Fic: Untitled
title: Untitled
pairing: Frank/Gerard
rating: R for language
words: ~4500
summary: Gerard hits rock-bottom, from Frank's POV.
a/n: This is the first bandom fic I wrote, right after watching Life On The Murder Scene for the first time. I couldn't resist the angst.
disclaimer: Based on true events, but not actually true.
warning: angst, depression
Frank didn’t often have trouble sleeping, but when he did, there was usually someone else up that he could hang out with. Usually, that person was Gerard. Frank rolled out of his bunk, landing heavily on the floor, and peeked around Gerard’s curtain, expecting to find him staring up at the ceiling with his headphones on, which was what Gerard always did when he couldn’t sleep. Except the bunk was empty.
Frank glanced around the trailer, but there were no signs of life beyond the sound of the three men’s steady breathing, interrupted every so often by Ray’s snore. Frank wondered where Gerard was. Earlier in the evening, he’d been drunk off his ass, but that was nothing unusual. Sighing with frustration at his own insomnia and Gerard’s mysterious absence, Frank climbed back into his bunk and closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep.
An indeterminate amount of time later, the muffled sounds of people entering the trailer woke Frank from his doze. There were two voices: Jerry, the tour manager’s, and Gerard’s. For a brief moment, Frank considered hopping down from his bunk and joining them in the front room, but something stopped him, some indescribable gut feeling. He stayed still and silent, and immediately fully alert, in his bunk with the curtain closed.
As small as the trailer was, and as quiet in the dead of night, Frank couldn’t help but overhear Jerry and Gerard’s murmured conversation. It wasn’t really a conversation, though. More of a drunk ramble, on Gerard’s part. Jerry whispered words of comfort and encouragement, interrupting what sounded like apologies and explanations. Gerard’s voice was slurry and thick, and Frank suddenly realized that he’d been crying. Frank also realized that he was holding his breath, trying to hear more, even though it was obviously a private matter.
It didn’t take long for Frank to get the gist of the situation. Neither of them ever uttered the word “suicide”, but Gerard was implying everything Frank needed to know to make that connection.
Frank’s first thought was Where’s Mikey? No, that’s not true. Frank’s first thought was Oh. Oh, shit. Then he thought of Mikey, and he wondered why Mikey wasn’t dealing with this, and then he realized he never wanted Mikey to have to deal with this. He never even wanted Mikey to know about this.
Frank’s eyes were wide open; he was staring at the ceiling without really seeing it. Instead, he was picturing the scene just outside his curtain: Gerard, hunched over the table with his forehead in his hands, his eyes bloodshot and puffy from crying. Frank released a shuddery breath and froze, scared that they might have heard him.
But Gerard was saying that he was tired, and Jerry gently advised him to get some sleep. Gerard stumbled toward the bunks, followed closely by Jerry. Frank couldn’t stop himself from peering through the gap in his curtain. He saw Gerard fall into his bunk, and Jerry lean down to whisper something that Frank couldn’t hear.
Gerard was asleep in seconds. Jerry stood there for a moment, looked around the quiet room once, and then left, his cell phone in hand. Frank was still holding his breath as if someone could hear him listening. When he finally realized this, he exhaled loudly and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling again.
He didn’t stay that way for long, though. Before he knew it, he was looking through the gap in his curtain again, studying Gerard’s sleeping form. Jerry hadn’t closed Gerard’s curtain before he left, and Frank suddenly felt that this was some sort of violation of privacy. Any one of them could wake up and see Gerard like this, passed out from drink, drugs, and emotional exhaustion. Depressed and, though it made Frank’s heart ache to think it, suicidal.
Frank rolled out of his bunk, catching himself and landing gingerly on his toes, quieter than a mouse. He stepped across the narrow aisle-way and knelt down beside Gerard’s bunk, just watching him sleep. He stayed that way for a long moment before moving slowly and carefully into the bed with Gerard. Frank stretched out beside him and wrapped one arm gently around Gerard’s chest. The last thing he wanted was to disturb Gerard’s much-needed sleep, but Frank needed to comfort him just as much.
They lay together for what felt like hours before Frank was finally able to quiet his mind and drift off to sleep.
***
When Frank woke, it was late morning, and he could hear the others moving around, talking quietly, making coffee, but Frank didn’t move. He tightened his arm around Gerard’s torso, comforting himself with Gerard’s warmth, the steady beating of his hear beneath Frank’s hand, and the slow rise and fall of Gerard’s chest as he breathed. Frank pushed his face against the back of Gerard’s neck and kissed him, once, before Jerry slid back the curtain.
Jerry didn’t look surprised to find Frank there. He said, “C’mon, Frankie, we need to talk. Let him sleep.”
Over Jerry’s shoulder, Frank could see the others sitting around the table. He carefully disentangled himself from Gerard and went to face reality.
After Jerry explained what had happened last night, Frank put his head down on the table and closed his eyes wearily. Mikey, sitting across from him, was silent. He looked shell-shocked: his hair was dishevelled and his glasses were crooked, and he looked like he’d been through hell. Frank wanted to hug him, but there was a table in the way and he was too emotionally exhausted to move.
Bob was also quiet, but Ray had questions.
“I mean, we knew it was bad,” he was saying, “but I didn’t think it was that bad. How did we not notice? Why didn’t he come to us? How long has he been so depressed? Why-”
“Ray, shut up,” Frank broke in angrily, lifting his head.
“I don’t know,” Jerry admitted. “Gerard spoke to Brian before he came to me. You’ll have to-”
“He was really going to kill himself?” Mikey asked in a small, frightened voice. It was Mikey’s tone, so out of character, that finally made Frank break down into tears.
“Fuck,” Frank said succinctly. He scrubbed his hands over his eyes and found Mikey staring at him with wide eyes behind his stupidly crooked glasses. “I need a smoke.”
Frank pushed his way around Bob and Ray and hurried outside, feeling sick to his stomach. He leaned against the side of the bus and wiped sweat from his brow, breathing heavily to calm his nerves. A moment later, Mikey came out and stood beside him, silent.
