Inertia [7/14]
Title: Inertia [7/14]
Author: periculosa
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Fake.
Warnings: There’s some gore in this chapter. Also, implicit sex, but not worthy of an NC-17 rating.
Summary: The faster you’re going, the harder it is to stop. When MCR go to live at the Paramour in LA, strange happenings bring them closer together, as well as farther apart.
Notes: Well hai there, really long chapter. This took a surprisingly short amount of time, considering all the shit that goes down. Another huuuge thanks to lafeelivresque for, again, doing an amazing betaing job.
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Well, I think I’m gonna burn in hell.
[//]
Returning to the Paramour should have felt like a homecoming, but for whatever reason, it didn’t. Leaving, Gerard had felt like an escaped prisoner. Now, coming back, he felt re-captured. However, Gerard wondered if he was the only one feeling like this. The others appeared to be invigorated by their recent performance; even Mikey seemed more upbeat than usual, joining in with the joking in the rental car on the way back to the estate.
But all good humor came to a grinding halt as the car climbed the steep hill that led up to the Paramour. As they ascended the incline, an unfamiliar sight swam into view-one that made Gerard’s stomach lurch.
A small black car had smashed headlong into a tree on the deserted road, and it looked completely totaled. Gerard felt panic rising in his throat quickly; he was certain he saw blood splattered on the left window, and what was left of the windshield.
The car was suddenly filled with noise: Frank and Bob were cursing incessantly, and Ray, who was driving, slammed on the breaks reflexively. Mikey was staring wide-eyed out the window, looking as if he wanted to avert his eyes so badly, but couldn’t quite bring himself to.
“What the fuck, man?” Frank swore, lifting himself up in his seat to try to get a better look. “What the fuck do we do? That does not look good.”
“Shit,” Ray muttered, bringing a hand up to his forehead. “Well, maybe there’s nobody in there. Maybe someone called an ambulance already or something. Maybe…” his voice trailed off, and Gerard got the impression he wasn’t really listening to himself.
“Someone better go check,” Gerard said quietly, and everybody in the van turned towards him. “Not me, no fucking way. This shit disturbs me, man.”
“He’s right, you know,” Frank murmured, looking at Ray. “Someone’s gotta look.”
The car was quiet for about thirty seconds, only Mikey’s heavy breathing filling the emptiness. “Fuck it, I’ll do it,” Bob said, climbing out of the car. “Just… fuck, someone get out their phone for chrissake, because from where we are right now? Yeah, doesn’t look too good.” Ray complied, reaching into his pocket and turning on his phone.
Gerard peered out the window and watched Bob’s receding figure nearing the crushed car. Gerard could see that his shoulders were tense and his stance guarded as he stepped closer to the wreck, anticipating the gruesome sight. Sure enough, when he was close enough to see inside the driver’s window, he stopped walking and flinched. Once he came to his senses, he turned on his heel and walked away on shaky legs for several yards before bending down and retching.
“Holy fuck,” Ray muttered, and at the same time Mikey whimpered pathetically.
“Why the fuck does this shit always have to happen?” Mikey said, so quietly that Gerard had to lean close to hear the end of it. Gerard made to put his hand on Mikey’s arm, but Mikey jerked it out of Gerard’s reach. “Just don’t, please. Fuck.”
By this time, Bob had composed himself and climbed back into the car. “Yeah, that was fucking disturbing,” he said, sounding very tired. “You better call the fucking cops or something. No ambulance necessary, because there’s no way whoever was in there is being saved.”
“You got it,” Ray said grimly, staring at his phone and trying to figure out if he had a signal. He quickly dialed 911, and explained the situation to the operator.
Any energy Gerard had left over from the show-which now seemed weeks, even months in the past-was draining out of him. It just figured that something like this would happen to them when they were there. He was having a lot of trouble not imagining what Bob may have seen in that car, though he thought that his imagination was probably a lot worse than the reality. Regardless, he did not want to look.
Frank was sitting very still, and his face was buried in his hands. He seemed to be breathing normally, though, and Gerard figured that he would be all right. Mikey, on the other hand, was on the verge of hyperventilation.
“Jesus, Mikey,” Gerard said, again trying to touch Mikey’s arm, but this time when Mikey pulled away, Gerard just lunged across the seat and grabbed a hold of him. “You have to calm down.” His instinct was to start cursing; it’s what he usually did when he got nervous or scared, but he knew that the harsh language would only make Mikey’s nerves worse. “Listen, it’s all going to be okay. Car crashes happen all the time… and yeah, that’s not very comforting, but. Hey. The police are going to come and take care of it, and you don’t have to worry.” Mikey was silent through Gerard’s little speech, and he seemed to have calmed down slightly, perhaps because of what Gerard said, or perhaps just from the sound of his brother’s voice.
“I have a bad feeling about this, Gee,” he said, and Gerard was surprised that he was even speaking.
“About what?”
Mikey shrugged one shoulder half-heartedly. “Just. This. Like, in general.”
Gerard shook his head. “You’re being too superstitious. Just. Let it go, Mikey. This is upsetting, but it’ll be over soon.”
Mikey just sat there, the same grim look on his face.
[//]
The cops and an ambulance showed up a quarter hour later in order to break down the scene of the accident and try to assess the situation. Gerard’s morbid side was fascinated, and almost wanted to watch, but Frank practically dragged him and Mikey up to the house, insisting that they stay inside while the cops cleaned up. Bob was the first one inside, not needing Frank’s coaxing to get him moving. Ray was going to stay and watch, but apparently changed his mind quickly (Gerard didn’t ask, because he didn’t want to know). He wound up sitting on the couch with the rest of them ten minutes later.
They sat there a long while, listening to the sound of the clock ticking. None of them said anything, but Gerard kept smoothing a soothing hand over Mikey’s leg, and he seemed to be calming down. In fact, by the time the police knocked on the door a few hours later, Mikey had fallen asleep with his head on Gerard’s shoulder.
Ray was the first to rush to the door. Frank shrugged and got up a few seconds later, glancing at Gerard to see if he was going to come. Gerard gently eased Mikey off of him and stood, walking with Frank to the front door, and Bob trailed behind them, still looking somewhat pale and nauseated.
There were two police officers standing at the door, one male and one female. The woman started speaking as soon as Ray opened the door.
“We’ve done some investigating on the scene, and we’d like to see if you can confirm some of our findings,” she said grimly, holding her hat in her hands. Ray nodded, his lips pressed together tightly.
“Well,” she said, “we determined that the car must have been traveling far above the speed limit to hit the tree with such force. We’re going to need to do an autopsy on the body to see if the driver had any alcohol or narcotics in his system, because we can’t otherwise find anything that may have caused the crash. There weren’t even any skid marks, so either he didn’t see the tree, or he crashed intentionally. Also, this is a private road, am I correct?”
“Yes,” Frank said. “We never really hear any cars driving by here, so it’s strange that anybody was even on the road.”
“Exactly,” the other cop said, nodding. “And according to some professionals on the scene, the crash happened at least twelve hours before you gave us a call. The road must be pretty deserted if you were the first to report it.”
“Right,” Ray said, nodding. The officer then asked him for some information, like his name and a number at which he could be contacted.
“Alright,” the female officer said. “Thank you for your help.”
“No problem,” Ray said. “And thank you.” Both officers nodded their heads and turned to leave.
Ray shut and locked the door behind them, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “That was a great way to start the writing process,” he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else.
When they returned to the live room, they saw Mikey was sprawled out on the couch, squirming in his sleep and covered in a sticky layer of sweat. Gerard groaned and rushed over to him, shaking him awake. “Mikey, go to bed,” he said once his brother’s eyes opened. “You need the rest.”
Mikey sat up reluctantly and eyed Gerard with confusion. A moment later, he flinched, and a distinct look of discomfort crossed his face. “Gee, I don’t feel too good,” he said weakly, and Gerard caught Bob’s eye, shaking his head slightly. “I’m kind of dizzy.”
“So go to bed, like I said,” Gerard coaxed, sitting next to him on the couch and wrapping one of his hands around his brother’s thin arm. “Come on, get up. We’ll help you up the stairs.” Bob nodded in agreement and walked over to take Mikey’s other arm. Together, Bob and Gerard supported his wobbly form as the three of them mounted the twisting staircase.
It took a while, but they eventually managed to get him to his bedroom. “Alright, here you go Mikey,” Bob said as they walked him over to the right side of his bed and helped him lower himself down. After he was lying down, Gerard removed his glasses and placed them on the nightstand.
“Thanks,” Mikey muttered.
“Do you have a fever?” Gerard asked, pressing his hand to Mikey’s forehead before he could answer.
“Don’t think so,” he said. Sure enough, he seemed cool to the touch; more so than usual, in fact.
“You want the blinds closed?” Bob asked, going towards one of the windows.
“No, leave ‘em,” Mikey said. “Thanks guys.”
“No problem,” Gerard said. “Feel better, okay dude?”
“Whatever,” Mikey said, turning over and shutting his eyes.
Bob and Gerard left, and once they were outside and the door was shut, Bob raised his eyebrows at Gerard. “Do you think he’ll be okay? Like, he doesn’t need a doctor, does he?”
Gerard shrugged. “He seems alright now. He’s probably just in shock, you know?”
“Do I,” Bob muttered darkly.
“We’ll check on him later, yes?” Gerard said as they started to climb back downstairs.
“Yeah,” Bob said, nodding once.
[//]
They didn’t need to. At midnight, about six hours after they’d put Mikey to bed, they heard the scramble of feet on the second floor, a startled gasp, and a few moments later, the sound of a toilet seat being slammed. Gerard was the first on his feet; he took the steps two at a time as he rushed to make sure Mikey was okay. Bob was close behind, and Frank and Ray, perhaps sensing the urgency in the situation, followed as well.
