Chapter Text 1 страница. “You idiot,” Frank said into his mouth, and then kissed him again, messy and rough

Chapter 12

“You idiot,” Frank said into his mouth, and then kissed him again, messy and rough. His hands had drifted down, sliding through Gerard’s hoodie and shirt and touching skin, cool and making Gerard gasp into his mouth. “I fucking—Gerard, can I? I just—I need—”

Gerard’s brain fizzled for a second, and when he came back to himself he was shucking off his hoodie and panting and saying, “Yes, anything, yes. ”

“I’m not—” Frank panted, and then backed up, watching Gerard hungrily. “I’m not sure if—I don’t know if it’ll work, but I want to, just—let me, please.”

He looked so solid, so fucking real, and Gerard had to pause in scrambling out of his jeans, ignoring the twinge in his skull, to lean over and kiss him. He missed Frank’s mouth, wound up kissing down the line of Frank’s jaw instead, along his neck, the scorpion tattoo there. Frank tasted cool and sweet, and nothing like salt or skin. Like spring water, or marble, and Gerard drank it in, got distracted with it, with dragging his teeth along Frank’s throat, along the still line where the pulse should be, until Frank keened and dropped to his knees, dragging Gerard’s jeans down with him.

“I was so fucking—Gerard, I was so afraid I’d never, that you’d—” Frank leaned in and nuzzled at the crook of Gerard’s thighs, and Gerard’s knees were going to fucking give out, except Frank’s hands were cupping Gerard’s ass, the curve of it, holding him up effortlessly.

Gerard had always imagined blowjobs being wet, kind of sloppy and messy, but this was just smooth and perfect and had that chill of October and Halloween and wind and he bucked his hips, moaning, and Frank just—just took it, no resistance. Some distant part of himself observed how he was begging and panting for it, taking Frank’s hair in his hands, tangling it in his fingers. He was being pretty fucking loud, couldn’t help it, and this was probably why Mikey had fled. Sometime later he’d be embarrassed that Mikey had known this was going to happen, but not now. Not while Frank was looking up at him, cheeks hollow and god, his hands, squeezing and tracing where Gerard’s ass met his thighs and drifting tentatively upward.

“Oh my god,” Gerard groaned, and Frank pulled off for a moment, eyes dark.

“You can fuck my mouth, you know,” he said, low and dark, and then Gerard’s eyes rolled back in his head for a second and he heard Frank laugh, the cold air of it brushing against his cock and making it, oh God, that much harder not to come. “No gag reflex. Just do it, I want you to.” And his mouth closed over the head of Gerard’s cock and his tongue traced the slit and Gerard did, just bucked his hips up, over and over again, and Frank moaned around him. Gerard could feel it, buzzing through his cock and down into his bones, into his blood, and just like that he was coming and Frank made a startled, hungry sound.

Gerard sank slowly to his knees, Frank easing him down, and leaned his head against Frank’s shoulder, panting.

“Gerard,” Frank said, sounding dazed. “I can taste you, I can—oh, fuck, I can feel it.”

“Really?” Gerard murmured, and tongued the scorpion again. Fuck, tattoos were so hot. He’d never get one himself, but he loved Frankie’s, so much. “I thought you couldn’t taste anything—”

He pondered finding his notebook, but Frank seemed to anticipate this, snorted and flipped Gerard over, easy and smooth, catching the back of his head in his palm to keep it from hitting the hardwood floor.

“No taking notes during sex,” Frank said firmly, and Gerard couldn’t help but pout, just a bit.

“Maybe later,” Frank relented, giggling, and kissed Gerard again, and this time it was wet, and salty, and Gerard tangled his tongue around Frank’s and drank in the taste of it, of himself.

“So hot, Frankie,” he said in between kisses, and Frank made a low noise of agreement.

