatever it is that Gerard thinks is going to happen upstairs. But Gerard is standing there, with this look on his face, and Frank doesn’t remember if it was like this four years ago, if there was so much agony, if there were all these choices that Frank didn’t feel like he actually got to make. He’s already going up the stairs before Gerard says, “Frank, please.”
Gerard goes into Frank’s bedroom and that’s safe, Frank thinks. They’ve done this before there, it’s familiar.
But then Gerard is stripping off his shirt and laying down on the futon, biting his lip and looking up at Frank. “Come kiss me over here,” Gerard says, and Frank does. He wants Gerard so much in that moment, Gerard underneath him, Gerard telling him what to do, Gerard arching his back and looking at Frank through lidded eyes.
“Yes,” Frank says, and he’s surprised to hear himself speak it aloud. He wants Gerard’s skin against his, and it’s easy then, to slide into Gerard’s arms, easy to take off his own shirt, easy to slide off Gerard’s pants, and then his, easy to be completely naked, sucking on Gerard’s collarbone, digging his fingers into Gerard’s arms, rocking his hips slowly, lost in the overwhelming warmth and intensity of Gerard.
“Can we?” Gerard asks, his eyes going dark, and Frank knows exactly what he’s saying, exactly what he means and it makes his throat go dry.
“Turn over,” Frank says, barely trusting his voice, his arms already shaking. Gerard does, turning to look over his shoulder at Frank. Frank licks Gerard’s spine, his hands cupping Gerard’s ass. They’ve never done this before. This is completely new.
Frank brings his nose to the crack of Gerard’s ass and breathes out. Gerard tenses, and then moans, his mouth pressed against the futon cushion. And yeah, Frank thinks, yeah, this is good. Frank licks, hesitantly at first, more like an open-mouthed kiss, wet and a little aimless, but the noise Gerard makes, Jesus Christ, it makes Frank shiver, it makes him hard and desperate and he licks all the way up Gerard’s ass, pressing his thumbs and spreading Gerard open, licking short and fast until Gerard is making a whiny, throaty noise and jerking his hips. Frank digs his fingers in to Gerard’s cheeks, because he’s not done, damn it, he doesn’t want this to stop, he hasn’t made Gerard want it enough. He presses his tongue in hard, feeling the muscle, presses harder and Gerard just kind of melts. Gerard’s shoulders drop, his forehead presses into the mattress, he breathes out noisily, and Frank does it again and again. He wonders if maybe he should make Gerard come like this, Frank’s tongue in his ass and Frank’s hand around his cock, but no, Frank thinks, they’ve gone this far, and Frank knows what Gerard wants.
“Stay here,” Frank says, biting Gerard’s thigh and getting up. He won’t let Gerard leave like last time. He’ll chase him down if he thinks he can be an asshole like that, if he thinks he can just leave.
He feels awkward and terribly nervous looking around in the linen closet for lubricant but he’s not fucking Gerard with just spit, not the way he wants to do it, and this is Gerard’s house, surely it’s somewhere. He finally ventures into Gerard and Lyn-Z’s bedroom, and after hesitating a moment, opens the drawer on the bedroom table, and finds what he’s looking for. He’s naked in Lyn-Z’s bedroom, and he wants to laugh, wants to just crack up, because it’s too strange, too ridiculous. He feels too turned on to even feel guilty, the urgency to get back to Gerard washing away the wrongness. When he comes back, Gerard is shifting so he’s up on his elbows, his knees tucked under him. Frank can’t help the sound he makes.
“Fucking Christ, Gee,” Frank says, coming up and kneeling back down, running his hands over Gerard’s back, down the pale curve, over the knobs of his spine. “That’s good, Gee, that’s really good,” Frank murmurs, kissing Gerard’s back.
Gerard stays like that, up on his elbows, craning his neck back to look at Frank, as Frank slicks his fingers and slides one, then two in, and it’s probably too fast but Gerard’s making a noise every time he breathes out, a pleased-sounding noise, and Frank’s really starting to lose control. He says, “Do you want - “ as he positions his cock at Gerard’s opening, and presses in.
