The Funeral of Hearts [7/?]
Title: The Funeral of Hearts
Author: midnightcancer
Pairing: Gerard/Frank
Rating: NC-17
Warning: language, alcohol, drug addiction, sex, and abuse
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone who appears in this story.
Summary: Gerard is a struggling artist who is getting frustrated with all his rejections. As if that alone wasn’t enough to send him flying over the edge, he falls in love with a touring musician who he doesn’t get to see a whole lot - and who has a past he’s yet to discover.
A/N: Sorry this took so long. Frank and Gerard are going to be interracting with each other from now on - no more chapters with only Frank or Gerard exclusively. Shit's getting serious, yo. Also, I made the decission that Davey will be apart of this fic. So... Enjoy <3
The following morning after the gallery’s opening, Frank is awake and dressed by nine. Shane didn’t even have to stop by and wake him up - which was a surprise to her when he called. She had been sleeping which meant he had woken up before her.
“What’s the occasion?” She had asked, voice heavy from sleep.
“I’m going to New Jersey.”
“Why?”
She asked this like it was the stupidest idea she had ever heard. But, to answer her question, Frank explained how he had met one of the artists that didn’t make the cut last night.
“So you’re going to New Jersey to fuck him?” Shane asked. “I don’t understand.”
Laughing, Frank replied, “Well, getting laid is certainly a possibility but I’m really going there to see a painting the guy has on display.”
There’s a momentary pause before Shane thoughtfully says, “So he’s an exhibitionist who likes to paint his cock?”
Frank laughs again and says, “No, that’s not it at all. His friend just has one of his paintings on display at his bookstore.”
“Does this friend sell the Kama Sutra?”
“Possibly.”
“Cool.”
Frank shook his head even though Shane couldn’t see him. Leave it to her to always turn something sexual. But, before she could turn anything else into something dirty, Frank said, “I gotta’ go.” Shane picked on him a bit before she finally gave in and they shared their goodbyes.
Now he’s on the highway New Jersey bound. It takes a little less than forty-five minutes before he’s right there in front of Valo’s Books - the bookstore that Gerard’s roommate owns. Upon entering, he walks straight to the back where he finds the cashier counter.
“Hey,” Frank greets the man at the register with a wide grin. “Don’t I know you?”
The man looks thoughtful for a moment before he snaps his fingers and points.
“Yeah! I saw you last night at the gallery!”
“Did you? Hell, you were so off your face, I’m surprised you saw anything.”
“I wasn’t that drunk,” Ville says with a frown.
Winking, Frank replies, “That’s what they all say. Now! Where is this masterpiece of Gerard’s?”
“Uh… His painting?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s in the front,” Ville says, pointing.
Frank smiles and thanks Ville before proceeding the way he came. He didn’t have to look around very far because, upon appearing out from between the bookshelves, Frank sees it right there in front of him. He can honestly say that the low quality photographs he saw weeks ago does this painting absolutely no justice because it looks even nicer in person than it does from within the confines of a folder.
“Wow,” Franks says to himself. He steps forward so he can take a better look at the painting - he wants to see all of the detail.
It’s not like the picture has changed much since he last saw it in Bette’s office. Even still though, he’s just as mesmerized by it as he had been the first time. He’s so wrapped up in looking at the painting that he doesn’t even notice when Ville appears at his side. The man has to tap on Frank’s shoulder just to get his attention.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Ville asks, to which Frank nods. Ville then responds, “Too bad he doesn’t think so.”
Frank nods again before replying, “Yeah, he seemed to be really cut up about not being chosen to be featured in the gallery.”
“He thinks he failed as an artist just because he wasn’t accepted.”
“Bullshit,” Frank mutters. “He’s an amazing artist. The curator is just a sell-out.”
“They all are, though, aren’t they?”
Frank shakes his head before saying, “She never used to be like that, I promise. I’ve known her for a fair few years - way back when I lived in Cali.”
“You’re from California?” Ville asks, surprised.
Frank smiles and says, “Yeah. Since my band’s break wasn’t coming to me, I figured I’d go to it, you know? But… Unfortunately, that didn’t work out very well either so I fucked off to New York.”
“Shit luck,” Ville mutters.
“Yeah.”