“You knew,” Mikey said at last. He lit a cigarette for Frank and then one for himself. “You were with him last night. This morning.”
Frank was already shaking his head. “I was awake when he and Jerry came in,” he explained. “I heard, but I didn’t really know. Fuck.”
“Did you know about the cocaine?” Mikey asked then.
“Yeah,” Frank sighed. “I knew.”
“Fuck,” Mikey said. Frank nodded in agreement. “Everything will change now. Everything has to change.”
“We’ll fix it,” Frank said determinedly. “We’ll make things change, we’ll make it work.” He thought, We’ll save him, but he didn’t say it out loud. Mikey seemed to understand anyway, though, and when he turned to face Frank, his eyes were bright with tears.
“What if we can’t?”
Frank had never known Mikey to be so unsure. “We will, Mikey.” He pulled Mikey into a hug and kissed the side of his head. “It’ll be okay.”
Mikey left soon after that, saying he wanted to be alone for a while. Frank couldn’t blame him for wanting to escape, but all Frank wanted to do was sleep. Which he supposed was an escape, of sorts. Frank stubbed out his cigarette and went back inside. Gerard was still asleep, Ray was on the phone, and Bob was still talking quietly to Jerry.
Frank stood in the middle of the bus, silent and staring into space, for long enough that Bob looked over at him and asked if he was okay.
“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Frank muttered. “I need some fucking sleep.” Without waiting for a reply, Frank made his way back to Gerard’s bunk and crawled in beside him. Sleep came to him quickly, curled tight against Gerard’s warm body, and he didn’t dream.
***
When he woke up some time later, Gerard was awake. He’d turned on his side and was staring right at Frank when he opened his eyes. Frank startled and nearly fell off the bed.
“Gee,” he said, his heart racing.
“Frankie,” Gerard replied softly. His voice was rough. He paused, his mouth slightly open, as if thinking of what else to say. He finally settled on “What time is it?”
Frank shrugged. “I don’t know. Mikey’s worried about you. We all are. Gerard-”
“So I guess you all know,” Gerard broke in sadly.
“Yeah,” Frank whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not as if I wouldn’t tell you anyway,” Gerard continued quickly. He rolled onto his back, his face blank. “I’m so tired, Frankie.”
Neither of them spoke for several minutes, but both were wide awake. Frank rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and rolled onto his back as well, pressed against Gerard from shoulder to thigh. The bunk was rather narrow, he realized, when they weren’t half on top of each other.
“Why are you here, Frank?” Gerard asked, breaking the silence.
Frank licked his lips nervously. “Comfort.” He didn’t say whose; he didn’t even know whose. “Do you want me to go?”
Gerard waited a long moment before replying. “No,” he whispered, swallowing thickly. He turned back onto his side and hugged Frank to him. Frank wrapped his arms around Gerard and pulled him even closer, so he was lying half on top of Frank.
Gerard was crying into Frank’s shoulder. Frank’s arms tightened involuntarily.
“Fuck,” Gerard muttered roughly. “Frankie… I’m sorry.” He lifted his head and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Fuck.”
“Do you want to, like, um… talk, or something?” Frank asked awkwardly.
To his relief, Gerard said, “No. No, but. I’m so tired, Frankie.”
Frank lifted his hand to wipe the tear tracks from Gerard’s cheek. He then kissed Gerard’s forehead.
“Sleep, then.”
***
“Gee. Gee, look at me.”
Gerard just closed his eyes. He was leaning against the window with his feet on the seat, hugging his knees to his chest. Frank sat down across from him.
“We’re all messed up, Gee. Listen, it’s like this, okay? Ray’s going fucking insane, like, ADD and can’t concentrate on anything, like even worse than me. Bob won’t talk to anyone, and he’s just sad all the time. And-Gerard, fucking listen to me, please. Mikey’s scared out of his fucking mind, man. He spends half his time wanting to be left alone and half of it crying on the phone to your mom.”
“Frank, go away,” Gerard whispered wearily.
“C’mon, Gee, just talk to me.”
“What about you?”
Frank paused, considering his answer. “I don’t know what to do about any of it.”
They’d started driving that morning, Brian shouting at Ray over the phone that they needed to get somewhere with a hotel, with an airport, with some sort of civilization. Gerard had argued that they were in the middle of a tour, but he was overruled. They were all worn thin with exhaustion and worry, and tempers were flaring. They needed time alone.
Except for Frank. He tried to cling to Gerard, and when Gerard pushed him away, to Mikey, and when Mikey pushed him away, to Bob. Bob didn’t push him away, but he didn’t talk much either, and Frank wanted to talk to someone, and for them to talk back.
“We’re all so worried, Gerard. I’ve never seen Mikey so scared. He loves you so much. I love you, and Bob and Ray love you, Brian loves you, your parents love you, my parents love you-”
“Frankie, come play a video game with me,” Bob interrupted stiffly.
“Please, Gee, just talk to me. I want to help.”
“Frank.”
His lips twisting into a frown, Frank glared at Bob, who was watching them sympathetically, and reluctantly followed him into the other part of the trailer.
“I’m just trying to talk to him. He used to talk to me, we talked all the time,” Frank murmured. Bob said nothing. “He won’t talk to me, and Mikey won’t either.” Bob still said nothing. “And you fucking won’t.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know, anything!”
“Just give him some time alone, okay?” Bob said quietly. “He needs to… sort through it.”
“I want to help.”
“We all want to help, but that doesn’t mean we can, or that he wants us to. We don’t really know what he’s going through.”
Fucking Bob and his fucking voice of reason, Frank thought. Then he said it out loud. Bob actually laughed. It was a dry, raspy chuckle, but it was real, and that’s what counted.
“Are you going to listen to me for once, then?”
Frank shrugged. “I just miss him.”
“Things’ll get better.”
***
They reached a hotel that night and booked four rooms. Mikey, Gerard, Ray, and Bob each had one, and Frank decided he wanted to stay with one of them, but he didn’t know which. He wanted Gerard, of course, but Bob told him to chill for a while. So he finally settled on Mikey.
