Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rain was calming, not for everyone, not for Gerard. It kind of reminded him how dull his life was, making him happy he wasn’t so tedious to the point he sat with a book against the rainy window because it was “comforting”. The only thing rain symbolized was something cliche like your grandmother’s funeral or a rainy kiss goodbye with a hopeless romantic. (He doesn’t know, he’s only fascinated by horror or superheroes).

In his case, rain meant he still had to be here, at work, on time, drenched since he didn’t own a car. Rain meant walking thirty minutes in the cold said rain from your shitty apartment. Rain meant getting splashed by all of the people with the privilege of a car, or even a license for that matter. (This was Gerard’s fault, but he won’t admit this until the sky is green and he finds rain comforting). Rain meant being called to your boss’s office for God knows what. Oh — yeah, wasn’t he standing in that very office right now, dripping on his carpet?

“Gerard.”

When his name was called, it was the only thing capable of interrupting his rapid thoughts of disgust for rain. Being summoned to your boss's office is never a good sign, it feels a bit like being called to the principal's office, even if his boss constantly talks about how "we're all like family here!" Then he supposed it was more like his mom saying: “Gerard Arthur Way, we need to talk,” and praying she didn’t find those weird magazines he swears aren’t his!

“Do you need a new assignment? Are you just not ready?”

His boss is almost peering at him with concern, which he supposes is expected when you're standing in his office like a wet mut who lost his bone. It kind of does feel like he lost his bone though. Two months ago, Gerard found himself struggling with procrastination. The cause of his delay was traced back to the loss of his favorite pen. He had been constantly reminding himself that he would begin working on his comic strip as soon as he found the pen or purchased a replacement. However, Gerard had a special attachment to this pen, and he believed that he could not start his work without it, even if he bought a new one of the same brand. He searched for it everywhere, in his house, office, and even in his bathroom but to no avail. He was on his hands and knees, damn it! As a result, he kept delaying the start of his project, hoping to find the pen soon. Unfortunately, his search for the pen took longer than he anticipated, and he lost valuable time. Now, he is too busy sulking and dreading the moment he has to purchase a replacement for his favorite pen.

That pen was a warrior through his days in college and starting his career, but now it was time to be replaced. When Gerard finally stops moping, he promises to get a new pen, but he can’t explain this to his boss. He would just be told to use a different one, but that wasn’t the point! That was his signature pen!

“No, no. Not at all, well — I-I mean, I am ready, sir. I just had a small issue, but I promise to have the strip completed before the deadline.” Gerard will never break the habit of fumbling over his words and smoothing out his face with the palm of his hand, his eyes constantly bouncing around the room instead of holding eye contact with his boss. He shouldn’t be this fidgety and distracted, yet he is, like a skittish schoolgirl too timid to present an essay to the class.

“Gerard,” his voice is so monotone yet with a pinch of worry, maybe doubt. It’s startling and makes Gerard feel delicate, like one wrong word and he was going to crack and burst into a million pieces on the floor. “I put a lot of faith in you and want to keep doing that. Keep your word or we may have to reconsider your position here for the future.”

Okay, maybe he is about to burst into a million pieces.

“Oh,” is all Gerard manages to reply with before shyly excusing himself, ending the conversation with one last affirmation that he would get the strip done in time.

It was as if their entire conversation was gutted and torn apart by everyone in the office. Gerard’s tongue threatened to choke him when noticing all the gazes striking his melancholy, drowned figure. A simple breeze sent him shivering, either from the cold or the nervousness striking his bones.

Moping back to his desk, he rethinks his entire life choices and punches himself for refusing to work over a pen. It was dramatic, the pen and the way he punched himself, but he was so resentful. He worked hard for this job, even if it wasn’t honestly what he desired to pursue. He didn’t want deadlines, he wanted to work on his own time and make awesome strips that represented all of his own, original ideas, especially if it meant doing it in his faded Batman pajamas in the comfort of his mother’s basement. But, still, this was his job. This was the reason he got up every morning and acknowledged what day it was. This was also the reason he even acknowledged the light snickering in his direction when he planted a theatrical punch to the side of his head.

It was odd, saying the laughter was coming from what was always an empty cubicle. That very cube had been empty since he started working here eleven months ago. But now, boxes and a midget man were standing there, laughing at him!

“Sorry, but that was so lame,” he’s still chortling, which humiliates the fuck out of Gerard. He thinks it’s safe to assume he is being laughed at. “Boss hard on you?”

“Okay?” Okay? Really Gerard? “No-no, it was nothing.”

Gerard stares at this man with wide eyes, a hand nervously toying with his hair while he tries to think of a way to converse with a male so… drawable. Someone who was an artist would surely understand what he means, right? Where does he even begin? It’s as if his hands are itching to sketch this guy anywhere, his hand, the wall, the desk, hell his forehead could work! (Not that he would be able to see it, but his point still stands).

His hair is a ridiculous, blonde, baby mohawk yet it fits with his hazel, round eyes glowing at Gerard like laser beams. His gaze is infatuating, his eyes are almost swimming pools of curiosity and maybe… interest. Gerard isn’t sure, now too lost on his dark eyebrows, which are almost too perfect for him to be a dude, especially that girly smile on his face that creases the skin around his damp lips. Despite those cute features, his jaw looks like it could cut glass, almost as if it were chiseled with fucking marble. It’s only softened by the hint of a stubble, adding a rugged charm to his appearance. Gerard becomes insanely intrigued by the scorpion tattoo inked on his neck, near his hair, and the flesh is sparkly with sweat. Ink was something he always admired, from afar, since he hated fucking needles. He's shorter than an average male, but his build makes up for it, the pale button-up tight enough to get a preview of his lean build. He wonders if the guy has any more tattoos under his clothes since he was bold enough to have one so high up on his neck, definitely not because he wonders what he looks like nude, not at all!

It takes about three whole seconds for Gerard to realize the male is now adorning a delicate smile and holding out a hand for him to shake while he’s too busy creating a mental image in his brain to draw him later. He’s practically measuring him with his eyes, perhaps undressing too when he notices his tight dress pants and cigarette-scented musk.

“Frank, you are?”

Gerard doesn’t know whether to be normal or run. A lot of thoughts are pooling his brain and the rain sounds ten times louder than it did a minute ago. Firstly, Frank? He didn’t look like a Frank. But did Gerard look like a Gerard? Maybe he shouldn’t judge, but it’s only in his head so he supposes it’s fine. Secondly, Gerard severely needed to invest in some office attire. It didn’t really settle in until this very moment when Frank is standing in front of him, prime and proper, when Gerard only adorns a button-up too long for him, faded black jeans, a coat that swallows his figure, stupid fingerless gloves, and dirty, tattered boots. Lastly, he thinks this is too much talking for one day. There is too much talking to handsome guys who are too good for him.

“Gerard. You a new hire or something?” Gosh, that came out way differently than he intended. He swallows hard when he notices Frank’s eyebrows shoot up at his question, the only thing breaking the silence being the nervous giggle that bubbles out of him.

“Uh, yeah,” Frank waves a hand towards one of the boxes, almost like a yeah, no shit. That’s when he notices the light catch on his lip, Gerard staring at the ring there. Is Gerard red? Because he feels flushed as if a fever hit him like a blow to the head. Maybe it did because of the cold breeze hitting his damp figure, making him shiver like a leaf in front of Frank despite how warm he felt, only humiliating him further.

“Well, I-I uh — work, you know.” Gerard shrugs before forcing himself to trudge away, his arms reluctantly coaxing his trembling body as he curses himself in his head over and over. He doesn’t turn back to face Frank, deciding that was enough conversation he would allow himself with his very attractive and miniature coworker. He wanted to jump off a bridge, not wanting to inconvenience anyone on the street if he were to jump off the very building he was in. Jumping was probably lame, but it had to be freeing, right? Gerard can picture himself opening his arms out like a bird, or a superhero, eventually hitting his doom.

When seating himself in his cubicle, he relaxes into the familiar seat, snuggling with his coat for some warmth. It was very strange how he only closed his eyes for two seconds before Frank intruded on his mind. He kept thinking about his glimmering lip piercing, that sweaty tattoo, his girly smile, his too-tight clothing, and those saucers of eyes. He was mesmerizing, even with that stupid haircut that Gerard wished he had the confidence to pull off.

It wasn’t until he heard his boss’s door open that he remembered what he was supposed to be working on.

Chapter Text

Frank practically tumbled into his chair when finally unboxing his belongings, signing all the necessary paperwork, and running a well-needed coffee errand. He tossed the damp umbrella onto the ground next to him, savoring the black coffee that drenched his throat and stomach after an eventful morning.

His new job was welcoming, mostly friendly faces and helpful individuals who assisted him with his unfamiliarity with the place. Despite all the pleasant people, he was only fascinated by this one male. He was… intriguing. Gerard, he believes is the name he told him, was taller and broader than him yet rather pretty. Frank wasn’t crushing, he just found the guy cute, okay? He was so girly, his round, flushed cheeks, huge eyes smeared with eyeliner, and greasy brunette hair that fell onto his shoulders. If it weren’t for his cigarette-damaged voice and Adam's apple, he seriously would have thought he was a girl. He was mesmerized by the way he spoke out of the side of his mouth, noticing his weird yet adorable, tiny teeth. It wasn’t a crush, he swears, just a fixation. The guy was adorable, okay? Especially with how nervous he was speaking to Frank. He was weird, and Frank fucked with weird.

Despite Gerard, he was grateful for his co-workers and work environment, especially when lunch rolled around and people began to shuffle to the lounge. Frank followed, carrying his lunch bag over his shoulder and awkwardly following his co-workers with a nervous smile.

Even though everyone was overwhelmingly welcoming, his nerves were struck. See, Frank wasn’t all too experienced with this job. Sure, he had tattoos and an odd yet… creative appearance, but he wasn’t good at drawing. He kind of felt a bit out of place with all these blatant artists around him, but it was safe to assume nobody truly gave a fuck about what Frank was here to work on. Hell, he got an office job with fucking tattoos, piercings, and a mohawk!

Writing, on the other hand, was his favorite. He could write anything; essays, poetry, fiction, music, and more! So, when he heard a position was open for a comic book corporation needing an editor, he couldn't pass it up. He was barely getting by working at a music store in butt-fuck New Jersey, but he did desperately miss it.

Just barely joining the people in the lounge he felt an arm swing around his shoulder, his eyebrows almost flying off his head due to the sudden touch before noticing it was this guy… Peter? Pete! The short, super talkative dude with guyliner who had immediately pulled Frank in a hug when he first entered the office. Did he know Pete? No, he was just like that.

Frank was fine with it, he supposed. Hell, he was pretty handsy too.

“Frankie! Dude, have lunch with me? Patrick is running a fever and sulking back home, that asshole,” Pete was speaking pretty fast and leading Frank in an unknown direction, near the corner of the lounge. It was pretty enormous, it practically had windows for walls, making Frank a little queasy.

“Oh! You should meet my friend who isn’t moping back at home with a disgusting cold,” Pete is standing near a table with a guy hunched over so far it looks painful, messy sketches, immense books, and art supplies scattered all over the surface, making it impossible for anyone else to enjoy a meal with him. He supposes this guy wants to be left alone, clearly in intricate focus yet Pete is hovering over him.

It takes Frank a hot second to realize the man seated there like a hermit is that Gerard guy. (Does he get points for remembering his name?)

“G, did I tell you I registered for the army?” The nickname brings a weird smile to Frank’s face, kind of thankful Gerard seemed severely invested in his drawing, too focused to notice his stupid smile.

He notices how he has his eyebrows scrunched together, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth while he frantically sketches a drawing of some sort of monster with large tusks and huge hands. It’s almost 3D how the hands reach toward the viewer. It was badass, he wanted to compliment the drawing, but then he realized what Pete questioned Gerard. Frank quirked an eyebrow in Pete’s direction, but he was holding back a laugh and waved a hand at him to keep quiet.

“Mmhmm.” The noise was low, like a faint rumble of lightning. Frank wanted to laugh knowing Gerard was completely ignoring him, but Pete was unfazed, now slightly leaning over him. He was beginning to push away at some of Gerard’s supplies, finally providing Pete with his attention.

“Hey, hey! Don’t touch that, Pete.” When Gerard spoke he sounded nasally, Frank noticing he appeared a little ill. He was sniffling, somehow paler than before, and visibly shivering.

“Not you too! Why is everyone sick?” Pete was sulking now, collapsing into one of the seats with his arms across his chest. “You look like shit, Gee.”

“Well, the weather hasn’t been exactly pretty,” Frank inputs, his fingers curling around the back of a seat, noticing Gerard finally acknowledging his existence.

Gerard’s eyes first drop to his inked fingers, his hazel eyes trailing over the letters, most likely analyzing what his hands articulate. Frank always adored watching people’s realization, specifically enjoying how ridiculous people might think it was, but he was never ashamed of his tattoos.

A part of him wanted to melt when noticing the delicate smile spreading across Gerard’s flushed face. Still, he held back his excitement when his eyes suddenly flickered to his face, Pete being the only thing capable of breaking their mini-staring contest.

“I guess you’re right. Oh — poor Gee here doesn’t even have a car! That’s why you were soaked this morning, huh?” Pete’s laughing at Gerard, swiping the opened bag of chips near him, chewing obnoxiously as he speaks, “Frankie, he looked like a wet dog. It was hilarious.”

Frank recalls their run-in earlier that morning and now it kind of depresses him. He’d laughed at his animated punch to the face after he was already having a shitty morning. Now, he felt like a complete dick. He can remember Gerard’s almost ‘deer in headlights’ expression, similar to the one he has now when Pete’s munching on his lunch.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny Pete. Can you stop chewing over my stuff?”

Gerard looks pissed and he can’t say he blames him.

The rest of their lunch is spent with Pete stealing their food while rambling about a party he recently crashed, Frank solely mesmerized by Gerard’s buoyant pouting. One thing he enjoyed about Gerard was how he was utterly amazing at making faces. Even if he was attempting to hide his true intentions, his face would give it away. Not to mention, Gerard’s grumping? He couldn’t determine if it was hilarious or adorable.

After lunch, everything seemed to fall into place, His boss allowed him to begin his first assignment and it was as if he had been part of this company for years. By the time people were shuffling out of the building, and returning home in the rain, he was submitting his work with an accomplished grin. Frank began collecting his things together, throwing his bag over his shoulder with folders embraced in his hands. He dropped off the vanilla folders to his boss before trudging towards the elevator, pushing a pair of sunglasses onto his face with slight giddiness from the praise he received. Then, he noticed Gerard, curled on the floor near the elevator, a sketchbook pressed to his knees. He supposed he was waiting for the rain to falter, but Frank knew that wouldn’t be for another few hours.

Sighing, he ultimately decided he couldn’t leave this guy he was mean to by himself, walking in the heavy rain and flooded streets.

“Let me take you home,” Frank begins, stepping right in front of the little ball of Gerard on the floor. “I promise I won’t like — I dunno — tie you up and abduct you. I-I would just rather you not get soaked all over again when y’know — you’re already sick.”

Gerard is beaming at him like he just offered to hand him a million dollars. It kind of shrugs the nervousness off Frank’s shoulders, he had been worrying he sounded like an idiot tumbling over his words and running an antsy hand in his hair.

“You don’t mind?”

“Nah, man. I-I mean, Pete was right, you look like shit. Come on, I parked close.”

That’s how the two of them were squished under one umbrella, a simple breeze leaving Gerard sneezing like an ill child. It was unbelievably pathetic yet adorable to Frank. How could a grown man be this pretty even when sick? It was hypnotizing.

Frank picked up the pace when he saw his car, opening the passenger door for Gerard and quickly running to start the vehicle. He turned the heater on, adjusted the vent, and tossed the umbrella to the back. Gerard sat close to the warm air, breathing through his mouth like an overheated dog. (Again, cute).

After a quick exchange of directions to Gerard’s apartment, Frank noticed him sheepishly staring out the blurred window, the glass streaked in rain. The rain was noisy and it was as if Gerard’s anxiety was bouncing off the only other body in the car.

“Mind if I play some music?”

“Oh, uh — no.”

Without much thought or declaration of Gerard’s preference, Frank decided on his wonderful Iron Maiden CD, slotting it into place, and cranking the volume over the sound of water splashing onto the top of the car. He tapped his fingers over the steering wheel before pulling out of the parking lot, taking a few side glimpses at Gerard.

Frank couldn't believe it, but he appeared even more endearing than before. He thought it wasn't possible, but he was proven wrong. Gerard was snuggling with his coat, smiling to himself and mouthing the lyrics, his head lightly bobbing to the beat.

Frank assumed this was better than making clumsy small talk, kind of proud of himself for the album choice. The drive was a brisk fifteen minutes of Iron Maiden being the only thing filling the silence between them two. It was strangely satisfying and not at all awkward. Turning down the music left only the windshield wipers and their breathing, Gerard clicking off his seatbelt and shyly glancing at Frank, mumbling a thank you.

“Hey, Gerard?”

“Yeah?”

Frank wasn’t sure where his confidence was coming from, his now clammy hands rubbing at the front of his pants as he grinned, trying his best to not seem creepy or weirdly hopeful.

“You know, if you’re walking every day, I don’t have a problem coming to get you? I’m only a few minutes down the street?”

Remember what he said about faces? And how Gerard was incredibly good at making them? It was as if he could read Gerard considering the offer, telling himself it was a bad idea, but then beginning to let that stupidly sweet smile creep onto his girly face. He could never get tired of the way Gerard beamed at him.

“I — okay. I’d like that,” he pauses for a moment, tucking some hair behind his ear, breaking eye contact to stare dumbly at his apartment building. “If that’s okay with you then why not?”

“Why not?” Frank could feel his lips pull taut when his foolish grin only widened. “Pick you up at eight-thirty, okay?”

Gerard steps out of the vehicle, mumbling the time under his breath. He gives Frank a small nod and an awkward wave, thanking him one last time before clicking the door closed. Frank wanted to laugh at how gently he shut the car door as if it were going to shatter if he slammed it shut. He watched him saunter towards the apartment stairs, deciding to finally pull out of the parking lot and blast more Iron Maiden.

Frank thought his first day working an office job went fantastic! Not only did he make friends with most of his co-workers and his boss, he befriended an absolute freak that he was fascinated by. (Not crushing, only slightly plagued with the passion of the girly man Gerard).

Chapter Text

Obsession was overwhelming, not for everyone, but definitely for Gerard. Even if he was too scared to admit it was his guilty pleasure. Despite having a clear understanding of what he was supposed to be doing with his life and following a well-established routine for months, he was suddenly overcome with a sense of being stuck. It was as if he had hit an invisible wall that was preventing him from moving forward. Confused and dejected, he wondered if there was something more he could do to break free from this feeling of stagnation. It was just like how he knew he should be purchasing that stupid pen potentially costing him his job right now. He didn’t know if it was the idea of getting up and walking to the store in these awful conditions, or the immense thoughts clouding his brain enough to make him feel as if he were going to start floating away. Yet, he was sitting in his bed, snuggled in the sheets, sketching a familiar, delightful face because the voice in his head told him to. (That’s what he’ll say to himself to make it okay).

The drawing was coming together easily, the pencil stroking each detail as if his brain photocopied the image in his head. He was leaned so near the paper that one push would send him into his book. When he began to shade that acquainted, glistening scorpion tattoo, Gerard finally realized he was drawing Frank.

He was stuck on the lack of his favorite pen and now he was stuck on Frank. He was a freak, he knew it. Frank was like a filthy drug to Gerard, as soon as he dipped in the taste of his kindness, he couldn’t wave away the cloud inflating his brain. Tempting these thoughts was like sticking a needle against the pressure, relieving him of the inflation, but vomiting all those reflections onto the paper. It should be sickening, but again, guilty pleasure…

Every time he closed his eyes, all that pooled his sporadic mind was Frank, his faux hawk, the way he spoke with his hands, the way his teeth would pull at his lip ring when he was anxious, and that insanely hot scorpion tattoo on his neck. He also couldn’t forget that — from this day on — Frank would be bringing him to and from work. He didn’t know if he could properly handle the advantage of having Frank so close. How could he focus? How could he speak naturally? How could he breathe? The idea of being seated near Frank shouldn’t feel so intimate to him, yet here he was, fantasizing about their next interaction.

After about thirty-two minutes of pathetic picturing in his miserable brain, Gerard decided he needed to complete this assignment before he lost his job. Losing his job meant losing Frank and he couldn’t risk that. (Ha, so obsessing over Frank is a good thing! His obsession is motivation! This is good).