Gerard walked briskly through the West wing, cursing the fact that Mikey’s room was all the way at the end of it. When they reached the bathroom, however, they saw that the door was closed, and heard the distinct sound of retching. Gerard cringed sympathetically and knocked on the door. “Mikey?”
More sputtering was heard, followed by some splashing as Mikey vomited. “Fuck,” Bob muttered, not quite sure what else to say.
“Should we go in there?” Ray asked from behind Gerard.
“No man, leave him alone. He’s puking for chrissake,” Frank said. “Would you want us gaping at you while you puked?”
“He has a point,” Gerard muttered, backing away from the door slightly.
So they waited outside until the retching stopped, and they heard the toilet flush. At that point, Gerard knocked again and didn’t get an answer, so he opened the door.
Mikey was leaning against the sink, looking like a complete wreck. He looked even stickier than he had when Gerard and Bob guided him to his bed earlier, and now he had sunken eyes and dozens of tiny little burst blood vessels all over his face from the effort of vomiting. “Christ,” Bob muttered, walking inside the room and taking Mikey’s arm. “Stupid question, but are you okay?”
Mikey mumbled something unintelligible, and Bob gaped at him for a moment before lifting a hand to his forehead, then pulling it away with a grimace. “He’s burning up, man,” he said, looking at Gerard.
“Shit,” Gerard breathed. “Come on Mikey, back to bed.” He took Mikey’s other arm and he and Bob brought Mikey to his room, like they had earlier. However, when Mikey was about to be seated on the bed, he suddenly tensed up and resisted them.
“No,” he said faintly, flexing his fingers and trying to jerk out of Gerard’s grip. He did so easily, but Bob gripped him harder and didn’t let go.
“‘No’ what, Mikey?” Bob asked.
“Not here,” he mumbled, barely understandable.
“But this is your room, man,” Gerard said, resting a hand on Mikey’s shoulder, who was having trouble standing up.
“Don’t care,” Mikey said. “This isn’t good. Not a good room.”
“This is silly,” Gerard said, laughing in disbelief. “Mikey, you’re sick. Just go to sleep.”
Mikey grumbled under his breath and resisted some more, but eventually he gave in and lay down on his bed. He was out like a light barely a minute later, and the four of them left without another word.
[//]
And that was it, Gerard was convinced that something, somewhere was out to get them. It was one thing after another, and this should have been going so much smoother than it actually was. That night when he lay down to go to sleep, he was in pain, but it wasn’t a physical pain; he felt as if his very soul was aching. He was so tired, but more emotionally than anything else. He had actually gotten a really great sleep the night before; he didn’t know if it was because he wasn’t in the Paramour, or because Frank was holding him, but he slept solidly and dreamlessly.
At the opposite extreme, Gerard had his worst nightmares to date that night. Not only did he see car wrecks and fires and explosions, but he saw faces of people he actually recognized being crushed and burned and torn apart. It started out bad and it got worse; first, he saw an old classmate or a neighbor or an acquaintance. He’d wake up, and he’d wipe his face of the sweat that had accumulated there, and then when he fell back asleep, those faces would be replaced with friends from home. As it went on, he started to see his parents’ faces. Then Bob’s and Ray’s. Then Kasper’s. Then Frank’s. Then Mikey’s. It went on, and Gerard couldn’t breathe, watching the people he loved screaming in anguish and writhing and he was watching but couldn’t do anything to save them.
But when he woke up, he still couldn’t breathe, and that was worse than the dreams. Because those were dreams, and when he woke up they weren’t real anymore. But this… unless he was crazy, this was real. He felt actual fingers encircling his neck. They were icy, and they were unyielding. Gerard thrashed, and he grabbed at his neck, but there was nothing there; he just felt his own sticky skin under his fumbling fingers, and he still couldn’t breathe. Finally, he rolled out of bed and thumped to the floor, and he felt whatever it was let go, and holyshit, he was so fucking scared. He just sat there on the floor for a long time, in complete shock; he barely even blinked, and his body shook with terror. After several minutes, he raised his hand to wipe his face, and he was surprised to feel actual tears running down his cheeks. Gerard rarely cried, especially over things that common sense told him didn’t really happen.
He couldn’t do this alone: that much was apparent. He felt anxiety rising up his throat, and for a moment he thought he was going to be retching into the toilet bowl like Mikey. Instead, he rose shakily to his feet and exited his room, his hands balled into fists as he walked a short way down the hall and knocked on the next door. He waited, and heard rustling from inside the room, but no vocal acknowledgement. So he knocked again, and this time he heard a faint murmuring, so he opened the door.
Frank was not quite awake, but not quite asleep either. He was fidgeting under the covers, blinking and trying to make sense of why he was suddenly conscious.
“Gerard, ‘s that you?” he said through a huge yawn.
“Mmm,” Gerard said weakly, walking over to Frank’s bed and sitting down.
“Is everything okay?” Frank said, sounding more alert suddenly, as if he could sense Gerard’s distress. “Is it Mikey?”
Gerard shook his head. “I don’t even know what fucking happened just now, Frank.” Frank didn’t say anything, just leaned forward and took Gerard’s arm, pulling gently so he would scoot back and lay down with him.
Once they were settled, Frank put his hand in Gerard’s hair and started running his fingers through it. Gerard felt like he could breathe easy again. “Nightmares?”
“If only,” Gerard said. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do. It keeps getting worse.” He paused for a minute, wondering if Frank would think he was crazy if he said more. He decided he didn’t give a damn. “I woke up and somebody was strangling me.”
“What!” Frank cried, propping himself up on an elbow to look at Gerard. “You’re not fucking serious! What the fuck?” Gerard could see Frank trying to make sense of the information he was just given, and he could also see that it wasn’t happening.
“Well, there was nobody there,” Gerard explained quickly. “But I still felt it. Scariest shit ever, man.”
Frank lay back down and sighed. “I don’t know what to say to that, Gee.”
“You don’t think I made it up!” Gerard protested.
“No. But I do think that you just thought you were awake, because seriously. What?”
“I know it’s crazy but just. Trust me, okay? It was some really scary shit.”
Frank was quiet, but Gerard felt him nod. He wasn’t under the delusion that Frank suddenly believed what he said, but it was enough for now that he was humoring him.
“So you came to me to scare away the demons?” Frank said, a smile in his voice.
“Obviously,” Gerard said. Frank put an arm around him and pulled him closer, then turned so he was on his side. Gerard did the same, and Frank tipped his head forward so their foreheads were resting together.
“Gerard, you’re going to be okay,” he murmured softly, and Gerard believed him. “This sucks right now. It sucks for all of us. But we’re going to be okay, and so are you.” Frank lifted his other arm and threw it over Gerard’s waist so he had him in a full embrace.
“You know? You’re far too perfect for this to be happening to you.”
Gerard laughed nervously. “No way, man.”
“No, it’s true, Gerard,” Frank said. He brought his hand back up to Gerard’s head and started playing with his hair again. “Sometimes you’re so fucking amazing that it hurts to be in the same room with you.”
Gerard swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He actually felt his legs starting to shake as Frank continued to run fingers through his hair.
“Stop it, seriously,” Gerard said, realizing that he was on the verge of tears again. “You can’t say that.” Gerard was getting uncomfortable; it was hard to hear Frank say those things when Gerard had had similar thoughts about him in the past.
Frank moved his head so their noses were brushing. “Mmhmm,” he said dismissively, and he tilted his head further still so their lips met. Relief spilled through Gerard’s body at the simple gesture, and he instantly gave into it.
They kissed for a long time; despite the fact that Frank had been sound asleep when Gerard first knocked on his door, he seemed quite keen on the idea of staying awake at this point. It started out slow, but Frank didn’t let it stay that way. He soon rolled over so that he was half on top of Gerard, and at this, Gerard got very nervous. He had expected something like this the night before in the hotel, but not in the middle of the night after he woke Frank up because of a nightmare. But Frank didn’t seem to care about what he expected and didn’t expect.
Gerard kept his hands on Frank’s waist, but Frank’s quickly wandered, sliding beneath Gerard’s shirt as one of his legs, which was between Gerard’s, pressed upwards. Gerard gasped, both from surprise and pleasure, but didn’t like where this was going. He broke their kiss and stilled Frank’s hand with a touch. Frank looked at him, his eyes reflecting a mixture of guilt and uncertainty.
“Not now, okay?” Gerard whispered, touching Frank’s cheek. Frank nodded and climbed off, settling back next to Gerard and sighing. “I’m sorry,” Gerard said.
“No, don’t be.” Frank sounded like he meant it. “That was kind of stupid on my part.”
Gerard leaned over and kissed him once, briefly. “Maybe a little,” he said with a smirk.
“Go back to sleep, Gerard,” Frank whispered a few moments later, moving close again, so their bodies were pressed together. “Stay here. Sleep.”
“Okay,” Gerard said. And he did.
[//]
The next morning, Bob came in to wake them up, but he didn’t say anything about the position they were in. He burst in suddenly, and Gerard had already been awake, so he was immediately startled. He propped himself up slightly and furrowed his brow at Bob, who appeared frantic and distraught. It took Gerard a minute to become embarrassed at the fact that Frank was sleeping with his head on his chest.
“Uh, something weird happened last night and I was afraid to be alone,” Gerard explained hastily, moving away from Frank.
“Whatever, man,” Bob said, shaking his head dismissively. “I don’t give a shit what you were doing, I’m just pissed ‘cause I couldn’t find you. Come on. Mikey’s gotten worse.”
“What-” Gerard started, but Bob interrupted him.
“You’ll see, just get out of bed.”
Gerard nodded and then turned to Frank, resting a hand on his shoulder and shaking him gently.
“Whaaat?” Frank groaned, his voice cracking.
“Get up,” Gerard said tersely. “It’s Mikey. Get up.”
Frank blinked, looked at him for a second, and then turned so his feet were on the floor. “Where his he?”
“I dunno, but Bob does,” Gerard said, getting out of bed and walking towards Bob in the doorway.