“Do you think he’s alright, alone?” Mikey asked as they were changing into pyjamas. They both glanced at the connecting door, behind which was Gerard’s room.
“He’s not going to kill himself, Mikey.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“No,” Frank admitted, “but he won’t. He’s just… depressed, and he’s going to try to get clean, and it’s draining, isn’t it? Bob says we should give him space.”
“I can’t talk to him,” Mikey said quietly. He laughed, though the situation made it inappropriate. “I’m afraid of what he’d think of me if I just… broke down into tears. It just… It just hurts, y’know? But I mean, I know he wouldn’t say anything, but what if, deep down, he thought I was shit because I can’t even handle being around him for a few minutes?”
“Mikey, you’re not supposed to be prepared for this,” Frank said, thinking of what Bob had said. “And he won’t think less of you. He loves you too much.”
Mikey sighed. “Yeah, okay,” he said half-heartedly.
Recognizing that Mikey didn’t want to talk anymore, Frank went to the door. “I’m going to… go see Bob.”
He came back half an hour later to find Mikey on the phone, sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
“I know, but… Yeah, but I don’t think I can do… I can’t… I don’t think he’ll… Mom, please. I can’t do that-”
“D’you want me to go?” Frank whispered.
Mikey shook his head. “Yeah, I know. I’ll try, I guess. Yeah, I’ll… I know, Mom. I know. Yeah. Love you. Bye.”
Frank sat down heavily on his bed. “Everything okay?”
“Pfft.” Mikey took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “She wants me to help Gee, and I just don’t know how, or if I even can… She wants me to keep him safe, but how the fuck am I supposed to do that, huh? If he wants to fucking kill himself, he fucking will, that’s just the way it is.”
Frank didn’t know what to say. He was in the same boat. So he just nodded and flopped down on the bed. Mikey crawled up his bed and underneath the blankets. He put his glasses on the nightstand with his cell phone and sighed again.
“G’night, Frankie.”
“G’night,” Frank replied as Mikey turned out the light. He wished he had something comforting to say. Something like Everything will be better tomorrow, but less false and cliché.
Frank couldn’t get to sleep. Sometime in the middle of the night, he rolled out of bed and tip-toed over to the connecting door between Gerard’s room and theirs, and knocked very softly. A moment later, the door unlocked and opened.
Frank followed Gerard wordlessly to the bed and lay down beside him.
“I’m sorry for blowing you off,” Gerard whispered, the whites of his eyes very bright in the darkness. “I know you just want to help.”
“I want you to be happy,” Frank whispered back. “Can I help you?”
Gerard didn’t answer. Frank leaned in and kissed him.
“I love you, man, you have to know that by now,” Frank said when they broke apart.
“Stay here tonight?”
Frank nodded. Gerard curled up and put his head on Frank’s shoulder, breathing onto his neck. Frank’s arm came up around Gerard’s back and held him there.
“I love you, man,” Frank said again, but Gerard was already asleep.
***
Gerard was still asleep when Frank woke to Mikey’s quiet knock on the connecting door. Frank looked at the clock: it was past noon. They’d slept like the dead. Or, at least, he had.
“Gee, is Frank in there?” Mikey called softly. Frank tumbled out of bed to open the door.
“Hey,” he said. Mikey didn’t look at all surprised to see him answer the door; he was holding three cups of coffee in a little cardboard tray. One said “Gee,” and another said “F”. Mikey handed Frank’s over and took a sip of his own, leading Frank back into their room.
Frank looked back at Gerard once more before closing the door. He felt bad about leaving him alone, especially since Gerard had specifically asked him to stay.
“Did he talk to you?” Mikey asked.
“No. I wanted to… check on him, I guess, and he said he wanted me to stay. Sorry.”
“No, I think that’s-” Mikey paused to take another sip of coffee. Frank hadn’t touched his yet. “I think that’s a good sign, right? That he’s reconnecting, or something. Don’t you think?”
“His coffee’s going to get cold,” Frank said, a deliberate non-answer. “You think we should wake him up?”
Mikey shrugged. “He sleeps a lot, but I think that’s just like, the depression, or something.” They both fell silent, then Mikey said abruptly, “Brian called. He wants us to come home.”
“You think we should,” Frank replied, considering his own opinion.
“My brother’s an alcoholic and a fucking drug addict,” Mikey snapped. “Of course I think we fucking should.”
“Do you think Gerard would agree to it?”
Mikey sighed. He shrugged his shoulders. “Things are so fucked up right now, Frankie.”
Frank nodded. “Yeah, no shit.”
“I should… Call my mom,” Mikey said after a moment, an escape if Frank ever saw one. He didn’t try to stop Mikey, though. Instead, he picked up Gerard’s coffee and went back in to wake him up. He shouldn’t spend all day sleeping, really.
Gerard was awake when he walked in.
“Morning,” Frank said brightly. “Well… afternoon.”
“What time is it?” Gerard mumbled.
“About one,” Frank replied quietly, checking the clock. Gerard groaned. “You must’ve been exhausted. I must’ve been, too.”
“I don’t feel well, Frankie.”
That much was obvious, but Frank tensed anyway. “Gonna be sick?” He put the coffee cups on the nightstand. “Mikey brought coffee.”
“I just want to go back to sleep,” Gerard groaned.
Frank was already shaking his head. “No, Gee, you have to get up sometime. I’m serious, man, you need to get out of this fucking bed. It’s not even that comfortable, anyway. C’mon, you need food. I can’t even remember the last time you ate anything.”
Gerard turned his face into the pillow. “I don’t feel like it,” he said miserably.
“Of course you fucking don’t,” Frank shouted. “Two days ago, you were fucking suicidal! But you’re going to do it anyway because we fucking need you to. Do it for your brother. Do it because I fucking told you to.”
Gerard sat up. Finally! “Since when have I ever listened to you?”
“Since right fucking now, Gerard Way,” Frank growled, leaning over the bed and trying to look menacing. “You are fucked up right now. We all fucking know that. But we’re going to help you fix it, we just need your fucking help.”