Gerard finally left his apartment in a remotely still-washed band t-shirt and jeans, along with a coat, scarf, gloves, and beanie. He clutched to the pockets in his jacket for warmth while creeping down the streets of New York. He was set on finding his favorite art supply store despite appearing like a modern-day vampire prowling the streets in the muggy daylight.

If it weren't for the fact he could potentially lose his job, Gerard would say he was proud of himself for leaving his apartment. He settled on being proud of himself for finally replacing his lost pen, silently reminiscing about all the artwork he created with it when checking out with the chick at the front counter who appeared as if she hated life and didn’t understand why a guy like him didn’t just steal the single item he purchased. It was pathetic, sure, but he really loved that pen. (Also, stealing is wrong. He’d never do that). It was his signature pen! If only he still had the body of his old pen so he could hold a proper funeral.

With his favorite pen 2.0 clutched protectively to his chest, Gerard noticed a small record store on the corner. He had visited the shop several times in his lifetime and had known the owner since high school. He felt it was a good time to stop by, say hello to an old friend, and show that he was still alive and well despite being a bit of a hermit. No harm? Right?

The bell rang above his head upon thrusting the door open, ripples of anxiety bathing Gerard when he saw nobody standing at the counter. The pen had become a lifeline for him. He squeezed it tightly, his knuckles white as ghosts.

“Welcome — damnit!”

Gerard, as skittish as a high school girl, jumped when hearing the thud and then the scream. The loud bang made him wince, a frown pulling taut across his lips. When he saw the bouncy fro of brown curls appear from behind the counter, Gerard sighed in relief as the male’s large hand gently soothed his aching skull through the frizzy coils.

“Gee? Gerard Way?”

“Toro?”

“Holy shit!” Ray drops his hand from his hair in a laugh, pulling Gerard into a hug from across the counter. “How have you been, man?”

Gerard, who was mashed uncomfortably against the glass counter, shrugged in the embrace, still hugging the pen close to his chest. “Ah, well. You know, work.” God, he was so lame. “You?”

Ray pulled away with his silly, comprehensive smile tugged across his face, his hand moving to squeeze Gerard in the shoulder as he spoke. “Seriously? I suppose it’s been the same for me,” he halts before crouching, rummaging with boxes under the counter. Gerard peeks over the glass, slightly curious before he is startled when Ray pops back out with a record in hand. “‘Kept this to the side ‘cuz I just knew you’d stop by, it’s like fate!”

Ray is holding a vinyl, but not just any vinyl. An Iron Maiden record, specifically the Killers album. Gerard almost dropped his pen reaching for it, not able to stop the gasp that flew from his lips, his face slightly pink when hearing Ray’s laugh in triumph.

“Free of charge, but! You have to invite me over sometime to have some beers and play this bad boy, deal?”

Before even thinking Gerard was bouncing his head in an eager nod, holding the album with a delicate hand as he viewed the artwork. “Ray, this is badass! Thank you, dude.”

“Of course, man. You should totally drop by more, what’s the occasion, anyway?” Ray makes a suggestive hand pointed towards Gerard and he’s too busy flickering through eighty different responses to his question. The “occasion” was pathetic, really.

“Oh! Uh, needed some new supplies for a piece I’m working on. Just you know, work stuff.”

Ray's eyes lit up with genuine interest. "Ah, the artistic life! Sounds like it’s working out for you, man. What kind of piece are you working on?"

Gerard hesitated, glancing down at the Iron Maiden album in his hands. "It's, um, a comic strip. Something a bit personal."

"Personal, huh? Must be someone special," Ray teased, winking as he leaned back against the counter.

Gerard forced a laugh, feeling the heat continue to rise in his cheeks. "Yeah, you could say that."

The bell above the door jingled again, and Gerard turned to see a couple of teenagers walk in, chatting animatedly about the latest punk band. Ray gave them a nod before turning his attention back to Gerard, the bell cutting their conversation short.

"Listen, Gee," Ray said, his tone softening, "I know we haven't hung out in a while, but if you ever need to talk or just want to jam, you know where to find me."

Gerard beamed, genuinely touched by Ray's offer. "Thanks, Ray. I might just take you up on that."

“Don’t forget about those beers!”

With the album securely in hand and a sense of warmth from reconnecting with an old friend, Gerard said his goodbyes and strode back out into the chilly New York afternoon. The city was alive with its typical hustle and bustle, a stark contrast to the quiet, imaginative bubble he often found himself in. He embraced his new pen and the Iron Maiden album tightly, feeling a surge of motivation to get back to his work. This was awesome, for once he wasn’t stuck!

As he walked, his mind wandered back to Frank. The way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he existed — everything about him was a source of inspiration and turmoil for Gerard. It was maddening and exhilarating all at once.

By the time he reached his apartment, the sky had darkened, and the streetlights cast a warm glow on the sidewalks. Gerard quickly shed his outer layers and made a beeline for his workspace. He carefully placed the album on his desk and retrieved a fresh sheet of paper, the new pen feeling perfectly balanced in his hand. (He still misses his old one, though).

He began to draw, the lines flowing effortlessly as he lost himself in the process. Every stroke was imbued with the raw emotion he felt for Frank, the paper becoming a canvas for his unspoken desires and frustrations. Hours slipped by unnoticed until Gerard finally leaned back, his eyes scanning the completed portrait. It was Frank, but not just any representation. This was Frank as Gerard saw him—dynamic, intense, and impossibly captivating. The scorpion tattoo was intricately detailed, the faux hawk perfectly tousled, and those expressive eyes seemed to hold secrets that only Gerard could decipher.

Exhausted but satisfied, Gerard set the pen down and admired his work. He knew he couldn’t keep these feelings bottled up forever, but for now, channeling them into his art was enough. It was his way of coping, his way of connecting with Frank without the risk of rejection. As he crawled into bed, Gerard allowed himself to imagine a world where he could openly share these feelings with Frank. A world where his obsession was not something to be ashamed of but something that brought them closer together. With a contented sigh, he closed his eyes, the image of Frank's smile the last thing on his mind as he drifted off to sleep. He dreamed of that sweaty scorpion tattoo and the light behind those hazel eyes.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The next day dawned nippy and clear, the Sunday streets of New York almost serene in their early morning quiet. Gerard woke with a smile, the remnants of a dream about Frank still lingering in his mind. As he blinked the sleep from his eyes, his groggy stare fell on the completed portrait from the night before. The intensity of it made his heart clench, but it also fueled his determination. He needed to see Frank again, to capture more of those little details that made him so captivating.

After a quick breakfast of spaghettios straight out of the can, Gerard found himself back at his desk, sketchbook and favorite pen at the ready. But today, the confines of his apartment felt too restrictive. He needed to be out in the world, to find inspiration directly from his muse. He needed to find Frank.

It was odd. Very odd. Since just a few days ago Gerard would have rathered to die alone in the comfort of his Hello Kitty pajama pants and withered Batman shirt then step outside for anything other than work. Yet, here he was. Thinking about going outside for Frank. That would be twice this weekend that he left his apartment! He should call Mikey, and tell him the exciting news.

He recalled a conversation they’d had at work about weekend plans, somewhere in the mix of Pete annoying the fuck out of him and Frank trying to make typical conversation. Frank had mentioned a café he liked to visit every Sunday morning, claiming it was the first place he went to upon moving to New York. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was a start. With a sense of purpose, Gerard bundled up and headed out into the crisp morning air.

The café was a tiny, cozy place tucked away in a quiet neighborhood. Gerard felt a thrill of anticipation as he approached, peering through the window. There he was — Frank, sitting at a corner table, engrossed in a book with a steaming cup of coffee beside him. The sight made Gerard’s heart race. (Shit, this was so wrong). Careful to stay out of sight, Gerard found a spot outside where he could observe Frank without being seen. He opened his sketchbook and began to draw, his eyes darting from the page to Frank and back again. He captured the curve of Frank’s jaw, the arch of his brow, and the way his lips moved slightly as he read. Every detail was precious, every stroke of the pen a testament to his obsession.

Minutes passed unnoticed as Gerard sketched, his world narrowing to the lines on the page and the man who inspired them. Eventually, Frank finished his coffee and stood, stretching before gathering his things. Gerard’s heart pounded as he scrutinized Frank leaving the café and starting down the street.

Driven by a compulsion he couldn’t resist, Gerard pursued. He kept a safe distance, making sure not to lose sight of Frank while avoiding detection. He was hiding behind his scarf as if that was truly going to help him from being recognized. Frank’s path led them through a maze of streets until he finally stopped in front of a modest apartment building. Gerard watched as Frank unlocked the door and disappeared inside.

Gerard noted the address, his mind already spinning with possibilities. He felt drunk on Frank. He lingered outside the building for a while, feeling a mix of exhilaration and guilt. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but the need to be close to Frank, to capture his essence, was overwhelming. Gerard found a spot across the street where he could see Frank’s apartment window. He settled in, pulling out his sketchbook once more. Through the illuminated window, he could see Frank moving about, the domesticity of his actions adding another layer to the fascination Gerard felt. An interesting thing about Frank is that he had no care in the world if someone saw him. He was almost proud to show off his apartment, leaving the blinds up and curtains drawn and letting the world in. It was so non-Gerard, but he couldn’t complain with this more-than-generous view.

Drawing Frank in his home environment was a new kind of thrill. Gerard sketched feverishly, capturing the way Frank’s silhouette moved against the light, the way he ran a hand through his hair, the way he laughed at something on his television. Each moment was a treasure, each line a confession.

Hours slipped by until Gerard’s fingers ached and the chill of the night air seeped into his bones. Reluctantly, he packed up his things and headed back to his apartment, his mind buzzing with the images he had captured. He knew this obsession was spiraling out of control, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Frank was his muse, his fixation, and he needed him in a way that was becoming all-consuming.

Back in his apartment, Gerard laid out his sketches, the pages filled with Frank’s likeness. The intensity of his feelings was both thrilling and frightening. He knew he couldn’t keep this up forever, but for now, the art was enough. It was his way of being close to Frank, of expressing the emotions he couldn’t put into words.

As he crawled into bed, Gerard vowed that tomorrow he would try to act normal around Frank at work. But deep down, he knew that this obsession was far from over. It was only just beginning.

Chapter Text

Gerard’s anxiety had him thinking he was going to wake up late, or Frank was going to forget about picking him up. The first thing was impossible since he had so much anticipation strung up in his bones, he barely got a wink of sleep, even getting up an hour earlier than normal.

He showered, using a generous amount of shampoo on his greasy, brunette hair. He even used a nice body wash he got for Christmas one year (which, at the time, he took offense to upon opening it in front of his entire family). When he stepped out of the shower, he applied a peculiar volumizing gel to his hair but ended up washing most of it out because he didn't like the sticky, stiff sensation on his hands and hair. Gerard took his time with his eyeliner, but it still looked messy and he still appeared sickly pale from the lack of sun.

Here comes the craziest part… Gerard washed and planned an outfit. It was still raggedy and lame paired with his favorite coat and worn boots, but at least he didn’t smell like dirty laundry. He paired his outfit with his fingerless gloves, saggy beanie, and a striped scarf that hung past his waist. Now, he stood before his window, anxious and drowning in the morning scene. It was Monday, so of course the streets were busy at eight in the morning, the sky heavy with clouds threatening to downpour at any moment. (Gerard found himself smiling knowing he wouldn’t have to walk in the rain anymore).

He had never been so ready to step outside.

When he noticed Frank’s car pull up to the curb, Gerard took a deep, shaken breath, grabbed his bag, and headed out. The sketches sat deep in his bag, but some anxiety was barking in his chest that he should have left them at home. In his head, he defended it by arguing that it was purely for inspiration for the comic strip he needed to complete as soon as possible.

Frank greeted him with a warm smile and a small wave as soon as he slid into the passenger seat. Yeah, Gerard was going to melt right into the leather.

“Morning, Gerard! Ready?”

The aroma inside the car was so reminiscent of Frank that Gerard felt like he was going to faint. The distinct scent of hair gel, which Frank always used to style the tips of his hair, permeated the air, catching the light and making his hair shine, complementing his lip ring. The lingering smell of cigarettes clung to every surface, giving the car a slightly stale but comforting ambiance. Despite the musty odor, Gerard found himself oddly comforted by it, and the scent alone had him itching for a smoke.

“Uh, yeah. Definitely. Thank you, you know, for the ride.” Gerard wants to dig his fists in his eyes anytime he hears his own voice aloud, a queasy smile spreading across his face when Frank glimpses in his direction. Frank, as pure as he is, returned the smile that almost sent Gerard into overdrive, turning on the radio and drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. As they drove, Gerard memorized every detail of Frank he could get up close, fighting the urge to dig for his sketchbook in his bag when he noticed something he missed. The slight stubble he had on his jaw, the curve of his lips when he hummed to the music, the freckle on the tip of his nose…

“So, how was your weekend?” Frank’s voice broke through their awkward silence, Gerard noticing he even turned down the volume of the radio a bit.

Gerard paused at the question, both physically and mentally. His mind blanked to his weekend spent drawing Frank in his bed or from afar.

“Oh, uh — it was good, just did some sketching. The usual,” Gerard stops, stealing another glance at Frank when he murmurs the same question. “How was your weekend?”

It was a simple question, a simple conversation even. But Gerard felt like he was going to explode, or open the car door and roll into oncoming traffic. Either would suffice.

“Mine was good, too. You know? You should show me some of your sketches.” Frank starts rummaging in his back pocket, pressing a cigarette between his lips as he searches for his lighter. He starts again, the smoke hanging out the corner of his mouth as he speaks. (Was Gerard drooling? He wiped his mouth to make sure). “I know you do comics and stuff, but shit, man, I’ve never seen someone so invested in their work.”

Was Gerard burning hot or utterly embarrassed? It’s not like Frank knew he was spending countless hours drawing, specifically drawing him after sulking and not sketching for weeks. Gosh, he was flushed all over, he could feel the sweat begin to build on his flesh. “Oh! Yeah, yeah… I’ve always enjoyed art, you know? I-I enjoy my job a lot, so. I went to SVU, an art college.” He stops, either catching his breath or trying to settle his voice. “I’ll show you a few if you’d like? Maybe another time,” Gerard is fumbling eagerly with the ends of his scarf, practically hiding in the cloth.

“Cool! I’d love to see some,” Frank cups a hand over his cigarette once at a red light, merrily and cluelessly lighting the end with a flame. Without another word, Frank turns the radio up again, Gerard inferring that’s where their conversation ends. Maybe Frank could tell he was about to detonate.

They arrived at the office, and Gerard felt a mix of relief and disappointment as he stepped out of the car. Being near Frank was, well, exhilarating, but it also intensified his obsession, making it harder to act normally around him.

Throughout the day, Gerard found it tricky to concentrate. His thoughts kept drifting back to the car ride, to the way Frank’s presence made him feel. During lunch, he excused himself from the break room and retreated to his desk, pulling out his sketchbook. He flipped to a fresh page and began to draw, his hand moving almost of its own accord.

The sketch was of Frank, as always. This time, it was a scene from that morning — the way Frank had looked driving, focused yet relaxed. Gerard lost himself in the lines and shading, his pencil capturing every nuance of Frank’s expression.

“Hey, Gerard.”

Startled, Gerard immediately snapped his sketchbook shut as Frank appeared beside him, looming there with a coffee in hand and a stupid smile on his face. “Hey, Frank, what’s up?” He couldn’t stop his voice from trembling when he spoke, his heart beating erratically against his sternum, the noise so loud it was practically flooding his ears.

“Just checking in. I’m assuming you’re also hiding from Pete,” Frank sips his coffee before revealing another cup, setting it on Gerard’s desk. He tossed a few sugar packets, murmuring about how he didn’t know how he liked his coffee. Gerard couldn’t stop the smile that pulled across his face, carefully cradling the mug in two hands as he spoke into the cup.

“Uh, yeah. I-I am. Thank you, Frank.” He sipped the caffeine and somehow it tasted better knowing Frank prepared it for him. His heart felt like it was going to puke all his thoughts back into the cup. It was safe to go with the lie of hiding from Pete, especially since it wasn’t truly a lie.

Frank gave him a small smile, running a hand through his spiky hair that just jumped straight back into place, before pulling up a nearby chair. “What were you working on?”

All the alarms in Gerard’s head began to go off, his head spinning towards the direction of his sketchbook, trembling hands attempting to carefully place his mug onto his desk. His brain was screaming at him to just show him an old piece, his hands doing exactly that as he fumbled with the pages.

“Oh-uh, just a stupid idea I had for a comic, um…” Gerard opened the book to a page with different sketches of the same male, a guy with slicked-back black hair that trailed down his neck, his face ghostly white, and fangs sticking out the ends of his lips. He gulped hard in his throat when Frank leaned over, his breath so near and his scent intoxicating this close. “He’s a vegan vampire, doesn’t feast on any real blood.”

His face flushes when he hears Frank snort, his hand curling around Gerard’s shoulder as he laughs. “That’s sick! How’s this stupid, man? Come on, show me another.”

He fervently prayed that Frank wouldn't notice the tremble in his hands as he fumbled to locate a specific page. In his haste, a paper slipped from the spine of the book and gently drifted to the floor between their legs. Both men instinctively reached for it, but Frank managed to grasp it first while Gerard fought with his limbs to cooperate with his brain. As he turned it over, a lump formed in Gerard's throat as he recognized it as the first drawing he ever made of Frank, depicting the moment they first met.

It was humiliating, but Gerard was slightly relieved it wasn’t a recent one. This drawing was rough and strictly from memory. Yet, Gerard had to come to terms with the fact that this was slightly creepy alone, right? Like, should you draw someone and then keep it a secret? Or do you tell them it was strictly for practice and give it to them? He doesn’t know.

"Gerard," Frank finally begins, his inked hands cradling the page as he whispers. "This is amazing, I’m blown away." He tears his gaze from the page for only a moment, his words blending in with a smile. A huge wave of relief crashes over Gerard as if he were hit by a car going eighty. "Can I keep this? Your brain is like a fuckin’ camera or something, man. How do you do this?"

It was when he was asked a question he realized he had been holding his breath. “I-I, well — of course, keep it. I don’t mind.” Gerard rubs his face with a hand, settling his nerves with more coffee and abandoning his flimsy sketchbook on the desk. (He cursed the stupid, cheap brand of sketchbook in his head). “I dunno, I’ve always kind of been able to do that. And you’re so… drawable? This is strange, I-I hope I’m not weirding you out.”

“Not at all, don’t worry about it.” Frank’s grinning so big Gerard swears he’s going to run out of the room shrieking like a fangirl. “Is it the tattoos?”

Gerard almost chokes on his coffee, shaking his head as he laughs, his body suddenly feeling more airy than tense. “No! Well, maybe. It’s all of you, okay? You’re very — uh — abstract!”

Frank’s rich, warm laugh was enough to send Gerard spiraling in heat, his eyes noting the way his face softened when he glanced at the drawing again. “Abstract, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment.” His smile slackened before he was whispering again, taking another sip of his coffee in between. “Seriously, Gerard, this is amazing. I’m going to have to keep this forever, it’s going to be worth a shit-ton when you get famous.”

Gerard wanted so badly to remind Frank that he just draws what he sees, but he was scared to ruin the mood that was set between them. He found himself gushing at the praise, smiling softly to himself in a strange mix of embarrassment and pride. “Well, I hope you get a good return on your investment.”

Lunch break came to an end soon after, Gerard’s disappointment apparent on his face as he grimaced at his coworkers pooling back into the office. He swore Frank almost seemed hesitant when leaving his cubicle, that alone giving Gerard enough glimmer to actually do his job. The project was coming together smoothly, enough that he was able to update his boss and receive some well-needed praise to keep going.

When the workday finally ended, Gerard gathered his things and headed out to meet Frank in the parking lot. He found him sitting on the front of his car, smoking once more. As if on instinct, Gerard was rummaging for his own pack, leaning awkwardly next to Frank with only a shy wave in greeting. The two of them smoked in silence, the weight of a tiring Monday work-day evident on their shoulders.

The drive home was quieter, once again the radio having to fill the silence. Gerard kept his mind on the bustling city outside the car window, sucking on his fifth cigarette of the day while battling with the emotions inside of him. Despite all the things he should be thinking about, his brain was severely clouded in thoughts of Frank. It drove him insane.

Upon arriving at Gerard's apartment, he turned to Frank, mustering a sincere yet sheepish smile as he collected his things. “Thanks for the ride, Frank. See you tomorrow?”