Gerard actually laughs, and says, still laughing, “Jesus Christ, Frankie, yes,” and that’s the thing Frank thinks as he pushes all the way into Gerard, as he rocks his hips and then slams them hard against Gerard, as he wipes sweat from Gerard’s temples, as Gerard falls forward, his forehead pressed against the mattress, as Frank moves his hand under them and wraps it around Gerard’s cock. Frank thinks that Gerard laughing as they’re doing this is the thing that makes it real. Gerard looks over his shoulder, catches Frank’s eyes, and fucking grins just before he comes on Frank’s hand, and then Frank’s coming, too, shouting and laughing, his mouth against Gerard’s back as they collapse.
Frank falls asleep without really meaning to, cold and dirty and pressed up awkwardly against Gerard on the too-small futon, and even though he manages to pull a blanket over them, it’s uncomfortable enough that he doesn’t fall too deeply into sleep. He’s out long enough, though, that Lyn-Z is back, and when Frank opens his eyes, Lyn-Z is standing at the half-open door. Frank can’t read the expression on her face, but as soon as she sees that he’s awake, she closes the door and he hears her walk down the hallway. Frank stumbles up, wincing when he puts weight on the leg that’s fallen asleep. He fumbles for his clothes, and Gerard turns over, one bare arm falling from underneath the blanket.
“Everything ok, Frankie?” Gerard says, dazedly. Frank stops in the middle of buttoning his pants, leans close and kisses Gerard softly.
“It’s fine. You sleep,” and Gerard pulls the blanket up over his face, agreeing.
Downstairs, Lyn-Z is opening mail. Frank hesitates at the bottom of the stairs and then goes into the kitchen. He’s conscious of how it must have looked immediately, how he must still look now, hair messy, sleep lines on his face, in the middle of the afternoon. He could have been just taking a nap, except that he was with Gerard, and the blanket can’t have covered much.
“Lyn - “ he starts, but she looks up at him and shakes her head slightly.
“I brought Jamia home,” she says, like she never came upstairs. “How’s Gerard?”
“Freaked out by listening to songs he doesn’t remember writing,” Frank says, and Lyn-Z nods. “Listen, about…”
“I just can’t talk about it right now,” Lyn-Z says.
“Ok, ” Frank says, and even though it’s not the right time, he has to tell her about Gerard talking about drinking. “Ok, but - just so you know, Gerard said he needed a drink again.”
“And so this was how you dealt with it?” Lyn-Z says quietly. She looks suddenly dangerously angry. “What would you do if I told you I needed a drink?”
Frank doesn’t know what to say.
“Do you remember our first fight?” Lyn-Z says after a moment. “Probably not. It was about a month since Gerard and I had been together, and we were going to a party. You told me not to let him get drunk? I slapped you?”
Frank feels his face flush. He remembered, all right. Lyn-Z had shouted at him, “I'm not Bert.”
And Frank had fucking replied, "We'll see." He remembers now, and he's appalled at himself. She wasn't anything like Bert, Frank should have seen that from the start. She was a whole other kind of person, and Frank was too busy dismissing her to realize she was going to be around for the long run and perhaps he ought to have put some effort into getting to know her.
“I’m sorry,” Frank says, and Lyn-Z shrugs.
“It’s fine,” she says dismissively. “If he gets bad, I’m ready.”
Frank isn’t sure she is, but he nods anyway.
He remembers how Gerard used to be, early afternoon, with a drink, later if there was a show, and ok, Frank tries to be honest with himself, he drank, too, but not in the way Gerard drank, like it was necessary, like it was medicine. Frank isn't sure that any of them could have made Gerard get sober, could have forced him into making that decision. But once he'd made it, they were all there for him, there to do whatever he needed. They could protect him, keep him from the poison, listen to him ask, in an uncertain voice, whether this was worth it, whether he was strong enough, whether it even mattered.
Frank doesn't have to try to remember what it was like, that level of vigilance, of concern, of whole-band devotion to Gerard. They did whatever he needed, said whatever he needed to hear. And Frank could do that again. If Gerard needed him, he could do it.