“I don’t fucking want your fucking help,” Gerard shouted back. His voice was rough from sleeping so long. “Just get the fuck out.”
“No.” Frank threw himself onto the bed and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re not going to fucking kill yourself-”
“You don’t understand,” Gerard screamed, getting unsteadily to his feet. He tugged his hair, looking like the very definition of a crazy person. “You don’t fucking get it, Frank.” He sounded truly anguished, and Frank started to get worried.
“We love you, Gee,” Frank interjected quietly. “I love you.” He leapt to his feet and stood challengingly in front of Gerard. “I fucking love you, you fucking asshole.”
Gerard glared at him as if he thought Frank was lying.
“I fucking love you,” Frank said again, stepping right up into Gerard’s personal space. Frank was honestly surprised that Gerard didn’t back away; he had issues with people invading his personal space, usually. Granted, Frank was one of the few exceptions to this rule, but he thought that circumstances had changed. Perhaps he had more of a chance than he’d realized.
“I fucking love you,” Frank whispered, and grabbed both sides of Gerard’s face and kissed him, like they’d never really kissed before. Gerard’s mouth opened against his and Frank made a quiet noise in the back of his throat.
“I love you, don’t you fucking leave me,” Frank murmured when they broke apart.
Gerard’s face went blank for longer than Frank was comfortable with, then he pushed Frank away. He misjudged, though, and stumbled backwards into the wall. Frank crashed into the nightstand and knocked the telephone off.
“Frank?” came Mikey’s worried voice from the next room. “Gee?”
“What the fuck, Frank?” Gerard shouted, ignoring his brother. They both sprung up and tackled each other again. Frank caught Gerard’s arms and held them tightly as Gerard struggled to throw Frank off. They spun around and slammed into the wall right by the connecting door.
Mikey rattled the doorknob, pounding on the door and probably throwing his full weight at it. “Fuck,” he grunted at last, and gave up. “I’m going to get Bob.”
“You stupid fuck,” Gerard groaned, turning to pin Frank against the wall.
“Gerard, Gerard,” Frank said breathlessly, “Gerard, Gee, come on, please, man, stop it. Fucking stop it, Gee, please.”
“Frankie?” Bob shouted from behind the door. Frank and Gerard both turned their heads toward the sound. “Gee? You guys alright in there?”
“They’re fucking not, open the fucking door,” Mikey said urgently. Gerard loosened his hold on Frank’s chest, but Frank didn’t let go of Gerard’s forearms yet.
“You fuck,” Gerard hissed. The door burst open and Mikey, Bob, and Ray tumbled in.
“What the fuck?” Ray shouted angrily as they took in the scene. Frank was still against the wall with his hands tight around Gerard’s wrists, and he was sure he looked scared out of his mind. He was.
Mikey rushed forward and started pulling Gerard away. Bob pulled Frank into Mikey’s room.
“What the fuck happened in there?”
“We were… talking, and I got angry at him, and he kind of like, exploded, or something, I don’t know,” Frank replied, a little breathless and shaking his head.
“Are you okay? Is he-”
“Yeah, fine, I’m fine, we’re both-”
“I’ve never seen him like that, Frankie.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” Frank said, catching Bob’s eye. “I think I, like… egged him on, or something, y’know?”
Bob glared at him. “Don’t do it again.”
“Right, I won’t.”
***
Back on the bus, Frank lounged in his bunk, sitting up as much as the low ceiling would allow, slumped against the wall with his headphones blaring in his ears. Gerard pulled back the curtain a few inches and waited for Frank to take of his headphones. Frank opened the curtain more and beckoned Gerard to lean in, like they normally did to talk to each other. Gerard looked nervous, and really fucking sad, and Frank’s heart broke a little bit.
“I’m sorry I freaked out on you,” Gerard murmured. “I’m really, really sorry, and I didn’t mean to hurt you or anything-”
“I’d say you did mean it,” Frank broke in. Gerard’s face fell, and Frank felt like an ass. “I’m fine, Gee, really. It’s cool, we’re okay.”
Gerard nodded, looking momentarily mollified. “Frank, why did you…”
Frank tensed and his chest tightened. He coughed into his hand to cover it. “I meant it, Gee.”
“Say it, then.”
“What the fuck, man?”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“What, you want an excuse to beat the shit out of me? Didn’t get enough the first time?”
“Frankie,” Gerard interrupted quietly. “Have I ever wanted to beat the shit out of anybody? You, especially.”
Frank considered that for a moment. Gerard was a pacifist; he hated getting into fights and usually avoided it at all costs. It made him sort of a pushover, sometimes, though not with anything that really mattered. Frank couldn’t think of a reason that would change.
“I love you, Gerard fucking Way, even when you’re a dick and even when you’re crying your eyes out. I love you, and I’m scared to death that you’re going to leave,” Frank finally said.
“You really, truly mean that? Like, completely?” Gerard asked, looking hopeful, for once.
Frank held his breath and took a risk: he reached up and gently pushed Gerard’s hair back from his forehead. “Yeah, man. I mean that.”
Gerard’s face crumpled and he dissolved into tears, but he hoisted himself up and crawled into Frank’s bed beside him. “I’m so sorry, Frankie. I’m sorry I tried to hit you. I’m so fucking sorry, I didn’t mean it, I really didn’t. I was just so scared that you were just saying it because-because-”
A light bulb came on in Frank’s brain. “It’s okay, Gee,” he murmured, pulling Gerard closer to him. “It’s okay, I get it, I really do.”
“I’m sorry, Frankie,” Gerard kept saying. He clutched Frank’s shirt and Frank wrapped his arms around Gerard’s shaking shoulders.
“Does this mean…” Frank swallowed. “Does this mean you-”
“Yes, it fucking means that.” Gerard leaned up and pulled Frank down in one motion, bringing their mouths together in a sloppy kiss that Frank really wasn’t expecting. When he recovered from his surprise, Frank put his hand on the back of Gerard’s head and kissed back with everything he had.
“I really fucking love you, you fucking idiot.”