“You guys are idiots. He’s in his room, he can’t even fucking move.” Bob started walking briskly the instant the two of them caught up.
They rushed through the house, stepping quickly, and Gerard was impressed by how fast Frank was able to wake himself up; if Gerard had been sleeping, it probably would have taken him ten minutes to fully understand the urgency of the situation.
When they reached the master bedroom, it took a lot for Gerard to keep himself from wincing. The room smelled like sweat and vomit, and Mikey looked like he hadn’t bathed in weeks as opposed to just a day or so. Gerard couldn’t even tell if he was conscious; his chest was rising and falling slowly, and his eyes were open a crack, but they didn’t move when Gerard entered the room.
“I tried to get him to the bathroom to clean him up a bit,” Bob explained, “but he passed out halfway there. He has a really high fever, guys.”
Gerard walked over to his brother and touched his arm. Mikey groaned, but it wasn’t a word. At least, if it was, Gerard couldn’t tell. “Ray is on the phone with a doctor,” Bob continued. “There’s no way we can just wait for this to blow over.”
Gerard nodded. “Shouldn’t we drive him to the hospital or something?” Frank said quietly. “I mean, if his fever is that high, he could get brain damage.”
“I don’t think it’s that high yet,” Bob said. “It’s getting there though, so it’s best we act soon. Besides, what if we were recognized in the emergency room or something? Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but. I don’t know.”
Frank shrugged. “Whatever. I mean… I guess if Toro’s calling the doctor…” His voice trailed off as he seemingly went deep into thought, staring at Mikey with his brow furrowed.
Gerard was bordering on frantic. It was really very hard for him to not have a complete outburst, and that couldn’t do any good for the situation. He’d only seen Mikey this sick one other time in his life, and that was when Mikey was twelve. Gerard knew that adults fell ill much less frequently than kids did, so this scared him a lot more than it did when he was fifteen.
They were quiet for a while, and then Bob went downstairs to get Mikey some water. “It’s important that he drinks,” Bob had said, then asked if any of them had painkillers. Frank did, in his room, so he went to get those. Gerard stayed, just watching Mikey breathe and wondering if the dreams he had been having-the ones where Mikey was burning, or drowning, or being tortured-he wondered if they had anything to do with what was going on at the moment. Then he thought of the other people who he watched die in his dreams, and wondered if a similar fate was in store for them. Then he realized he was being irrational, and tried to stop thinking about it.
After about a minute of quiet contemplation, he heard a noise coming from outside in the hall, and turned towards the door, expecting to see Bob, or Frank, or even Ray returning to the room, but it was none of them. Instead, it was Elizabeth, and she was holding a feather duster and wearing a surprised expression.
“I’m sorry!” she said, backing out. “I didn’t expect anyone to be in bed still! It’s nearly noon, you know.”
“He’s sick,” Gerard said shortly, gesturing towards Mikey and suddenly feeling very tired.
Elizabeth frowned. “Oh, I see.” She walked closer, and Mikey twitched, despite the fact that his eyes were closed and he seemed to be sleeping.
“Go ‘way,” he mumbled, swatting meekly at the air next to him, barely raising his arm from the comforter. “Not good, not good.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together and made a small noise. “I think I may be able to help.
I’ve seen ailments like this before. This house has quite a reputation, you know. And wasn’t there an automobile accident here just yesterday? It all fits.”
Gerard stared at her. “What fits?”
“History has a way of repeating itself, young man,” Elizabeth said with a cryptic smile. “I’ve been working here for quite a while, and I’ve seen some of the visitors of this house go insane, and fall ill, and even die. They don’t tell you those things in the brochures, I’m sure.”
“No,” Gerard said, drawing out the word. He felt the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rising.
“They say this house is haunted,” Elizabeth continued. “A lot of people scoff at the claim, but personally, I believe it. I’ve seen far too many strange things happen here to not believe it. But sometimes, it’s the believers that get hit with things the worst.”
“Mikey believes it,” Gerard said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Well there you go,” Elizabeth said. “He’s obviously an easy target. Of course, it’s not just a matter of believing; you’ve got to be afraid as well. That’s when they’ll get you.”
“So ghosts can make you sick?” Gerard said skeptically.
Elizabeth turned her gaze to the ceiling. “Ghosts can do whatever they please, if they’re old enough. The ghosts here are fairly old.” She was quiet for a while, appearing deep in thought. Then, they both heard footsteps and turned towards the door. Elizabeth looked stricken. “I’m sorry for intruding. I had best get going, but I’ll keep your brother in my thoughts.” He bid her farewell, and she nodded before disappearing through the door and closing it behind her. Less than a minute later, Frank returned with a bottle of Tylenol.
“I’ve got it,” he said, setting it on Mikey’s bedside table. “Bob’s not back yet, huh?” Gerard shook his head and looked back at Mikey, who wasn’t moving.
It wasn’t too long before Bob and Ray both returned; while Ray explained what the doctor had said, Bob tried to wake Mikey up and get him to swallow the pill and some water. A lot of the water spilled down his shirt, and he spluttered quite a bit, but he managed to get the pill down.
“Yeah, the operator put me through to a local doctor, and he said he’d make a house call for Mikey. He can’t be here for another hour, but he basically told us to do what Bob wanted to-give him something to bring down the fever and try to get him to drink some water.”
Gerard nodded, and wondered if he should call their mother. He felt the need to speak with someone who knew Mikey as well as he did, but eventually decided that it wouldn’t do anything but worry her, and their mother was really hard to deal with when worried.
Gerard almost couldn’t believe that this was happening-first, Mikey was acting depressed and weird, and then he got really sick. He couldn’t help but wonder if the two were related; Gerard knew from his own experience that feeling mentally unwell could lead to being physically unwell. If that were the case, though, Mikey would have to have been feeling pretty bad mentally. But Gerard couldn’t think of any time when Mikey could have been exposed to a virus; none of the rest of them was sick. The only other possibility was what Elizabeth had said: maybe it was the house. After all, Gerard had felt someone-something-strangling him the night before, so believing that Mikey got sick from something supernatural was no less strange than believing what Gerard had felt.
Either way, Mikey had been acting weird, and he didn’t seem to want to talk about why, not even with Bob, who he usually confided in. Gerard figured it would come out eventually, but until then, he was going to be extremely worried.
The doctor came after about forty-five minutes, sooner than he said he would. Ray was the one who answered the door and brought him upstairs, where the rest of them were sitting around Mikey’s bed, quiet like it was a funeral.
The doctor was a handsome man, but well into his fifties. He carried a briefcase, and when he walked in, he asked the rest of them to leave so he could examine Mikey.
They waited outside for what felt like hours, but was really only about fifteen minutes. When he returned, he looked completely perplexed.
“Well, he has a fever, but you already determined that,” he said. “It’s rather high-I just took his temperature, and it registered at 105. That’s not healthy. But you did the right thing giving him a Tylenol. I gave him another, and hopefully it’ll bring the fever down further.
“But I checked him pretty thoroughly, and his chest is clear, and he doesn’t seem to be showing any symptoms of anything more life-threatening than a stomach bug. I’m just confused about the intensity of his fever, and I guess that’s really the only thing to worry about. I suggest you keep a close eye on him, make sure he drinks a lot, and maybe even give him a cold cloth to keep his body temperature down. Also, he’s going to feel chilled, but don’t let him put on too many layers of clothing. The idea is to bring the fever down, not allow it to continue to rise.”
They all listened carefully, and nodded when appropriate. “Do you have any idea when he’ll be back on his feet?” Ray asked after the doctor was done speaking.
The doctor frowned. “It shouldn’t be more than a few days. These things usually pass, after all. But make sure he doesn’t push himself, because he’ll just get sick all over again.”
They all thanked him and led him back towards the front door, which was quite hard to find in the huge house. Before he left, he reminded them to keep an eye on Mikey one more time. Gerard was already thinking about what this was going to do to the writing process, but quickly berated himself for being so selfish. He wasn’t sure if “selfish” was the right word, actually, but he definitely wasn’t thinking of Mikey when it crossed his mind.
They did virtually nothing for the rest of the day, but even so, the day was not uneventful. When Gerard walked down one of the hallways in search of a nearby bathroom after the doctor left, a door that led to one of the bedrooms that was under construction slammed. It wasn’t just a gentle closing that may have been the result of a breeze or some sort of air-current, and it couldn’t have been written off as part of Gerard’s imagination. It was a distinct slam, and it happened just as Gerard looked at the door. There was nobody else in the hallway at the time.
Gerard was understandably startled. He even walked over to the door in order to make sure that he was right in thinking he was alone. With apprehension building in his chest, he turned the doorknob and opened the door, looking all around the empty, unfurnished room, but he saw nobody and nothing. His heart pounding, he continued on his search for a bathroom.
They were taking turns keeping watch over Mikey. They pretty much left him alone, but whoever’s turn it was to watch would try to remain in the West wing of the house, so he would be able to hear if Mikey made any noises or stirred. They would periodically check on him, and coax some liquids down his throat, and even occasionally make him eat something. Mikey never said much; he’d just look generally miserable, and close his eyes against lights.
After two days of this with no improvement, Gerard and Bob were getting more worried, and Frank and Ray were getting more impatient. Not to say that the latter two weren’t concerned about Mikey; they were, but they were also concerned about the album they were writing. They were fully aware of the fact that the last album they had released had came out over two years ago, and their last tour had been far too long ago. Gerard and Bob were aware of this too, but Frank and Ray had the tendency to get anxious about things they couldn’t control.
On that third day of Mikey’s illness, Gerard ran into Elizabeth again, right when he went to do his compulsory check-on-Mikey-before-bed.
“He’s still not improving?” she asked the moment she entered the room. Mikey was stirring, which was a good sign, but he really wasn’t moving much beyond that.
“I’m afraid not,” Gerard said with a sigh.
“Say, does he like tea by any chance?” Elizabeth asked, quirking an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I guess so, why?”