Frank tells Lyn-Z he thinks they're lucky Gerard isn't actually detoxing, so the desire for alcohol is entirely non-physical addiction-based. He's said a couple of times he wants a drink, but Frank thinks Gerard must be so shocked, he doesn't really know what he wants, what he needs.
It starts with cajoling. Gerard is disturbingly good at flattery, at enticement, to get what he wants, and Frank watches Lyn-Z's eyes flash the first time Gerard goes from having a pleasant, comfortable conversation with her to asking her to get him something to drink, please, just a drink. She handles it well, not acknowledging how egregiously Gerard has just broken all trust he was building with her, just changing the subject, but Frank pulls her aside later to make sure they're a united front. He doesn't want to get into it, doesn't want to have to explain to Lyn-Z how it was before, feels almost like he should protect Gerard from having Lyn-Z see that part of him, but he can't help it once Gerard shows he's not above sinking pretty low to get a drink.
Gerard doesn't start begging until 7 that night, and it's pathetic, and it hurts Frank as much as it fucking pisses him off, and he tries to just shut down, to take himself out of the equation. It doesn't matter what Gerard says, Frank just needs to keep Gerard in the house and away from the poison.
It's fucking exhausting, and when Gerard lets loose a final string of aspersions against their characters and calls them jailers once more and then declares he's going to bed, Frank thinks, good, they all need some rest. He and Lyn-Z agree to split shifts, Frank will sleep downstairs and Lyn-Z upstairs, and it isn't until Frank is blinking awake at the sound of someone dropping their keys repeatedly at the front door that he thinks he really should have made some coffee and stayed awake, and then his mind connects to the sound and he knows. He knows he's fucked up.
Frank opens the door, and Gerard is there, blinking at the bright light of the living room, smiling widely and completely drunk off his ass. He is carrying a bag that Frank tries to tug from him and Gerard tightens his grip.
"No," is the first thing Gerard says to him, and Frank just hopes that he can keep Gerard quiet enough so that they don't wake Lyn-Z, so that she doesn't see this. Doesn't blame Frank, doesn't see Gerard at his worst. Gerard would be so heartbroken and that's the thought that keeps Frank from taking a fucking swing at Gerard.
"Come inside," Frank whispers harshly.
"No," Gerard says, but a little less convinced. "You'll just lock me up again."
"Ok, you want to sleep out there, fine," Frank says and turns his back. Gerard follows him in, slams the door half on his own foot, and it bounces back open.
"Ow," Gerard says, and then he stumbles and falls. Frank takes the opportunity to grab Gerard's bag, which contains, as Frank suspects, two full bottles.
"This is shit, Gerard," Frank says, looking at it. "What were you going to fucking do with this, hide it in your bedroom?"
"Fuck you," Gerard says. He's still on the floor. Frank leaves him there, and goes into the kitchen to empty the bottles down the sink. He's not going to lose it, he's really not. He can handle this. Just pouring poison down the drain, because it isn't allowed in this house. The sharp smell of vodka fills the kitchen and Frank coughs.
Frank hears Gerard get himself up, walk into the kitchen. "Don't do that, Frankie," Gerard says, leaning in the doorway. His voice is soft, pleading. Frank can't look at him. "I'm sorry," Gerard says.
"No, you're not," Frank answers. "You're just saying what you think I want to hear."
Frank knows he's right when Gerard calls him a motherfucker and calls Lyn-Z a few names for good measure. “What does Jamia think you're doing here?" Gerard says, and apparently they’re at that part of the conversation, where Gerard gets mean. Frank breathes in deeply, tries not to be present, tries not to get into this with Gerard. He's here just to get Gerard to fucking bed.
"Where'd you go, Gerard?" he says instead of answering.
"I asked you a question first, motherfucker, what does your girlfriend think her amazing Frank is doing, sleeping over at some other woman's house?"
"She knows I'm here with you," Frank says calmly.
"You never liked me better than her," Gerard says sadly. Frank's heart thrums in his chest.