“I’m so sorry-”
“Gerard, shut the fuck up and fucking kiss me.”
fin.
pairing: Frank/Gerard
rating: R for language
words: ~4500
summary: Gerard hits rock-bottom, from Frank's POV.
a/n: This is the first bandom fic I wrote, right after watching Life On The Murder Scene for the first time. I couldn't resist the angst.
disclaimer: Based on true events, but not actually true.
warning: angst, depression
Frank didn’t often have trouble sleeping, but when he did, there was usually someone else up that he could hang out with. Usually, that person was Gerard. Frank rolled out of his bunk, landing heavily on the floor, and peeked around Gerard’s curtain, expecting to find him staring up at the ceiling with his headphones on, which was what Gerard always did when he couldn’t sleep. Except the bunk was empty.
Frank glanced around the trailer, but there were no signs of life beyond the sound of the three men’s steady breathing, interrupted every so often by Ray’s snore. Frank wondered where Gerard was. Earlier in the evening, he’d been drunk off his ass, but that was nothing unusual. Sighing with frustration at his own insomnia and Gerard’s mysterious absence, Frank climbed back into his bunk and closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep.
An indeterminate amount of time later, the muffled sounds of people entering the trailer woke Frank from his doze. There were two voices: Jerry, the tour manager’s, and Gerard’s. For a brief moment, Frank considered hopping down from his bunk and joining them in the front room, but something stopped him, some indescribable gut feeling. He stayed still and silent, and immediately fully alert, in his bunk with the curtain closed.
As small as the trailer was, and as quiet in the dead of night, Frank couldn’t help but overhear Jerry and Gerard’s murmured conversation. It wasn’t really a conversation, though. More of a drunk ramble, on Gerard’s part. Jerry whispered words of comfort and encouragement, interrupting what sounded like apologies and explanations. Gerard’s voice was slurry and thick, and Frank suddenly realized that he’d been crying. Frank also realized that he was holding his breath, trying to hear more, even though it was obviously a private matter.
It didn’t take long for Frank to get the gist of the situation. Neither of them ever uttered the word “suicide”, but Gerard was implying everything Frank needed to know to make that connection.
Frank’s first thought was Where’s Mikey? No, that’s not true. Frank’s first thought was Oh. Oh, shit. Then he thought of Mikey, and he wondered why Mikey wasn’t dealing with this, and then he realized he never wanted Mikey to have to deal with this. He never even wanted Mikey to know about this.
Frank’s eyes were wide open; he was staring at the ceiling without really seeing it. Instead, he was picturing the scene just outside his curtain: Gerard, hunched over the table with his forehead in his hands, his eyes bloodshot and puffy from crying. Frank released a shuddery breath and froze, scared that they might have heard him.
But Gerard was saying that he was tired, and Jerry gently advised him to get some sleep. Gerard stumbled toward the bunks, followed closely by Jerry. Frank couldn’t stop himself from peering through the gap in his curtain. He saw Gerard fall into his bunk, and Jerry lean down to whisper something that Frank couldn’t hear.
Gerard was asleep in seconds. Jerry stood there for a moment, looked around the quiet room once, and then left, his cell phone in hand. Frank was still holding his breath as if someone could hear him listening. When he finally realized this, he exhaled loudly and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling again.
He didn’t stay that way for long, though. Before he knew it, he was looking through the gap in his curtain again, studying Gerard’s sleeping form. Jerry hadn’t closed Gerard’s curtain before he left, and Frank suddenly felt that this was some sort of violation of privacy. Any one of them could wake up and see Gerard like this, passed out from drink, drugs, and emotional exhaustion. Depressed and, though it made Frank’s heart ache to think it, suicidal.
Frank rolled out of his bunk, catching himself and landing gingerly on his toes, quieter than a mouse. He stepped across the narrow aisle-way and knelt down beside Gerard’s bunk, just watching him sleep. He stayed that way for a long moment before moving slowly and carefully into the bed with Gerard. Frank stretched out beside him and wrapped one arm gently around Gerard’s chest. The last thing he wanted was to disturb Gerard’s much-needed sleep, but Frank needed to comfort him just as much.
They lay together for what felt like hours before Frank was finally able to quiet his mind and drift off to sleep.
***
When Frank woke, it was late morning, and he could hear the others moving around, talking quietly, making coffee, but Frank didn’t move. He tightened his arm around Gerard’s torso, comforting himself with Gerard’s warmth, the steady beating of his hear beneath Frank’s hand, and the slow rise and fall of Gerard’s chest as he breathed. Frank pushed his face against the back of Gerard’s neck and kissed him, once, before Jerry slid back the curtain.
Jerry didn’t look surprised to find Frank there. He said, “C’mon, Frankie, we need to talk. Let him sleep.”
Over Jerry’s shoulder, Frank could see the others sitting around the table. He carefully disentangled himself from Gerard and went to face reality.
After Jerry explained what had happened last night, Frank put his head down on the table and closed his eyes wearily. Mikey, sitting across from him, was silent. He looked shell-shocked: his hair was dishevelled and his glasses were crooked, and he looked like he’d been through hell. Frank wanted to hug him, but there was a table in the way and he was too emotionally exhausted to move.
Bob was also quiet, but Ray had questions.
“I mean, we knew it was bad,” he was saying, “but I didn’t think it was that bad. How did we not notice? Why didn’t he come to us? How long has he been so depressed? Why-”
“Ray, shut up,” Frank broke in angrily, lifting his head.
“I don’t know,” Jerry admitted. “Gerard spoke to Brian before he came to me. You’ll have to-”
“He was really going to kill himself?” Mikey asked in a small, frightened voice. It was Mikey’s tone, so out of character, that finally made Frank break down into tears.
“Fuck,” Frank said succinctly. He scrubbed his hands over his eyes and found Mikey staring at him with wide eyes behind his stupidly crooked glasses. “I need a smoke.”
Frank pushed his way around Bob and Ray and hurried outside, feeling sick to his stomach. He leaned against the side of the bus and wiped sweat from his brow, breathing heavily to calm his nerves. A moment later, Mikey came out and stood beside him, silent.