“Anytime, man. See ya tomorrow.”

As Gerard watched Frank drive away, he felt the familiar pang of longing knock him over like a pathetic pile of bricks. He knew he should try to distance himself, especially when he had everything he required to remain unseen: he and Frank were already friends, Gerard was his passenger every morning and afternoon starting this day, he had a plethora of drawings in his sketchbook, and Frank was more than okay with the one he found. Yet the lure was too intense. Frank was his muse, his fixation, and he couldn’t just stop now.

His skin itched with the idea of returning to Frank’s apartment with his book and pen, but he yearned for something more permanent. The drawings were too risky, anyway. It was his job, he needed to keep his obsession more hidden. He thought back to Frank babbling about the drawing, Gerard recollecting, “Your brain is like a fuckin’ camera or something, man.”

Joy was flooding his limbs like never before when he got his hands on the digital camera tucked in his dresser drawer. He pressed an adoring kiss to the frame, targeted for his baby brother who gifted him the device a couple of months ago. (In his head, he apologized for keeping the camera hidden in his dresser for those months, at the time believing he had no use for it). His brother thought he could further branch his creativity to rediscover those creative juices he lacked.

Gerard needed more than sketches — he needed photographs. Something tangible to study, to capture every detail he missed with just his pencil.

Before leaving his apartment, he unboxed a clean, brand-new hard drive with the camera. Gerard grabbed his backpack, filling it with all the necessary supplies: his sketchbook and pen, cigarettes, the camera, and hard drive, an extra pair of gloves, money for coffee or more smokes, and a dull pocket knife to protect himself from… people like himself. Shame spread in the pit of his stomach, aching from either the lack of food or the nausea coming at him like tidal waves. He was disgusting.

Leaving his apartment with a burnt piece of toast and hoping to see Frank were the only things keeping him from hiding from the world under his bed covers. Gerard made his way to Frank’s apartment, heart pounding at his bones erratically in a mix of excitement and guilt. He chewed lazily at the pieces of toast before chucking it in the garbage and purchasing himself a coffee. Coffee was always better. He found a spot across the street, hidden enough to avoid detection but with a clear view of Frank’s bare window.

Through the illuminated window, Gerard could see Frank moving about his apartment. He was touching a guitar on the wall, seeming to have just placed it in its designated stand. He must have been practicing, Gerard thought. Gerard tore his eyes from the fascinating sight to rummage for his camera. Once the screen was in his face, Gerard drank in the sight through the lens, his breath fogs of bitter air floating into the city sky. Raising the device with his noodle arms felt imaginary, his finger fluttering atop the button before mashing it repeatedly, snapping photos of Frank sinking into his couch, eyes fixed on his television screen. It was domestic, yet beautiful.

Hours slipped by, his coffee empty, five cigarettes mashed into the concrete, his finger aching from the amount of clicking… Rain had begun to fall, creating a soft, rhythmic pattern that seemed to heighten Gerard’s senses. Despite Frank being so far away and closed off from his touch, having these photos made him feel like a boyfriend to him. He was his partner, admiring him from afar, snapping photos of his lover to tease him with later. Each click of the shutter was just a release of the emotions Gerard couldn’t express in words. Eventually, the rain intensified, and Gerard knew he had to leave. It was like a hand swatting away the scene he thought of so deeply and cherished each time he closed his eyes.

Returning home only made Gerard swallow his tears and pout at his loneliness. What he had with Frank now would never be enough. As he crawled into bed, he fell into the false reality of him and Frank being one, picturing their existence as lovers.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

There was a slight hiccup in his plan, which he only realized when waking up that morning.

Gerard was a cheap man. He avoided grocery shopping every week, made coffee at work instead of buying it daily, never paid for subscriptions, kept all the lights in his apartment off, and rarely used running water. (Some may say this is a bad thing, but hey — no high water bill!). This meant that if his office had what he needed, then he would use it there, not buy a duplicate for his personal use at home. Which meant he had no photocopier, let alone a printer.

His plan of secrecy just blew into a million pieces. He would buy one if they weren’t hundreds of dollars and required ink, paper, and — well — a brain to set up.

So, now, here he was. A hard drive in his backpack, loaded with photos of the man bringing him to work. His life couldn’t get worse.

When arriving at work, his whole day consisted of waiting for the perfect moment to infiltrate the copier room. He realized the best time would probably be during his break, Gerard immediately drowning in the gloom of missing a potential conversation with Frank by zipping straight to the copier as soon as everyone's breaks began. Despite his dismay, he needed these physical photos.

The copier room was deserted, not a single body occupying the device he required. This small relief wasn’t enough to ease the anxiety jumping him every minute that ticked by on the clock. Gerard stuck the hard drive into a nearby computer, biting his nails as he watched the files load onto the desktop. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he thanked past G for selecting his favorites of the bunch, able to hit print once and be done. The machine hummed to life, and Gerard was trembling in anticipation. He stood at the mouth of the printer, his fist practically snug in his mouth as he gazed at each photo jutting out the machine, the images now real and in stunning clarity. The smile on his face almost hurt as he carefully gathered each photo in shaking hands, his eyes stuck on Frank and the beauty that was him. They were perfect, capturing every detail of Frank in a way that felt almost intimate. He was so engrossed in his work that he didn’t notice someone entering the copy room until it was too late.

“Oh! Hey, Way.”

It was Patrick.

Gerard almost stumbled into the machine, a few photos getting creased at his grip as he frantically slid them into a vanilla folder he snatched nearby. His face was on fire, flushed in complete humiliation when he quickly turned to face Patrick with the folder behind his back.

"Oops, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just needed to grab something," Patrick said with a smile as he adjusted his cap and maneuvered past him, keeping an eye on Gerard. Gerard tried to stay composed as he quickly brought the folder to his chest and then hurriedly snatched the hard drive from the computer, speed-walking toward his desk. He couldn’t afford to get caught. He hated the way Patrick was looking at him. Did he really seem that suspicious? Would Patrick tell everyone? What if Pete hears about how odd Gerard was being? He’ll surely tell Frank.

Sulking, he carefully places the vanilla folder on his desk, peering from under his hair to see if anyone is nearby. He flips the folder open when the coast is clear, ogling at the first photo, his finger pressing at a faint crease. The domestic images flood his eyes, particularly the one where Gerard managed to get a perfect shot of him itching his chest under his shirt, making the fabric rile up and reveal the two, inked doves that sat low on his hips. Almost out of habit, Gerard’s wiping at his mouth making sure he isn’t drooling over Frank again. (Also, Gerard swore the tiny glint in the photo was a nipple piercing, which he’d love to investigate further).

It was almost agonizing to close the folder, but he knew he should plow the images deep into his bag before stumbling across another Patrick or a nosey Pete. He slid the folder carefully into his backpack, throwing himself in his chair and appointing himself back to work before his break even ended. The rest of the day was a blur of routine tasks, though Gerard’s mind kept drifting back to the photos tucked safely in his bag. He was itching to look at them again, to lose himself in Frank’s image.

He thought about it while working on his project; while waiting for Frank outside and nursing a cigarette; while riding in the car with Frank and listening to Black Flag; while waving goodbye to Frank from the stairs; while stepping foot into his apartment and tossing his coat; while setting his bag on his bed and immediately rummaging for the photos; and while sneaking a hand down his pants with a photo of Frank in the other.

Gripping himself was like a boulder being rolled off his back, his eyelids falling shut as he relaxed into the covers of his bed, eyelashes tickling his cheeks. He was so hard, the relief of unzipping his pants enough to make him cry. With only one hand to maneuver his bottoms, he was sure he looked silly yet entirely greedy, squirming on the bed to free his dick from the practical restraints known as tight jeans.

Finally, he had a hand on the hot, sapping flesh there, his breath stuttering drastically. He lifted the photo, carefully opening his eyelids and nearly drinking the image held there before stroking himself. He created a rhythm, moaning obscenities at the photo as he pictured Frank touching him, that his hand was actually his inked-up, punk lover. He tightened his fist at the head, making him curse, thrusting into his own palm with gasps spurting past his lips in frantic need.

His other hand only created more creases in the photo once he began to reach his orgasm, his face hot in embarrassment at how swiftly he reached his climax. His ass pinched from the sheets as he rubbed himself through his orgasm, his jaw slack when he gasped Frank’s name in broken syllables.

Panting, he dropped back to the mattress, the photo floating to his bedroom floor, too spent to properly clean himself up. His face felt warm and wet, his hand carefully patting the tears there. Gerard lay there, murmuring under his breath as he dozed, falling asleep dreaming about Frank. The one thing he wanted felt too far. As much as he adored the photos, what irked him was the lack of photos he had where Frank was never peering into the lens. This ruined his entire fantasy. His muse was never going to be his lover. His obsession was unachievable. It was a secret. It was lonely.

Chapter Text

Frank had completed four enormous, extensive assignments since becoming an employee at his new job. Each assignment he treated like a game task since his boss was clearly trying to learn where his breaking point was. Each new commission became a bit more difficult, but he had yet to be defeated. If he ran into an issue, he confided in Patrick. (Only two times now! Shush). It had only been a little over three weeks! He was proud of himself, and his coworkers were too. Pete was bouncing in front of his cubicle that morning, begging Frank to go out with them to celebrate… him? He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t not agree.

Pete told him who would be there, which wasn’t too much of a struggle since he knew names to faces by now. What struck him was the lack of Gerard. He felt guilty knowing he was going to drive him home just to go out with all their friends. (He didn’t know if Gerard was actually friends with their coworkers, but still. The kid was nose-deep in a sketchbook 24/7 that nobody dared to poke him with a five-foot-long stick besides Pete, Patrick, and himself).

He wondered if he should ask Pete before inviting him, but fuck that! It was his celebration night, he was allowed to invite whoever. Right?

Now, he’s seated himself in Gerard’s cubicle, spinning in his chair during their lunch break. Frank had thought he made a good impression that one break, talking about his badass vegan vampire and learning he was insanely good at portraits, but then Gerard started disappearing as soon as it started. So now, he was going to figure out what was keeping him so occupied. Well, not necessarily. He didn’t want to poke and prod too much. He busied himself with Gerard’s desk, noticing the lack of personalization as he nosed around in his stuff. His fingers itched to open a flimsy notebook sitting on his desk, but he was better than that. Especially, when he noticed Gerard frantically stepping out of the copier room with a bent-up vanilla folder in his hand. He appeared extremely nervous, and Frank wondered if it was a bad time. However, it was too late when they locked eyes and Frank gave him a stupid wave.

By the time Gerard reached his shitty, practically falling-apart bag, he was scrambling to shove the vanilla folder between the junk inside. Frank quirked an eyebrow at him, but he was too busy rubbing his hands on his face and murmuring a greeting.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” Frank gave him a wimpy smile once Gerard wasn’t hiding behind his gloved hands, the artist delicately returning one with a blush high on his cheeks and climbing across the flesh under his cute scarf. He had never seen a man flush so easily in his life.

He had so many questions. Firstly, did Gerard not like him enough to spend their lunch breaks together? Well, that just wouldn't make sense. They get along in the car, smoke together before he brings him home, and talk about their favorite bands they have in common! Hell, Frank, starting at the beginning of this week, had Gerard’s coffee order memorized and ready for him in the morning. He splurged on Starbucks when he noticed Gerard making dreamy eyes at the one nearby every time they drove by it. He had to fight Gerard to just take the damn drink and stop sneaking money in his center console or at his cubicle. So, he was maybe spoiling Gerard. It wasn’t like Frank saw him as helpless or anything! He wanted to help, and kind of own up to being a jerk to Gerard when they first met.

Secondly, what was with the copier room? Patrick vaguely mentioned a few weeks ago that Gerard had sprinted out of the room as soon as Patrick stepped foot in there, Patrick voicing his concern that he believed Gerard was mad at him. Frank wanted to label it as Gerard desiring to stray away from any human contact, but he and Patrick got along. Patrick constantly obliged Gerard with ideas for his storyboards, brought him snacks as if he were his mother, and Patrick was the one Frank had to ask how G liked his coffee. But what was strange is G acted normal despite their run-in. He still let Patrick give him treats, advice, and coffee. Pete is adamant that Patrick walked in on Gerard printing his spank bank, but Frank muted him out like usual. Even if it was true, why would Gerard print something like that at work?

Thirdly, why is Gerard so mysterious? Frank feels like this is the first time he has made a friend and was unable to have their thoughts naked before him. Gerard is the one person in the office Frank feels like he has to tiptoe around. He doesn’t hate it, if anything it only intrigues his curiosity more.

He ignored his questions spiraling in his brain like a goddamn tornado, still set on Gerard coming to celebrate. He hopes his offer will allow him to learn more about Gerard, despite how badass and cool it is that he is so mysterious. Frank was still comfortably seated in Gerard's chair as he nervously swayed back and forth, fumbling over his words. "So, there's this thing tonight. It's just a few guys and chicks from work, and we plan on having some drinks and hanging out. I wanted to know if you maybe wanted to come? At a club, by the way." His body was slumped deep in the seat when he finished speaking, and he couldn't help but feel like he sounded like an idiot. Most of his attention was on nursing his lip ring with his teeth to relieve his tension.

He watched Gerard’s face closely, for once unsure with his flushed expression and trembling hands. Was he taking it too fast? Frank assumed Gerard was socially delicate, but wasn’t sure from their conversations in the past. One moment, he had Gerard ranting, the next he was twitchy and shy. Ease poked away at his nerves when G nodded.

“Okay, yeah. Sure…” He fumbled with his bag a bit more, before slouching it against the wall of his cubicle. “What time?” He was suddenly very interested in his nails, picking at the cuticles or nipping with his tiny teeth, clearly avoiding eye contact. Frank assumed he was nervous, thoughts eating at him that it could potentially be his fault, but he shook those away when standing.

“I’ll be at your place at eight, okay? It’s casual, just a few friends from work.” Frank didn’t mind slugging Gerard with him everywhere. He was a great passenger. Sure, he only spoke when spoken to, but he never complained about Frank’s music choices, or how he drove. Plus, Gerard didn’t even have a car. Just knowing Gerard had made the horrible commute every morning and evening for work on his shitty boots and drenched New York streets made him feel almost accountable and hopefully reliable to be his ride.

“Oh,” Gerard glanced at Frank, his lips turning at the corners as he fumbled with his hands, running his fingers through his hair, tugging at the apparent tangles there. “Thanks, Frank… Seriously.”

Was Frank fist-bumping the air in his head? Yes. Gerard’s crooked smile will never not be rewarding.

“‘Course, man. Eight?”

“Yeah, eight.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Nothing would prepare Frank for the Gerard awkwardly stepping up to his car, his disheveled bag still slumped over his shoulder, standing out as a sore thumb compared to the rest of him.

Instead of the thin, worn fabric of a baggy, long-sleeved button-up, he wore a slimming Black Flag t-shirt that embraced his torso, along with a rough, black leather jacket that was sort of cropped. His jeans were tight and hugging in all the right places, torn at the knee, and so close-knit he swore G would have had to lay on his bed to get those fuckers on. He still wore his scruffy combat boots, assuming Gerard labeled those as his nice shoes, but his hair was definitely different. First, it wasn’t brunette anymore. It was jet black, which defined his pale complexion and pointy nose way more than his shitty ass bag. Secondly, he used some sort of gel to slick it back yet still had hair sticking out in all the right places. It was like bedhead but entirely sexy. The hair color slimmed his face, but as soon as he smiled his cheeks were all round again and Frank couldn’t help grinning like an idiot.

“Sick hair, man. Suits you,” Frank shoots a compliment as soon as Gerard can get the door open, which earns him this flustered, lop-sided grin from G.

“Thanks,” Gerard sits, rubbing his hands over those tight-ass pants, probably to calm his clear-as-day nerves. He buckles, rummaging for his pack of battered cigarettes — which Frank has to hide his shock and slack jaw when trying to figure out how the hell he was able to even hide a whole pack in those pants — and letting one hang from one side of his mouth before lighting up with a very well hidden lighter.

The entire car ride Frank has to remember he’s driving and should keep his eyes on the road. It was so not what he was used to — like — it was so not Gerard? Frank doesn’t know how to explain it, but he isn’t sure why he suddenly wants to get in his friend’s pants. (If he can figure out how the fuck to get them off).

Despite how utterly attractive Gerard looked, it was still Gerard. He was still twitchy and weirdly quiet, running his anxious hands through his hair more times than Frank had blinked since he entered the car, plus he was definitely on his third cigarette. Yet, somehow, that wasn’t a problem for Frank. It was cute. Like, no, you don’t get it, really cute.

When they arrived at their destination, it became very apparent the address Pete gave him was to a gay club. That wasn’t truly a huge issue, but with how hot Gerard looked, he was positive nobody was going to leave him alone. So what? Is it bad to worry about his friend? Does he sound like Patrick?

Pushing that all aside, he remembered this was a night to celebrate, not chaperone Gerard. Frank entered the club with Gerard at his hip, scoping out the booming room while cringing at the awful techno and blinding lights. Eventually, he found Pete, Patrick, and a few girls and guys they worked with, seated at a snug corner booth near the bar. Frank was apprehensive about losing Gerard, so he said fuck it and clutched his hand in his, noticing the surprise on G’s expression when he instinctively interlocked fingers with him. “Found them!” He leaned towards Gerard’s ear to hear him, purposefully resting an open palm on his shoulder to bring him closer. It wasn’t too smooth, but he still enjoyed Gerard's skittish look, his head bobbing in a nod with that tiny, crooked smile Frank was starting to adore. He caught Gerard staring at their hands, mapping out the tattoos there again. A comic book artist gawking at his ink was like orgasm worthy in Frank’s head.

Reluctantly, Frank began to drag their bodies to the table, Pete jumping out of the booth like a lunatic to throw Frank in this mind-numbing hug, squeezing him like a goddamn dog toy. He noticed his hand holding with Gerard was over when Patrick threw his arms around Gerard, gawking at his hair and commenting on how oh my gosh, you actually showered!

By the time they were out of Pete and Patrick’s clutches, they had drinks forced in their hands and were snug between sweaty, familiar bodies in the cramped booth. Gerard was right across from him. He was sipping at his drink the entire conversation Pete had started, meanwhile, Frank had downed his and was ready for refills. He decided on one beer since he knew he had to drive Gerard home. He was responsible, surprisingly.

The night progressed in a blur of laughter, drinks, and loud music. Frank found himself immersed in conversations, occasionally stealing glances at Gerard, who seemed to be slowly unwinding. Gerard had finished his second drink and was working on his third, his cheeks flush and eyes bright with the buzz of alcohol. Frank couldn't help but smile at how Gerard seemed to be enjoying himself, despite his initial nervousness. It was kind of making him giddy having Gerard just here, in his space, soothed, and listening mindfully. He received several compliments that night, each one making him more fiery red. Again, cute.

At one point, Pete insisted on buying everyone a round of shots. Frank reluctantly agreed, not wanting to be a party pooper, and watched as Gerard hesitated before finally accepting his shot glass. They raised their glasses, shouted some incoherent toast, and knocked back the shots. Gerard’s face scrunched up adorably at the burn, and Frank couldn’t resist laughing.

As the night went on, Frank noticed Gerard starting to look a bit more disoriented. He chalked it up to the alcohol, but when Gerard’s movements became sluggish and his eyes seemed unfocused, Frank grew concerned. He inclined over the table, trying to catch Gerard’s attention by waving a hand in front of his face.

“Hey, Gerard, you okay?” he asked, worry lacing his tone. Gerard blinked slowly at him, his gaze not quite meeting Frank’s. “Yeah... just... feel kinda strange,” he mumbled, his words slurring slightly.

Frank’s gut twisted. Something was definitely off. He glimpsed around the table, but everyone else seemed engrossed in their own conversations and drinks. He decided it was time to get Gerard out of there. He was drugged, for sure. He wondered if it was the weird waiter who tried more than once to speak to Gerard directly with his shitty flirtatious remarks and batting his eyelashes like a goddamn cartoon character.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Frank said softly, standing up and reaching for Gerard’s arm. There was no way he was going to leave Gerard like this.

Gerard didn’t resist, his body leaning heavily against Frank as they maneuvered through the tight booth and crowded club. Frank wrapped an arm around Gerard’s middle, supporting most of his weight as they made their way outside, but it was slightly awkward due to the height difference. The cool night air hit them, and Frank hoped it would help clear Gerard’s head, but he only seemed to get worse. Gerard was starting to drool a bit, croaking when he spoke to Frank in incoherent babbles, the only thing letting Frank know he was still breathing since he was dead weight against him at this point.