“Is this okay?” Frank said, pulling back, cool fingers tracing the knot at the back of Gerard’s skull, soft and soothing the slight ache. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

“No no,” Gerard protested, and dragged Frank’s head back down. “No stopping now. Sex. You said. You promised.”

Frank rocked his hips against Gerard, and Gerard could feel it, the cold button of Frank’s jeans against his thigh, so good, and fuck, so real.

“Sex,” he agreed, and then sat back up on his heels, tugged off his shirt, and Gerard’s eyes got huge, he could just feel it. Shirtless Frankie. Fuck. Frank was pale and gorgeous and staring down at him, hair falling into his eyes. Ink was curling over his skin and a dark line of hair led down into this pants and Gerard wanted, fuck, wanted even though he’d just come down Frank’s throat. He made a strangled nose and struggled to get his fumbling fingers to work, to undo the button of Frank’s jeans.

“Let me,” Frank giggled, and snuck his cold fingers beneath Gerard’s, popped the button, and fuck, that was—that was Frank’s cock, taut and thick and perfect. Gerard traced it with his forefinger, eyes wide, and Frank closed his eyes for a moment, humming, before cursing and leaning back, rummaging in a pile next to Gerard’s dresser.

“I got—I stole this from the pharmacy. It’s so fucking awesome being able to go places now; I’m like a ninja,” Frank panted.

“You were always like a ninja,” Gerard said absently, and fuck, if it wouldn’t be such a goddamned effort, he’d lean up and try to taste Frank, right now, except he didn’t think his stomach muscles could handle it, and there’d be time later. “How do you—how do you have an erection, how does that work?” he mused, letting his fingers dance down, cup Frank’s balls. “You don’t have blood, right?”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Frank groaned, and leaned back down and bit at Gerard’s lower lip, and, well, it was an effective argument. Gerard shut up and opened his mouth, let their tongues play together, wet and smooth, and then he heard the faint snick of a cap opening. Frank’s fingers played gently around the base of Gerard’s cock, wet and cold, and then, startlingly, warm, and tingling, and Gerard gasped into Frank’s mouth, eyes flying open.

“Warming gel,” Frank said smugly, and started working Gerard open, his fingers slick and careful and perfect. Gerard made a choked noise and fuck, he was getting hard again, already. It’d only been, like, a minute. It should have been totally embarrassing, but all he could think was yes, yes, yes. He’d done this to himself in the shower a couple times, but this was so different: Frank leaning back and watching, eyes dark and intense, as his fingers slowly disappeared inside Gerard. And Frank had—had sort of been inside Gerard before, the way their flesh melted together, the way Frank could walk through walls, but this was different. Gerard could feel it, feel himself stretching to accommodate Frank—it was so different from how Frank had pushed his fingers through Gerard’s wrist. It was cold and hot and intense, and it was Gerard letting Frank inside, actively responding, not just passive, not this time. Frank’s mouth had fallen open slightly, dazed.

“Gerard,” he said, low and husky, and the lights flickered. “Fuck, you’re letting me—oh, fuck, look at you.”

“Frankie,” Gerard panted, and moved his hips upward, fucked himself on Frank’s finger, and it felt so much better than when he’d fingered himself, which had just been awkward and uncomfortable and kind of gross. This was—this was filthy and intimate, and every nerve he had was tingling. It burned, almost, and Frank was so cold, and the gel was hot, and it wasn’t quite pain, it was something better than that. He couldn’t stop moving, making helpless noises.

“I thought—” Gerard managed, and then Frank added another finger and he lost his train of thought, shuddered and spread his legs wider. God, okay, Frank was way better at finding his prostate than Gerard had been. “Oh, fuck yeah, just like that, Frank.”

“Like that?” Frank said, practically purring, so fucking pleased with himself, and Gerard tried to glare, but didn’t think he quite managed it based on the way Frank was smiling at him, shark-like, all teeth. “This works for you?”