“You knew,” Mikey said at last. He lit a cigarette for Frank and then one for himself. “You were with him last night. This morning.”
Frank was already shaking his head. “I was awake when he and Jerry came in,” he explained. “I heard, but I didn’t really know. Fuck.”
“Did you know about the cocaine?” Mikey asked then.
“Yeah,” Frank sighed. “I knew.”
“Fuck,” Mikey said. Frank nodded in agreement. “Everything will change now. Everything has to change.”
“We’ll fix it,” Frank said determinedly. “We’ll make things change, we’ll make it work.” He thought, We’ll save him, but he didn’t say it out loud. Mikey seemed to understand anyway, though, and when he turned to face Frank, his eyes were bright with tears.
“What if we can’t?”
Frank had never known Mikey to be so unsure. “We will, Mikey.” He pulled Mikey into a hug and kissed the side of his head. “It’ll be okay.”
Mikey left soon after that, saying he wanted to be alone for a while. Frank couldn’t blame him for wanting to escape, but all Frank wanted to do was sleep. Which he supposed was an escape, of sorts. Frank stubbed out his cigarette and went back inside. Gerard was still asleep, Ray was on the phone, and Bob was still talking quietly to Jerry.
Frank stood in the middle of the bus, silent and staring into space, for long enough that Bob looked over at him and asked if he was okay.
“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Frank muttered. “I need some fucking sleep.” Without waiting for a reply, Frank made his way back to Gerard’s bunk and crawled in beside him. Sleep came to him quickly, curled tight against Gerard’s warm body, and he didn’t dream.
***
When he woke up some time later, Gerard was awake. He’d turned on his side and was staring right at Frank when he opened his eyes. Frank startled and nearly fell off the bed.
“Gee,” he said, his heart racing.
“Frankie,” Gerard replied softly. His voice was rough. He paused, his mouth slightly open, as if thinking of what else to say. He finally settled on “What time is it?”
Frank shrugged. “I don’t know. Mikey’s worried about you. We all are. Gerard-”
“So I guess you all know,” Gerard broke in sadly.
“Yeah,” Frank whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not as if I wouldn’t tell you anyway,” Gerard continued quickly. He rolled onto his back, his face blank. “I’m so tired, Frankie.”
Neither of them spoke for several minutes, but both were wide awake. Frank rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and rolled onto his back as well, pressed against Gerard from shoulder to thigh. The bunk was rather narrow, he realized, when they weren’t half on top of each other.
“Why are you here, Frank?” Gerard asked, breaking the silence.
Frank licked his lips nervously. “Comfort.” He didn’t say whose; he didn’t even know whose. “Do you want me to go?”
Gerard waited a long moment before replying. “No,” he whispered, swallowing thickly. He turned back onto his side and hugged Frank to him. Frank wrapped his arms around Gerard and pulled him even closer, so he was lying half on top of Frank.
Gerard was crying into Frank’s shoulder. Frank’s arms tightened involuntarily.
“Fuck,” Gerard muttered roughly. “Frankie… I’m sorry.” He lifted his head and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Fuck.”
“Do you want to, like, um… talk, or something?” Frank asked awkwardly.
To his relief, Gerard said, “No. No, but. I’m so tired, Frankie.”
Frank lifted his hand to wipe the tear tracks from Gerard’s cheek. He then kissed Gerard’s forehead.
“Sleep, then.”
***
“Gee. Gee, look at me.”
Gerard just closed his eyes. He was leaning against the window with his feet on the seat, hugging his knees to his chest. Frank sat down across from him.
“We’re all messed up, Gee. Listen, it’s like this, okay? Ray’s going fucking insane, like, ADD and can’t concentrate on anything, like even worse than me. Bob won’t talk to anyone, and he’s just sad all the time. And-Gerard, fucking listen to me, please. Mikey’s scared out of his fucking mind, man. He spends half his time wanting to be left alone and half of it crying on the phone to your mom.”
“Frank, go away,” Gerard whispered wearily.
“C’mon, Gee, just talk to me.”
“What about you?”
Frank paused, considering his answer. “I don’t know what to do about any of it.”
They’d started driving that morning, Brian shouting at Ray over the phone that they needed to get somewhere with a hotel, with an airport, with some sort of civilization. Gerard had argued that they were in the middle of a tour, but he was overruled. They were all worn thin with exhaustion and worry, and tempers were flaring. They needed time alone.
Except for Frank. He tried to cling to Gerard, and when Gerard pushed him away, to Mikey, and when Mikey pushed him away, to Bob. Bob didn’t push him away, but he didn’t talk much either, and Frank wanted to talk to someone, and for them to talk back.
“We’re all so worried, Gerard. I’ve never seen Mikey so scared. He loves you so much. I love you, and Bob and Ray love you, Brian loves you, your parents love you, my parents love you-”
“Frankie, come play a video game with me,” Bob interrupted stiffly.
“Please, Gee, just talk to me. I want to help.”
“Frank.”
His lips twisting into a frown, Frank glared at Bob, who was watching them sympathetically, and reluctantly followed him into the other part of the trailer.
“I’m just trying to talk to him. He used to talk to me, we talked all the time,” Frank murmured. Bob said nothing. “He won’t talk to me, and Mikey won’t either.” Bob still said nothing. “And you fucking won’t.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know, anything!”
“Just give him some time alone, okay?” Bob said quietly. “He needs to… sort through it.”
“I want to help.”
“We all want to help, but that doesn’t mean we can, or that he wants us to. We don’t really know what he’s going through.”
Fucking Bob and his fucking voice of reason, Frank thought. Then he said it out loud. Bob actually laughed. It was a dry, raspy chuckle, but it was real, and that’s what counted.
“Are you going to listen to me for once, then?”
Frank shrugged. “I just miss him.”
“Things’ll get better.”
***
They reached a hotel that night and booked four rooms. Mikey, Gerard, Ray, and Bob each had one, and Frank decided he wanted to stay with one of them, but he didn’t know which. He wanted Gerard, of course, but Bob told him to chill for a while. So he finally settled on Mikey.