Frank managed to get Gerard into the car, buckling him in before sliding into the driver’s seat. He glanced over at Gerard, whose head was lolled back against the seat, eyes half-closed. Sighing, Frank set himself on the task of starting the car, adjusting the vents to get some cool air on G. He grinned a bit too brightly when he heard Gerard thank him, calling him Frankie.

“Just hang in there, Gerard. We’ll be home soon,” Frank muttered, more to himself than to Gerard.

The drive felt like an eternity, Frank constantly glancing at Gerard to make sure he was still conscious. When they finally pulled up to Gerard’s apartment, Frank wasted no time in getting him out of the car and up to his door with Gerard on one side and his torn bag in the other. He fumbled with Gerard’s keys in his tight pants, Frank feeling almost shameful when searching for them on a squirmy, drugged Gerard, finally getting the door open and helping him inside when retrieving them.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Frank murmured, guiding Gerard towards his bedroom. It took only two attempts to find his bedroom, ignoring the mess as he dragged Gerard to the mattress. He managed to get Gerard to sit on the edge of the bed, and as he started to help him take off his shoes, he noticed something odd when accidentally dropped his bag. The snap keeping everything inside popped off when he dropped it, causing some of his items to spill out. One item that grabbed Frank’s attention was the sketchbook Gerard constantly hauled around with him.

His curiosity piqued, Frank hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "Not now," he muttered to himself. Gerard's well-being was more important than snooping through his stuff. He quickly shoved the items back into the bag, ignoring the sketchbook for the time being, and focused on getting Gerard comfortable.

After removing Gerard's boots, Frank helped him lie down on the bed, tugging the blankets over him. Gerard mumbled something unintelligible, his eyes fluttering closed. Frank sat on the edge of the bed, brushing Gerard's hair back from his forehead. "You’ll be okay, G. Just sleep it off," he whispered.

Frank decided to stay with Gerard, just in case he needed anything or if his condition worsened, not because he really liked petting his hair or listening to his breathing. He pulled up a chair and settled in, keeping a close eye on his friend. As he watched Gerard’s chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm, he couldn’t help but feel a mixture of concern and affection. Gerard had become someone special to him, someone he wanted to protect. He tried to not dumb down Gerard to someone who was delicate and needed saving, but he couldn’t help it when he saw him like this.

The hours passed slowly, but eventually, Gerard’s breathing evened out, and he seemed to be resting more peacefully. Frank lulled to sleep a few times, officially waking when the sun began to peek from the curtains. Despite being groggy and fighting an apparent kink in his neck from the way he slept, Frank’s mind drifted back to the sketchbook. He couldn’t deny his curiosity any longer. Quietly, he got up and retrieved the book from Gerard’s bag. Sitting back down in the chair, he opened it carefully.

Inside, he found a collection of sketches and notes. The sketches were incredible, showcasing Gerard's talent in a way that his previous work only hinted at. There were detailed portraits, fantastical creatures, and intricate scenes that looked like they belonged in a graphic novel. Flipping through the pages, Frank found himself in awe of Gerard's artistry, smiling softly to himself when he saw all the doodles of the vegan vampire or the monster with the huge tusks.

But then he stumbled upon something that made his heart race — a series of drawings featuring himself. Frank recognized his own likeness in the sketches, drawn with a level of detail and care that made him feel both flattered and confused. Why had Gerard drawn him so many times? Was this what Gerard had been so secretive about? Sure, he was insanely flattered when he discovered that one sketch, but there were about fifteen in here so far.

Just as Frank was contemplating the significance of the drawings, he heard a soft groan from the bed. He quickly closed the sketchbook and placed it back in Gerard's bag, not wanting to invade his privacy any further.

Gerard stirred, his bottle-green eyes slowly opening. He looked groggy but more coherent than before. "Frankie?" he mumbled, blinking up at him. He kind of looked like he was making sure Frank was real and not a hallucination. Gerard’s hair was sticking up in several places and his eyeliner was blotted around his eyes more than usual, his hand only making it worse when he rubbed at the skin there.

"Yeah, I'm here," Frank said, leaning closer before leaving the chair behind altogether. "How are you feeling?" He seated himself carefully on his bed, his hand carefully reaching for Gerard’s forehead to check for a fever.

“Shit, like I got hit by a bus,” Gerard murmurs, gradually lowering his head back to his pillow, his face filling with color. “What happened? I-I’m sorry for making you stay, how long have you been here?” He became worked-up and frantic pretty fast, Frank wriggling his hand through his hair once more in an attempt to console him, shushing softly with a laugh.

“Hey, man. Don’t even worry about it. I couldn’t leave you alone, pretty sure someone slipped something in your drink last night.” He tried to remain calm to ease Gerard, beginning to work at some of the tangles in his hair. “I brought you home to rest, no biggie.”

Gerard's face contorted with confusion and a bit of embarrassment. "I... I don't remember much. Thanks, Frank. Really."

"Don't mention it. I couldn't just leave you like that," Frank said with a reassuring smile. "Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?"

Gerard shook his head slowly. "No, just... stay here for a bit, if you don't mind." His eyelids were clearly becoming heavy, his expression relaxing as he melted into the comforters. Frank noticed his head lightly nuzzling into his hair pets, Frank smiling to himself in response.

"Of course, I'll stay," Frank replied, dragging his fingers through his hairline to his nape, eventually coming back up to tuck some of the hair there behind his ear. He noticed the black splotches of dye staining his scalp when toying with the strands. Gerard’s lips tugged in a tiny, grateful smile, the gesture enough to make Frank want to tackle his face in a kiss.

“Thanks, Frankie.”

As the night continued, Frank stayed by Gerard's side, talking softly and ensuring he was satisfied. He whispered stories about the night to help Gerard summon some of the memories, most of his accounts revolving around Pete being a dumbass. He couldn't startle the images from the sketchbook out of his mind, even when he was speaking to Gerard or detecting he fell back into slumber, too concentrated on the detailed sketches of himself drawn with such care and intensity. It left him bewildered, his thoughts a tangled mess of curiosity and confusion. He decided it was a conversation for another time. Right now, all that mattered was that Gerard was safe and knew he had someone who cared about him.

In the quiet, dimly lit room, Frank found himself grappling with a realization that his feelings for Gerard were more complicated than he had initially thought. Was it just a concern for a friend, or something deeper? He couldn't be sure. He vowed to be there for him, no matter what, and to cherish the unique connection they shared. Maybe, just maybe, one day he'd muster the courage to talk to Gerard about those illustrations and what they meant. But for now, he was content to stay by Gerard's side, wishing the answers would come in time.

Plus, Gerard was so cute and so open right now he couldn’t fuck it up. He liked this. No, he loved this.

Chapter Text

Leaving Gerard’s apartment that morning, without confrontation since Frank is a sweetheart, left him with more questions than answers. The sketches still irked him, not necessarily in a bad way, but in a way he couldn’t let the thoughts leave his head no matter what he did. Frank couldn't shake the image of those sketches from his mind. Each drawing felt like a secret, a glimpse into a part of Gerard that he had never seen before. He needed to understand why Gerard had so many drawings of him, why he was the subject of such intimate, careful, undivided attention.

He felt like Patrick all over again, itching to check on Gerard every hour that passed. It was only normal, right? He was drugged the night before! When he woke on Sunday morning, he felt like he had no control over his body, preparing a dish he knew G could heat up in the microwave.

He didn’t stop himself from stepping up the stairs that led to Gerard’s apartment, nor did he stop himself from knocking on the door. It was all fueled by want and curiosity.

Frank tugged at his lip ring with his teeth, the sweat on his hands building from bubbling anxiety, causing him to rub his palms at his pant legs while balancing the tupperware. Why he was nervous was beyond him. Maybe it was the anticipation? He had decided to use the excuse of checking up on Gerard after the incident at the club. It was a legitimate concern, but he knew it was more than that — he needed answers.

After a few moments, the door unlocked and creaked open, revealing a sleepy-eyed Gerard. He was disheveled, his hair was tousled and hair dye still stained his skin around his ears. He wore an old, faded band t-shirt with Batman pajamas that were probably older than Frank. (If that was even possible).

“Frankie?” Gerard murmured like a child, a hand awkwardly rubbing at his eye, the skin still blotched in messy, withered eyeliner. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Frank replied, pushing the words out in one long breath before waving the tupperware, attempting to keep his voice casual. “I-I dunno, I was just worried after everything. Let me in motherfucker, I made you food.”

Gerard beamed faintly at him, showing just a bit of his tiny teeth before releasing the door, letting it open fully as he stepped aside. “Thanks, I-I mean,” he flushed a bit, running his hands through his hair as he stared at the floor, murmuring again. “I’m fine, now, but thanks.”

Frank fought every single thought in his mind, replacing them with thoughts of his adorable grandma instead of how badly he wanted to kiss the stupid, shy G murmuring in front of him. He stepped inside, heading straight for the kitchen and raiding his cabinets for a microwave-safe bowl. “Hey? Why don’t we watch a movie?”

“Oh,” Gerard said, locking the door and trudging softly to the kitchen, watching Frank heat two bowls of soup. “Soup and movies? I like it,” he lightly snickered, standing near Frank’s peripheral vision.

While waiting for the food to heat up, Frank leaned against the counter, smiling at Gerard as he messed with a hole in his jeans. “Yeah! Soup and Star Wars! We could marathon that shit, bro. I don’t have plans, do you?”

“Yeah, I-I mean, no, I don’t have plans. Yes, we can totally marathon Star Wars.”

“Sweet, have a seat on the couch, I will serve you, sir.” Frank mimicked a respectful tone, slightly nasally as he bowed in front of G, pulling a laugh from the taller male. Frank told himself he needed to ask Gerard about those drawings, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he settled into the comfort of Gerard’s couch with soup and beer. G was entranced in the film, but Frank couldn’t help himself when stealing glances.
It was when the second movie ended and Gerard’s nearby warmth became too much for Frank to handle. He was so close, yet they were barely touching, only their knees and shoulders were snug together.

“Hey,” Frank attempted to keep his voice nonchalant, nursing another swig of beer before sitting up and glancing at Gerard. “Do you mind if I take a leak?”

Gerard gave him a small nod, pointing down the hall and groggily speaking as if he had just woken up. “Second door down the hall.”

Frank walked down the hall after returning Gerard with a nod of his own, his heart racing. Instead of turning into the bathroom, he slipped into Gerard's office, closing the door quietly behind him. He didn’t know why he did at first, apparently a slight crack in the door urged his body to be nosey and check it out. The room was dimly lit, papers and art supplies scattered across the desk. He felt a pang of guilt for snooping, but his curiosity drove him on.

He scanned the room, his eyes landing on a series of photographs pinned to the wall. They were all of him – candid shots from his living room, his favorite nearby café, and random moments they had shared. Each photograph was carefully pinned on a board, a testament to Gerard's attention to detail. He wasn’t sure what to think, all he knew was he was about ten seconds from covering the floor with his vomit.

Then he saw it — a large canvas propped up against the far wall, partially covered by a sheet. Frank approached it slowly, his heart pounding. He reached out, lifting the sheet to reveal a stunning portrait of himself. The painting captured him in a moment of deep contemplation, his eyes filled with a mix of longing and sadness. It was as if Gerard had painted his very soul on a canvas, gutting out every desire or insecurity Frank hadn’t known he had.

Frank's breath caught in his throat. The intensity of the painting, and the raw emotion it conveyed, were overwhelming. He felt a surge of emotions — confusion, admiration, fear. What did this all mean? Why had Gerard poured so much of himself into these images?

Before he could think further, he heard footsteps approaching. Panic surged through him, and he quickly replaced the sheet over the painting. He slipped out of the office, his heart racing, and ducked into the bathroom just as Gerard walked by, supposedly to the kitchen for another beer.

Frank splashed cold water on his face, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He knew he couldn't confront Gerard about what he had seen — not yet. He needed time to process, to understand what all of this meant. Some sketches didn’t compare to what he just saw.

After a few moments, he composed himself and left the bathroom when hearing the fridge door shut, rejoining Gerard in the living room. Wiping the sweat from his eyebrow, he decided to bring their dishes from the living room into the kitchen, speaking to Gerard while rinsing them.

“Thanks for letting me hang out, but I have to cut it short, my mom called… something about needing a ride to a doctor’s appointment.” He attempted to keep his voice steady, towel-drying his hands while refraining from eye contact. Gerard no longer sat on the couch, sort of standing awkwardly against one of his counters with empty bottles in his hands.

“Oh, yeah, uh… sure. Take care, Frankie.” His tone was enough for Frank to know he was hurt or anxious about his sudden need to leave. He couldn’t bring himself to explain no matter how much it pained him to leave Gerard alone, confused.

Frank left the apartment, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The image of the painting haunted him, each brushstroke a question he didn't have the answer to. Each picture stabbed away at the little security Frank had left. A bush on his walk to his car fell victim to his nauseousness.

When arriving home, he closed his curtains.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

That Monday, Frank woke up with a heavy heart. The little weekend he had left did nothing to clarify his feelings — if anything, he was more confused than ever. He knew he couldn't face Gerard, not yet. He needed more time. He knew he was avoiding the inevitable, but he couldn't help it. The thought of facing Gerard, of seeing the hurt in his eyes, was too much to bear.

When Frank finally arrived at work, it was late morning. He saw Gerard walking in the front door, soaked to the bone from the rain. Gerard looked around, his eyes searching the parking lot as if hoping to see Frank's car.

Frank felt a pang of guilt, his heart aching at the sight. He wanted to run to Gerard, to apologize, to explain everything, but he couldn't. Not yet.
Gerard spotted him, their eyes meeting across the parking lot. Frank saw the confusion and hurt in Gerard's eyes, and it felt like a punch to the gut. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn't come.

Instead, he watched as Gerard turned away, his shoulders slumping as he walked into the building. Frank's heart ached with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings. He knew better than to think Gerard would confront him or even ask why. He was too scared to even think of Frank being the one to blame. Frank knew G was beating himself over this.

This wasn't over. They still had so much to say, so much to figure out. And Frank was determined to get to the bottom of it, no matter how long it took. But for now, all he could do was watch as the rain continued to fall, each drop a reminder of the storm brewing between them.

Chapter Text

Gerard sat alone in his apartment, the echoes of Frank’s visit tormenting his thoughts. The unexpected appearance had initially filled him with joy, a brief respite from his otherwise tumultuous existence. But in the days since, everything had changed — Frank left so suddenly and hadn't picked him up for work the next day, and Gerard was spiraling into confusion and despair.

He remembered that Monday morning dawned gray and oppressive, the rain lashing against the windows like a constant reminder of his growing isolation. Gerard stood by the window, watching the raindrops race down the glass, his heart sinking further with each minute that Frank didn’t show up.

The absence of Frank’s familiar presence was like a gaping wound. Gerard couldn’t fathom what had gone wrong. Had he unknowingly pushed Frank away? Was Frank hurt? He replayed their last interaction endlessly, desperate for any clue. Maybe it was the sketches? Had he seen something he wasn’t meant to?

Gerard had always been fiercely protective of his art, especially the pieces featuring Frank. They were intensely personal, raw, and exposed feelings he wasn’t ready to confront, let alone share. But now that Frank had potentially seen them, Gerard feared he had crossed an irrevocable line.

With a heavy heart, Gerard grabbed his jacket and stepped out into the pouring rain. The cold droplets soaked through his clothes instantly, but he barely noticed.

By the time Gerard arrived at work that morning, he was drenched, his clothes clinging to him uncomfortably. He shuffled through the lobby, feeling the judgmental eyes of his coworkers on him. He was late, and it showed — his hair a wet mess, his eyeliner smudged, his clothes plastered to his skin. He remembers locking eyes with Frank in the parking lot, his guilty stare enough to eat Gerard alive.

When he stepped into the elevator, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing. Normally, he and Frank would share this ride, exchanging jokes and stories to start their day. Today, the silence was suffocating. When he finally reached his desk, he slumped into his chair, water pooling around his feet. He shivered, both from the cold and the nagging fear that he had somehow driven Frank away.

Gerard spent that day in a haze, unable to concentrate on his work. His thoughts kept drifting back to Frank, to the look in his eyes when they saw each other in the parking lot. He needed to talk to him, to explain, but the words eluded him. How could he put into words the complexity of his feelings, the mix of admiration, affection, and something deeper that he wasn’t ready to name? That lunch shift, Gerard locked himself in the male’s bathroom.

Now, he sulked at his window, counting each day, hour, and minute Frank hadn’t spoken to him. Staring at the clock on his wall, he watched the hand tick and moaned to keep from crying. It had officially been a week, 7 days, 168 hours, and 10,168 minutes since Frank had spoken to him. That week, he adjusted the time he left for work in the morning to avoid being late, his heart weighing down deeper in his chest when Frank didn’t attempt to speak to him, let alone glance in his direction. It was like losing your best friend in high school, the one thing keeping you sane.

Remember when he said he hated rain? Well, he thinks the clear term now is despise. He despised the rain, the pain that he felt when those droplets reminded him of his loneliness and fuck-ups, the reminder that rain was what got him into this mess. Gerard wanted to just scream, to be mad at something, the world even. But he knew it was all his fault. He shouldn’t have been such a disappointment, he shouldn’t have walked in the rain, and he shouldn’t have sulked in the office practically asking for Frank to pity him all drenched and moping like a forgotten mutt.

Desperate for solace, Gerard decided to visit his brother Mikey. Mikey was the only one who might understand, the only one he could confide in. The rain continued its relentless assault, each step toward Mikey’s apartment feeling heavier than the last. The cold droplets mingled with his tears, making it impossible to tell where the rain ended and his sorrow began.

When he finally reached Mikey’s door, Gerard was soaked to the bone, shivering uncontrollably. He knocked weakly, barely able to muster the strength. This week’s downpour struck Gerard’s immunity like lightning, each day full of wet eyes and a runny nose. Mikey opened the door, his eyes widening in concern at the sight of his bedraggled brother. Gerard felt relief just at the sight of his brother, but then he noticed a familiar figure standing behind him, his eyes full of concern.

“Toro?”

“G, what the hell happened?”

That was Mikey’s voice, Gerard shivering from his worried tone, or due to the breeze that went by, he wasn’t sure. Ray reached for him first, Mikey holding the door open and running off to get a towel. Gerard happily allowed himself to nestle in Ray’s embrace, his hand reaching to tug on his shirt.

“Is this bad timing?”

“What? No, of course not, Gerard. Come on,” Ray placed a hand in his damp hair, his palm laying down the black strands before kicking the door closed, shuffling their bodies to the nearby couch. Mikey returned with a fluffy towel, wrapping it around Gerard’s shoulders, his lanky fingers scruffing at the ends of his hair with the fabric. Gerard could only slump forward, his wet hair clinging to his face, his clothes plastered to his skin, and tears wanting to escape his eyes. (The feeling was becoming all too familiar as of lately).

“I’m in love,” Gerard mumbled, his voice barely audible as he buried his face in his hands. “And I think I’ve already lost him.”

Mikey sat beside Gerard, Ray on his other side, his hand resting reassuringly on his shoulder. “Tell me what happened,” he encouraged gently, leaning in closer to hear his brother’s muffled words. Toro laid his hand on the center of Gerard’s back, rubbing circles there and urging him to continue.

Gerard lifted his head, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with anguish. He poured out his heart, recounting every painful detail of the past months he had been working with Frank. The rides to work, the coffee, the bar, the sketches, the silence, the unbearable absence. Each word was a dagger to his heart, the memories cutting deeper with every retelling. Mikey listened intently, his brow furrowing in empathy and concern. Ray hummed when he deemed it appropriate, his hand continuing to comfort Gerard when he hiccupped between his words or curled in on himself any further.

“I drew him a lot,” Gerard said, his voice trembling. “The ones I never meant for him to see must have been out somewhere in my apartment. I think… he found them. I-I think I scared him away.” He didn't mention the photos, frightened of what his brother and Ray would think of him. The last thing he needed was to be blamed right now.

Mikey sighed deeply, feeling the weight of his brother’s distress. He pulled Gerard into a tight, soothing hug, feeling the dampness of Gerard's clothes seep into his own. Gerard’s body was quivering, whether from the cold or his emotions, both sort of varying.

“G, you’ve got to talk to him,” Mikey said softly, his voice a gentle murmur in Gerard’s ear. He could feel Gerard’s shallow breaths against his neck, each exhale a shuddering sigh. Mikey rubbed Gerard’s back in slow, calming circles, trying to offer some semblance of comfort.