“I may have something that could help,” she said, and with that she turned around and left. Gerard stared at the open door for a long while before turning back towards Mikey. He was blinking slowly, but was otherwise not showing any other sign of being conscious. It wasn’t too long before Elizabeth returned with a steaming mug. She seated herself on one of the chairs near Mikey’s bed and tried to hand the mug to him. He glared at her (Gerard interpreted it as a glare, at least) and made to swat the mug away.
Elizabeth sighed. “It’s for your own good, dear,” she scolded, and tried to hand it to him again, but he just wasn’t having it. She shook her head. “Here,” she said, handing the mug to Gerard. “I don’t think he likes me, you give it to him.”
“Thanks,” Gerard said, really meaning it. For some reason, he had the feeling that this really was going to help.
“You’re quite welcome. I just hope he gets better.” Then she left, leaving Gerard alone with Mikey.
“You should probably sit up and drink this, because I’m not leaving you alone until you do,” Gerard said, prodding Mikey’s side with his free hand. Mikey made an attempt to sit up, but failed miserably, his hands sliding over the bedspread and his muscles straining.
“Here, let me help you,” Gerard said, putting the mug down and supporting Mikey with both his hands as he tried to sit up. Mikey, to Gerard’s surprise, took the mug without further coaxing, and started to drink it with a slight grimace on his face. He seemed to be gaining more strength as he drank more, and Gerard was truly astonished.
“Don’t like this,” Mikey mumbled, looking into the mug, and Gerard jumped.
“It lives!” he exclaimed, touching his brother’s arm.
“Shu’up,” Mikey groaned.
“And apparently, it bitches,” Gerard said.
“Yeah, well, not exactly comfortable here.” Mikey looked like moving his mouth was taking up all his energy. “I need a shower, man, seriously.”
“Hey now, you don’t need to tell me that. Are you seriously feeling better just from drinking that shit?” Gerard said, astounded.
Mikey frowned. “I guess. A little.” He never was one for wordy explanations. “Well, I feel capable of speech at least.”
“That’s a good sign,” Gerard said, smiling meekly. “Hey, can I go tell the guys or something? Because I don’t know if you’ve been listening, but yeah, they’re worried about you.”
“Nobody’s stopping you,” Mikey said with a shrug. “Just, send someone back soon, okay? Because I can tell I’m going to need assistance. I need a fucking shower.”
“Sure thing,” Gerard said, and the second he left the room, his face lit up in a smile. It looked like Mikey was going to get better, and soon. He found the rest of the band in the live room, playing video games.
“Guys, Mikey’s like, awake,” he said, and Frank immediately paused the game.
“That’s great, man!” Bob said. “What happened?”
“I don’t know, he drank some tea and all of a sudden he was talking again,” Gerard said.
“Huh,” Bob said. “Does he need help with anything?”
“Yeah, actually, he said he could use some,” Gerard responded, stretching. “Damn, I’m really fucking tired. What time is it?”
“Nearly midnight,” Frank said, looking at his watch.
“Well I’m going to bed. I guess Bob’s volunteering for the Mikey-assisting?”
“Yeah,” Bob said, nodding and getting up.
Frank got up too. “I’m going to go to bed too,” he said, and looked at Gerard pointedly. Gerard wasn’t quite sure how to interpret this look, but he figured he wouldn’t have to wonder for long, because when he started walking towards his room, Frank followed.
He didn’t say anything at all until he entered his room and Frank followed him inside. “Since when is this your room?” Gerard said playfully.
“Who are you kidding, Gerard?” Frank said, wrapping one arm around his waist. “I heard you gasping for air the past two nights, you know. You’re just going to wind up with me anyway.” Frank was right; there hadn’t been one night this week when Gerard did not feel like he was being strangled upon waking, and every time, he would stumble into Frank’s bed without a second thought.
Gerard threw an arm over Frank’s shoulders. “Okay,” he said softly, closing the door behind them. He could tell by the tone of Frank’s voice, and the look in his eye, that he wasn’t suggesting this just for the sake of convenience. Things between them still hadn’t progressed much, and although most nights they wound up making out in Frank’s bed, Frank was obviously not content with the way things were, even if Gerard was under the delusion that he himself was.
Frank was already changed for bed, but Gerard wasn’t, and he made Frank turn the other way while he undressed. Frank laughed at him, reminding him that he’d seen him naked before and it was no big deal, but Gerard didn’t care. “It’s awkward, man. You’ll have nothing else better to look at so you’re going to stare at me, and I’m going to feel uncomfortable.” So Frank laughed and turned so he was facing the corner while Gerard changed. Despite the fact that Frank wasn’t looking, Gerard’s hands still shook as he pulled up his pants; it wasn’t helping that Frank was cracking jokes of a very sexual nature every so often.
When they climbed into bed a few moments later and Gerard turned out the light, Frank moved close and pressed his mouth to Gerard’s ear. “You should know that was completely pointless, man,” he said, and Gerard could swear that he took lessons on making his voice just that frequency so it gave Gerard gooseflesh and made him want to do whatever Frank was saying. “Because seriously, it should be obvious to you that I’m just going to make you take it all off again.”
Gerard really had no idea how to answer that, so he just swallowed and let Frank kiss him.
“Too much shit going on lately,” Frank said in that same voice, in between kisses. “You’re not letting yourself have a good time. Isn’t that what everything is all about, Gee?” His hands were once again finding their way underneath Gerard’s shirt, and this time, Gerard didn’t stop him.
“Yeah,” Gerard said breathlessly, but when he tried to kiss Frank, he couldn’t quite find his mouth in the dark. Gerard giggled when his mouth connected with Frank’s chin, and Frank laughed as well, using both hands to guide Gerard’s face in the right direction. When their lips met, Gerard’s eyes fell shut immediately, before he could even fully process what was going on. His world consisted of lips, and tongue, and teeth, and Gerard wouldn’t have it any other way.
Things heated up quickly, and Gerard found that he didn’t even feel the need to slow them down. It was like this whole thing with Mikey was the last straw; he was so sick of things going wrong that he couldn’t imagine anything making it worse, so he just went with it. Frank was right; he hadn’t been letting himself have a good time, and it was about time that was rectified.
Before Gerard could even ponder how Frank had managed to remove his shirt without breaking their kiss (or even if it was possible), Frank had removed his own as well, and when Gerard felt their bare skin touching, he felt something in his stomach collapse. His hands, which had been resting on Frank’s shoulders, immediately slid down to his warm back, and it was among the best things Gerard had ever felt. He couldn’t help but groan into the kiss, and Frank took that as a green light. Gerard didn’t even know what was happening; all he knew was that whatever Frank was doing, it felt good, and he didn’t want him to stop.
Gerard felt like Frank must have had at least a dozen hands, because there were so many things that were happening simultaneously that couldn’t be with just two. Soon enough, they were both completely naked, and Gerard was breathing heavily into the crook of Frank’s neck as he did something lovely with one of his impossibly numerous hands. Gerard tried to reciprocate, but Frank quickly swatted him away with a mumble of, “No, not yet.”
He was momentarily distraught when their contact was broken, but then Frank whispered something to him about condoms, to which Gerard mumbled something about the third drawer and his wallet. For some reason, this didn’t make Gerard more nervous, even though it logically should have; perhaps it was because he knew what direction this was going. He heard Frank stumbling around in the dark for a few moments, every so often hearing a thump and a giggle if he tripped over something, and soon enough he was back on top of Gerard, and far too hot (in temperature among other things) for Gerard to handle.
It wasn’t amazing and it didn’t last long, but Gerard loved every minute of it. It was so dark that Gerard could not tell if his eyes were open or closed, and the house was so big that even if the other guys were making a racket, they would not have heard. The sound of his own breathing mixed with Frank’s echoed off the walls of his head, and he felt himself getting dizzy-drunk-stupid off of it all. Frank was incapable of being serious, and even when he had Gerard squirming and writhing and begging, he would still whisper things in Gerard’s ear and laugh. Gerard couldn’t remember most of the things he said later, and he figured they weren’t very important; Frank just felt the need to do something with his mouth when he wasn’t kissing Gerard.
But he did kiss Gerard, a lot of the time, even when Gerard just wanted to be fucked and not kissed. Even so, it didn’t last long, and it was sloppy and clumsy, and Gerard probably bruised Frank’s hips with how hard he was gripping them, urging him to move faster or slower or something, but Frank just went, at his own pace, and that was somehow better.
Later, Gerard realized that he was noisy, but not at the time; at the time, he was in his own world, with Frank and nobody else, and the word cheating never even crossed his mind. He didn’t think anyone’s name but Frank’s, and he certainly didn’t say anyone’s name but Frank’s.
When it was over, neither of them bothered to move very much for a long while. Gerard had his eyes clamped shut, still riding out the waves of his (surprisingly powerful) orgasm, willing his sporadic heartbeat back to normal. One of Frank’s hands was trapped between their bodies, and the other was slowly running through Gerard’s hair, making Gerard sleepy. Gerard ran his hands up and down Frank’s back, and when Frank mumbled something like, “…wanted to do that for so long,” Gerard made a half-laugh half-sob noise and clutched him harder, only moving when Frank pulled away to kiss him deeply, his mumble of “me too” lost somewhere between their mouths.
Nothing made sense anymore, really, and when Gerard asked, “What does this mean?” he even surprised himself.
“I dunno,” Frank said, but he didn’t sound morose or depressing or harsh. “I guess it means I like having sex with you.” Frank’s voice was slightly muffled, as his face was pressed into the crook of Gerard’s neck.
Gerard laughed in spite of himself; the bluntness of Frank’s statement and the muffled way in which it came out struck him funny. “Okay, I can live with that.”
“Is that all?” Frank said flirtatiously. Gerard found it amusing that Frank was flirting after they had sex, because what else could it possibly accomplish?
“No,” Gerard said, but he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he kissed Frank again.