A short silence falls between them before Frank takes a deep breath and says, “Well, I better get going.” Smiling he adds, “Thanks for letting me loiter, man.”
Frank turns to walk out the door, but Ville stops him before he can get very far.
“You’re going back to New York?” Ville asks.
“Well, yeah,” Frank says this like it’s not a big deal but, secretly, he’s hoping that Ville offers for him to stay a little longer, if only just to make more small chat. To his pleasant surprise, luck’s on his side today.
“No way,” Ville says with a shake of his head. “You’re not going to drive all the way back after only having been here for not even ten minutes.”
“I only came here to see the painting,” Frank explains. “I don’t have anything left to do here.”
“Don’t you want to meet the mastermind behind the painting though?” Ville wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and Frank laughs.
“I met him last night but…” His voice trails off and he shrugs. “I guess I wouldn’t mind talking to him again.”
Smiling, Ville replies, “Great.” He turns around and beckons for Frank to follow, saying, “Come on. I’ll give you our address.”* * * * *
Frank left soon after Ville gave him the address to the apartment he shares with Gerard. Frank didn’t really want to stick around for too long just to be a burden, and anyway, Ville had customers to attend to. This gave Frank the chance to just head on over there without the awkward farewells.
Frank isn’t nervous - he really isn’t. He just has to figure out what he’s going to say in order to explain his unexpected arrival. He had told Gerard that he was going to be dropping by soon, it’s just that Gerard probably didn’t think he’d be visiting the following night after they met. But, here he is, standing in front of Gerard on the third floor doorstep, still not sure what to say.
“Hello?” Gerard greets. He says this like a question rather than a legitimate and friendly hello.
“Hi,” Frank says, just a bit breathless. “Uh… I said I’d be stopping by.”
“You said you’d be stopping by the bookstore to see my painting.”
Frank frowns as he replies, “Which I did but… Well, you know, I wanted to talk to you again. Ville gave me the address.”
“Nice of him to warn me,” Gerard mutters, looking down and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He glances back up before asking, “I guess you want to come in then.”
“If you don’t mind.”
Gerard merely shrugs before stepping to the side. Frank hesitantly walks into the apartment, looking around the hallway he finds himself in. To the left is the kitchen and a little ways down the hall is the living room. There are three doors - two that are closed and one that is open - Frank supposes they’re the bedrooms and bathroom.
Standing awkwardly against the wall, Gerard mumbles, “Want a coffee or something?” When Frank nods, he carefully sidesteps around his guest to get to the kitchen, immediately making a beeline for the coffeepot. Frank follows.
“I had to zap it in the microwave,” Gerard mumbles as he places a cup of coffee in front of Frank who has seated himself at the small, round table in the center of the kitchen. “It might still be a little cold.”
“It’s alright,” Frank replies as he brings the cup to his mouth to sip it. “Why waste coffee if it’s already been made, you know?”
Gerard shrugs as he says, “Yeah. I woke up early because I wanted to do some painting but I only drank one cup.”
Frank nods in response. He doesn’t say much else after that so it leaves him and Gerard to sit together in an awkward silence - awkward for Gerard, at least. Frank is quite comfortable despite the circumstance, but he didn’t decide to start up conversation again until both of them were done their coffees.
“So… You said you started painting some more today?” Frank asks, looking at Gerard - except he’s not getting looked back at.
“Yeah,” Gerard says softly with a small nod. He’s staring down into his empty coffee cup while he speaks. “But it didn’t go very well.”
“It didn’t?” Gerard gives another small nod - to which Frank inquires, “Why not?”
“Well, to start with, I really didn’t want to paint anyway. I’m only doing it because a few of Ville’s customers are asking when he’s going to have more paintings on sale.” Sighing, he adds, “And I’m not very inspired either. That rejection sapped what little inspiration I had.”
“Man,” Frank mutters with a shake of his head. He says this like he’s disgusted - but he kind of is. Who the fuck is Bette Porter to make a struggling artist feel like shit?
“Don’t let that bitch bother you, okay?” Frank says. “I told you this last night.”
“I know you did it’s just…” Gerard shrugs. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you. I mean, I was never confident about my artwork to begin with. Bette just made it worse, though.”
Sighing heavily, Frank asks, “What will it take?”