“Do you think he’s alright, alone?” Mikey asked as they were changing into pyjamas. They both glanced at the connecting door, behind which was Gerard’s room.
“He’s not going to kill himself, Mikey.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“No,” Frank admitted, “but he won’t. He’s just… depressed, and he’s going to try to get clean, and it’s draining, isn’t it? Bob says we should give him space.”
“I can’t talk to him,” Mikey said quietly. He laughed, though the situation made it inappropriate. “I’m afraid of what he’d think of me if I just… broke down into tears. It just… It just hurts, y’know? But I mean, I know he wouldn’t say anything, but what if, deep down, he thought I was shit because I can’t even handle being around him for a few minutes?”
“Mikey, you’re not supposed to be prepared for this,” Frank said, thinking of what Bob had said. “And he won’t think less of you. He loves you too much.”
Mikey sighed. “Yeah, okay,” he said half-heartedly.
Recognizing that Mikey didn’t want to talk anymore, Frank went to the door. “I’m going to… go see Bob.”
He came back half an hour later to find Mikey on the phone, sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
“I know, but… Yeah, but I don’t think I can do… I can’t… I don’t think he’ll… Mom, please. I can’t do that-”
“D’you want me to go?” Frank whispered.
Mikey shook his head. “Yeah, I know. I’ll try, I guess. Yeah, I’ll… I know, Mom. I know. Yeah. Love you. Bye.”
Frank sat down heavily on his bed. “Everything okay?”
“Pfft.” Mikey took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “She wants me to help Gee, and I just don’t know how, or if I even can… She wants me to keep him safe, but how the fuck am I supposed to do that, huh? If he wants to fucking kill himself, he fucking will, that’s just the way it is.”
Frank didn’t know what to say. He was in the same boat. So he just nodded and flopped down on the bed. Mikey crawled up his bed and underneath the blankets. He put his glasses on the nightstand with his cell phone and sighed again.
“G’night, Frankie.”
“G’night,” Frank replied as Mikey turned out the light. He wished he had something comforting to say. Something like Everything will be better tomorrow, but less false and cliché.
Frank couldn’t get to sleep. Sometime in the middle of the night, he rolled out of bed and tip-toed over to the connecting door between Gerard’s room and theirs, and knocked very softly. A moment later, the door unlocked and opened.
Frank followed Gerard wordlessly to the bed and lay down beside him.
“I’m sorry for blowing you off,” Gerard whispered, the whites of his eyes very bright in the darkness. “I know you just want to help.”
“I want you to be happy,” Frank whispered back. “Can I help you?”
Gerard didn’t answer. Frank leaned in and kissed him.
“I love you, man, you have to know that by now,” Frank said when they broke apart.
“Stay here tonight?”
Frank nodded. Gerard curled up and put his head on Frank’s shoulder, breathing onto his neck. Frank’s arm came up around Gerard’s back and held him there.
“I love you, man,” Frank said again, but Gerard was already asleep.
***
Gerard was still asleep when Frank woke to Mikey’s quiet knock on the connecting door. Frank looked at the clock: it was past noon. They’d slept like the dead. Or, at least, he had.
“Gee, is Frank in there?” Mikey called softly. Frank tumbled out of bed to open the door.
“Hey,” he said. Mikey didn’t look at all surprised to see him answer the door; he was holding three cups of coffee in a little cardboard tray. One said “Gee,” and another said “F”. Mikey handed Frank’s over and took a sip of his own, leading Frank back into their room.
Frank looked back at Gerard once more before closing the door. He felt bad about leaving him alone, especially since Gerard had specifically asked him to stay.
“Did he talk to you?” Mikey asked.
“No. I wanted to… check on him, I guess, and he said he wanted me to stay. Sorry.”
“No, I think that’s-” Mikey paused to take another sip of coffee. Frank hadn’t touched his yet. “I think that’s a good sign, right? That he’s reconnecting, or something. Don’t you think?”
“His coffee’s going to get cold,” Frank said, a deliberate non-answer. “You think we should wake him up?”
Mikey shrugged. “He sleeps a lot, but I think that’s just like, the depression, or something.” They both fell silent, then Mikey said abruptly, “Brian called. He wants us to come home.”
“You think we should,” Frank replied, considering his own opinion.
“My brother’s an alcoholic and a fucking drug addict,” Mikey snapped. “Of course I think we fucking should.”
“Do you think Gerard would agree to it?”
Mikey sighed. He shrugged his shoulders. “Things are so fucked up right now, Frankie.”
Frank nodded. “Yeah, no shit.”
“I should… Call my mom,” Mikey said after a moment, an escape if Frank ever saw one. He didn’t try to stop Mikey, though. Instead, he picked up Gerard’s coffee and went back in to wake him up. He shouldn’t spend all day sleeping, really.
Gerard was awake when he walked in.
“Morning,” Frank said brightly. “Well… afternoon.”
“What time is it?” Gerard mumbled.
“About one,” Frank replied quietly, checking the clock. Gerard groaned. “You must’ve been exhausted. I must’ve been, too.”
“I don’t feel well, Frankie.”
That much was obvious, but Frank tensed anyway. “Gonna be sick?” He put the coffee cups on the nightstand. “Mikey brought coffee.”
“I just want to go back to sleep,” Gerard groaned.
Frank was already shaking his head. “No, Gee, you have to get up sometime. I’m serious, man, you need to get out of this fucking bed. It’s not even that comfortable, anyway. C’mon, you need food. I can’t even remember the last time you ate anything.”
Gerard turned his face into the pillow. “I don’t feel like it,” he said miserably.
“Of course you fucking don’t,” Frank shouted. “Two days ago, you were fucking suicidal! But you’re going to do it anyway because we fucking need you to. Do it for your brother. Do it because I fucking told you to.”
Gerard sat up. Finally! “Since when have I ever listened to you?”
“Since right fucking now, Gerard Way,” Frank growled, leaning over the bed and trying to look menacing. “You are fucked up right now. We all fucking know that. But we’re going to help you fix it, we just need your fucking help.”