[//]
Author: periculosa
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Fake.
Warnings: There’s some gore in this chapter. Also, implicit sex, but not worthy of an NC-17 rating.
Summary: The faster you’re going, the harder it is to stop. When MCR go to live at the Paramour in LA, strange happenings bring them closer together, as well as farther apart.
Notes: Well hai there, really long chapter. This took a surprisingly short amount of time, considering all the shit that goes down. Another huuuge thanks to lafeelivresque for, again, doing an amazing betaing job.
| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 |
Well, I think I’m gonna burn in hell.
[//]
Returning to the Paramour should have felt like a homecoming, but for whatever reason, it didn’t. Leaving, Gerard had felt like an escaped prisoner. Now, coming back, he felt re-captured. However, Gerard wondered if he was the only one feeling like this. The others appeared to be invigorated by their recent performance; even Mikey seemed more upbeat than usual, joining in with the joking in the rental car on the way back to the estate.
But all good humor came to a grinding halt as the car climbed the steep hill that led up to the Paramour. As they ascended the incline, an unfamiliar sight swam into view-one that made Gerard’s stomach lurch.
A small black car had smashed headlong into a tree on the deserted road, and it looked completely totaled. Gerard felt panic rising in his throat quickly; he was certain he saw blood splattered on the left window, and what was left of the windshield.
The car was suddenly filled with noise: Frank and Bob were cursing incessantly, and Ray, who was driving, slammed on the breaks reflexively. Mikey was staring wide-eyed out the window, looking as if he wanted to avert his eyes so badly, but couldn’t quite bring himself to.
“What the fuck, man?” Frank swore, lifting himself up in his seat to try to get a better look. “What the fuck do we do? That does not look good.”
“Shit,” Ray muttered, bringing a hand up to his forehead. “Well, maybe there’s nobody in there. Maybe someone called an ambulance already or something. Maybe…” his voice trailed off, and Gerard got the impression he wasn’t really listening to himself.
“Someone better go check,” Gerard said quietly, and everybody in the van turned towards him. “Not me, no fucking way. This shit disturbs me, man.”
“He’s right, you know,” Frank murmured, looking at Ray. “Someone’s gotta look.”
The car was quiet for about thirty seconds, only Mikey’s heavy breathing filling the emptiness. “Fuck it, I’ll do it,” Bob said, climbing out of the car. “Just… fuck, someone get out their phone for chrissake, because from where we are right now? Yeah, doesn’t look too good.” Ray complied, reaching into his pocket and turning on his phone.
Gerard peered out the window and watched Bob’s receding figure nearing the crushed car. Gerard could see that his shoulders were tense and his stance guarded as he stepped closer to the wreck, anticipating the gruesome sight. Sure enough, when he was close enough to see inside the driver’s window, he stopped walking and flinched. Once he came to his senses, he turned on his heel and walked away on shaky legs for several yards before bending down and retching.
“Holy fuck,” Ray muttered, and at the same time Mikey whimpered pathetically.
“Why the fuck does this shit always have to happen?” Mikey said, so quietly that Gerard had to lean close to hear the end of it. Gerard made to put his hand on Mikey’s arm, but Mikey jerked it out of Gerard’s reach. “Just don’t, please. Fuck.”
By this time, Bob had composed himself and climbed back into the car. “Yeah, that was fucking disturbing,” he said, sounding very tired. “You better call the fucking cops or something. No ambulance necessary, because there’s no way whoever was in there is being saved.”
“You got it,” Ray said grimly, staring at his phone and trying to figure out if he had a signal. He quickly dialed 911, and explained the situation to the operator.
Any energy Gerard had left over from the show-which now seemed weeks, even months in the past-was draining out of him. It just figured that something like this would happen to them when they were there. He was having a lot of trouble not imagining what Bob may have seen in that car, though he thought that his imagination was probably a lot worse than the reality. Regardless, he did not want to look.
Frank was sitting very still, and his face was buried in his hands. He seemed to be breathing normally, though, and Gerard figured that he would be all right. Mikey, on the other hand, was on the verge of hyperventilation.
“Jesus, Mikey,” Gerard said, again trying to touch Mikey’s arm, but this time when Mikey pulled away, Gerard just lunged across the seat and grabbed a hold of him. “You have to calm down.” His instinct was to start cursing; it’s what he usually did when he got nervous or scared, but he knew that the harsh language would only make Mikey’s nerves worse. “Listen, it’s all going to be okay. Car crashes happen all the time… and yeah, that’s not very comforting, but. Hey. The police are going to come and take care of it, and you don’t have to worry.” Mikey was silent through Gerard’s little speech, and he seemed to have calmed down slightly, perhaps because of what Gerard said, or perhaps just from the sound of his brother’s voice.
“I have a bad feeling about this, Gee,” he said, and Gerard was surprised that he was even speaking.
“About what?”
Mikey shrugged one shoulder half-heartedly. “Just. This. Like, in general.”
Gerard shook his head. “You’re being too superstitious. Just. Let it go, Mikey. This is upsetting, but it’ll be over soon.”
Mikey just sat there, the same grim look on his face.
[//]
The cops and an ambulance showed up a quarter hour later in order to break down the scene of the accident and try to assess the situation. Gerard’s morbid side was fascinated, and almost wanted to watch, but Frank practically dragged him and Mikey up to the house, insisting that they stay inside while the cops cleaned up. Bob was the first one inside, not needing Frank’s coaxing to get him moving. Ray was going to stay and watch, but apparently changed his mind quickly (Gerard didn’t ask, because he didn’t want to know). He wound up sitting on the couch with the rest of them ten minutes later.
They sat there a long while, listening to the sound of the clock ticking. None of them said anything, but Gerard kept smoothing a soothing hand over Mikey’s leg, and he seemed to be calming down. In fact, by the time the police knocked on the door a few hours later, Mikey had fallen asleep with his head on Gerard’s shoulder.
Ray was the first to rush to the door. Frank shrugged and got up a few seconds later, glancing at Gerard to see if he was going to come. Gerard gently eased Mikey off of him and stood, walking with Frank to the front door, and Bob trailed behind them, still looking somewhat pale and nauseated.
There were two police officers standing at the door, one male and one female. The woman started speaking as soon as Ray opened the door.
“We’ve done some investigating on the scene, and we’d like to see if you can confirm some of our findings,” she said grimly, holding her hat in her hands. Ray nodded, his lips pressed together tightly.
“Well,” she said, “we determined that the car must have been traveling far above the speed limit to hit the tree with such force. We’re going to need to do an autopsy on the body to see if the driver had any alcohol or narcotics in his system, because we can’t otherwise find anything that may have caused the crash. There weren’t even any skid marks, so either he didn’t see the tree, or he crashed intentionally. Also, this is a private road, am I correct?”
“Yes,” Frank said. “We never really hear any cars driving by here, so it’s strange that anybody was even on the road.”
“Exactly,” the other cop said, nodding. “And according to some professionals on the scene, the crash happened at least twelve hours before you gave us a call. The road must be pretty deserted if you were the first to report it.”
“Right,” Ray said, nodding. The officer then asked him for some information, like his name and a number at which he could be contacted.
“Alright,” the female officer said. “Thank you for your help.”
“No problem,” Ray said. “And thank you.” Both officers nodded their heads and turned to leave.
Ray shut and locked the door behind them, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “That was a great way to start the writing process,” he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else.
When they returned to the live room, they saw Mikey was sprawled out on the couch, squirming in his sleep and covered in a sticky layer of sweat. Gerard groaned and rushed over to him, shaking him awake. “Mikey, go to bed,” he said once his brother’s eyes opened. “You need the rest.”
Mikey sat up reluctantly and eyed Gerard with confusion. A moment later, he flinched, and a distinct look of discomfort crossed his face. “Gee, I don’t feel too good,” he said weakly, and Gerard caught Bob’s eye, shaking his head slightly. “I’m kind of dizzy.”
“So go to bed, like I said,” Gerard coaxed, sitting next to him on the couch and wrapping one of his hands around his brother’s thin arm. “Come on, get up. We’ll help you up the stairs.” Bob nodded in agreement and walked over to take Mikey’s other arm. Together, Bob and Gerard supported his wobbly form as the three of them mounted the twisting staircase.
It took a while, but they eventually managed to get him to his bedroom. “Alright, here you go Mikey,” Bob said as they walked him over to the right side of his bed and helped him lower himself down. After he was lying down, Gerard removed his glasses and placed them on the nightstand.
“Thanks,” Mikey muttered.
“Do you have a fever?” Gerard asked, pressing his hand to Mikey’s forehead before he could answer.
“Don’t think so,” he said. Sure enough, he seemed cool to the touch; more so than usual, in fact.
“You want the blinds closed?” Bob asked, going towards one of the windows.
“No, leave ‘em,” Mikey said. “Thanks guys.”
“No problem,” Gerard said. “Feel better, okay dude?”
“Whatever,” Mikey said, turning over and shutting his eyes.
Bob and Gerard left, and once they were outside and the door was shut, Bob raised his eyebrows at Gerard. “Do you think he’ll be okay? Like, he doesn’t need a doctor, does he?”
Gerard shrugged. “He seems alright now. He’s probably just in shock, you know?”
“Do I,” Bob muttered darkly.
“We’ll check on him later, yes?” Gerard said as they started to climb back downstairs.
“Yeah,” Bob said, nodding once.
[//]
They didn’t need to. At midnight, about six hours after they’d put Mikey to bed, they heard the scramble of feet on the second floor, a startled gasp, and a few moments later, the sound of a toilet seat being slammed. Gerard was the first on his feet; he took the steps two at a time as he rushed to make sure Mikey was okay. Bob was close behind, and Frank and Ray, perhaps sensing the urgency in the situation, followed as well.
Gerard walked briskly through the West wing, cursing the fact that Mikey’s room was all the way at the end of it. When they reached the bathroom, however, they saw that the door was closed, and heard the distinct sound of retching. Gerard cringed sympathetically and knocked on the door. “Mikey?”