Ray leaned closer, his presence a steadying force. “Maybe you should write him a letter,” Ray suggested, his voice peaceful and thoughtful. “Tell him how you feel, what you’re thinking. Sometimes it’s easier to put it on paper.”

Gerard’s eyes filled with fresh tears, the suggestion striking a chord within him. “A letter?” he repeated, his voice barely more than a whisper. His mind raced, imagining the words he would write, the emotions he would pour onto the page. Where the fuck would he even start?

Mikey nodded, his expression encouraging. “Yeah, a letter,” he said, squeezing Gerard’s shoulder reassuringly. “You can take your time, think about what you want to say. It doesn’t have to be perfect, just honest.”

Gerard’s grip on Mikey’s shirt loosened, and he nodded gradually. “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “I’ll try.”

Ray placed a gentle hand on Gerard’s knee, adding his support. “We’re here for you, Gerard.”

Gerard nodded again, the comfort of both his brother and Ray providing a small but significant balm to his aching heart. He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady himself. “Thanks, guys,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Mikey hugged him tightly once more, feeling the slight relaxation in Gerard’s tense frame. “Anytime, bro,” he replied, his voice filled with sincerity.
Gerard felt a surge of gratitude toward them. He had to try. For Frank, for himself, and for the people who cared about him. With Mikey’s and Ray’s encouragement echoing in his mind, Gerard felt a flicker of determination. He would write the letter. He would find the words. And he would hope that somehow, Frank would understand. Maybe.

“Hey, G?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember those beers I promised you?”

Gerard palmed at his face in the hope of wiping away his tears, not able to stop himself from smiling as he nodded, punching Ray in the shoulder as he spoke. “Yeah, you owe me.”

After a few beers and shitty horror movies, Gerard moped back home, wracking his brain over and over to hold himself on that letter. He stayed up all night, thinking of all the possible things he could say. Should he immediately defend himself? What if Frank hadn’t even seen the drawings and this was all about something else? What if it was even worse than that and Frank had seen the photos? What if Pete just made up some false rumor about him? Gerard hardly knew where to start. In the end, his letter only brandished his house telephone number and a weak plea of Frank please get back to me as soon as you can, we should talk this out, over the phone or in person, whichever is fine with me.

The paper was worn down from the number of times he wrote and erased. He signed it carefully, folding the paper over and slipping it into his bag. He didn’t even want to sleep. He didn’t even want to give him the letter.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Gerard was thankful that morning that it only drizzled off and on. It didn’t fix the wet streets and irritating puddles, but it was enough to give him a small amount of hope for that day. He didn’t know what to do with his appearance, losing motivation to even fix his runny eyeliner and crazy bedhead, his clothes were a wrinkled mess, and his beanie was starting to become worn and droop low on the back of his head. He didn’t care, though, only caring about the pathetic letter and the coffee pot waiting for him at the office.

He got to the office early, the ride up the elevator nauseating. He practically beelined for Frank’s desk with trembling breaths, his gloved hands hesitating when sliding the paper across his desk. He practically squinted his eyelids shut when he let go of the letter, letting the page settle on Frank’s desk before he speed-walked to his cubicle. He didn’t know if giving the letter to Frank was relieving or more unsettling for his nerves.

The hours ticked by, and the phone remained silent when he returned home. Gerard’s heart sank deeper into despair with each passing minute. The silence was suffocating, a void that seemed to grow with every tick of the clock. By one in the morning, he could no longer bear it. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey deep from his kitchen and began to drink, trying to drown his sorrows in the numbing haze of alcohol.

The night grew darker, and the rain continued to fall. When half the bottle was slugging around in his body, he said fuck-it and left his apartment. He had nothing but the bottle and a pack of cigarettes in his pocket. Gerard wandered the streets aimlessly, the whiskey his only companion. His mind was clouded, his thoughts a tangled mess of fear and desperation. He couldn’t lose Frank. The thought was unbearable, a knife twisting in his gut each second that passed by without him. By one-thirty, Gerard was wasted and stumbling, barely able to keep himself upright. He found himself outside Frank’s apartment, his heart pounding when he noticed Frank’s curtains were drawn shut. Without thinking, he pounded on the door, his fist heavy and unsteady, the rain pouring down on him relentlessly.

“Frank, please,” Gerard slurred, his voice breaking. “I need to talk to you. I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to — ”

The door opened, and Gerard nearly fell into the doorway. Frank stood there, his expression a mix of shock and concern. His eyes widened as he took in Gerard’s disheveled appearance, his wet clothes, and the bottle clutched in his hand.

“Gerard, what the hell?” Frank exclaimed, reaching out to steady him. “What are you doing here?”

Gerard looked up at him, tears mingling with the rain on his face. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please don’t leave me. I-I can’t — ”

Frank’s expression softened, and he gently guided Gerard inside. “Come on, let’s get you out of this rain,” he said softly, closing the door behind them. Gerard felt the guilt pool in his belly, blinding him from his drunken state. Frank’s phone sat on the coffee table with his letter right next to it. If Gerard had waited, maybe Frank would’ve called.

Gerard collapsed onto the couch, his emotions pouring out with the alcohol. “I thought I lost you,” he murmured, clutching Frank’s hand tightly. “I can’t lose you.”

Frank sat beside him, holding his hand tightly. His other inked hand carefully settled on Gerard’s head, petting at the wet hair there. It was unbelievably comforting. It was so familiar like the night Frank stroked his hair until he fell asleep. It was like the drug Gerard needed, like Frank’s absence put him through devastating withdrawals.

“You haven’t lost me,” he assured him, his voice delicate but taut. “You… you just freaked me out, motherfucker.”

Frank fetched a towel and began to dry Gerard’s hair, his movements tender and careful. Gerard watched him through bleary eyes, a flicker of hope igniting in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, they could mend what was broken. It wasn’t the same, but Frank was here, touching him, talking to him, looking at him.

Frank pulled Gerard closer, their foreheads touching. “We’ll figure this out,” he whispered, his breath warm against Gerard’s skin. “I-I didn’t mean to ignore you, I just didn’t know what the fuck to think, you know?”

Gerard frantically nodded, his hands reaching for both of Frank’s wrists as he muttered, blinking away at the tears blurring his vision. “I-I understand, you don’t even know how sorry I am, Frankie.”

"Gerard," Frank began, his voice firm but gentle. "You need to listen to me." He knelt in front of Gerard, taking the bottle from his lap and setting it aside on the coffee table. "What you did... seeing those sketches and photos... it felt like a huge invasion of my privacy. I need to understand why you did it."

Gerard peeked at Frank, his eyes filling with tears once more. He felt so gullible and exposed due to how much control he lost over his emotions.

"I never meant to hurt you, Frank. I was just... scared. Terrified of how much I care about you, terrified of what those feelings mean. I-I hardly understood how I felt until it was too late."

Frank took a deep breath, his expression clear that he was attempting to process Gerard’s words. "But stalking me, taking photos of me without my knowledge... Gerard, that’s not how you handle those feelings. It made me feel exposed and violated, man."

Gerard felt sick watching Frank start to avoid eye contact with him, noticing the way his teeth began to mess with his lip ring, a clear sign he was becoming nervous. Just when Gerard thought things were going to mend, he was overwhelmed with the anxiety that this would never work, and Frank would never forgive him.

Gerard wiped at his eyes, his heart feeling like it was going to jump from his chest into his throat anytime he opened his mouth to speak. "I know it was wrong. I’m so unbelievably sorry, Frankie. I just... didn’t know how else to express what I was feeling. I was terrified of losing you. I-I still am."

Frank sighed, his hands rubbing at his frowned eyebrows and back and forth along the back of his neck. His nerves bounced off Gerard and fed into the anxiety he already had. "I get that you were scared, but you have to understand that our trust is a fragile thing. You broke that trust."

Gerard nodded, almost eagerly, his face a mask of regret. "I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right. I can’t lose you, Frankie." Gerard itched to grab onto Frank, tears tracking down his cheeks and he whined like a pathetic child. “I-I promise, anything… seriously.”

Frank reached out and took Gerard’s hands, squeezing them both and tracing circles with his thumbs, pausing to wipe at his tears. "I don’t want to lose you either, Gerard. But we need to take this one step at a time.”

Nodding once more, Gerard cracked, pulling his hands from Frank’s grasp and hauling him into an embrace. He pushed his face in the crack of his neck, his hands grasping at his shirt as he cried, whispering over and over how sorry he was. Frank only shushed him, holding him just as tight.

After a few minutes, Frank spoke, a small smile in his voice. “We never finished that Star Wars marathon, did we?”

Frank was too good to be true.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Gerard's heart hammered at his ribs as he got ready for work. He hadn't slept well, his mind racing with thoughts of Frank and the conversation they’d had. He was embarrassed by how he behaved, how he broke down so easily in front of Frank, but somehow Frank didn’t make him feel annoying or like a burden once. They watched Star Wars movies as if nothing happened, Frank even drove him back to his apartment with some dinner to heat up when he got home, even if it was three o'clock in the morning.

As he stepped out of his apartment, prepared to walk to work, he was startled to see Frank standing by his car, holding a familiar Starbucks cup in one hand.

"Morning, G," Frank said, offering a small smile. "Thought you might need this."

"Frankie…” Gerard blinked in surprise, then accepted the cup, his hands trembling slightly. “You’ve done so much already.”

Frank shrugged, gesturing to the passenger car door he began to open for him. "How about you get in? We've got to get to work."

It was as if Gerard did nothing to weaken their relationship; Frank was using his nickname, buying him coffee, and being so… casual? Gerard didn’t know if that made him relieved or frightened.

They drove in comfortable silence, the tension from the previous days slowly melting away. Gerard glanced at Frank, who was focused on the road, occasionally tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the music playing softly on the radio. Frank's presence was comforting, yet Gerard's mind buzzed with thoughts of how much he depended on this friendship.

When they arrived at work, Frank parked the car and turned to Gerard, sucking on a cigarette and practically blowing smoke in his face. "Lunch break, my treat. Sound good?"

Gerard nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, that sounds good."

When lunchtime finally rolled around, Frank and Gerard slipped away from the office chaos and headed to a small, cozy café nearby. The place was retro, with mild music playing in the background and the warm aroma of freshly baked pastries filling the air.

Frank ordered their food and led Gerard to a corner table, tucked away from the rest of the patrons. As they sat down, Frank reached into his bag and pulled out a small sketchbook.

"I got you this," Frank said, handing it to Gerard. "I thought maybe you could use a fresh start, for your art."

Gerard took the sketchbook, noticing how it was a hardcover and lacked the cheap spiral most of his sketchbooks had, his eyes widening in surprise. "Frank, this is... thank you."

Frank smiled, his eyes twinkling. "I figured we could start over too, you know?” He paused, scratching at the inked flesh on his neck as he spoke. “I remember when we first met, I laughed at you. Not to mention on a day that already seemed pretty shit for you at the time, something about the boss being on your ass and you coming into work like a fucking used mop, no offense.”

Gerard chuckled, his nerves easing slightly. “None taken.”

Frank gave him a knowing smile, his hand digging in his pocket before he lit a cigarette, most likely to ease his nerves. He spoke around the smoke, his eyes bouncing between the employees at the front counter and Gerard. “My point is, I want this to be what we look back on, you know? I became your friend ‘cause I felt bad for treating you like shit, but now it’s so much more different than that.”

Gerard carefully placed the brand-new sketchbook on the table before him, his palm stroking the rough cover as he spoke. “Okay, we can do that. I sorta regret the way I spoke to you that day, too.” He paused, hesitating and fixing his eyes on the window. “I-I was having a shit day, boss wanted to lay me off if I didn’t put in some more work on this project. Wanna know something silly?”

Frank noticeably relaxed, taking a long drag before flicking the ashes in his coffee cup, tilting his head at Gerard when he encouraged him to continue. “Hm?”

“I was barely working that month because I lost my favorite pen.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Frank's face lit up with laughter, his hand running through his shabby mohawk as he shook his head in disbelief. He took another drag before speaking again, his voice husky from the smoke. "I get it. I remember losing my favorite guitar pick and not playing for weeks. When I replaced it, I bled all over my guitar strings because my calluses were gone."

“Guess it’s a bit unmotivating, huh?” He was a bit comforted knowing Frank could relate, and share his awkward story to make him feel better. Gerard was bright red in embarrassment, thinking back on it now entirely humiliating. He shyly glared at Frank, his fingers twisting around his scarf as he spoke.

“What I’m trying to get at is, if it wasn’t for you — and our boss — I wouldn’t have continued to work, to draw… Most likely would’ve gotten fired, and probably would have had to move back into my mom’s basement. You’re the only thing getting me through this shit life I have. That’s why I can’t afford to lose you, even if this relationship doesn’t mean this much to you — “

“Hey, I never said that,” Frank took one last drag of his cigarette before putting it out in his cup, his hand reaching for Gerard’s before he could respond. “This means a lot to me, too. I wouldn’t have forgiven you if that was the case.”

Each time Frank touched him felt like a shock straight to Gerard’s brain, his eyelids squinting slightly as he pressed back, his body wanting to hide away from the world and have Frank’s touch just to himself. It was mind-numbing.

“Okay, I believe you.”

They lingered in the café for a while longer, sharing stories and laughter. And Frank never let go of his hand. It was sort of grounding at this point. It was like Gerard’s lifeline, his stability. When the time came to return to work, they walked back together, the conversation light and easy.

Back at the office, they parted ways, but not before Frank gave Gerard a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "I’ll see you later, okay?"

Gerard nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, sounds good."

Over the next two weeks, their bond only grew stronger. They spent lunch breaks together, exchanged late-night texts, and even hung out on weekends. Gerard found himself looking forward to every moment spent with Frank. The dull ache in his chest that had been his constant companion for so long was slowly being replaced by something warm and hopeful. He didn’t need drawings or photos. He had these memories now. Even if it wasn’t enough, Gerard was content with what he had. He didn’t want to risk losing Frank again.

Despite this, he couldn’t stop himself from drawing Frank occasionally, but instead of keeping them and drooling over them, he typically gave them to Frank. He sometimes took suggestions, like this one cartoony drawing he was working on of Frank was him, but as the vegan vampire. He had long fangs, his mohawk was now slick down on his head, and he wore a less punky attire, more vintage.

Gerard was leaning back in his chair, his sketchbook pressed to his knees since he had his legs to his chest. He constantly tried to make himself smaller when he drew, so entranced in the drawing, that he practically disappeared into another world. It took a lot to get him out of his trance, so much so, that he didn’t even notice Frank braiding some of Gerard’s hair while speaking to him.

“Geraaard…” Frank released the clumsy braid, his fingers now tugging at the strands before he started to kick at his chair. When his pen flinched under his grip, Gerard glanced up, his eyes like saucers when he realized how close Frank was.

“Yeah? Yes, Frankie?”

“It’s getting warmer,” Frank murmured, glimpsing at Gerard’s sketchbook before snatching it, his smile widening across his lips as he viewed the drawing.

“Yeah? Frank, it’s not done, give it — “

“G, I bought this! Plus it’s me, so…” If it was even possible, he widened his dopey smile further, his finger tracing the thick lines on the page. “It’s Friday, it’s warmer, so, you’re road-tripping with me.”

“I-I get that, but I’m not done!” Gerard flailed his arms a bit, grabbing at the sketchbook before yanking it out of Frank’s grasp. He paused for a brief moment, his eyes fixed on the drawing before he murmured, staring at Frank slightly puzzled. “Road-tripping? Where?”

Frank glimmered at him, standing from the chair he stole from a nearby cubicle and placing a hand in Gerard’s hair, scruffing at the top strands. “Don’t ask questions! Just be ready at six, okay?”

“Uh, okay? But — “

The hand in his hair was suddenly pressed to his lips, Gerard — for once — having to look up at Frank to make eye contact. He was still giving him that wide smile, his face practically glowing as he whisper-spoke. “Shh, six o'clock, okay?”

Gerard only nodded.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon when Gerard heard the knock on his apartment door. His heart skipped a beat as he hurried to open it, revealing Frank standing there with a deviant grin, his hands hidden behind his back.

“Are you ready?”

Gerard nodded shyly, reaching for his disheveled bag.

“Wait!”

Gerard stopped, straightening his back and peering at Frank through jet-black strands of hair that fell in his face. Frank revealed his hands, keeping his wimpy smile despite the softness in his eyes.

“I wanted you to have this leather one. It will hold up better.”

“Fraaankie,” Gerard blubbered his name, a tiny smile creasing at the ends of his lips as he approached him. The taller male carefully accepted the bag, his gaze taking in the cracked leather and the texture in his palms. He couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by Frank’s adoring gift-giving.

Frank, smiling in pure accomplishment, leaned against the doorframe, waving a hand as he spoke. “Well? Put all your stuff in it! I want to see if it holds up.”

Gerard nodded, his heart pounding with anticipation. After moving his belongings to his new bag, they headed down to Frank’s car and shared a cigarette. It didn’t take Gerard too long to realize Frank was driving them to the beach, a place he scarcely remembered going to. He wasn’t a fan of swimming. But he would hold his breath for Frank. The drive to the beach was filled with the hum of the radio and their laughter, the cityscape gradually giving way to open roads and the promise of the ocean ahead.

By the time they arrived, the sky was a canvas of pink and orange hues, the beach was nearly deserted. Frank parked the car and they made their way to a secluded spot, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore creating a serene backdrop. Frank spread out the blanket, and they settled down, the cool sand beneath them contrasting with the warmth of the evening air.

Frank rummaged in his bag, cracking open two beers and handing one to Gerard. Gerard merrily accepted the beverage.

“This is… nice.” Gerard’s voice was soft with apparent gratitude. He felt amazing, he felt like he had won. The moon began to peer over the waves and everything just felt so perfect.

Frank smiled, his gaze lingering on Gerard for a moment before he spoke. "I wanted us to have a place where we could just... be ourselves. No work, no worries. Just us."

Gerard's heart swelled at Frank's words, and he reached out, placing his hand over Frank's. "Thank you. For everything." He paused, suddenly nervous by his confidence. His hand on Frank’s became so intimate, forward even, that he was painfully aware of the warmth. “I-I mean, like, more than just this. For giving me a chance, for being there.”

Frank's fingers intertwined with Gerard's, his touch sending a warm shiver down Gerard's spine. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, sipping their beers and watching the sunset, the sky now a deep shade of purple. The air was filled with the scent of saltwater and the distant cry of seagulls, creating a tranquil, almost magical atmosphere. This was perfect. Like, better than earlier perfect!

As the last rays of sunlight faded, Frank turned to Gerard, a serious expression on his face. "There's something I've been wanting to tell you, G."

Gerard's breath caught in his throat, his mind racing with possibilities. It sounded so unlike Frank. As if he was just as nervous as Gerard was. He didn’t want to sound desperate, or even hopeful, but it almost sounded like the beginning of a confession. Gerard couldn’t help to begin to lose that yearning, doubt settling like a gigantic wave. Why would Frank give him a chance after destroying their trust? Was it wrong that he desired to hold onto that hope?

"What is it?" he finally questioned, his gaze glued to his hand that cradled the beer close to him, seeking comfort. He swore Frank squeezed his hand a little tighter.

“Okay, I-I swear I’m being serious when I say this, okay?” There were apparent nerves strung onto his words, Gerard beginning to feel the bile rise in his throat as he attempted to remain composed. He noticed Frank place his beer in the sand, his gaze adjusted closely on Gerard’s face.

“Okay?” He didn’t mean to sound so confused, but his voice was trembling along with his body. The tension in the air was suffocating him.

Frank took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving Gerard's as he tumbled over his speech, gnawing at his lip ring between words. "These past few weeks... they've been amazing. You've become so important to me, more than I ever expected, especially since this entire thing was me feeling bad for you. And I can't keep pretending that what I feel for you is just friendship, it’s more than wanting to take care of you from time to time as a friend. I realized this a while ago, but I was kinda struck by your… you know," He used his other hand to run through the strands of hair atop his head, his mohawk a bit messier than usual. “Your obsession? If anything, it may have fueled my feelings a bit more. I-I mean you admired me so fucking much it was kind of sick, but like a good sick? Basically, what I’m trying to say is — “

“I-I like you too,” Gerard blurted, his face burning as he inched closer, his lips practically shuddering as he tried to stumble more words, to just explain how much he loved Frank, that like was just a small word and it barely covered his feelings. Fuck, like couldn’t begin to even explain his feelings for Frank! “I-I’m in love with you, Frank. And I’m being serious, too.”