“Yes, but,” Gerard tried again, “I’m just—oh, I just thought you didn’t—didn’t want to do this, and I thought you were mad at me—”

“I want to do this,” Frank cut him off, leaning in. He cupped Gerard’s cheek with his free hand and kissed him, cool and sweet and God, Gerard felt like he was burning up. “Fuck, I always wanted to do this.”

Gerard’s eyes had fallen shut at some point, but he snapped them open at that. “Yeah?” he stuttered, almost feeling shy, which was kind of ridiculous given that he was writhing around naked and erect with Frank’s fingers in his ass. “Really?”

Frank rolled his eyes, looking fond and annoyed, and said, “Well, obviously.” And Gerard was going to point out that it hadn’t been obvious at all and that he hadn’t been sure if Frank would want him, or just want him because Frank was all lonely and trapped away from all other possible sexual possibilities in the woods, or—and then Frank twisted his fingers, and Gerard just wound up hissing, “Oh, fuck me ” instead.

“On it,” Frank agreed, and pulled his fingers free. He shucked his jeans off and god, he was naked, fuck. Gerard pressed a hand against his cock and thought, not yet not yet not yet. Wait. God, Frank was beautiful. “Fuck, what'd I do with the goddamned—oh, I’m standing on it. Okay, okay. Hey, baby, you ready? Gerard, I gotta—god, look at you, you’re ready, right?”

“There’s a bed, over there. We’re on the floor,” Gerard said, sort of dazed, and but then Frank was already guiding his cock inside and oh fuck, this was way different than fingers. Frank made a noise like he was dying and pushed all the way in, and wow, that was, okay, that was so perfect Gerard’s toes were curling. He could be anywhere: the floor of the forest, a fucking cave, a gym locker, he didn’t care. His eyes fell closed as he canted his hips and hissed out a long, pained breath. God, it felt so—

“I love you,” Frank said, and pulled all the way out, and then slammed back in, and Gerard’s cock jerked again, and oh god, he couldn’t come again, not yet. Frank had barely started fucking him.

“What?” he managed, and Frank kissed him, and pushed his hips forward. “Oh. Ohhh. Yeah, Frankie, like that, oh fuck. Fuck!”

“I don’t care—I don’t care if you get old and don’t… don’t want me anymore,” Frank murmured into Gerard’s cheek. “I love you, right now, and I want—I don’t want to miss it, just because—I was scared. I love you, you fucking crazy motherfucker. Oh, god, you feel so good, Gerard, I’ve never, not like this.”

He sounded so fucking wrecked with it, and Gerard couldn’t fucking stand it, how much he felt right now, physically and mentally, and he still wanted more, and he was going to fucking explode, and also, Frank was insane.

“I’d never not want you! It’s more like you would—” Gerard started indignantly, and then arched his back, scrabbling at the floor with his hands. “Oh my god, like that, what—what are you, oh fuck, Frank.”

“This is,” Frank said, and sucked on Gerard’s nipple, slid his hands beneath Gerard’s back and held him up, thrust in again and made a pleased, low noise when Gerard thrashed. “This is where you say you love me back, asshole.”

“Well, obviously,” Gerard managed, smirking up at Frank, and then felt his face go slack as Frank’s cock went deeper, fuck, deeper than—oh god.

“Not good enough,” Frank laughed, and his eyes were so bright, and fuck, Gerard loved him, he did.

“I do, I fucking—I love you so fucking much, you— Frank,” Gerard choked out, and came again, in a slow, painfully bright pulse that seemed to go on and on and on. When he could focus again, Frank was staring at him, at his face, and Gerard hoped his wasn’t too stupid and ridiculous, and then Frank’s eyes went huge and he said, “I think I—oh god—” and collapsed on top of him with a shocked, rough moan.

“Don’t disappear this time,” Gerard mumbled blissfully, wrapping a leg around Frank’s and closing his eyes.

“Oh my god,” Frank said into his neck. “I just—sex. Wow. You.”