More sputtering was heard, followed by some splashing as Mikey vomited. “Fuck,” Bob muttered, not quite sure what else to say.
“Should we go in there?” Ray asked from behind Gerard.
“No man, leave him alone. He’s puking for chrissake,” Frank said. “Would you want us gaping at you while you puked?”
“He has a point,” Gerard muttered, backing away from the door slightly.
So they waited outside until the retching stopped, and they heard the toilet flush. At that point, Gerard knocked again and didn’t get an answer, so he opened the door.
Mikey was leaning against the sink, looking like a complete wreck. He looked even stickier than he had when Gerard and Bob guided him to his bed earlier, and now he had sunken eyes and dozens of tiny little burst blood vessels all over his face from the effort of vomiting. “Christ,” Bob muttered, walking inside the room and taking Mikey’s arm. “Stupid question, but are you okay?”
Mikey mumbled something unintelligible, and Bob gaped at him for a moment before lifting a hand to his forehead, then pulling it away with a grimace. “He’s burning up, man,” he said, looking at Gerard.
“Shit,” Gerard breathed. “Come on Mikey, back to bed.” He took Mikey’s other arm and he and Bob brought Mikey to his room, like they had earlier. However, when Mikey was about to be seated on the bed, he suddenly tensed up and resisted them.
“No,” he said faintly, flexing his fingers and trying to jerk out of Gerard’s grip. He did so easily, but Bob gripped him harder and didn’t let go.
“‘No’ what, Mikey?” Bob asked.
“Not here,” he mumbled, barely understandable.
“But this is your room, man,” Gerard said, resting a hand on Mikey’s shoulder, who was having trouble standing up.
“Don’t care,” Mikey said. “This isn’t good. Not a good room.”
“This is silly,” Gerard said, laughing in disbelief. “Mikey, you’re sick. Just go to sleep.”
Mikey grumbled under his breath and resisted some more, but eventually he gave in and lay down on his bed. He was out like a light barely a minute later, and the four of them left without another word.
[//]
And that was it, Gerard was convinced that something, somewhere was out to get them. It was one thing after another, and this should have been going so much smoother than it actually was. That night when he lay down to go to sleep, he was in pain, but it wasn’t a physical pain; he felt as if his very soul was aching. He was so tired, but more emotionally than anything else. He had actually gotten a really great sleep the night before; he didn’t know if it was because he wasn’t in the Paramour, or because Frank was holding him, but he slept solidly and dreamlessly.
At the opposite extreme, Gerard had his worst nightmares to date that night. Not only did he see car wrecks and fires and explosions, but he saw faces of people he actually recognized being crushed and burned and torn apart. It started out bad and it got worse; first, he saw an old classmate or a neighbor or an acquaintance. He’d wake up, and he’d wipe his face of the sweat that had accumulated there, and then when he fell back asleep, those faces would be replaced with friends from home. As it went on, he started to see his parents’ faces. Then Bob’s and Ray’s. Then Kasper’s. Then Frank’s. Then Mikey’s. It went on, and Gerard couldn’t breathe, watching the people he loved screaming in anguish and writhing and he was watching but couldn’t do anything to save them.
But when he woke up, he still couldn’t breathe, and that was worse than the dreams. Because those were dreams, and when he woke up they weren’t real anymore. But this… unless he was crazy, this was real. He felt actual fingers encircling his neck. They were icy, and they were unyielding. Gerard thrashed, and he grabbed at his neck, but there was nothing there; he just felt his own sticky skin under his fumbling fingers, and he still couldn’t breathe. Finally, he rolled out of bed and thumped to the floor, and he felt whatever it was let go, and holyshit, he was so fucking scared. He just sat there on the floor for a long time, in complete shock; he barely even blinked, and his body shook with terror. After several minutes, he raised his hand to wipe his face, and he was surprised to feel actual tears running down his cheeks. Gerard rarely cried, especially over things that common sense told him didn’t really happen.
He couldn’t do this alone: that much was apparent. He felt anxiety rising up his throat, and for a moment he thought he was going to be retching into the toilet bowl like Mikey. Instead, he rose shakily to his feet and exited his room, his hands balled into fists as he walked a short way down the hall and knocked on the next door. He waited, and heard rustling from inside the room, but no vocal acknowledgement. So he knocked again, and this time he heard a faint murmuring, so he opened the door.
Frank was not quite awake, but not quite asleep either. He was fidgeting under the covers, blinking and trying to make sense of why he was suddenly conscious.
“Gerard, ‘s that you?” he said through a huge yawn.
“Mmm,” Gerard said weakly, walking over to Frank’s bed and sitting down.
“Is everything okay?” Frank said, sounding more alert suddenly, as if he could sense Gerard’s distress. “Is it Mikey?”
Gerard shook his head. “I don’t even know what fucking happened just now, Frank.” Frank didn’t say anything, just leaned forward and took Gerard’s arm, pulling gently so he would scoot back and lay down with him.
Once they were settled, Frank put his hand in Gerard’s hair and started running his fingers through it. Gerard felt like he could breathe easy again. “Nightmares?”
“If only,” Gerard said. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do. It keeps getting worse.” He paused for a minute, wondering if Frank would think he was crazy if he said more. He decided he didn’t give a damn. “I woke up and somebody was strangling me.”
“What!” Frank cried, propping himself up on an elbow to look at Gerard. “You’re not fucking serious! What the fuck?” Gerard could see Frank trying to make sense of the information he was just given, and he could also see that it wasn’t happening.
“Well, there was nobody there,” Gerard explained quickly. “But I still felt it. Scariest shit ever, man.”
Frank lay back down and sighed. “I don’t know what to say to that, Gee.”
“You don’t think I made it up!” Gerard protested.
“No. But I do think that you just thought you were awake, because seriously. What?”
“I know it’s crazy but just. Trust me, okay? It was some really scary shit.”
Frank was quiet, but Gerard felt him nod. He wasn’t under the delusion that Frank suddenly believed what he said, but it was enough for now that he was humoring him.
“So you came to me to scare away the demons?” Frank said, a smile in his voice.
“Obviously,” Gerard said. Frank put an arm around him and pulled him closer, then turned so he was on his side. Gerard did the same, and Frank tipped his head forward so their foreheads were resting together.
“Gerard, you’re going to be okay,” he murmured softly, and Gerard believed him. “This sucks right now. It sucks for all of us. But we’re going to be okay, and so are you.” Frank lifted his other arm and threw it over Gerard’s waist so he had him in a full embrace.
“You know? You’re far too perfect for this to be happening to you.”
Gerard laughed nervously. “No way, man.”
“No, it’s true, Gerard,” Frank said. He brought his hand back up to Gerard’s head and started playing with his hair again. “Sometimes you’re so fucking amazing that it hurts to be in the same room with you.”
Gerard swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He actually felt his legs starting to shake as Frank continued to run fingers through his hair.
“Stop it, seriously,” Gerard said, realizing that he was on the verge of tears again. “You can’t say that.” Gerard was getting uncomfortable; it was hard to hear Frank say those things when Gerard had had similar thoughts about him in the past.
Frank moved his head so their noses were brushing. “Mmhmm,” he said dismissively, and he tilted his head further still so their lips met. Relief spilled through Gerard’s body at the simple gesture, and he instantly gave into it.
They kissed for a long time; despite the fact that Frank had been sound asleep when Gerard first knocked on his door, he seemed quite keen on the idea of staying awake at this point. It started out slow, but Frank didn’t let it stay that way. He soon rolled over so that he was half on top of Gerard, and at this, Gerard got very nervous. He had expected something like this the night before in the hotel, but not in the middle of the night after he woke Frank up because of a nightmare. But Frank didn’t seem to care about what he expected and didn’t expect.
Gerard kept his hands on Frank’s waist, but Frank’s quickly wandered, sliding beneath Gerard’s shirt as one of his legs, which was between Gerard’s, pressed upwards. Gerard gasped, both from surprise and pleasure, but didn’t like where this was going. He broke their kiss and stilled Frank’s hand with a touch. Frank looked at him, his eyes reflecting a mixture of guilt and uncertainty.
“Not now, okay?” Gerard whispered, touching Frank’s cheek. Frank nodded and climbed off, settling back next to Gerard and sighing. “I’m sorry,” Gerard said.
“No, don’t be.” Frank sounded like he meant it. “That was kind of stupid on my part.”
Gerard leaned over and kissed him once, briefly. “Maybe a little,” he said with a smirk.
“Go back to sleep, Gerard,” Frank whispered a few moments later, moving close again, so their bodies were pressed together. “Stay here. Sleep.”
“Okay,” Gerard said. And he did.
[//]
The next morning, Bob came in to wake them up, but he didn’t say anything about the position they were in. He burst in suddenly, and Gerard had already been awake, so he was immediately startled. He propped himself up slightly and furrowed his brow at Bob, who appeared frantic and distraught. It took Gerard a minute to become embarrassed at the fact that Frank was sleeping with his head on his chest.
“Uh, something weird happened last night and I was afraid to be alone,” Gerard explained hastily, moving away from Frank.
“Whatever, man,” Bob said, shaking his head dismissively. “I don’t give a shit what you were doing, I’m just pissed ‘cause I couldn’t find you. Come on. Mikey’s gotten worse.”
“What-” Gerard started, but Bob interrupted him.
“You’ll see, just get out of bed.”
Gerard nodded and then turned to Frank, resting a hand on his shoulder and shaking him gently.
“Whaaat?” Frank groaned, his voice cracking.
“Get up,” Gerard said tersely. “It’s Mikey. Get up.”
Frank blinked, looked at him for a second, and then turned so his feet were on the floor. “Where his he?”
“I dunno, but Bob does,” Gerard said, getting out of bed and walking towards Bob in the doorway.