Gerard looks at the man sitting across from him with a confused expression.
“What do you mean?” He asks.
“What will it take for you to be inspired again?” Frank clarifies.
Gerard doesn’t answer right away. How can he? He doesn’t know how to respond because he doesn’t know the answer to Frank’s question. He’s having a hard time painting. That’s all he can really say.
Frank shakes his head.
“I want to help you,” he says. “Because I hate seeing people so cut up about something they enjoy doing.”
“What makes you think I enjoy it?” Gerard asks, narrowing his eyes - at which Frank frowns.
“You don’t fool me, Gerard Way,” Frank replies. “I know a passionate artist when I see one. Your love for your craft shows through in that painting of the drug-addicted musician.”
“But maybe that painting doesn’t have to do with my passion for my art. Maybe it has to do with my passion for something else…”
Gerard lowers his head and Frank looks at the man sitting in front of him with a sad expression on his face. He wishes so badly that he could help Gerard, but how can he? How can someone help another who’s not willing to help themselves? Rather: who can’t help themselves.
Gerard’s lost. He’s lost in a limbo of not knowing which direction to go in because his map - his artwork - has become so foreign to him.
“You know what I think we should do?” Frank asks. When Gerard doesn’t respond or even choose to look up, he answers himself. “We should play a game.”
Now Frank has the other man’s attention.
“What kind of game?” Gerard asks, his eyes narrowing again.
“I’m going to draw one part of a picture. Then you draw another part. And we keep doing that - back and forth - until we’re both satisfied with it.”
Gerard scoffs at the suggestion.
“Come on,” he mutters. “That’s a kid’s game. Childplay.”
“Sure,” Frank agrees with a nod of his head. “But you never know. It might be just what you need to get your head back in artist mode.” Wiggling his eyebrows, Frank asks, “So how ‘bout it?”
Gerard looks at Frank for a long moment before sighing. It’s not a sad or frustrated sigh - no, nothing like that. It’s a sigh of him giving up.
“Fine,” Gerard says. Frank swears he can see the tiniest trace of a smile starting to form. “Let’s play your stupid little game.”
Frank grins and slaps his hands on the surface of the table, saying, “Yeah, let’s do this!”
Author: midnightcancer
Pairing: Gerard/Frank
Rating: NC-17
Warning: language, alcohol, drug addiction, sex, and abuse
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone who appears in this story.
Summary: Gerard is a struggling artist who is getting frustrated with all his rejections. As if that alone wasn’t enough to send him flying over the edge, he falls in love with a touring musician who he doesn’t get to see a whole lot - and who has a past he’s yet to discover.
A/N: Sorry this took so long. Frank and Gerard are going to be interracting with each other from now on - no more chapters with only Frank or Gerard exclusively. Shit's getting serious, yo. Also, I made the decission that Davey will be apart of this fic. So... Enjoy <3
The following morning after the gallery’s opening, Frank is awake and dressed by nine. Shane didn’t even have to stop by and wake him up - which was a surprise to her when he called. She had been sleeping which meant he had woken up before her.
“What’s the occasion?” She had asked, voice heavy from sleep.
“I’m going to New Jersey.”
“Why?”
She asked this like it was the stupidest idea she had ever heard. But, to answer her question, Frank explained how he had met one of the artists that didn’t make the cut last night.
“So you’re going to New Jersey to fuck him?” Shane asked. “I don’t understand.”
Laughing, Frank replied, “Well, getting laid is certainly a possibility but I’m really going there to see a painting the guy has on display.”
There’s a momentary pause before Shane thoughtfully says, “So he’s an exhibitionist who likes to paint his cock?”
Frank laughs again and says, “No, that’s not it at all. His friend just has one of his paintings on display at his bookstore.”
“Does this friend sell the Kama Sutra?”
“Possibly.”
“Cool.”
Frank shook his head even though Shane couldn’t see him. Leave it to her to always turn something sexual. But, before she could turn anything else into something dirty, Frank said, “I gotta’ go.” Shane picked on him a bit before she finally gave in and they shared their goodbyes.
Now he’s on the highway New Jersey bound. It takes a little less than forty-five minutes before he’s right there in front of Valo’s Books - the bookstore that Gerard’s roommate owns. Upon entering, he walks straight to the back where he finds the cashier counter.