“Articulate,” Gerard teased. Frank didn’t move his head, just lifted a hand and flipped Gerard off, then snuggled closer, humming contentedly.

“Frankie,” Gerard said after a moment, running his hands up and down Frank’s back. “I think—you’re totally—fuck, dude, that’s cold, you’re inside me.”

“Sort of the point,” Frank mumbled, and then said, sheepishly, “Oh,” and pulled off a bit, so that his chest wasn’t quite so melded into Gerard’s own. “Sorry.”

“S’ok,” Gerard said, smiling up at him. “It’s pretty awesome. Just, you know, chilly.”

“We need to get you some electric blankets,” Frank laughed, and kissed him lazily, their tongues tangling.

“Come on. Bed, Gee. Pillows,” he coaxed, tugging Gerard to his feet. Gerard staggered around, feeling like a baby deer for a moment, and then collapsed in the blankets. His head hurt, vaguely, but not enough to pay attention to, and his ass felt… well, sort of awesome, actually, each movement sending off tiny sparks and reminding him what’d just happened. He rolled his hips experimentally and oh, fuck yeah, he was going to want to do that again, like, yesterday.

Frank was staring down at him, eyes half-lidded, like maybe he agreed.

“Hi,” Gerard said, biting his lower lip and smiling helplessly, and reached up a hand to drag Frank down next to him, wrapping himself around Frank’s body. Being naked was awesome if the other person was naked, too. Or maybe it was just awesome with Frank.

“Hey, did you come this time?” he remembered to ask. “Can ghosts come?”

“If that wasn’t an orgasm, I don’t know what is,” Frank said, nuzzling him. Gerard fought the urge to purr, and then, well, what the hell. He gave in and made a delighted noise that got deeper and huskier when Frank bit down, just a bit. He arched his neck, hoping for more attention—he was discovering he really, really fucking liked it when Frank bit him, when he could practically feel himself bruising.

But instead Frank’s head popped back up, eyes evil and mouth curled in smirking delight. “Let’s just hope you don’t get pregnant with my ghost babies, right? Maybe I shoulda stole us some condoms.”

“…uh,” Gerard managed, brain immediately flashing to the ‘zombie baby eating its way out of its mother’s stomach’ from Dawn of the Dead, and Frank laughed, loud and bright.

“Kidding, Gee,” he giggled, collapsing back on top of Gerard and kissing his nose, then his cheek and the corner of his eye, and then finally his mouth. “You loser.”

“Shut up,” Gerard said. Anyway, now that he’d thought of it, Frank still hadn’t actually gotten to see the new remake yet. He fumbled around in the sheets to see if the remote was where he’d left it. “Hey, wanna watch some zombies?”

“Best boyfriend ever,” Frank hummed, and then leaned off the bed, scrounging around, and emerged triumphant with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“Fuck yeah,” Gerard said, making grabby hands, and Frank lit one up and passed it over, and Gerard beamed at him. They snuggled down together, using one of the many abandoned coffee mugs on the nightstand as an ashtray, watching as the opening credits rolled.

There was still a lot of stuff they had to talk about, Gerard knew. Like what it meant to be dating a dead guy, and how the trial over Frank’s murder was going to go down, and how he was pretty sure Frank was still freaked out about Gerard being kidnapped—fuck, Gerard was pretty goddamned freaked out about it himself. But for now, he was pretty content to cuddle down in the bed with his boyfriend—Frank had called Gerard his boyfriend —and watch a group of blood-splattered seven-year olds charging a sedan.

“Dude,” Frank said, eyes wide. “That kid just tore out that man’s throat. ”

“I know, right?” Gerard replied sleepily, curling his arms around Frank’s back. “It’s awesome.”

And it was, awesome and perfect, like a dream. Frank continued to exclaim excitedly about the zombie speed and blood spatter, and Gerard eventually drifted to sleep, sound and deep and content for what felt like the first time in years.