“You guys are idiots. He’s in his room, he can’t even fucking move.” Bob started walking briskly the instant the two of them caught up.
They rushed through the house, stepping quickly, and Gerard was impressed by how fast Frank was able to wake himself up; if Gerard had been sleeping, it probably would have taken him ten minutes to fully understand the urgency of the situation.
When they reached the master bedroom, it took a lot for Gerard to keep himself from wincing. The room smelled like sweat and vomit, and Mikey looked like he hadn’t bathed in weeks as opposed to just a day or so. Gerard couldn’t even tell if he was conscious; his chest was rising and falling slowly, and his eyes were open a crack, but they didn’t move when Gerard entered the room.
“I tried to get him to the bathroom to clean him up a bit,” Bob explained, “but he passed out halfway there. He has a really high fever, guys.”
Gerard walked over to his brother and touched his arm. Mikey groaned, but it wasn’t a word. At least, if it was, Gerard couldn’t tell. “Ray is on the phone with a doctor,” Bob continued. “There’s no way we can just wait for this to blow over.”
Gerard nodded. “Shouldn’t we drive him to the hospital or something?” Frank said quietly. “I mean, if his fever is that high, he could get brain damage.”
“I don’t think it’s that high yet,” Bob said. “It’s getting there though, so it’s best we act soon. Besides, what if we were recognized in the emergency room or something? Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but. I don’t know.”
Frank shrugged. “Whatever. I mean… I guess if Toro’s calling the doctor…” His voice trailed off as he seemingly went deep into thought, staring at Mikey with his brow furrowed.
Gerard was bordering on frantic. It was really very hard for him to not have a complete outburst, and that couldn’t do any good for the situation. He’d only seen Mikey this sick one other time in his life, and that was when Mikey was twelve. Gerard knew that adults fell ill much less frequently than kids did, so this scared him a lot more than it did when he was fifteen.
They were quiet for a while, and then Bob went downstairs to get Mikey some water. “It’s important that he drinks,” Bob had said, then asked if any of them had painkillers. Frank did, in his room, so he went to get those. Gerard stayed, just watching Mikey breathe and wondering if the dreams he had been having-the ones where Mikey was burning, or drowning, or being tortured-he wondered if they had anything to do with what was going on at the moment. Then he thought of the other people who he watched die in his dreams, and wondered if a similar fate was in store for them. Then he realized he was being irrational, and tried to stop thinking about it.
After about a minute of quiet contemplation, he heard a noise coming from outside in the hall, and turned towards the door, expecting to see Bob, or Frank, or even Ray returning to the room, but it was none of them. Instead, it was Elizabeth, and she was holding a feather duster and wearing a surprised expression.
“I’m sorry!” she said, backing out. “I didn’t expect anyone to be in bed still! It’s nearly noon, you know.”
“He’s sick,” Gerard said shortly, gesturing towards Mikey and suddenly feeling very tired.
Elizabeth frowned. “Oh, I see.” She walked closer, and Mikey twitched, despite the fact that his eyes were closed and he seemed to be sleeping.
“Go ‘way,” he mumbled, swatting meekly at the air next to him, barely raising his arm from the comforter. “Not good, not good.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together and made a small noise. “I think I may be able to help.
I’ve seen ailments like this before. This house has quite a reputation, you know. And wasn’t there an automobile accident here just yesterday? It all fits.”
Gerard stared at her. “What fits?”
“History has a way of repeating itself, young man,” Elizabeth said with a cryptic smile. “I’ve been working here for quite a while, and I’ve seen some of the visitors of this house go insane, and fall ill, and even die. They don’t tell you those things in the brochures, I’m sure.”
“No,” Gerard said, drawing out the word. He felt the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rising.
“They say this house is haunted,” Elizabeth continued. “A lot of people scoff at the claim, but personally, I believe it. I’ve seen far too many strange things happen here to not believe it. But sometimes, it’s the believers that get hit with things the worst.”
“Mikey believes it,” Gerard said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Well there you go,” Elizabeth said. “He’s obviously an easy target. Of course, it’s not just a matter of believing; you’ve got to be afraid as well. That’s when they’ll get you.”
“So ghosts can make you sick?” Gerard said skeptically.
Elizabeth turned her gaze to the ceiling. “Ghosts can do whatever they please, if they’re old enough. The ghosts here are fairly old.” She was quiet for a while, appearing deep in thought. Then, they both heard footsteps and turned towards the door. Elizabeth looked stricken. “I’m sorry for intruding. I had best get going, but I’ll keep your brother in my thoughts.” He bid her farewell, and she nodded before disappearing through the door and closing it behind her. Less than a minute later, Frank returned with a bottle of Tylenol.
“I’ve got it,” he said, setting it on Mikey’s bedside table. “Bob’s not back yet, huh?” Gerard shook his head and looked back at Mikey, who wasn’t moving.
It wasn’t too long before Bob and Ray both returned; while Ray explained what the doctor had said, Bob tried to wake Mikey up and get him to swallow the pill and some water. A lot of the water spilled down his shirt, and he spluttered quite a bit, but he managed to get the pill down.
“Yeah, the operator put me through to a local doctor, and he said he’d make a house call for Mikey. He can’t be here for another hour, but he basically told us to do what Bob wanted to-give him something to bring down the fever and try to get him to drink some water.”
Gerard nodded, and wondered if he should call their mother. He felt the need to speak with someone who knew Mikey as well as he did, but eventually decided that it wouldn’t do anything but worry her, and their mother was really hard to deal with when worried.
Gerard almost couldn’t believe that this was happening-first, Mikey was acting depressed and weird, and then he got really sick. He couldn’t help but wonder if the two were related; Gerard knew from his own experience that feeling mentally unwell could lead to being physically unwell. If that were the case, though, Mikey would have to have been feeling pretty bad mentally. But Gerard couldn’t think of any time when Mikey could have been exposed to a virus; none of the rest of them was sick. The only other possibility was what Elizabeth had said: maybe it was the house. After all, Gerard had felt someone-something-strangling him the night before, so believing that Mikey got sick from something supernatural was no less strange than believing what Gerard had felt.
Either way, Mikey had been acting weird, and he didn’t seem to want to talk about why, not even with Bob, who he usually confided in. Gerard figured it would come out eventually, but until then, he was going to be extremely worried.
The doctor came after about forty-five minutes, sooner than he said he would. Ray was the one who answered the door and brought him upstairs, where the rest of them were sitting around Mikey’s bed, quiet like it was a funeral.
The doctor was a handsome man, but well into his fifties. He carried a briefcase, and when he walked in, he asked the rest of them to leave so he could examine Mikey.
They waited outside for what felt like hours, but was really only about fifteen minutes. When he returned, he looked completely perplexed.
“Well, he has a fever, but you already determined that,” he said. “It’s rather high-I just took his temperature, and it registered at 105. That’s not healthy. But you did the right thing giving him a Tylenol. I gave him another, and hopefully it’ll bring the fever down further.
“But I checked him pretty thoroughly, and his chest is clear, and he doesn’t seem to be showing any symptoms of anything more life-threatening than a stomach bug. I’m just confused about the intensity of his fever, and I guess that’s really the only thing to worry about. I suggest you keep a close eye on him, make sure he drinks a lot, and maybe even give him a cold cloth to keep his body temperature down. Also, he’s going to feel chilled, but don’t let him put on too many layers of clothing. The idea is to bring the fever down, not allow it to continue to rise.”
They all listened carefully, and nodded when appropriate. “Do you have any idea when he’ll be back on his feet?” Ray asked after the doctor was done speaking.
The doctor frowned. “It shouldn’t be more than a few days. These things usually pass, after all. But make sure he doesn’t push himself, because he’ll just get sick all over again.”
They all thanked him and led him back towards the front door, which was quite hard to find in the huge house. Before he left, he reminded them to keep an eye on Mikey one more time. Gerard was already thinking about what this was going to do to the writing process, but quickly berated himself for being so selfish. He wasn’t sure if “selfish” was the right word, actually, but he definitely wasn’t thinking of Mikey when it crossed his mind.
They did virtually nothing for the rest of the day, but even so, the day was not uneventful. When Gerard walked down one of the hallways in search of a nearby bathroom after the doctor left, a door that led to one of the bedrooms that was under construction slammed. It wasn’t just a gentle closing that may have been the result of a breeze or some sort of air-current, and it couldn’t have been written off as part of Gerard’s imagination. It was a distinct slam, and it happened just as Gerard looked at the door. There was nobody else in the hallway at the time.
Gerard was understandably startled. He even walked over to the door in order to make sure that he was right in thinking he was alone. With apprehension building in his chest, he turned the doorknob and opened the door, looking all around the empty, unfurnished room, but he saw nobody and nothing. His heart pounding, he continued on his search for a bathroom.
They were taking turns keeping watch over Mikey. They pretty much left him alone, but whoever’s turn it was to watch would try to remain in the West wing of the house, so he would be able to hear if Mikey made any noises or stirred. They would periodically check on him, and coax some liquids down his throat, and even occasionally make him eat something. Mikey never said much; he’d just look generally miserable, and close his eyes against lights.
After two days of this with no improvement, Gerard and Bob were getting more worried, and Frank and Ray were getting more impatient. Not to say that the latter two weren’t concerned about Mikey; they were, but they were also concerned about the album they were writing. They were fully aware of the fact that the last album they had released had came out over two years ago, and their last tour had been far too long ago. Gerard and Bob were aware of this too, but Frank and Ray had the tendency to get anxious about things they couldn’t control.
On that third day of Mikey’s illness, Gerard ran into Elizabeth again, right when he went to do his compulsory check-on-Mikey-before-bed.
“He’s still not improving?” she asked the moment she entered the room. Mikey was stirring, which was a good sign, but he really wasn’t moving much beyond that.
“I’m afraid not,” Gerard said with a sigh.
“Say, does he like tea by any chance?” Elizabeth asked, quirking an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I guess so, why?”