"Where did you go," he says, trying to take control of the conversation. "To a bar?"
"I went somewhere they'd give me a drink," Gerard spits.
"You waited until we were both sleeping and you snuck out of the fucking house to go get trashed. Isn't that pathetic, Gee?" Frank says. Gerard stares at him. "Look at you. You look terrible. Do you feel good?"
"I'm not drunk," Gerard says.
Frank can't help the groan that escapes his lips. "Is this the game we're playing tonight, Gee? You're not actually drunk? You dropped your keys four fucking times outside the front door and then fell on the floor when I let you in, and you're not drunk? At least admit that you went to get fucking trashed. I'm surprised you can even talk. At least you came home and we didn't find you asleep on the street."
"That never happened."
"Fucking right it did, Gee. You were so drunk you slept on the street and Mikey found you and brought you home."
"Fuck you," Gerard says, and he comes over to the sink to examine the empty bottles. "You don't get to tell me what to do. This is my own fucking house, and you're not my boyfriend. I don't even fucking know who you are, what the hell you're doing here," Gerard says.
"No, I'm not your boyfriend, Gerard, but I'm here because sometimes you can't take care of yourself. Now shut the fuck up and go to bed before I call your brother."
Frank wonders if it's the thought of him calling Mikey that makes Gerard puke or if it's just the timing, but Frank's thankful Gerard at least makes it to the sink, even if it's not the bathroom.
Frank runs the water, washing everything down the drain, and splashes some of it on Gerard's face, who is still gasping and dry-heaving a little. Frank wipes Gerard’s face, pushes back his hair when he stands up, and helps him, slowly and stumbling, up the stairs.
"I'm sorry, Frankie," Gerard says, as Frank half-drags him to the bed and covers him with a blanket, and Frank knows, this time, Gerard actually means it.
Lyn-Z comes downstairs as Frank is getting out the bleach.
"He snuck out?" she asks, and Frank runs the hot water.
"Yeah," he says, and then, "I'm sorry." It's his fault. He should know Gerard better.
"Gerard tricked us into relaxing and then took advantage of our exhaustion and went out and got trashed. How is any of that your fault?"
"I should have been awake. I should have stopped him."
Lyn-Z gives him a look he's never seen before. It's long and Frank feels like it's both wonder and disapproval. "Frank," she says, her hand on his arm, her glasses falling down her nose, incredibly warm and close. "I know you think you know Gerard better than anyone besides his little brother, and ok, maybe you do, but did you ever think that, if it’s all your fault, then it means that you’re the only one who can make things better? That’s just not fair to me.”
She kisses Frank on the cheek, and then takes the bleach from him, plugs the drain, pours a little into the sink, and runs the water again. "Go upstairs, I'll take care of this."
He just stands there, and when she turns and sees he's still there, she goes to push at his chest, but then, Frank isn't really sure what makes him do it, dead tired and strung out, and chasing after the warmth he felt when she was close, but he leans up and kisses her. "Oh," she gasps, and then kisses him back. The kitchen smells like vodka and bleach and Frank kisses Lyn-Z a little desperately, a little frantically, his hands sliding down her back and when his fingers touch the warm skin where her tank top has ridden up, Frank chokes and pulls away.
His fingers go to his lips and he's staring at the floor. When he looks up, Lyn-Z is smiling.
"That was...."
"Really wrong, I'm sorry, I don't even - " Frank stops, because he has no idea what he's trying to say.
"Confusing," Lyn-Z says. "That was confusing." She reaches up and almost touches Frank's arm but stops. "I’ll take care of this,” she says again. “I'll see you in the morning, ok?" Frank nods, still stunned, and goes upstairs to bed.
“Look, we need to talk,” Lyn-Z says, the next morning. Gerard is still asleep, or still pretending to be asleep. Frank’s checked on him twice already. “Let’s go out. I’ve called Mikey. He’s promised not to give Gerard a hard time about last night,” Lyn-Z says. “I believe him.”
“Yeah, Mikey knows what to do. He always has.” Frank says.
“Mikey’ll be here in a minute. I’m sure it’s safe for us to leave.”