Frank stared for what felt like years. It was as if every thought in his head he was attempting to decode in his brain silently. Gerard’s head was full of the sound of the waves, the sound of their breathing, and the feeling of their hands pressed so tightly together. And also pure panic.

It was so sudden, the feeling of Frank’s hand pressing away the tears running down Gerard’s pale cheeks, their foreheads sliding into place, their breaths practically mingling into one. It was so intimate. Gerard felt like this was all he needed: to have Frank this close. Frank felt like a pure lifeline to his soul.

“I fucking love you, too. Gerard.”

Forget what Gerard said earlier; this was awesome, this was everything he needed! This was what life was worth living for! He loved the world, he loved the New York rain, he loved irritating people like Pete, he loved the miserable guy at the coffee shop who had his order memorized, he loved Ray and Mikey, he loved the bored lady who sold him art supplies, he loved his family, and he loved this punk-freak, Frank. His savior, his world, his everything. Like, seriously. This was perfect.

Frank's smile was radiant, and he closed the distance between them, capturing Gerard's lips in a tender, sincere kiss. They were both smiling so it was kind of awkward, their lips stretched and pressing against each other in giddiness. Gerard became even giddier upon feeling his lip ring there, his dreams coming true of all the wondering he did about the metal there. He remembers spending time making sure the light hit the jewelry just right in every drawing of Frank he sketched.

As the world around them blurred into the background, their smiles gently dimmed, their breaths became heavy, their hearts pounded with anticipation, and their lips lingered in a moment of unfiltered sincerity. Gerard wanted to feel this way forever. He almost wished to knit their lips together like this eternally. Was that weird? He wasn’t sure. But what he was sure of was Frank was definitely into him, like crazy into him. He had never felt him so close before, all of his body pressed against him with certainty as he pulled Gerard — somehow — closer.

The kiss was suddenly interrupted by Frank’s laughter, his hand finding Gerard’s clumsily. “C’mere,” he practically mouthed the demand against Gerard’s mouth, tugging and pulling at his hand. Frank hauled both of their bodies to their feet, wasting no time before dragging Gerard towards the waves.

“Wait, wait, Frank, were not even in bathing suits — ”

"Shh! Just come on!" The sound of crashing waves filled the air as Frank grabbed Gerard's hand, pulling him into the cool, refreshing water. New York was starting to warm up, but the ocean still held the chill from recent downpours. As they waded deeper, Gerard couldn't stifle a squeaky scream, which only made Frank cackle, like a bent-over-the-knee laugh. Both of them were shouting, partially from the cold and partially from the sensation of their clothes sticking to their bodies. Gerard just blundered out Frank’s name over and over.

Frank pulled them into the water until only their hips were visible, still holding Gerard’s hand. He then drew Gerard closer, wrapping his arm around his neck, calling him a dork before kissing him. Despite already sharing their first kiss, it still stunned him, Gerard being uncertain where to put his hands. Frank surely had no problem with that, he thought. His hands were running through the hair on the back of Gerard’s head, lightly tugging there. Luckily, he didn’t have to dwell on it much before a wave crashed into them, Gerard’s arms coaxing around Frank before they were almost toppled over. Frank practically hollered and burst into laughter, Gerard unable to conceal his honking laugh that bubbled from his chest.

The sight of Frank, so incredibly carefree, was something he had never witnessed before. It was as if relief swept over him, washing away all his tension and doubt in mere moments. Until Frank splashed him with ice-cold water. Gerard practically hissed like a feline before realizing he should get him back, which he did, eventually.

The playful water fight continued, their laughter echoing over the empty beach, the sound of waves crashing around them. Gerard couldn’t remember the last time he felt so alive, so untroubled. Every splash, every touch from Frank sent a jolt of excitement through him, his heart pounding, not just from the cold, but from the sheer joy of being with Frank like this.

Frank's mischievous grin faded as he pulled Gerard close again, their wet clothes clinging to their bodies, adding an extra layer of intimacy. Gerard could feel the warmth of Frank’s breath against his lips, the cold of the water a distant memory as their bodies pressed together. Frank’s hands slipped down to Gerard’s waist, holding him firmly as their lips met once more. This kiss was deeper, more intense, filled with all the passion they had been holding back for so long. Gerard’s hands found their place in Frank’s hair, tugging lightly as he lost himself in the sensation, in the taste of saltwater and the softness of Frank’s lips.

Frank pulled back slightly, his eyes dim and filled with craving. “Come with me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. He didn’t wait for Gerard’s response, just grabbed his hand and started leading him out of the water. Gerard followed, his heart racing, a mixture of excitement and nerves bubbling up inside him.

As they reached the shore, Frank pulled Gerard towards his car, their hands still intertwined, the wet sand sticking to their feet. Gerard’s mind was racing, his body tingling with anticipation. Frank opened the back door of his car, pausing to glance at Gerard, his eyes filled with something Gerard couldn’t quite decipher—an intense mix of lust, affection, and maybe a little bit of nervousness too.

“Are you okay with this?” Frank asked, his voice softer now as if he was giving Gerard an out, a chance to back away if this was too much.

Gerard’s response was immediate. “Yeah, yeah.” He bounced his head in a little nod that made him seem as if he was agreeing to a project or arranging plans with a friend.

That was all Frank needed to hear. With a grin that was equal parts wicked and loving, he tugged Gerard into the backseat, the door slamming shut behind them. Frank had Gerard pressed to the backseat in moments, hovering over him and stealing his breath away. Gerard's body responded eagerly, his jeans growing uncomfortably tight, his face flushed with a heat that rivaled the setting sun. It was a level of intimacy he had only briefly encountered once before, during a clumsy high school game of spin-the-bottle, or the innocent pecks on the cheek from his mom (which, thinking about it now, gross).

The confined space made everything feel more intense, their bodies pressed close together. Frank wasted no time, his hands already tugging at Gerard’s wet shirt, pulling it over his head before tossing it aside. Gerard’s breath hitched as Frank’s fingers skimmed over his skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He was suddenly aware of how vulnerable he was, how exposed he felt, but Frank’s gaze was filled with so much desire, so much affection, that all his insecurities began to melt away.

Frank’s hands were everywhere — cupping Gerard’s face, running through his hair, gripping his shoulders. Their lips moved together with an intensity that sent shivers down Gerard’s spine. Frank pulled back just enough to look into Gerard’s eyes, his breath warm against Gerard’s lips. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Gerard nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “Yeah,” Uncertainty washed over his face despite his casual response. Frank gave him an unsure look, quirking an eyebrow as he stroked the side of Gerard’s face. Gerard paused, shaking his head as he muttered. “Yeah, yes, just… I’ve dreamed of this, Frankie. For so long.”

Frank smiled, pressing a tender kiss to Gerard’s forehead as he whispered, “Really?” Gerard felt insanely red, his hands wanting desperately to hide from Frank’s fanciful glimmer and dopey smile. Frank’s hands stilled from frantic searching to a tender caress. Gerard's nerves began to settle, replaced by a warmth that spread through him as Frank resumed their kiss, slower this time, savoring every moment. Gerard’s hands found their way to Frank’s cheeks, gripping his face as if afraid to let go as if this wasn’t real.

“Me too,” Frank whispered, his voice pinched as if he was scared to admit it aloud.

It was intoxicating, the way Frank touched him, the way he kissed him as if he couldn’t get enough. Frank’s hands found the button of Gerard’s jeans, fumbling slightly in his haste. Gerard moaned into Frank’s mouth as he felt the rough brush of denim being peeled away, leaving him bare. He barely had time to feel self-conscious before Frank’s hand was on his cock, his underwear to his knees, stroking him with a maddeningly slow rhythm that had Gerard gasping for air, his hands clutching at Frank’s shoulders.

“Fuck, Frank,” Gerard groaned, his hips bucking up into Frank’s hand.

Frank just smirked, leaning in to press his lips against Gerard’s ear. “Yeah?” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “This good?”

Gerard could only nod, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Frank’s mouth was on his neck, sucking and biting gently, marking him as his hand continued its torturous rhythm. Gerard was lost, completely at Frank’s mercy, every touch, every kiss sending him closer to the edge. His face felt so hot, Frank’s hand felt so hot, his stomach was roaring in heat and he felt sticky with sweat. His hand reached to cover his face, embarrassed by the spurts of moans that managed to tumble from his damp lips, but Frank caught sight of that.

Somehow, he managed to slow the pace further, each tug to his cock making Gerard shiver. “Don’t cover your mouth, let me hear you, baby.” He tightened his fist, his thumb pressing into the head, making Gerard whine. Hearing the noise he made caused Gerard’s ears to go red. The pet name was enough to make him finish, but the pace made him want more.

Reluctantly, Gerard removed his hand from his mouth, reaching for Frank’s shoulder with more vigor. His teeth dug into his bottom lip, making Frank peer at him, widening his smile as he whispered. “What do you want, G? Tell me, don’t be shy.”

“More, fuck, Frank — ah — please?” Gerard despised the sound of his voice, but Frank's intense gaze and tender touches eased his insecurities. Frank responded with a silly smile and pressed a hand against Gerard’s soft belly, kissing his chest as he quickened the pace.

He kept his hand in a tight fist, somehow pressing tighter when he reached his tip, causing Gerard to squirm and moan. When he felt a hand reach his balls, his eyelids snapped shut and all he could feel was Frank; he didn’t care about being naked in the backseat of his car, or that his hair was damp, or that Frank’s wet jeans were making him shiver. All he could feel was the bliss of his dreams coming true. This was ten times better than his own hand, ten times better than his fantasies.

“Frankie, I-I’m so close,” Gerard gasped, his hands gripping the fabric of the seat, trying to hold on, but it was impossible with the way Frank was touching him, with the way his breath felt hot against his skin. He was sucking at his neck again, leaving blossoming bruises there that Gerard knew he was going to cherish for the rest of his life.

“Come on, G… Finish for me,” Frank responded by increasing the pace of his hand, his lips finding Gerard’s once more. Gerard’s body tensed, his mind going blank as he reached his climax, Frank’s name spilling from his lips in a breathless moan, right into his mouth. Frank held him through it, his hand slowing its pace, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until Gerard was left trembling and spent, his head falling against the seat with labored breaths.

“Was that okay?”

Frank’s voice was enough to pull him out of his cloudy mind, his head lifting from the seat and meeting eyes with hazel. Frank was cleaning his hand with a tissue, grinning at him. Gerard couldn’t help the shy smile that tugged at his lips, his hand sliding across Frank’s cheek and along the back of his neck, subtly playing with the hair there.

“Idiot,” was all he murmured before kissing Frank, open-mouth yet still intimate and peaceful. Gerard pulled away with practical stars in his eyes, his voice soft as he whispered-screamed against Frank’s lips. “Of course that was okay, more than okay! But… it’s your turn.” He tried to sound smooth, but Frank was sucking on his neck like a leech and making him squirm in the afterglow.

“Yeah?” Frank mouthed against his skin, kissing close to Gerard’s ear and making him wriggle. Gerard subtly shoved Frank away, unable to stop his awkward laugh as he murmured, hardly able to hold eye contact. “Is it too forward to want to… um — “

“To want to what, G?”

“Suck you,” Gerard couldn’t finish his request, his breath hitching in his throat as he attempted to distract himself by pulling his boxers back up to his waist. He had never given someone a blowjob, but a part of him desired to return the favor while also being able to taste him. The idea felt so intimate, it felt as if butterflies were fluttering in his stomach just at the thought.

He could feel Frank grinning at him, somehow still startling Gerard when he moved, seating himself properly and pulling off his shirt. Gerard’s eyes immediately locked onto pierced nipples. If he hadn’t just had the best orgasm of his life, he was sure he would be hard all over again.

“Well? C’mere.”

Attempting his very best not to look flustered, Gerard tried to get comfortable, letting his damp jeans sit on his waist unbuttoned as he leaned over, his face inches away from the tented denim of Frank’s crotch. Peeking up at him, Gerard swallowed hard at his hungry gaze, the way his hazel eyes looked so endearing driving him insane. He unbuttoned his jeans, hoping to relieve some of the apparent pressure. A satisfied smile pulled at the ends of his lips when he heard a pleasant sigh above him.

When he pulled at the waistband of his boxers and locked eyes with his cock sprung in front of his face, he felt as if he saw God. The streetlight caught on the head, which was wet there with precum. Gerard felt his mouth salivate, his face leaning forward as he licked there, catching all the flavor on his tongue, tasting him. He kissed the tip softly, grinning when he felt Frank’s hands stroke along the sides of Gerard’s head until pulling back some of his jet-black hair.

Gerard wanted so badly to give Frank the best experience, but he could only rely on his knowledge from porn and magazines. He didn’t want to ask for help, not when Frank was so eager, his hands tight in his hair and his cock swollen red right in front of Gerard's eyes. So, he opened his jaw, wrapping his lips around the head, his tongue rubbing at the skin that felt so hot on his lips. He carefully pressed further, attempting to widen his mouth when his lips were sliding down his shaft, his tongue slightly floundering before stilling. He felt the weight on his tongue, the feeling enough to drive him crazy, but then he remembered the need to breathe.

He came back up, his vision blurry with tears as he tried not to cough, his hand wrapping around the base of Frank’s cock as he tried to regain his breath. Frank was lightly petting him now, but Gerard was too scared to look at him again. Instead, he silenced his panting by stuffing his mouth once more, attempting to take him further.

He was kinda proud that he hadn’t choked yet, but when Frank slightly rocked his hips and groaned, Gerard squinted his eyelids shut at how much it tickled, the need to cough making him adjust his head, only to feel Frank pulling him off. Gerard was breathing hard, his face flushed bright red when he noticed saliva dripping from his mouth, his hand quickly wiping it away. He almost jumped when Frank grabbed his face, but delicately, like his touch was barely there, yet just enough to hold his gaze.

“Take it slow, G,” he whispered, still holding a sincere smile as he pressed a thumb to Gerard’s lips, pushing lightly. It took him a moment to realize what he was implying, Gerard blushing furiously as he carefully parted his lips. He felt the rough pad of Frank’s thumb press onto the middle of his tongue, Gerard carefully closing his lips around the skin, his eyebrows quirked in a is this right? sort of way.

“Good, now relax.” He slid his thumb deeper, following the middle of his tongue as he stroked his face, tucking some of his hair behind Gerard's ear. He almost wanted to cry because of how generous and patient Frank was, a warm feeling settling down his skin seeing Frank was still nervous, his teeth fiddling with his lip ring in habit. He hadn’t wanted his help, but something about how he spoke and cared for him made him willing. “Breathe through your nose, baby.”

Gerard followed each of his commands until he could properly take two fingers, often closing his eyelids when Frank’s gaze became too much. When Frank thought he was ready, he carefully removed his fingers and guided him back to his cock, still hard and waiting for any friction. It made G feel a bit guilty, his mouth immediately becoming pliant to relieve the guy driving him crazy, who deserved everything, and Gerard was willing to give all of himself for him.

He wanted so badly to whisper how much he loved him, how he could see the beauty in his trust, and how he yearned for this very moment; but then he remembered he had Frank’s dick and his mouth. When he sinks down this time, he feels almost rewarded at the groan that flutters past Frank’s damp lips, his eyelids falling closed and his hand tightening in Gerard's hair. The noise goes to Gerard’s head immediately, but it only made it halfway before he felt the urge to gag, so he pulled back again and made up for what his mouth couldn’t reach with his hand.

It was hard to ignore Frank making noises, no matter if it was a sigh, or his head hitting the seat, Gerard just wanted to drink every moment of it. Not only did he want to taste him, but he almost wanted to be a spectator, so he could properly relish in Frank’s magnificence.

Gerard could hardly think straight with the heat of Frank's body so close, the deep groans spilling from his throat, echoing in the quiet of the car. It felt like a dream, but one so real it set his nerves alight. His fingers gripped Frank's thighs, feeling the tension rippling under his palms, every flex and shift of muscle adding to the strange excitement that buzzed through him.

He tried to take it slow, to focus on Frank’s instructions and let them guide him. He breathed through his nose, relaxing his throat as much as he could, the salty taste of Frank’s skin lingering on his tongue. It wasn’t perfect, but the soft grunts and the way Frank’s hand trembled as it held his hair were enough to convince Gerard that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t completely terrible at this.

Frank’s hips bucked again, involuntary, and Gerard couldn’t help but squirm, the motion startling him. He pulled back a bit, his lips wet and tingling, his cheeks burning in embarrassment. “Sorry,” he mumbled, feeling the heat of Frank’s gaze burning into him, a flush spreading across his own chest.

“G, you’re doing great,” Frank panted, his voice hoarse yet gentle. His hand slipped down to Gerard’s cheek, thumb rubbing the flushed skin as he smiled down at him, and Gerard felt that soft warmth all over again — like Frank wasn’t just watching him, but seeing him. “You’re perfect.”

Perfect. The word stuck in Gerard’s head, and it sent a shiver up his spine. He wanted to be perfect for Frank. Desperately. There was something about this, about Frank being so open and raw in front of him, that felt so precious. He couldn’t let him down.

He leaned in again, kissing along Frank’s length, feeling the warmth of his cock twitch against his lips. This time he let himself move slower, focusing more on the reactions — each hitch in Frank’s breath, every quiet moan that escaped his lips. Gerard’s hand, still wrapped around the base, gave a soft squeeze, feeling the pulse of life there as he dragged his lips and tongue back over the head.

He felt Frank's fingers tangle tighter in his hair, but the tug wasn’t demanding — it was guiding, a quiet encouragement. And when Frank whispered, “That’s it, baby, just like that,” it made Gerard’s chest tighten in the best way.

Gerard kept at it, letting Frank’s moans drive him. He couldn’t take him all the way in, not yet, but he compensated by stroking the shaft where his mouth left off. His lips felt swollen, and his jaw ached, but none of that mattered. It wasn’t about him — it was about Frank. About hearing his soft gasps grow louder, about the way Frank's body tensed under his touch, the way his hips moved without him even realizing.

Frank’s breathing was getting faster, more erratic, and Gerard could feel him getting close. He tried to pick up the pace, hollowing his cheeks as he bobbed his head, wanting nothing more than to see Frank fall apart in front of him. He wanted to know that he could do that — that he could make Frank feel this good.

“G-Gerard,” Frank groaned, his voice thick with need. Gerard’s heart pounded at the sound of his name, and he squeezed his eyes shut, focusing every ounce of his energy on Frank’s pleasure. His free hand gripped Frank’s thigh again, steadying himself as he sucked harder, taking him as deep as he could manage.

Frank's hips jerked, and Gerard felt the first twitch against his tongue, the low growl of pleasure vibrating through Frank’s chest. He barely had time to register it before Frank was coming, his fingers gripping tight in Gerard’s hair as his release spilled hot against Gerard's tongue. Gerard’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he swallowed, trying to keep up, the salty taste filling his mouth.

Frank let out a shuddering breath, his whole body relaxing into the seat, his hand still gently resting in Gerard’s hair, though the grip had softened. Gerard sat back slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked up at Frank, feeling strangely proud despite the awkwardness of the moment.

Frank blinked down at him, a dazed smile pulling at his lips. “Fuck,” he whispered, his voice soft and breathless. He leaned forward, his hand cupping Gerard’s jaw as he kissed him — slow, tender, almost reverent. “You’re... amazing.”

Gerard couldn’t help the embarrassed chuckle that escaped him, the sound muffled against Frank’s lips. He was flushed, and his heart was still racing, but there was something incredibly fulfilling in the way Frank looked at him, like he was the only thing that mattered at that moment. Like they were both exactly where they were meant to be.

Frank brushed a few stray strands of hair from Gerard’s face, his eyes soft, hazel glowing in the dim light of the car. “We’re gonna be alright, G,” he murmured, his lips pressing gently against Gerard’s forehead, and for the first time in a long time, Gerard believed him.

Chapter Text

Gerard shuffled nervously in front of Mikey’s apartment, the strap of his bag pulled so tight between his fingers it was starting to cut into his skin. He shifted from one foot to the other, biting at the inside of his cheek, the familiar swirl of anxiety tightening his chest. Normally, his nerves came from things like a new drawing idea for work or rewatching Star Wars for the hundredth time and finding some new detail in the background of a scene. But today was different. Today he wasn’t going to wait around and be nervous.

Today, he had to actually do something.