“I may have something that could help,” she said, and with that she turned around and left. Gerard stared at the open door for a long while before turning back towards Mikey. He was blinking slowly, but was otherwise not showing any other sign of being conscious. It wasn’t too long before Elizabeth returned with a steaming mug. She seated herself on one of the chairs near Mikey’s bed and tried to hand the mug to him. He glared at her (Gerard interpreted it as a glare, at least) and made to swat the mug away.
Elizabeth sighed. “It’s for your own good, dear,” she scolded, and tried to hand it to him again, but he just wasn’t having it. She shook her head. “Here,” she said, handing the mug to Gerard. “I don’t think he likes me, you give it to him.”
“Thanks,” Gerard said, really meaning it. For some reason, he had the feeling that this really was going to help.
“You’re quite welcome. I just hope he gets better.” Then she left, leaving Gerard alone with Mikey.
“You should probably sit up and drink this, because I’m not leaving you alone until you do,” Gerard said, prodding Mikey’s side with his free hand. Mikey made an attempt to sit up, but failed miserably, his hands sliding over the bedspread and his muscles straining.
“Here, let me help you,” Gerard said, putting the mug down and supporting Mikey with both his hands as he tried to sit up. Mikey, to Gerard’s surprise, took the mug without further coaxing, and started to drink it with a slight grimace on his face. He seemed to be gaining more strength as he drank more, and Gerard was truly astonished.
“Don’t like this,” Mikey mumbled, looking into the mug, and Gerard jumped.
“It lives!” he exclaimed, touching his brother’s arm.
“Shu’up,” Mikey groaned.
“And apparently, it bitches,” Gerard said.
“Yeah, well, not exactly comfortable here.” Mikey looked like moving his mouth was taking up all his energy. “I need a shower, man, seriously.”
“Hey now, you don’t need to tell me that. Are you seriously feeling better just from drinking that shit?” Gerard said, astounded.
Mikey frowned. “I guess. A little.” He never was one for wordy explanations. “Well, I feel capable of speech at least.”
“That’s a good sign,” Gerard said, smiling meekly. “Hey, can I go tell the guys or something? Because I don’t know if you’ve been listening, but yeah, they’re worried about you.”
“Nobody’s stopping you,” Mikey said with a shrug. “Just, send someone back soon, okay? Because I can tell I’m going to need assistance. I need a fucking shower.”
“Sure thing,” Gerard said, and the second he left the room, his face lit up in a smile. It looked like Mikey was going to get better, and soon. He found the rest of the band in the live room, playing video games.
“Guys, Mikey’s like, awake,” he said, and Frank immediately paused the game.
“That’s great, man!” Bob said. “What happened?”
“I don’t know, he drank some tea and all of a sudden he was talking again,” Gerard said.
“Huh,” Bob said. “Does he need help with anything?”
“Yeah, actually, he said he could use some,” Gerard responded, stretching. “Damn, I’m really fucking tired. What time is it?”
“Nearly midnight,” Frank said, looking at his watch.
“Well I’m going to bed. I guess Bob’s volunteering for the Mikey-assisting?”
“Yeah,” Bob said, nodding and getting up.
Frank got up too. “I’m going to go to bed too,” he said, and looked at Gerard pointedly. Gerard wasn’t quite sure how to interpret this look, but he figured he wouldn’t have to wonder for long, because when he started walking towards his room, Frank followed.
He didn’t say anything at all until he entered his room and Frank followed him inside. “Since when is this your room?” Gerard said playfully.
“Who are you kidding, Gerard?” Frank said, wrapping one arm around his waist. “I heard you gasping for air the past two nights, you know. You’re just going to wind up with me anyway.” Frank was right; there hadn’t been one night this week when Gerard did not feel like he was being strangled upon waking, and every time, he would stumble into Frank’s bed without a second thought.
Gerard threw an arm over Frank’s shoulders. “Okay,” he said softly, closing the door behind them. He could tell by the tone of Frank’s voice, and the look in his eye, that he wasn’t suggesting this just for the sake of convenience. Things between them still hadn’t progressed much, and although most nights they wound up making out in Frank’s bed, Frank was obviously not content with the way things were, even if Gerard was under the delusion that he himself was.
Frank was already changed for bed, but Gerard wasn’t, and he made Frank turn the other way while he undressed. Frank laughed at him, reminding him that he’d seen him naked before and it was no big deal, but Gerard didn’t care. “It’s awkward, man. You’ll have nothing else better to look at so you’re going to stare at me, and I’m going to feel uncomfortable.” So Frank laughed and turned so he was facing the corner while Gerard changed. Despite the fact that Frank wasn’t looking, Gerard’s hands still shook as he pulled up his pants; it wasn’t helping that Frank was cracking jokes of a very sexual nature every so often.
When they climbed into bed a few moments later and Gerard turned out the light, Frank moved close and pressed his mouth to Gerard’s ear. “You should know that was completely pointless, man,” he said, and Gerard could swear that he took lessons on making his voice just that frequency so it gave Gerard gooseflesh and made him want to do whatever Frank was saying. “Because seriously, it should be obvious to you that I’m just going to make you take it all off again.”
Gerard really had no idea how to answer that, so he just swallowed and let Frank kiss him.
“Too much shit going on lately,” Frank said in that same voice, in between kisses. “You’re not letting yourself have a good time. Isn’t that what everything is all about, Gee?” His hands were once again finding their way underneath Gerard’s shirt, and this time, Gerard didn’t stop him.
“Yeah,” Gerard said breathlessly, but when he tried to kiss Frank, he couldn’t quite find his mouth in the dark. Gerard giggled when his mouth connected with Frank’s chin, and Frank laughed as well, using both hands to guide Gerard’s face in the right direction. When their lips met, Gerard’s eyes fell shut immediately, before he could even fully process what was going on. His world consisted of lips, and tongue, and teeth, and Gerard wouldn’t have it any other way.
Things heated up quickly, and Gerard found that he didn’t even feel the need to slow them down. It was like this whole thing with Mikey was the last straw; he was so sick of things going wrong that he couldn’t imagine anything making it worse, so he just went with it. Frank was right; he hadn’t been letting himself have a good time, and it was about time that was rectified.
Before Gerard could even ponder how Frank had managed to remove his shirt without breaking their kiss (or even if it was possible), Frank had removed his own as well, and when Gerard felt their bare skin touching, he felt something in his stomach collapse. His hands, which had been resting on Frank’s shoulders, immediately slid down to his warm back, and it was among the best things Gerard had ever felt. He couldn’t help but groan into the kiss, and Frank took that as a green light. Gerard didn’t even know what was happening; all he knew was that whatever Frank was doing, it felt good, and he didn’t want him to stop.
Gerard felt like Frank must have had at least a dozen hands, because there were so many things that were happening simultaneously that couldn’t be with just two. Soon enough, they were both completely naked, and Gerard was breathing heavily into the crook of Frank’s neck as he did something lovely with one of his impossibly numerous hands. Gerard tried to reciprocate, but Frank quickly swatted him away with a mumble of, “No, not yet.”
He was momentarily distraught when their contact was broken, but then Frank whispered something to him about condoms, to which Gerard mumbled something about the third drawer and his wallet. For some reason, this didn’t make Gerard more nervous, even though it logically should have; perhaps it was because he knew what direction this was going. He heard Frank stumbling around in the dark for a few moments, every so often hearing a thump and a giggle if he tripped over something, and soon enough he was back on top of Gerard, and far too hot (in temperature among other things) for Gerard to handle.
It wasn’t amazing and it didn’t last long, but Gerard loved every minute of it. It was so dark that Gerard could not tell if his eyes were open or closed, and the house was so big that even if the other guys were making a racket, they would not have heard. The sound of his own breathing mixed with Frank’s echoed off the walls of his head, and he felt himself getting dizzy-drunk-stupid off of it all. Frank was incapable of being serious, and even when he had Gerard squirming and writhing and begging, he would still whisper things in Gerard’s ear and laugh. Gerard couldn’t remember most of the things he said later, and he figured they weren’t very important; Frank just felt the need to do something with his mouth when he wasn’t kissing Gerard.
But he did kiss Gerard, a lot of the time, even when Gerard just wanted to be fucked and not kissed. Even so, it didn’t last long, and it was sloppy and clumsy, and Gerard probably bruised Frank’s hips with how hard he was gripping them, urging him to move faster or slower or something, but Frank just went, at his own pace, and that was somehow better.
Later, Gerard realized that he was noisy, but not at the time; at the time, he was in his own world, with Frank and nobody else, and the word cheating never even crossed his mind. He didn’t think anyone’s name but Frank’s, and he certainly didn’t say anyone’s name but Frank’s.
When it was over, neither of them bothered to move very much for a long while. Gerard had his eyes clamped shut, still riding out the waves of his (surprisingly powerful) orgasm, willing his sporadic heartbeat back to normal. One of Frank’s hands was trapped between their bodies, and the other was slowly running through Gerard’s hair, making Gerard sleepy. Gerard ran his hands up and down Frank’s back, and when Frank mumbled something like, “…wanted to do that for so long,” Gerard made a half-laugh half-sob noise and clutched him harder, only moving when Frank pulled away to kiss him deeply, his mumble of “me too” lost somewhere between their mouths.
Nothing made sense anymore, really, and when Gerard asked, “What does this mean?” he even surprised himself.
“I dunno,” Frank said, but he didn’t sound morose or depressing or harsh. “I guess it means I like having sex with you.” Frank’s voice was slightly muffled, as his face was pressed into the crook of Gerard’s neck.
Gerard laughed in spite of himself; the bluntness of Frank’s statement and the muffled way in which it came out struck him funny. “Okay, I can live with that.”
“Is that all?” Frank said flirtatiously. Gerard found it amusing that Frank was flirting after they had sex, because what else could it possibly accomplish?
“No,” Gerard said, but he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he kissed Frank again.
[//]