Frank hesitates, and Lyn-Z looks at him even harder. “He has a key?” Frank says because he’s not sure what else to say.
“Yeah, of course he does,” Lyn-Z says with an easy laugh. Frank doesn’t know what he’s more shocked about, that he thought Mikey wouldn’t have a key to Gerard’s place, or that he’s surprised Lyn-Z thought of it before he did.
The walls of the restaurant are orange and everything on the menu is vegan, and the waitress smiles at Lyn-Z and beams at Frank but doesn't dissolve into giggles, doesn't ask for an autograph, and Frank isn't sure she actually knows who they are or if she's just super friendly. "What'll you guys have?" she says, like they're guests at her house.
Frank orders tea and Lyn-Z orders lemonade for herself and for Frank, because she insists he try it, and Frank thinks it's a shame he didn't get to know her better first, before she became Gerard's wife, because she's done something everyday that surprises him. Little things, the jokes she makes, the things she knows about Gerard. He doesn't know what it is about it that surprises him, other than that he clearly didn't trust Gee's judgment. It happened so fast, was such a surprise, it wasn't like with Alicia, who was around for a while before it seemed like she and Mikey got serious, and then Alicia was there for Mikey during his breakdown. Frank doesn't want to admit that he feels like he needs the people who love his bandmates to prove themselves worthy, but that's exactly it.
"So I guess this is me talking to you about what happened last night?" Lyn-Z says, and then, "You ought to try the lemonade, it's the best." Frank tries it, looks at the calluses on Lyn-Z's fingers, at her easy smile. "I mean, maybe it doesn't hurt to look at it like we are actually four years ago, for just a little while. Maybe it will help us figure out what Gee needs."
Frank still doesn’t say anything and Lyn-Z sips her lemonade. “How about this. Pretend that I’m Gerard’s new girlfriend, and you’re checking me out to make sure I’m worthy.”
There’s a smile, but Frank feels like she knows, right then, that he never thought her worthy. And that’s not true, it’s not that he never thought her worthy, it’s just that he never got the chance to check her out. He never got the chance to know her. She was just there, all the time, and Gerard talked about her and they toured together and Frank kept to himself and then - and then -
"Well," Frank thinks, because it's not a crazy idea at all, maybe, to pretend, even if it’s after the fact, "You're in a band, so you know what touring's like, and you know how weird it is to go from touring with your band to home without them. Gerard doesn't like to be alone."
Lyn-Z smiles, and Frank can see in her eyes that she already knew this, and it's a relief to him, because it's hard to explain some things about Gerard if you don't already know them.
"You should also talk to Mikey. No one knows Gee like this brother, and they're close. And if you think of the way Gerard talks and talks and doesn't always say what he means, Mikey doesn't, Mikey just says what he means, and sometimes it's vague, but sometimes it makes all the sense you need. Gee's calmer when he goes to AA, and sometimes he won't shut up about it and sometimes he won't say a word, and neither of them means one thing or another, you know? It's not like, when he says nothing that it means something's wrong, it's just the way his head works. Sometimes he can't spend too much time thinking about himself."
"Did you guys ever date?" Lyn-Z says, and Frank chokes on his lemonade. "What?" she says, not letting up, looking innocent. Frank admires her, so much in that moment, can totally see how she handles all the boys in her band, how she handles the scene. She's tough, she's confident, and she knows how to play. "I don't actually know the answer," she says, quietly, outside of the game now.
"We never dated, no," Frank says, and because Lyn-Z's staring at him and because he knows this is for Gee, he says, "I don't know how to talk about this."
"It's ok, I can ask Jamia," Lyn-Z says and their sandwiches come and Frank can hardly hang on, because he's trying to think how he'd explain what happened with him and Gee, because he's never explained it to himself. He just…knew how things were. He wasn’t lying when he said it wasn’t something he knew how to talk about it.
“I don’t know what Jamia will be able to tell you,” Frank says, and Lyn-Z frowns at him.
“Ok…” she says, hesitantly, pushing back in her chair. “Is it a secret? Because you can just tell me that. I’m not trying to get into the middle of anything, I’m just trying to understand.”