“Hey,” Frank greets the man at the register with a wide grin. “Don’t I know you?”
The man looks thoughtful for a moment before he snaps his fingers and points.
“Yeah! I saw you last night at the gallery!”
“Did you? Hell, you were so off your face, I’m surprised you saw anything.”
“I wasn’t that drunk,” Ville says with a frown.
Winking, Frank replies, “That’s what they all say. Now! Where is this masterpiece of Gerard’s?”
“Uh… His painting?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s in the front,” Ville says, pointing.
Frank smiles and thanks Ville before proceeding the way he came. He didn’t have to look around very far because, upon appearing out from between the bookshelves, Frank sees it right there in front of him. He can honestly say that the low quality photographs he saw weeks ago does this painting absolutely no justice because it looks even nicer in person than it does from within the confines of a folder.
“Wow,” Franks says to himself. He steps forward so he can take a better look at the painting - he wants to see all of the detail.
It’s not like the picture has changed much since he last saw it in Bette’s office. Even still though, he’s just as mesmerized by it as he had been the first time. He’s so wrapped up in looking at the painting that he doesn’t even notice when Ville appears at his side. The man has to tap on Frank’s shoulder just to get his attention.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Ville asks, to which Frank nods. Ville then responds, “Too bad he doesn’t think so.”
Frank nods again before replying, “Yeah, he seemed to be really cut up about not being chosen to be featured in the gallery.”
“He thinks he failed as an artist just because he wasn’t accepted.”
“Bullshit,” Frank mutters. “He’s an amazing artist. The curator is just a sell-out.”
“They all are, though, aren’t they?”
Frank shakes his head before saying, “She never used to be like that, I promise. I’ve known her for a fair few years - way back when I lived in Cali.”
“You’re from California?” Ville asks, surprised.
Frank smiles and says, “Yeah. Since my band’s break wasn’t coming to me, I figured I’d go to it, you know? But… Unfortunately, that didn’t work out very well either so I fucked off to New York.”
“Shit luck,” Ville mutters.
“Yeah.”
A short silence falls between them before Frank takes a deep breath and says, “Well, I better get going.” Smiling he adds, “Thanks for letting me loiter, man.”
Frank turns to walk out the door, but Ville stops him before he can get very far.
“You’re going back to New York?” Ville asks.
“Well, yeah,” Frank says this like it’s not a big deal but, secretly, he’s hoping that Ville offers for him to stay a little longer, if only just to make more small chat. To his pleasant surprise, luck’s on his side today.
“No way,” Ville says with a shake of his head. “You’re not going to drive all the way back after only having been here for not even ten minutes.”
“I only came here to see the painting,” Frank explains. “I don’t have anything left to do here.”
“Don’t you want to meet the mastermind behind the painting though?” Ville wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and Frank laughs.
“I met him last night but…” His voice trails off and he shrugs. “I guess I wouldn’t mind talking to him again.”
Smiling, Ville replies, “Great.” He turns around and beckons for Frank to follow, saying, “Come on. I’ll give you our address.”* * * * *
Frank left soon after Ville gave him the address to the apartment he shares with Gerard. Frank didn’t really want to stick around for too long just to be a burden, and anyway, Ville had customers to attend to. This gave Frank the chance to just head on over there without the awkward farewells.
Frank isn’t nervous - he really isn’t. He just has to figure out what he’s going to say in order to explain his unexpected arrival. He had told Gerard that he was going to be dropping by soon, it’s just that Gerard probably didn’t think he’d be visiting the following night after they met. But, here he is, standing in front of Gerard on the third floor doorstep, still not sure what to say.
“Hello?” Gerard greets. He says this like a question rather than a legitimate and friendly hello.
“Hi,” Frank says, just a bit breathless. “Uh… I said I’d be stopping by.”
“You said you’d be stopping by the bookstore to see my painting.”
Frank frowns as he replies, “Which I did but… Well, you know, I wanted to talk to you again. Ville gave me the address.”
“Nice of him to warn me,” Gerard mutters, looking down and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He glances back up before asking, “I guess you want to come in then.”
“If you don’t mind.”