Frank had been spoiling him recently, and not in a casual, forgettable way either. The sketchbook — the one with the thick, creamy pages that made Gerard's hands itch to create — was only the beginning. Then came the bag, that leather masterpiece he still couldn’t believe he owned, not to mention the daily coffee deliveries that were placed in his hand every morning before work, almost like routine. Frank was thoughtful like that. Too thoughtful, really. And Gerard? Gerard was a mess after last night. In a good way, but in a way where he felt Frank deserved more for taking care of him the way he did.

He rubbed his temple with a free hand, feeling the weight of his inadequacy press heavier with each passing second. Frank deserved more than just Gerard silently accepting gifts and fumbling his way through a “thanks” in return.

He needed to show Frank he cared. And that's where Mikey and Ray came in.

The door swung open, revealing Mikey’s signature deadpan expression, a coffee mug clutched in his hand. Gerard immediately picked up on the subtle, almost invisible twitch in his brother’s brow — Mikey was worried. "G, you look like you’re about to throw up," Mikey said, his tone flat but with that familiar undercurrent of affection. "Come in before you combust."

“Yeah, that’s not helping,” Gerard mumbled, sidling past him and into the small apartment. The scent of fresh coffee hit his senses, easing his nerves just a touch. Inside, Ray was sprawled across the couch, one leg kicked over the back, lazily strumming on his guitar as if the world outside didn’t exist.

“What’s going on?” Ray asked, not bothering to glance up, his fingers absently picking out some random melody. “You got that help me, I’m drowning vibe going on. Coffee?”

“Yes, please.” Gerard practically collapsed into the nearest chair, burying his face in his hands like they could hide the mess he felt like. His voice came muffled, dripping with self-doubt. “I need ideas. Date ideas. Something special for Frank. He’s been... spoiling me lately, and I feel like a jerk just... accepting it without doing anything back.”

Mikey, now settled beside Ray, raised an eyebrow. “You’re not a jerk. Frank does that stuff because he likes you.”

“I know that,” Gerard sighed, dragging his hands down his face, exposing eyes clouded with insecurity. “But I wanna do something in return. I’m not exactly Mr. Romance, though. I mean, I can barely plan what I’m having for breakfast, let alone a date. I’m clueless.”

Ray stopped strumming, finally giving Gerard his full attention as he leaned forward, a grin tugging at his lips. “Well, lucky for you, you came to the right place. Not Mikey — he’s useless — but me? I’ve got ideas. Fancy dinner? Maybe take him to a museum or something? I know you guys are into that artsy stuff.”

Gerard perked up slightly at that. “Yeah… Frank does like art.”

Mikey shrugged, sipping his coffee. “Or just take him to his favorite place to eat. Doesn’t need to be complicated. It’s Frank. He just likes being around you.”

Gerard groaned, his head tilting back against the chair. “I’m gonna mess this up, aren’t I?”

Ray was suddenly on his feet, shoving a steaming coffee mug into Gerard’s hands with a smirk. “Nah, you’ll be fine. What about a picnic at the park? Simple. Easy. Romantic, but not over the top.”

Gerard sipped the coffee, feeling the warmth flood through him, but his mind was still racing. “That’s... actually not a bad idea.”

Two cups of coffee later, Gerard was pacing the small living room like a caged animal, his jacket wrinkling as he tugged at the hem. He glanced down at the hastily scribbled list in his sketchbook for the millionth time: museum, diner, park. On paper, it seemed manageable. In his head, it was an impending disaster waiting to happen.

“I just want today to be perfect, okay?” Gerard muttered, tapping the pen against the page nervously. “I’m taking Frank to the museum first. He likes art, so that should be fine, right? Then we’re hitting up his favorite diner, and I’ve got a picnic planned for later at the park.”

Mikey, lounging back on the couch, shot him a look. “You sure you’re not overdoing it? That’s, like, a lot of date in one day.”

Ray chuckled beside him. “Yeah, man. Frank’s more of a grab dinner and chill kinda guy.”

“I know!” Gerard’s voice hit a higher pitch, clearly frazzled. “But he’s done so much for me. I want to give him the best day possible. Is that really so bad?”

Mikey shrugged, exchanging a glance with Ray. “It’s not bad. It’s just... a lot of effort for someone like you.”

Gerard groaned again, collapsing back into the chair, clutching his coffee like it was his only lifeline. “Shut up, Mikey.”

Ray laughed, reaching over to ruffle Gerard’s hair. “Relax, man. You’ve got this. Frank’s gonna love whatever you do.”

But Gerard wasn’t so sure. His stomach was still in knots, his mind buzzing with a million ways the day could go wrong. He took a deep breath, trying to settle the flurry of thoughts in his head, and hoped — prayed — that somehow, everything would turn out okay.

Because if there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that Frank deserved everything. And Gerard was determined to make this day perfect, even if it terrified him.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The museum was their first stop. Gerard had spent the whole drive mentally hyping himself up, reminding himself that this was supposed to be special. A gesture. Frank had mentioned once, in passing, how much he loved the art galleries here, particularly the abstract section. Gerard figured it was a safe place to start — calm, cultured, easy to navigate. Yet now, standing in front of a massive painting splattered with chaotic lines and wild bursts of color, Gerard felt like he was the one being picked apart. The art was messy, confusing, and completely out of his depth — kind of like how he was feeling right now.

“What do you think it means?” Frank asked, tilting his head, his brow furrowing in deep thought as he took it all in. His expression was so focused, like he could crack the painting’s code if he stared hard enough.

Gerard blinked at the abstract mess. “Uh… I dunno. It kind of looks like... someone knocked over a bunch of paint cans.”

Frank snorted, trying to stifle his laughter but failing as his elbow nudged Gerard’s side. “You’re not wrong. But there’s something cool about it, right? Like, it’s messy, but it makes you feel... something.”

Gerard squinted at the painting, tilting his head the same way Frank had, searching for something deeper, some hidden message that Frank seemed to see so easily. All he saw was more chaos. “Yeah... I guess.”

Frank turned toward him, the softest smile pulling at his lips. “I like seeing art through your eyes, G. Even when you’re confused.”

Gerard felt his cheeks heat up, a wave of embarrassment creeping in. “I’m not confused, I just — okay, maybe a little.”

Frank’s laughter was light, warm, like a comfortable blanket. And somehow, that made Gerard feel less like a total idiot. They continued wandering through the gallery, Frank occasionally pausing to comment on a sculpture or another painting, his enthusiasm contagious, while Gerard nodded along, pretending to understand half of what Frank was saying. It wasn’t a total disaster, but Gerard still felt out of place, like an imposter. His own art could get abstract sometimes, but it always held some kind of image, something tangible. These paintings? They felt like the inside of his head on a bad day — jumbled and overwhelming.

Still, Frank seemed completely at ease. Every now and then, he’d glance over at Gerard, catching his eye with that look — one that made Gerard’s chest flutter, like Frank was just happy to be there with him, no matter how weird Gerard felt.

Their next stop was the diner, a place they’d been to a few times before. But as soon as they walked through the door, Gerard noticed the way Frank’s entire face lit up. The smell of grease and coffee hit them like a wall, and Frank beamed, sliding into their usual booth like he’d been waiting for this moment all day.

“God, I love this place,” Frank said, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s like, the perfect mix of old-school and run-down.”

Gerard chuckled, trying to match Frank’s excitement, though nerves still simmered under his skin. “Yeah, it’s got... character.”

They ordered the usual — Frank’s veggie burger with extra fries, and Gerard, despite craving a cheeseburger, went for the veggie burger too. He didn’t want to eat meat in front of Frank, even though Frank had said a million times that he didn’t care. But today wasn’t about Gerard’s cravings — it was about Frank. About showing him that Gerard was paying attention, that he cared (he was also not up for the rant about animals’ lives and how cruel the world is for eating them).

As they waited for the food, Gerard fidgeted with the edge of his napkin, twisting it between his fingers until it started to tear. He was trying not to think about the next part of the plan — the picnic. What if Frank didn’t like it? What if it was too much? Too little?

Frank noticed, of course, because he always did. “You okay?” he asked, leaning forward a little, his voice gentle, eyes searching Gerard’s face.

“Yeah, totally fine,” Gerard lied, forcing a smile as he kept messing with the napkin. “Just... thinking.”

“About what?”

Gerard hesitated, swallowing back the lump in his throat. “About, um... making sure you’re having a good time.”

Frank’s expression softened, his smile lopsided and full of affection. “G, I’m having a great time. Seriously. You don’t have to stress so much.”

Gerard wanted to believe him, but it was hard. His mind was racing, filled with a million ways today could go wrong. He didn’t know how to be smooth or romantic like Frank deserved. All he knew was how to try — desperately, clumsily, and with way too much pressure on himself.

The food arrived, and for a moment, Gerard allowed himself to relax, watching Frank dive into his fries with the same enthusiasm he’d had at the museum. Frank dipped each fry into a ridiculous pile of ketchup, laughing to himself as if there wasn’t a care in the world. It was easy with Frank — so easy that Gerard felt like he was always on the edge of messing it all up.

After the diner, they made their way to the park for the final part of Gerard’s over-planned day: the picnic. The park was quiet, the golden hour sun casting everything in a warm, late-afternoon glow. The park felt like it had settled into the perfect atmosphere for their picnic — quiet, just the rustle of leaves in the breeze and the warm glow of late afternoon sunlight. Gerard finished setting up the blanket beneath a large oak tree, his fingers fumbling slightly as he tried to arrange everything he’d brought just right. He pulled out a bottle of whiskey — Frank’s favorite — and a few snacks he’d remembered Frank liked, but even as he laid them out, he couldn’t shake the gnawing doubt in his gut.

Frank raised an eyebrow as Gerard handed him the whiskey. “Whiskey and snacks? You’re really pulling out all the stops, huh?”

“Yeah... well, I thought you might like it,” Gerard mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “But now that I’m thinking about it... I don’t know, maybe this was dumb.”

Frank snorted, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he twisted the cap off the bottle. “Dumb? Are you kidding? This is perfect, G.”

Gerard sat down, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket, his nerves still buzzing under the surface. “I don’t know. I just... I feel like the whole day’s been kind of off, like I’m trying too hard, or... not hard enough, or...” He trailed off, feeling silly for even bringing it up.

Frank took a swig from the whiskey bottle before setting it aside. “G, you’ve been great. Seriously. I’m having a good time. You don’t have to beat yourself up over it.”

Gerard let out a sigh, but the tightness in his chest remained. Frank could say he was enjoying himself all day long, but that didn’t stop the relentless self-doubt from creeping in, making Gerard second-guess every little thing. He wanted today to be special, perfect even, but it felt like no matter what he did, it wasn’t enough.

Sensing Gerard’s tension, Frank nudged him lightly. “Hey,” he said softly, “why don’t you draw me?”

Gerard blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You’ve got your sketchbook with you, right?” Frank grinned, that playful gleam in his eyes that always managed to make Gerard’s heart skip a beat. “Draw me. It’ll help you relax.”

Gerard hesitated. “I... I don’t know. I mean, yeah, I have my sketchbook, but... I don’t think I’m in the right headspace right now.”

Frank leaned back against the tree, looking as relaxed as ever. “Come on. I wanna see how you’d draw me, not a character, just me. I’ve never seen you really focus on me before.”

Gerard sighed, but a small part of him knew Frank was right. Drawing always calmed him down, and helped him find his center. When he did draw Frank, it was in secret, or it was from memory. Slowly, he pulled out his sketchbook and pencil from his bag, the familiar feel of the tools already starting to ground him.

He glanced at Frank, who was sprawled lazily against the tree, one leg bent and the other stretched out in front of him. His t-shirt had ridden up just slightly, exposing a sliver of skin above his waistband. Gerard swallowed hard, his pulse quickening.

“Uh... could you sit up a little straighter?” Gerard asked, his voice a bit strained as he tried to focus on the drawing instead of the sudden rush of heat building in his chest.

Frank raised an eyebrow, that teasing smirk creeping onto his lips. “Like this?” He slouched even more, tilting his head to the side like a mock model pose.

“No, I mean... not like that.” Gerard sighed, his frustration starting to bubble up. “Just... sit up. Please?”

But Frank was clearly enjoying the teasing too much to listen properly. He shifted again, but it was more dramatic, more ridiculous, clearly messing around on purpose. “Is this better?” he asked with a grin, looking anything but serious.

Gerard groaned, closing his eyes for a second to keep from losing it. “Frankie... come on.”

When Frank didn’t budge, Gerard’s patience finally snapped. He set the sketchbook down and moved over to him, grabbing Frank’s shoulders and guiding him into position himself. “Okay, if you’re not gonna listen, I’m just gonna have to do it for you.”

Frank laughed, though it quickly faded as Gerard’s hands lingered on him. “Oh... okay, yeah, sure. Pose me, G.”

Gerard’s fingers brushed against the exposed skin of Frank’s lower back as he adjusted him, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through his entire body. He didn’t mean for it to be... whatever this was, but the closeness, the heat between them, made it hard to focus on anything else. Frank’s breath hitched slightly as Gerard’s hands moved over him, positioning his shoulders, tilting his chin just so.

“Like this,” Gerard muttered, his voice a little too low, a little too rough, as he adjusted Frank’s posture. Frank’s lips parted, his breath coming out a little heavier, and Gerard could feel the tension between them shift, thickening the air.

“Yeah,” Frank whispered, his voice dropping to a huskier tone. “Like that.”

For a second, Gerard forgot what he was supposed to be doing. His hands rested on Frank’s shoulders, and all he could think about was how close they were, how Frank’s skin felt warm under his touch, how Frank’s eyes were locked on his, half-lidded and dark.

Gerard swallowed hard, trying to pull himself back. “Okay,” he said, his voice coming out shakier than he’d meant. “Now... hold still.”

Frank smiled, that teasing look still in his eyes, but there was something softer there now too — something that made Gerard’s stomach flip in a way that was both exciting and terrifying. Gerard grabbed his sketchbook again, sitting back to sketch, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to focus on the lines and shapes, but every glance up at Frank — still posed against the tree — only made it harder to concentrate.

The tension hung thick in the air between them as Gerard’s pencil moved across the page. Every stroke of the pencil felt heavier, more intentional, like he was capturing something far more intimate than just a drawing.

As Gerard pulled back, fingers dusted with graphite, he admired the sketch he had made so far, feeling a little more at ease. The park around them had taken on a quieter vibe, the late afternoon sun painting everything in soft gold, and for a moment, he felt like he had gotten the day back on track. He relished in the attention of Frank’s eyes in the drawing, how for once he was staring at him.

But then Frank shifted, eyes glinting with something more intense than the playful glances from before. “Y’know,” Frank said, voice lowering, “I think you’ve drawn enough for now.”

Before Gerard could process what that meant, Frank tugged on the front of his shirt, pulling him down and crushing their lips together with a heat that caught Gerard off-guard. The soft blanket beneath them seemed to disappear as Frank deepened the kiss, his hand sliding up into Gerard's hair, gripping it just tight enough to make his heart race.

Gerard’s mind went fuzzy, the taste of whiskey on Frank's tongue lingering between them. He had been so focused on making the day perfect, on impressing Frank, that this sudden shift was like falling off a cliff — terrifying but thrilling. Gerard groaned softly against Frank's lips, the sensation of being kissed so hungrily making his stomach flip, nerves sparking down his spine.

Frank pulled away just enough to murmur against Gerard’s lips, “You worry too much.” His breath was warm, teasing, and Gerard’s mind raced, thoughts spiraling as he struggled to respond. He could feel Frank grinning, like he knew exactly what kind of effect he was having, and it drove Gerard insane in the best way.

Frank’s hands slid down Gerard’s back, gripping the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer, like he couldn’t stand even the inch of space between them. Gerard’s heart thudded in his chest, pounding so loud it was all he could hear. His hand found its way to Frank’s waist, fingers curling into his shirt, tugging him impossibly closer.

“I… I wasn’t expecting —” Gerard started, only for his words to get lost in another kiss, this one deeper, slower, like Frank was savoring him. The taste of whiskey still lingered between them, mixing with the sweetness of the snacks they’d been sharing earlier, and Gerard felt his head spin. Frank’s lips moved against his with a kind of hunger that made Gerard forget all about the awkwardness he’d felt earlier — forget everything, really, except for Frank.

“Shut up,” Frank whispered against his mouth, nipping playfully at his bottom lip, sending a sharp shiver down Gerard’s spine. He pressed his body closer, the heat between them undeniable. Frank’s hands slid down further, resting at Gerard’s hips, thumbs brushing the bare skin just above his jeans, teasing.

Frank leaned back slightly, his eyes dark with a kind of heat that made Gerard’s heart skip a beat. “You’re overthinking again,” he teased, his hands still gripping Gerard’s hips. He tilted his head slightly, his lips brushing over Gerard’s jawline in a way that made him gasp.

“I’m not,” Gerard whispered, though the words barely made it out before Frank’s lips found his throat, sending another shock of heat through him. His hands tightened in Frank’s shirt, like he needed something to hold onto, some anchor as everything around him spun.

“You are,” Frank murmured against his skin, the words vibrating through him. “Always thinking too much. Just let go, G.”

Gerard swallowed hard, trying to fight the wave of nerves and adrenaline that rushed through him. His body was buzzing, and the way Frank was looking at him — like Gerard was the only thing in the world right now — was enough to make his knees weak. Gerard’s eyes fluttered closed as Frank’s words washed over him. There was a soft, grounding certainty in them that made Gerard’s insecurities start to fade. He exhaled shakily, letting himself sink into the moment, letting Frank’s touch be the only thing that mattered.

Frank’s lips hovered over his once more, and Gerard swore he could feel the warmth of his breath, sending his senses spiraling again. Frank’s voice dropped even lower, raspier now, as he whispered, “Let me take care of you.”

Gerard only nodded.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The fluorescent lights in the office buzzed faintly, casting a dull glow over the sea of cubicles. It was late — way past the time anyone should still be here — but Gerard was hunched over his desk, his pen flying across the paper in a desperate bid to finish the last panel of the comic strip he’d been agonizing over for days, weeks, months. His back ached, his eyes were strained, but he was so close. Just one more line, one more detail, and it would be done.

He glanced at the clock. 7:32 PM. Most of the office had cleared out hours ago, but not him. And, surprisingly, not Frank.

Frank had been lingering nearby, leaning against the side of his own cubicle, offering little quips of encouragement whenever Gerard groaned in frustration. He had already finished his work, but he’d stayed behind, unwilling to leave Gerard alone to fend off the suffocating pressure of the deadline. Gerard was grateful for it — even though the sound of Frank’s voice always sent his heart into a nervous flutter, it was better than the oppressive silence.

With a final flourish, Gerard pressed his pen down, completing the last stroke. He stared at the page, breathless, unable to believe it was finally over.

“That’s it,” he muttered, almost in disbelief. “I’m done.”

Frank straightened up, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Hell yeah, G! Let’s see it.”

Gerard stood up, feeling lightheaded from the hours of work and tension, and gathered the finished strips in his hands. He felt jittery, unsure if they were good enough, but he couldn’t think about that now. Frank helped him sort the panels, encouraging him each time he shuffled it to the next page. Eventually, his feet carried him toward his boss’s office, nerves bubbling in his chest.

His boss was still at his desk, going over reports with tired eyes. Gerard knocked softly on the doorframe, catching his attention.

“Hey, boss? I, uh... finished the strips.”

His boss looked up, blinking in surprise. He hadn’t expected Gerard to finish tonight — Gerard could tell by the way his eyes widened slightly. “Well, look at that,” he said, standing up to take the papers from Gerard’s hands. His eyes scanned the work, and Gerard held his breath, anxiety knotting in his stomach. But after a long moment, his boss nodded, a rare smile appearing on his face.

“Good work, Gerard,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You really pulled through. This looks great. I’ll send it over to the editors in the morning.”

Gerard exhaled, feeling the tension finally leave his body. He managed a smile. “Thanks.”

His boss waved him off. “Get some rest, okay? You’ve earned it.” He grabbed his coat and briefcase, heading for the exit. “Lock up on your way out.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the office quiet and still — just Gerard and Frank now, the soft hum of computers filling the air.

Gerard returned to his cubicle, the relief flooding through him. He started gathering his scattered pens and sketch pads, trying to tidy up the mess he’d made in his frenzy to finish. His mind was still buzzing with leftover adrenaline, but it was slowly fading now that the pressure had lifted from his shoulders.

“Gerard,” Frank’s voice was soft behind him, but there was a new tone to it, something that made Gerard’s heart beat a little faster. “You did it.”