“It’s not a secret, not, it’s just….complicated,” Frank says.
“Ok,” Lyn-Z says, and watches Lyn-Z’s throat as she takes a sip from her glass and swallows. “While we’re talking about complicated, do we want to talk about us kissing last night?”
Frank stares down at his plate, feeling like he just got caught watching her. “Can I say no?”
“Well, you can, but it’s not going to make this any easier. Look, I’m trying, Frank. I come home and you were in bed with Gerard and I don’t want to talk about that but we need to, at some point, because I don’t understand. And then you kiss me, and maybe you were just blowing off steam or maybe you want to fuck us both or, I don’t know. The only other possibility is that you’re screwing around with me and if you’re doing that because I married Gerard, if this is some sort of vengeance thing - ”
“No,” Frank says, panicking, his mouth dry. “No, I wouldn’t do that. It’s just - Gerard and I used to have a thing. Four years ago. And then he met you, and, it stopped.”
“Yeah, I got that part,” Lyn-Z says, clearly getting impatient. “I’m trying to figure out what that thing was, and what it means.”
“I don’t know,” Frank says, a little helplessly.
“You really don’t, do you?” Lyn-Z says, looking at him for a long time. “Ok,” she says, and she reaches across the table and brushes the tips of her fingers over Frank’s arm, letting them drift just under his wrist, as though testing him. He shivers, and she smiles, and Frank wishes he had some idea what was going on.
The thing is, Lyn-Z does ask Jamia, that afternoon, a little while after they get back. Frank is playing with his guitar in the living room while Mikey and Gerard glare at each other, hug, and then glare at each other. Frank remembers that, too, and he doesn’t know why they’re all doomed to repeat this awful time, what they did or didn’t do or who they fucked over, but he’s not happy about it. And then Frank hears Jamia’s name, looks around and realizes that he’s only hearing Lyn-Z’s voice and she must be on the phone and Jamia isn’t here. He feels a sudden homesickness, and sets his guitar down, and gestures to Lyn-Z that he wants the phone when she’s done. After a few minutes, Lyn-Z says, “Thanks, honey, yeah, come over for dinner, next week, maybe? Ok, here’s Frank.”
“Hi, honey,” Frank says, and Jamia laughs.
“It’s like musical house guests,” she says, “How are you?”
Frank tells her about the lunch place he and Lyn-Z went to, about an idea he has for Skeleton Crew, and when she asks about Gerard, he just hmmms, and she says, “It’s ok, you can tell me about it later when he’s not right there.”
“So, what were you and Lyn-Z talking about?” Frank asks.
Jamia says, “You and Gerard,” and Frank had almost forgotten.
“Oh,” he says, and then, his voice sounding more unsteady than he means it to, “So what did you tell her?”
"You want to know what I told Lyn-Z?” Jamia asks, her voice tight, “Or you want to know what happened between you and Gee?"
“I just - ” Frank says and stops.
“We should probably talk when I come by later,” Jamia says, and then, firmly, “Let me talk to Lyn-Z again, I wanted to ask her something about the label.”
Frank hands the phone back, stunned, picks his guitar back up and starts playing, trying not to pay attention to Gerard and Mikey, to Lyn-Z on the phone, to the house or the voices in his head, to the weird feeling wrapping itself around his throat.
Things get worse when Mikey goes home. Gerard keeps walking out on conversations with Lyn-Z each time Lyn-Z says his name, incase he forgot that she was actually saying something to him and not just to talking to hear herself talk, and each time, Gerard doesn't even pause, and so she just watches him go. The third time, Frank offers to go and speak to Gerard and Lyn-Z shouts, angry and frustrated, "No, it's fine. If he doesn't want to know what the doctor said about his test results, then that's fine with me, really, but he could fucking tell me. He could say the words, ‘I don't care’ instead of just walking off like I'm not even here."
"I'll go talk to him," Frank says, already halfway out of the room after Gerard.
"Oh, sure," Lyn-Z says. "Because I won't resent that at all."