***

His mom knocked on the door softly what must have been a few hours later, because the movie was over, the menu screen just replaying itself over and over again on the screen. Frank was running his fingers through Gerard’s hair, and it felt amazing. He made a pleased noise, and then the knock came again.

“Gerard, you want some dinner?” his mom asked. “You should probably get up and eat, honey.”

Gerard came completely awake with a start at the sound of her voice. Oh, fuck, he was naked, and not a virgin anymore at all, and now he had to go make small talk with his mom. Jesus. He managed to tumble out of bed and scramble into some clothes, wincing a bit and flushing, and oh God, it was going to suck to sit still at the kitchen table, wasn’t it?

Frank was completely unsympathetic, the dick, just giggling at him and then giving him a really distracting sort of considering look, like maybe he was remembering why Gerard was sore, too, and he liked it, a lot. Then he kept craning his head around the door and making ridiculous leering faces, while Gerard poked at his casserole and tried not to blush too obviously. Mikey totally didn’t help with the way he kept waggling his eyebrows at Frank.

At least he could beg out of dinner pretty easily, claiming he was still tired, and his mom bought it instantly, just ruffled his hair and said they could work on his dye job another night. Maybe blue or green streaks this time, if he wanted. Fucking awesome.

“Man,” he said happily as he followed Frank up the stairs towards what would hopefully be a really awesome reprise of earlier that afternoon, “I should get kidnapped more often.”

Frank went stiff and stopped for a moment at the top of the landing, looking back at Gerard, and Gerard replayed what he’d just said and blanched.

“Not fucking funny,” Frank bit off, and stomped soundlessly off into Gerard’s bedroom.

“That’s not—I didn’t mean it like that,” Gerard protested, embarrassed, because, well, obviously he didn’t want to fucking get kidnapped again. That shit had been awful. He was just looking at the silver lining, that was all. But Frank’s shoulders were still tense, and he wasn’t joining Gerard on the bed now, not even after a couple minutes had passed. He just stood scowling at Gerard’s bookshelf, hands behind his back.

“You know,” Gerard started tentatively, feeling a bit stung, “you don’t have to stick around all the time if you don’t want.” Frank turned his head and stared at him, and Gerard flinched. “I mean, if—if you want to go hang with Bob or Ray for a while, I’d totally understand. You don’t have to just, I dunno. I mean, it has to be boring watching me sleep, at least.”

“Yeah, no, I think I’ll stick around,” Frank said icily. “You’ve got the self-preservation instincts of a fucking lemming. Someone’s gotta watch out for your ass, since you sure as hell aren’t going to do it.”

“That’s not fair,” Gerard protested, sitting up and glaring. “I didn’t—I’m not that bad. Don’t act like I’m—I’m some fucking incompetent. I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, yeah, of course you can,” Frank laughed. “How stupid of me, it’s almost like I think you almost died just because you couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut around a goddamned meathead you knew was a psychopath. Oh, wait. ”

That wasn’t fucking fair. “I was mad,” he hissed. “I just wasn’t thinking, it’s not the same thing! I can take care of myself, it’s not—I mean, I’m fine, now, and you’re acting like I’m not.”

Frank’s fist were clenched and he lowered his head, and then reached out and shoved a stack of books to the floor, braced his hands on the bookshelf and looked like he wanted to knock the whole thing down. Well, fuck.

“Fine,” he said tightly, and Gerard watched him warily. “You know how fucking close you were to not fine? You know what that would have done to me?”

“Yes, I fucking know that,” Gerard said, and fuck, his voice was shaking and stupidly thick, because he didn’t—he didn’t want to think about that, okay. It made him feel like he was going to throw up and like there wasn’t enough air, and he shouldn’t feel like that, because he was okay now. He fucking hated it, the way his voice wobbled, but then Frank turned around and finally got on the bed, wrapped himself around Gerard.