Gerard merely shrugs before stepping to the side. Frank hesitantly walks into the apartment, looking around the hallway he finds himself in. To the left is the kitchen and a little ways down the hall is the living room. There are three doors - two that are closed and one that is open - Frank supposes they’re the bedrooms and bathroom.
Standing awkwardly against the wall, Gerard mumbles, “Want a coffee or something?” When Frank nods, he carefully sidesteps around his guest to get to the kitchen, immediately making a beeline for the coffeepot. Frank follows.
“I had to zap it in the microwave,” Gerard mumbles as he places a cup of coffee in front of Frank who has seated himself at the small, round table in the center of the kitchen. “It might still be a little cold.”
“It’s alright,” Frank replies as he brings the cup to his mouth to sip it. “Why waste coffee if it’s already been made, you know?”
Gerard shrugs as he says, “Yeah. I woke up early because I wanted to do some painting but I only drank one cup.”
Frank nods in response. He doesn’t say much else after that so it leaves him and Gerard to sit together in an awkward silence - awkward for Gerard, at least. Frank is quite comfortable despite the circumstance, but he didn’t decide to start up conversation again until both of them were done their coffees.
“So… You said you started painting some more today?” Frank asks, looking at Gerard - except he’s not getting looked back at.
“Yeah,” Gerard says softly with a small nod. He’s staring down into his empty coffee cup while he speaks. “But it didn’t go very well.”
“It didn’t?” Gerard gives another small nod - to which Frank inquires, “Why not?”
“Well, to start with, I really didn’t want to paint anyway. I’m only doing it because a few of Ville’s customers are asking when he’s going to have more paintings on sale.” Sighing, he adds, “And I’m not very inspired either. That rejection sapped what little inspiration I had.”
“Man,” Frank mutters with a shake of his head. He says this like he’s disgusted - but he kind of is. Who the fuck is Bette Porter to make a struggling artist feel like shit?
“Don’t let that bitch bother you, okay?” Frank says. “I told you this last night.”
“I know you did it’s just…” Gerard shrugs. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you. I mean, I was never confident about my artwork to begin with. Bette just made it worse, though.”
Sighing heavily, Frank asks, “What will it take?”
Gerard looks at the man sitting across from him with a confused expression.
“What do you mean?” He asks.
“What will it take for you to be inspired again?” Frank clarifies.
Gerard doesn’t answer right away. How can he? He doesn’t know how to respond because he doesn’t know the answer to Frank’s question. He’s having a hard time painting. That’s all he can really say.
Frank shakes his head.
“I want to help you,” he says. “Because I hate seeing people so cut up about something they enjoy doing.”
“What makes you think I enjoy it?” Gerard asks, narrowing his eyes - at which Frank frowns.
“You don’t fool me, Gerard Way,” Frank replies. “I know a passionate artist when I see one. Your love for your craft shows through in that painting of the drug-addicted musician.”
“But maybe that painting doesn’t have to do with my passion for my art. Maybe it has to do with my passion for something else…”
Gerard lowers his head and Frank looks at the man sitting in front of him with a sad expression on his face. He wishes so badly that he could help Gerard, but how can he? How can someone help another who’s not willing to help themselves? Rather: who can’t help themselves.
Gerard’s lost. He’s lost in a limbo of not knowing which direction to go in because his map - his artwork - has become so foreign to him.
“You know what I think we should do?” Frank asks. When Gerard doesn’t respond or even choose to look up, he answers himself. “We should play a game.”
Now Frank has the other man’s attention.
“What kind of game?” Gerard asks, his eyes narrowing again.
“I’m going to draw one part of a picture. Then you draw another part. And we keep doing that - back and forth - until we’re both satisfied with it.”
Gerard scoffs at the suggestion.
“Come on,” he mutters. “That’s a kid’s game. Childplay.”
“Sure,” Frank agrees with a nod of his head. “But you never know. It might be just what you need to get your head back in artist mode.” Wiggling his eyebrows, Frank asks, “So how ‘bout it?”
Gerard looks at Frank for a long moment before sighing. It’s not a sad or frustrated sigh - no, nothing like that. It’s a sigh of him giving up.
“Fine,” Gerard says. Frank swears he can see the tiniest trace of a smile starting to form. “Let’s play your stupid little game.”
Frank grins and slaps his hands on the surface of the table, saying, “Yeah, let’s do this!”