She turns and goes out onto the porch and Frank wants to say something about how that wasn’t how he meant it, but he thinks he'll only make it worse.
So he does go and try to talk to Gerard, because maybe Gerard will listen to him when he's not listening to Lyn-Z and even if it's stupid and even if it makes Lyn-Z angry, it's not really about her. It's about Gerard being an idiot, forgetting that people sometimes need to come first, before his thoughts, no matter what he's thinking.
"Asshole, come back here," Frank says, because as soon as he goes into the living room, Gerard gets up and walks out.
"Leave me alone," Gerard says. His hands are balled into fists at his side.
"I want to talk to you about what you just did to your wife."
"Stop calling her that," Gerard bites out.
Frank stops, and catches his breath. "That's who she is," he says, after a moment, because he's not sure what else to say.
Gerard just shrugs.
"Ok, it shouldn't matter who she is, you're being a jerk," Frank says, when he doesn't get any other sort of response from Gerard. "You're not the fucking center of the universe, so stop and listen to what people are saying because when it's Lyn-Z and I talking, we're pretty much always talking about you."
"I thought you said I wasn't the center of the universe,” Gerard says, and slams the door of the studio in Frank’s face.
And that’s about the limit of Frank’s patience and so he decides to leave Gerard be and to go try and smooth things over with Lyn-Z. He goes out to the porch, where she’s still standing, looking out at the street. He lights a cigarette, offers her one, which she refuses. "He's just being an asshole," Frank says, and Lyn-Z turns glares at him.
"Oh, I know. You think I’ve never seen Gerard be an asshole before?"
Frank takes several drag from his cigarette before saying, “I don’t know what you want me to do.”
“I want you to stop acting like you can fix everything,” she says
Frank never gets to respond, because Gerard comes out onto the porch, launches in a screaming fit about how he isn't hung over and he didn't do anything wrong the other night and he wants a drink and it's fucking stupid that they're holding him prisoner here. Gerard takes a swing at Frank and hits him in the stomach and Frank swings right back at Gerard's jaw, not as hard as he could have, but harder than he should have. He just wanted to shake some sense into Gerard because when Gerard was angry like this, it was blind rage, he was just so caught up in feeling out of control. Lyn-Z just stands at the doorway, like she had no idea what was going on.
"You might need to hit him, too" Frank says, as Gerard hurries down the hallway, and Frank distantly hears another door slam. Frank clutches his stomach and winces as he tries to stand up straight.
"Looks like it's done a lot of good," Lyn-Z says, and Frank turns on her.
"You don't fucking know him at all." Frank shouts.
"No, I don't know him at all,” she says, cool and dry, “I married a stranger. I picked the first singer that smelled like success and I tricked him into marrying me."
Frank just walks away, but she follows.
”Let's bring him to Mikey's if you think that'll help,." she says, and when he looks back, she seems at least conciliatory.
"Mikey knows what Gerard's like when he's like this," Frank says.
"And I don't. That's the problem?” Her face heats back up again, her whole body wound tight. “I’ve never had to punch my husband?"
"You shouldn't have to!" Frank shouts, surprising himself, and wincing again when his stomach twinges. "He's supposed to be better for you."
Lyn-Z pushes right up into Frank’s space, her fingers tight on his arm. "So you only get the fucked up Gerard? You don't get to have him when he's better, when he's fixed?"
Frank freezes. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Jesus Christ, Frank, this is what I'm talking about," she says, and slams into him, like she's trying to knock him over, except that she's kissing him, and all of Frank's breath is gone. He kisses her back, really feeling it this time, really paying attention to how Lyn-Z tastes, to how her mouth feels. She pulls back first, but her hand stays on his neck.
"Um," Frank says, and Lyn-Z shakes her head.
"I want the whole Gerard, too. I want him exactly as he is,” Lyn-Z whispers, and then she wraps her arms around him. Frank hesitates, then does the same, holding her close. “I didn't take him from you," she says, and Frank listens to her breathe, and tries to figure out how to tell her he doesn't think that, how to tell her he never had Gerard in the first place.
Part 3