“I’m so fucking angry,” he confessed, and then buried his face into Gerard’s hair. “I couldn’t—it was my fault, this never would have happened if it wasn’t for me, and you were gone, and I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“It’s not your fault,” Gerard said immediately. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“Yeah, well, it feels that way anyway. Doesn’t have to make sense. Just… fuck. I was so fucking mad at you for not having that fucking bone of mine with you, you know? And then even after I knew you were okay, I still was stuck in that hospital as a fucking--I couldn't even talk to you, couldn’t say a fucking thing. And all I could think was, why the hell, Gerard, why wouldn’t you have it with you?”

“It seemed like a bad thing to have on school property,” Gerard said in a small voice. He remembered Frank in the hospital, the misery you could see radiating out from him, even when he was as insubstantial as a shadow. “But I’ll—I mean, I won’t do it again. I’ll get a necklace, or whatever. Duct tape it to myself. I don’t know.”

“Duct tape,” Frank scoffed, but he was finally smiling again, and he’d relaxed, was nuzzling Gerard’s neck. “If I thought making you eat a finger bone would be a long term solution, I’d feed it to you in a fucking heartbeat, you know?”

“Kinky,” Gerard murmured, and then Frank tilted his head back, smirking, and rubbed his knuckles over Gerard’s lips, and Gerard made a little involuntary pleased noise, pressed his mouth to the double L and the O. “God, Frankie, your hands. Did I ever tell you that? I love your fucking hands.”

“Yeah?” Frank said, sounding startled and delighted, and he felt so real, so fucking solid and cool and everywhere, cradling Gerard against him. “That why you told me to go for a hand bone? Who’s the kinky one now, hmm, Gee?”

“Did you know some animals have a penis bone?” Gerard said dreamily and burrowed into Frank's shoulder. “An os baculum. Uh, whales have it, and raccoons, and—”

Frank cut him off with a kiss, sweet and slow, and then pulled back, giggling and shaking his head.

“You’re so fucking weird,” he said fondly. “Wish I had one of those. That’d be hot. If I had a cock bone, I’d give it to you.”

Gerard sort of wanted to make an innuendo and then flip Frank and pin him to the bed, but he was getting tired again, physically and emotionally, and this was really nice, just lying together.

“Maybe in the morning,” he mumbled, and flapped a hand around until Frank seemed to get what he wanted and drew the blankets up around them. “You wanna put a movie on? I don’t want you to be bored. I’m just… really tired.”

“Nah,” Frank said, and tucked his chin against Gerard’s shoulder. “Maybe later. Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Good.”

“Fucking awesome,” Frank corrected, and Gerard had to agree.

***

When the doorbell rang shrilly the next morning, Gerard was totally confused. Bob never rang the doorbell, and Gerard didn’t have school this week anyway—he was still recovering. What was going on? He sighed and stretched a bit, rubbing his face against Frank’s shoulder. Waking up with Frank here was awesome.

They were tangled together beneath the covers, and it was totally perfect—Gerard usually liked having a ton of blankets and pillows and shit to burrow in, but then it’d get too hot and he’d get grumpy and shove them all off, only to have to gather them back up again later. Rinse and repeat, ad infinitum. But now Frank was keeping everything the perfect temperature, and he was running his hands through Gerard’s hair, which was one of Gerard’s favorite things on the entire planet.

The television was on now, volume turned low, and Frank was watching, rapt, as Christian Bale shoved Heath Ledger up against a table.

“Good movie,” Gerard rasped, and Frank nodded, humming, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of Gerard’s mouth, never taking his eyes off the TV.

“Morning, baby,” he said distractedly, and then slapped Gerard’s hand away when Gerard tried to find out if ghosts got morning wood, too. “Hold up, in a second. Man, who is this fucking actor? Goddamned genius.”

Then the bell rang again before Gerard could decide whether or not to be offended—it was Batman, after all.

“You gonna answer that?” Frank said around a cigarette. Gerard huffed, stretching. He’d really been looking forward to morning sex, dammit.