Gerard turned to see Frank standing there, his grin wide and a playful glint in his eyes. He wasn’t just excited — he was proud. Frank closed the distance between them, reaching out to grab Gerard’s hand. “This is huge! We should celebrate or something.”

Gerard chuckled nervously, trying to ignore the way his pulse quickened at Frank’s touch. “Yeah, maybe. But, uh, I still need to clean up.”

“Hey,” Frank was almost rocking on his feet while he gleamed at Gerard, his grin widening when he caught his attention.

Before Gerard could respond, Frank was pulling him forward, closing the space between them, and suddenly their lips met in a heated kiss that stole the breath right out of Gerard’s lungs.

Gerard gasped against Frank’s mouth, his hands instinctively grabbing onto Frank’s shoulders for balance. Frank’s hands slid down Gerard’s sides, gripping his waist as he pushed him backward, gently but firmly, until Gerard’s back hit the edge of his desk. Papers fluttered to the floor as Frank pressed closer, their bodies flush against each other, and Gerard felt like his head was spinning.

“Frank — ” Gerard started to say, but Frank silenced him with another kiss, this one even more insistent, more urgent. Gerard’s hands slipped up into Frank’s hair, pulling him closer, and Frank responded by pressing his body harder against Gerard’s, pinning him between the desk and the heat of Frank’s chest.

This kiss was interrupted by Frank giggling, one of his hands reaching to mess with Gerard’s hair. Gerard could only flush, still attempting to get used to Frank tackling him like a sponge.

“Why don’t we get some Chinese takeout and watch some Evil Dead at my place? You can stay the night?” Frank was practically batting his eyelashes at him, twirling the inky curl of Gerard’s hair around his finger, his body still pressed close. “Please?”

“Why would I ever say no?”

They smiled at each other like a pair of idiots, but Gerard could never find somewhere in him that cared about that. He loved this, he loved what he had, he loved Frank.

Back in Frank’s apartment, the buzz of the day was still clinging to the air, though now it felt different. Lighter. The smell of soy sauce and garlic filled the small space as Frank passed Gerard a pair of chopsticks. Gerard was sitting cross-legged on the couch, nervously picking at his sleeve while Evil Dead played in the background, but his eyes kept darting to Frank every few seconds.

Frank, on the other hand, was totally at ease, already shoveling fried rice into his mouth. “You’ve been missing out, man,” he said through a mouthful of food, holding up another veggie dumpling like it was the Holy Grail.

Gerard smiled nervously, fumbling with the chopsticks like he had never held them before. “I’m pretty sure I’m gonna drop half of this on the floor,” he muttered, awkwardly snapping them together in the air like a crab. “I’m not cut out for fancy eating.”

Frank snorted, reaching over and stealing one of Gerard’s veggie dumplings. “You call this fancy?”

Gerard fumbled with his food, a laugh bubbling up, but it came out as more of a snort that immediately made him try not to choke. “Oh, thanks for sparing me the shame of choking to death on a dumpling.”

“Anytime.” Frank grinned, eyes flicking back to the TV just as a particularly gruesome scene played out on screen. “The effects or so shit, but I feel like that’s what makes it better. Like, who bleeds like that from the throat?”

Gerard glanced at the chopsticks, squinting at his nearly failed attempt to pick up a piece of chicken. “Damn it, these things are impossible.”

Frank laughed, leaning closer, his knee brushing more firmly against Gerard’s. “It’s Chinese food, G, not rocket science. Just go for it.”
They ate in relative peace after that, watching Bruce Campbell slice through hordes of demons with his chainsaw hand. Every once in a while, Frank would offer Gerard a comment on how fake the blood looked or how he wanted to rewatch the whole series with better snacks next time. Gerard just nodded, occasionally throwing in a weird laugh at the wrong moments — either too nervous or too distracted to really pay attention to anything Frank was saying.

After finishing their food, Gerard finally put the empty containers to the side, cracking open another beer. Frank did the same, stretching out on the couch next to him and letting out a satisfied sigh. “Man, I love these movies. Campy horror is just... perfect.”

Gerard smiled, still feeling the anxious buzz under his skin. He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, they’re... fun. Definitely.”

Frank leaned in closer, his voice gentle but still holding that teasing tone. “Okay, you’re doing that thing again. You’re overthinking everything.”

“What?” Gerard sputtered, suddenly too aware of how close Frank was. “I’m not —”

“You are. You always get that squinty look on your face like you’re trying to solve the world's problems while holding chopsticks,” Frank teased, lightly poking Gerard’s side.

Gerard squirmed, his face flushing a deep red as he tried to brush it off, tossing the chopsticks onto one of the containers. “I’m not squinty,” he mumbled defensively. “I’m just... thinking.”

Frank raised an eyebrow, amused. “Uh-huh. Sure. You’re definitely not having some internal meltdown over there.”

“I’m not!” Gerard exclaimed, though the high-pitched squeak at the end of his sentence immediately betrayed him. He wanted to bury his face in the couch cushions right then and there. “I mean... maybe a little,” he added, quieter.

Frank chuckled, leaning closer, his hand resting gently on Gerard’s thigh. “You’re fine, G. Honestly, it’s cute how much you worry about everything. But tonight? You don’t have to. We’re just hanging out, celebrating!”

Gerard’s shoulders sagged with relief, but his heart was still racing. He leaned back into the cushions, awkwardly bumping into Frank’s arm, which only made him more flustered. “Okay... okay. I’ll stop squinting.”

Frank grinned, his eyes flicking toward Gerard’s beer. “You know what? I think you need to loosen up a bit more.” He stood up suddenly, offering his hand to Gerard. “Come on, shower with me.”

Gerard blinked, then laughed awkwardly. “Oh, I — uh, sure, yeah. Shower. That sounds... good.”

Frank grinned, tugging him toward the bathroom. “Yeah, you’re all wound up. A hot shower will help. Trust me.”

It wasn’t long before the small bathroom was already beginning to fog up from the steam, the mirror blurring as the shower ran in the background. Gerard stood awkwardly by the sink, his fingers nervously playing with the hem of his shirt as Frank moved around, casually peeling off his clothes as though this was the most normal thing in the world. Meanwhile, Gerard’s mind was a whirlwind of nerves, his heart hammering in his chest.

Frank caught his eye, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he tossed his shirt aside. “You gonna stand there all night, or you joining me?”

Gerard’s mouth went dry, his fingers still clinging to his shirt as he tried to think of something, anything, to say that didn’t sound ridiculous. “I... yeah, I’m coming. Just... slow.”

Frank laughed softly, the sound warm and familiar, as he reached over to help Gerard out of his shirt. “Relax, G. It’s just a shower. I’m not gonna bite.”

Gerard’s laugh came out more like a nervous hiccup, but he managed to pull his shirt off with Frank’s help. His hands felt clumsy and heavy. Gerard couldn’t help but trip over his own feet trying to step out of his jeans, only to almost fall straight into Frank, who caught him at the last second, laughing.

“Whoa, easy there, babe,” Frank teased, holding Gerard steady. “I’ve got you.”

Gerard could feel the heat radiating from his face, partly from the shower’s steam and partly from the sheer mortification of almost face-planting in front of Frank. “I’m good, I’m good,” he muttered, running a hand through his greasy hair. “I’m just... you know... not used to this.”

Frank just smiled, brushing a strand of Gerard’s hair out of his face. “Hey, no pressure, remember? We’re just two dudes sharing a shower.”

Gerard snorted at the casualness of it all, though his awkwardness was still palpable. “Right... totally normal.”

Frank guided Gerard into the shower, carefully stepping inside the tub and holding both of his hands. Gerard couldn’t help but feel like his entire body was too aware of everything — how close they were, the way Frank’s bare skin brushed against his, the warmth of the water cascading over them. It was too much and not enough all at once.

Frank, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease. He grabbed the soap, lathering it in his hands before gently rubbing it over Gerard’s shoulders, his movements slow and careful, like he was coaxing Gerard out of his own head.

“You’re overthinking again,” Frank said, his voice barely above a whisper as he massaged the soap into Gerard’s skin.

Gerard closed his eyes, focusing on the steady rhythm of Frank’s hands, but the vulnerability of it all — the closeness, the care — made his chest tighten. “I can’t help it,” he admitted, his voice small. “I just... I don’t want to mess this up. I’m not... good at this.”

Frank’s touch was gentle as he worked his way down Gerard’s back, his breath warm against Gerard’s ear. “You don’t have to be good at anything. You just have to be you.”

Gerard swallowed hard, the words hitting him in a way he wasn’t ready for. The openness of it all felt overwhelming, but at the same time, the tenderness in Frank’s voice, the way his hands moved carefully over his skin, was grounding. Calming.

“Frank...” Gerard’s voice wavered, a mix of gratitude and lingering insecurity.

Frank turned him gently, his eyes soft but intense, focused entirely on Gerard. “You’re enough, G. Just as you are.”

The sincerity in Frank’s voice made Gerard’s chest tighten in a different way, like something inside him was finally loosening, breaking free. He nodded, unable to find the right words, and Frank leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Gerard’s forehead, unable to hold his giggle when he noticed Frank getting on his toes to reach him.

Frank continued to wash him, Gerard softening more and more into the touch, feeling finally okay with opening himself up to him. Frank got more soap, even reaching to clean behind Gerard’s ears and armpits, it was kind of cute seeing how attentive he was to the task. It was supposed to be relaxing, but Gerard couldn’t help the occasional nervous giggle that bubbled up when Frank’s hands hit a delicate spot.

Frank caught on quickly. “Are you... are you ticklish?” he asked, clearly amused.

Gerard’s eyes widened. “No — okay, maybe! But don’t use it against me.”

Frank’s smirk only widened. “I’d never,” he said, though his hands immediately moved to tickle Gerard’s sides, making Gerard squirm and laugh uncontrollably.

“Frank — stop!” Gerard gasped between fits of laughter, trying to wriggle away but slipping on the wet tiles. Frank, barely able to hold back his own laughter, quickly caught him again.

“Okay, okay, I’m done,” Frank said, grinning, but there was a softness in his voice that made Gerard’s heart flutter. He pressed a gentle kiss to Gerard’s shoulder, then to his collarbone. “I won’t torture you.”

Gerard relaxed, breathing out a laugh. “You’re a menace.”

Frank leaned in close, his lips brushing against Gerard’s ear. “But you like me anyway.”

Gerard rolled his eyes but couldn’t fight the goofy grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, yeah.”

When they finally finished their shower, Gerard’s hair was a damp, tangled mess, and Frank laughed as he ruffled it even more, only making it worse. Then, he got a hold of a towel, Frank attacked Gerard’s hair with the fabric, laughing softly when Gerard swatted his hand away. Still, there was a softness in how Frank looked at him — like he was seeing Gerard fully, without judgment or expectation.

“You’re impossible,” Gerard muttered, but there was no malice behind it.

“You love it,” Frank shot back, winking.

Entering Frank’s bedroom with just a towel around himself, Gerard stood by the bed, his mind a jumble of nerves as Frank moved around him with quiet ease. His skin still tingled from the shower, the warmth of Frank’s touch lingering longer than the steam, but now, the prospect of what came next had his pulse racing again. Frank had this way of making things seem so casual, so natural, while Gerard, on the other hand, was perpetually on edge, teetering between excitement and self-consciousness.

“Here,” Frank said, tossing Gerard a pair of clean pajama bottoms. Gerard barely caught them in time, fumbling with the soft fabric before he realized Frank was still watching him with that lazy grin that sent his heart into overdrive.

“Thanks,” Gerard mumbled, trying not to trip over his own feet as he bent to pull them on. His fingers fumbled with the waistband, and he could feel his face heating up again — why was getting dressed so hard with Frank around?

Before he could fully manage it, Frank was suddenly at his side, hands reaching out to help, his fingers brushing against Gerard’s hips. The touch was light, but it made Gerard’s breath hitch.

“Relax, G,” Frank said softly, amusement lacing his words as he tugged the waistband into place, adjusting it like it was no big deal. “You’re making this way harder than it needs to be.”

“I’m fine,” Gerard squeaked, immediately wishing he hadn’t sounded so defensive. He cleared his throat, willing his face to cool down, but the blush only deepened when Frank looked up at him with that knowing smirk.

Frank chuckled softly, brushing a stray lock of damp hair out of Gerard’s face. “Yeah, you’re definitely fine.”

Gerard shifted, feeling his heart stutter. This was supposed to be easy — just hanging out, being together — but he couldn’t shake the ridiculous flutter of nerves. “So, uh... what’s the plan now?” he asked, hoping to distract himself from the way Frank’s touch lingered longer than it probably needed to.

Frank’s eyes flicked to the bed, and a mischievous glint appeared. “I was thinking we could go back to basics.” He stood up, moving to grab the pile of pillows and blankets stacked on the bed. “Let’s build a fucking fort!”

“A fort?” Gerard blinked, caught completely off guard. That was... not what he expected. “Really?”

Frank flashed a grin, already draping the blankets over the headboard in an improvised tent. “Yes, G! Trust me, it’ll be fun.”

Gerard watched, half-confused, half-amused, as Frank worked with surprising precision, tucking the edges of the blankets under pillows, draping the rest to form a canopy over the bed. His hands moved with a confidence that Gerard could only envy.

“You’re really going all out,” Gerard muttered, stepping closer to help, though he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. Frank tossed him a blanket to drape over one side of the bed, and he awkwardly tucked it in, feeling like a kid in elementary school again.

“Gotta do it right,” Frank said, stepping back to admire their work. “Besides, it’s not every day we build a movie fort.”

Gerard giggled softly, finally relaxing a little. There was something almost absurd about the whole thing, but it was also sweet. He glanced at Frank darting out of the room, who was now gathering snacks from the kitchen — chips, some leftover candy from Halloween, and, of course, two more beers.

They settled in, climbing under the canopy of blankets and pillows, the TV glowing faintly in the background as the Evil Dead marathon resumed. Frank handed Gerard a beer, his arm brushing against Gerard’s as they both sat back against the headboard, nestled in the makeshift fort.

Gerard took a sip, the cold beer calming his racing heart, but his mind was still buzzing with everything that had happened tonight. He glanced sideways at Frank, who was focused on the screen, casually munching on a handful of chips like they hadn’t just shared a shower and stolen kisses.

The tension that had buzzed between them earlier had shifted into something more delicate now, but Gerard’s nerves still hadn’t completely settled. Sitting here with Frank under the blanket fort, a beer in his hand and Evil Dead flickering in the background, should’ve felt simple. Easy. But his mind kept running a mile a minute. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, where to look, or how to act like this was just another casual night in.

Frank seemed completely at home, though, stretched out beside Gerard, his body relaxed in a way Gerard envied. They hadn’t said much in the past few minutes, just sat close, the warmth between them enough to keep the air from feeling too awkward. At least, not awkward for Frank. For Gerard, it was like every shift, every brush of their knees, sent a fresh jolt of nerves through him.

“Y’know,” Frank said, his voice cutting through the quiet, “we should do this more often.”

Gerard blinked, glancing over at him, his thoughts still a little too scrambled to form a coherent response. “Uh... what? Build forts?”

Frank smirked, his eyes flicking toward the mess of blankets they’d piled on the bed. “Yeah, exactly. It’s either this or build a treehouse. Your call.”

Gerard snorted, the laugh coming out unexpectedly loud, and immediately cringed at himself. “A treehouse? Where?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Frank said, his tone casual, like it was the most obvious solution in the world. “We’ll just break into someone’s backyard, slap a couple of boards together, and boom. New hangout spot.”

“Right, because we’re both so handy,” Gerard muttered, shaking his head as he set his beer down on the nightstand. But the image of them fumbling around with hammers and nails, trying to build a crooked, unsafe treehouse, made him smile despite himself.

Frank stretched out beside him, folding his arms behind his head. “You’d look good with a tool belt. Could be a new aesthetic for you.”

Gerard rolled his eyes, the heat creeping back up his neck again. “Sure. That’s definitely my look.”

They settled in again, the soft glow of the TV lighting the room, the blankets heavy and warm around them. Frank turned his attention back to the movie, but Gerard’s mind was still wandering, circling back to the small moments between them tonight. The way Frank touched him so easily, so naturally — like it wasn’t a big deal — while Gerard was a bundle of nerves, second-guessing every move.

And yet, here they were. Still together, still comfortable, despite all the little fumbles and awkwardness.

Frank yawned beside him, stretching out one arm and letting it fall lazily over Gerard’s shoulders. It wasn’t a grand gesture, not even particularly romantic, but it made Gerard’s heart skip a beat all the same. He leaned into the touch, feeling Frank’s warmth seeping through the blankets.

“This is nice,” Frank mumbled, his voice growing softer, his eyelids drooping slightly. “Better than being alone with a pizza and a horror marathon.”

Gerard smiled, feeling the weight of Frank’s arm heavy and reassuring. “Yeah, it’s not bad.”

“I love you, G.”

Gerard felt his breath catch in his throat, the simple sentence replaying in his head over and over. He felt like a raying beam of light, everything felt so perfect.

“I love you too, Frankie.”

Frank’s breathing slowed a little, and Gerard realized that, slowly but surely, Frank was starting to drift off. His hand, still resting on Gerard’s shoulder, grew slack, and his head tipped forward slightly, his hair falling messily into his face.

Gerard shifted slightly, careful not to disturb him, and turned his head to look at Frank. The movie flickered across Frank’s features, casting soft shadows over his face, and for a long moment, Gerard just watched him. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his lips parted slightly as he breathed, and there was something so peaceful, so unguarded about the way Frank looked when he slept.

Gerard felt his throat tighten, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. It wasn’t some big, overwhelming emotion — just a quiet realization that he liked this. Liked being here, in this moment, with Frank. Even though the day had been a whirlwind of nerves and excitement, it had ended in this — something simple. Something real.

In Gerard's mind, loving Frank was never straightforward. It was tangled, and messy, and often left him feeling like he was constantly stumbling, clumsily trying to catch up. But even in the chaos of his thoughts, one thing always remained clear: Frank was everything he didn’t know he needed.

There was a warmth in Frank that Gerard had never quite understood. Frank moved through life with an ease that left Gerard in awe — like the world bent just a little for him, like every laugh came naturally, like every day was another opportunity to live. Gerard admired that, envied it even, because he’d never been able to move through the world with that kind of confidence. Frank wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but the way he embraced the mess of it all — the imperfections, the awkward moments, the bad days — made Gerard love him more.

Frank had a way of pulling Gerard out of his head, out of the constant spiral of self-doubt and overthinking that weighed him down. He made Gerard feel seen, in a way that no one else ever had, and he did it effortlessly. A simple touch, a shared glance, and suddenly, Gerard wasn’t drowning anymore. He was okay. He could breathe.

It was the little things, too, that made Gerard’s heart swell — the way Frank would nudge him during a movie when something funny happened, even if Gerard wasn’t paying attention. The way Frank would steal bites of his food like it was the most natural thing in the world, or how his voice softened when they were alone, quieter but somehow more Frank than ever. Those little moments, the ones that might seem insignificant to anyone else, made Gerard’s chest ache with how much he loved him.

It wasn’t always easy. Sometimes, Gerard felt like he was still fumbling in the dark, not knowing how to express it, not knowing if he was doing enough. He wasn’t smooth like Frank, and couldn’t always say the right thing at the right time. But Frank never seemed to care. Frank didn’t want the perfect version of him — the one Gerard sometimes wished he could be. He wanted him. The version that tripped over his own feet, who got lost in his thoughts too easily, who second-guessed every decision. Frank loved him, just as he was, and that alone was enough to make Gerard fall harder.

There were moments, though — quiet, stolen moments — where Gerard would look at Frank and feel completely overwhelmed by it. Like right now, with Frank sleeping soundly beside him, his hair a mess, his face relaxed, completely unaware of the way Gerard’s heart clenched at the sight of him. Gerard could spend hours watching him, caught up in the quiet beauty of it all, wondering how someone like Frank could see anything worth loving in someone like him.

But he did. And that was the greatest, most terrifying part of all.

Loving Frank was never easy. But it was the best thing Gerard had ever done.

As Frank’s breathing deepened, Gerard shifted under the covers, pulling them tighter around the both of them. He wasn’t used to this — being so close, so comfortable with someone — but he didn’t mind. Not tonight, at least.

For a while, Gerard just lay there, listening to the quiet hum of the TV, the soft sound of Frank’s breathing, and the gentle thrum of his own heartbeat. He still felt a little clunky, a little out of his depth, but he was starting to get used to it. Starting to get used to Frank.