“I don’t fucking want your fucking help,” Gerard shouted back. His voice was rough from sleeping so long. “Just get the fuck out.”
“No.” Frank threw himself onto the bed and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re not going to fucking kill yourself-”
“You don’t understand,” Gerard screamed, getting unsteadily to his feet. He tugged his hair, looking like the very definition of a crazy person. “You don’t fucking get it, Frank.” He sounded truly anguished, and Frank started to get worried.
“We love you, Gee,” Frank interjected quietly. “I love you.” He leapt to his feet and stood challengingly in front of Gerard. “I fucking love you, you fucking asshole.”
Gerard glared at him as if he thought Frank was lying.
“I fucking love you,” Frank said again, stepping right up into Gerard’s personal space. Frank was honestly surprised that Gerard didn’t back away; he had issues with people invading his personal space, usually. Granted, Frank was one of the few exceptions to this rule, but he thought that circumstances had changed. Perhaps he had more of a chance than he’d realized.
“I fucking love you,” Frank whispered, and grabbed both sides of Gerard’s face and kissed him, like they’d never really kissed before. Gerard’s mouth opened against his and Frank made a quiet noise in the back of his throat.
“I love you, don’t you fucking leave me,” Frank murmured when they broke apart.
Gerard’s face went blank for longer than Frank was comfortable with, then he pushed Frank away. He misjudged, though, and stumbled backwards into the wall. Frank crashed into the nightstand and knocked the telephone off.
“Frank?” came Mikey’s worried voice from the next room. “Gee?”
“What the fuck, Frank?” Gerard shouted, ignoring his brother. They both sprung up and tackled each other again. Frank caught Gerard’s arms and held them tightly as Gerard struggled to throw Frank off. They spun around and slammed into the wall right by the connecting door.
Mikey rattled the doorknob, pounding on the door and probably throwing his full weight at it. “Fuck,” he grunted at last, and gave up. “I’m going to get Bob.”
“You stupid fuck,” Gerard groaned, turning to pin Frank against the wall.
“Gerard, Gerard,” Frank said breathlessly, “Gerard, Gee, come on, please, man, stop it. Fucking stop it, Gee, please.”
“Frankie?” Bob shouted from behind the door. Frank and Gerard both turned their heads toward the sound. “Gee? You guys alright in there?”
“They’re fucking not, open the fucking door,” Mikey said urgently. Gerard loosened his hold on Frank’s chest, but Frank didn’t let go of Gerard’s forearms yet.
“You fuck,” Gerard hissed. The door burst open and Mikey, Bob, and Ray tumbled in.
“What the fuck?” Ray shouted angrily as they took in the scene. Frank was still against the wall with his hands tight around Gerard’s wrists, and he was sure he looked scared out of his mind. He was.
Mikey rushed forward and started pulling Gerard away. Bob pulled Frank into Mikey’s room.
“What the fuck happened in there?”
“We were… talking, and I got angry at him, and he kind of like, exploded, or something, I don’t know,” Frank replied, a little breathless and shaking his head.
“Are you okay? Is he-”
“Yeah, fine, I’m fine, we’re both-”
“I’ve never seen him like that, Frankie.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” Frank said, catching Bob’s eye. “I think I, like… egged him on, or something, y’know?”
Bob glared at him. “Don’t do it again.”
“Right, I won’t.”
***
Back on the bus, Frank lounged in his bunk, sitting up as much as the low ceiling would allow, slumped against the wall with his headphones blaring in his ears. Gerard pulled back the curtain a few inches and waited for Frank to take of his headphones. Frank opened the curtain more and beckoned Gerard to lean in, like they normally did to talk to each other. Gerard looked nervous, and really fucking sad, and Frank’s heart broke a little bit.
“I’m sorry I freaked out on you,” Gerard murmured. “I’m really, really sorry, and I didn’t mean to hurt you or anything-”
“I’d say you did mean it,” Frank broke in. Gerard’s face fell, and Frank felt like an ass. “I’m fine, Gee, really. It’s cool, we’re okay.”
Gerard nodded, looking momentarily mollified. “Frank, why did you…”
Frank tensed and his chest tightened. He coughed into his hand to cover it. “I meant it, Gee.”
“Say it, then.”
“What the fuck, man?”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“What, you want an excuse to beat the shit out of me? Didn’t get enough the first time?”
“Frankie,” Gerard interrupted quietly. “Have I ever wanted to beat the shit out of anybody? You, especially.”
Frank considered that for a moment. Gerard was a pacifist; he hated getting into fights and usually avoided it at all costs. It made him sort of a pushover, sometimes, though not with anything that really mattered. Frank couldn’t think of a reason that would change.
“I love you, Gerard fucking Way, even when you’re a dick and even when you’re crying your eyes out. I love you, and I’m scared to death that you’re going to leave,” Frank finally said.
“You really, truly mean that? Like, completely?” Gerard asked, looking hopeful, for once.
Frank held his breath and took a risk: he reached up and gently pushed Gerard’s hair back from his forehead. “Yeah, man. I mean that.”
Gerard’s face crumpled and he dissolved into tears, but he hoisted himself up and crawled into Frank’s bed beside him. “I’m so sorry, Frankie. I’m sorry I tried to hit you. I’m so fucking sorry, I didn’t mean it, I really didn’t. I was just so scared that you were just saying it because-because-”
A light bulb came on in Frank’s brain. “It’s okay, Gee,” he murmured, pulling Gerard closer to him. “It’s okay, I get it, I really do.”
“I’m sorry, Frankie,” Gerard kept saying. He clutched Frank’s shirt and Frank wrapped his arms around Gerard’s shaking shoulders.
“Does this mean…” Frank swallowed. “Does this mean you-”
“Yes, it fucking means that.” Gerard leaned up and pulled Frank down in one motion, bringing their mouths together in a sloppy kiss that Frank really wasn’t expecting. When he recovered from his surprise, Frank put his hand on the back of Gerard’s head and kissed back with everything he had.
“I really fucking love you, you fucking idiot.”
“I’m so sorry-”
“Gerard, shut the fuck up and fucking kiss me.”
fin.