But the house was empty at the moment, and it wasn’t like Frank could get up and get the door for him. Mikey was back at the Center getting a check-up and another round of treatment, and Gerard’s mom was at work. That left Gerard, and potentially the visitor could be someone important, a cop or something wanting to ask some questions, so Gerard really probably shouldn’t ignore the bell in favor of getting laid. Which meant he had to get out of bed. Ugh.

He shuffled down the stairs, yawning, hoping it wasn’t another reporter, or Bob checking up on him or some shit. Fuck, he wanted a coffee, but Frank had already vowed to withhold sex for weeks if he caught Gerard touching caffeine. This was cruel and unusual, but Gerard figured as long as he was getting a steady supply of orgasms, he could make it another thirteen days and seven hours without caffeine.

He opened the door and blinked in the bright light—fuck, it was gorgeous out. Bright blue sky, red leaves blowing down the street, chill in the air. Winter would be here soon, he thought.

There was a woman on the front step, and she looked oddly familiar. She didn’t have a badge or a uniform or anything, though, which meant probably Gerard could have stayed in bed. Dammit.

“Gerard Way?” the woman asked. Her eyes were shadowed, and hazel-green. Gerard hesitated a moment before answering.

“Yeess?” he admitted, biting his lower lip. “But I’m not talking to any reporters, sorry—”

The woman smiled, suddenly, and Gerard blinked. He knew—he knew that smile.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, of course not. I don’t blame you. It’s just—I’m Linda Iero. I wanted to see you. I hope it’s not a bother.”

Gerard clutched the doorframe and stared. She was small. She looked like Frank, had his nose, his chin. It was Frank’s mom, and Gerard had no idea what to do.

“Um,” she said, blinking at him. Gerard supposed he sort of looked like someone had slapped him upside the head with a shovel. A shovel made of panic. “May I come in?”

“Oh,” Gerard said, forcing himself to let go of the door. “Oh, of course, sorry!”

He showed her into the sitting room, to the uncomfortable upholstered chairs with the doilies everywhere that none of his family had ever used, and hovered uselessly, fingers twisted in his hair. Frank had twisted his fingers in Gerard’s hair yesterday—fuck. Don’t think of that, don’t think of that, he told himself, feeling his cheekbones get hot. Not now. Fuck, he was pretty sure he had a hickey blooming on his neck, and he wasn’t even dressed, still wearing a ratty t-shirt and pajama bottoms with a hole in the crotch.

“I, uh,” Gerard offered weakly. “Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

Frank was upstairs, watching The Dark Knight, and Frank’s mom was down here, staring at Gerard like—like Gerard didn’t even know what. Gerard was about to vomit.

“No,” she replied quietly. “Thank you. They—they told me you were the one who found him. I just—I wanted to say thank you.” Gerard sucked in a breath, because—it wasn’t right; he hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t found Frank, not for her. He’d found Frank’s body. Something on Gerard’s face made Linda breathe in quietly, look down at her folded hands.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”

“No,” Gerard said automatically, and sat on the footstool, fought a wince, because wow, awkward. But that wasn’t the point. “No—it’s okay. I’m glad. I—I would want my mom to know what had happened to me, if—” he fell silent, unable to say it. The knot at the back of his head was throbbing again; he should probably have taken some painkillers when he’d woken up.

There was a noise from the hallway, and Gerard couldn’t help but glance over. It was Frank. He was blending in with the wallpaper, his face peering out between the painted vines and paper fruits, eyes huge and hurt. His hand curled around the corner of the doorframe, fingers clenching and unclenching.

Frank’s mom was staring at her feet, breathing carefully, so Gerard took a chance she wasn’t going to look up and met Frank’s eyes. He jerked his chin towards her, raised his eyebrows. What are you waiting for? Frank shook his head vehemently. Gerard frowned, and Frank shook his head again, slower, face set.

Дата добавления: 2014-12-23