Chapter 7

Chapter Text

They all retreated outside to huddle at the tables beneath giant umbrellas. Everything was soggy and damp. Especially Gerard. Being outside was unexpectedly nice, though. The wind had died down and there was just a gentle haze of rain surrounding them, cutting them off from the rest of school.

“So,” Worm said, finally breaking the silence. Gerard looked up from inspecting his gross, muddy hands. “I heard Ted wants to kill you.”

“Is this news?” Gerard mumbled, and hunched his shoulders.

“Well, more than usual,” Worm said. “Like, before he just wanted to put you in a coma? But now he wants you dead.”

Gerard took a deep breath, but before he could explain, Bob unexpectedly spoke up.

“Ted hit on Betty Ann last Tuesday during some party, and now Tanya’s getting back by flirting with whoever she thinks will piss him off the most. Plus, she thinks Gerard looks sort of hot in eyeliner.” Bob sipped his coke and flipped a page of the November Rolling Stone. Gerard could feel a muscle jumping in his eye. “You’re really shitty at lying low, you know that, Gerard?”

“How did you even know that?” Gerard boggled, gripping the wood of the table like it might fly away. “And she does not. ”

Bob shrugged. “I listen. And she does. Oh, speaking of, have you noticed Ryan following you yet? Because it’s getting kind of pathetic.”

“What? Who?” Oh god, was someone else trying to kill him too? But no, Bob jerked his head to the right of Gerard, and when Gerard craned his neck and looked behind him, he was staring straight into the eyes of the bandana kid. The kid’s eyes widened and he immediately blushed and disappeared into the damp crowd of kids standing outside the band room. If Gerard didn’t know actual ghostly entities, he’d suspect supernatural work was afoot.

“Um,” he said, nonplussed. “That’s Ryan? Has he—has he been following me all day?”

“All week,” Patrick said with relish, which, great. If Patrick had noticed something besides his sheet music, Ryan must have really been obvious with the stalking. Gerard looked back over again and saw Ryan scurry behind one of the tuba players, all long scarecrow limbs and big eyes, like Dali had decided to draw a Lisa Frank kitten instead of elephants, or something.

“But why?” Gerard asked, bewildered. “Why the fuck is Ryan following me?”

“Because someone’s got a crush,” Ray singsonged, appearing out of the rain with a massive tray of food, carefully protected from the rain by about ten thousand plastic plates. Gerard glared.

“If you sing that kissing in a tree song,” he said darkly, shivering and miserable, “I will end you.”

“You know, Ryan Ross’ sudden desire to wear eyeliner makes sense, now that I think about it,” Ray laughed, and Bob’s eyes widened in mock-understanding. “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right?”

As though Gerard’s life wasn’t hard enough, now he had Bob batting his eyelashes at him. Gerard scowled and snagged a bottle of Diet Coke from Ray’s stash, shoving over a few crumpled, soggy bills in return. He drank his soda moodily as Bob and Worm descended on Ray—apparently Ray had some kind of wonky cafeteria mojo that let him get extra fries and pudding if he wobbled his lower lip. Whatever.

“Seriously, though, do you like Tanya or something?” Ray asked as he doled out food. Gerard eyed him in bafflement. “I mean, she’s been going around implying you give great head.”

Gerard froze, soda halfway to his mouth, staring at Ray in horror. “She what?”

“Yep,” Ray said. “History was like the land of TMI. And of visions of Gerard’s messy, untimely death.”

“And of lies!” Gerard objected, clutching the table in terror. “Why does she hate me? I didn’t even know her name until this morning!”

“Kinky,” Bob said around a mouthful of fries. Everyone looked at him and he raised an eyebrow and smirked. Gerard no longer had a sort-of crush on Bob. Bob was a jerk.

“It’s not like I actually even hit on her!” Gerard protested, and he wanted to call Mikey and whine, but Mikey would just tell Pete and Pete would think it was hilarious and make fun of him forever. “It was just a sketch.” He toyed morosely with the label on his Coke. Now that he'd noticed, he could see Ryan hovering at the periphery of the band group, staring at them. Creepy.

“Dude,” Ray answered, looking at Gerard pityingly. “Tanya’s dating Ted Sikowski. She probably thinks a romantic good time, is, like, Ted giving her a breath mint after a blowjob. I don’t think he even knows her birthday. And you drew her portrait! You practically proposed to her. She was showing everyone the picture in Calculus. She wants to have ten billion of your babies.”

“Ted Sikowski is a fucking jerk,” Gerard said, outraged all over again despite himself. Even Tanya, who was apparently the devil, didn’t deserve to be treated that way. “Why does she date him? Who dates someone like that?”

“Ten billion babies,” Ray hummed. “Here, eat this.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Gerard replied, scowling at the little paper boat of chicken strips. “We are no longer frog dissection buddies. Our frog dissection buddy days are over.”

“Baby, don’t be like that.” Ray leered, and Patrick laughed and Bob teased them both about Gerard’s admirers hunting Ray down, and except for the impending doom, it was sort of nice. Gerard spent the rest of lunch idly eating rubbery pieces of chicken, listening to Ray and Patrick work through some sight-reading piece and making faces at Bob. Bob stared impassively back until Gerard accidentally sneezed mid-cross-eyed attempt #7, after which Gerard declared victory and Bob admitted defeat.

When they all stood up to leave, though, Gerard’s shoes squelched, his wet jeans chafed, and Ted and his goons were probably lurking somewhere inside the building, hoping to catch and throttle him.

Well. It wasn’t like Gerard was going to learn anything in fucking art class anyway.

“You guys go on,” he muttered, shouldering his muddy bag and shaking his bangs out of his eyes. “I’m going home.”

“What!” Ray exclaimed, scandalized. “It’s pouring, Gerard! You can’t walk home in that, and besides, you have classes. Two more classes!”

“I’ll give you a ride,” Bob said laconically, digging in his pocket for his keys and ignoring Ray’s sputtering. “Fix the attendance sheets for us on Monday?”

“No!” Ray said indignantly, and Bob shrugged and jerked his head at Gerard before heading towards the parking lot at a quick jog. Gerard smiled helplessly at Ray, who looked like he was about to burst into a lecture at any second about the sanctity of the attendance office – Gerard had heard several iterations of this over the week – and followed Bob hastily. He’d hear the rest at the sleepover that night, he was sure of it.

The rain really had picked up while they were eating lunch. Over the short distance from the band room to the parking lot, a lot of the mud Gerard’d been caked in earlier completely washed off. His umbrella was useless, catching the wind and blowing inside out and nearly taking out Gerard’s eye as he wrestled it closed again. As Bob struggled with the door to his sedan, swearing, Gerard glanced over at the forest. Frank must be extra cold today, he thought, and shivered in his soaked clothes.

“Door’s open,” Bob said, and Gerard finally managed to beat his umbrella into submission and then folded himself into the car.

“Sorry about the mud,” he offered hesitantly, and Bob waved a hand in dismissal.

“Car’s seen worse. And I needed an excuse to get out of Calculus. We had a quiz today.”

“Well. Thanks anyway,” Gerard offered. “I just… really need a weekend away from school, right now.”

A weekend away from Ted (and Tanya), and all the potential for blood and pain that came with them. Bob seemed to agree, shooting Gerard a worried look, then changing the subject to the sleepover that night. Fuck, Gerard had forgotten that was tonight tonight. He’d wanted to go see Frankie. But he supposed it wasn’t like he’d get far in the woods with it pouring like this.

“I know where you live now, Way, there’s no escaping it,” Bob told him, eyes crinkling in a smile, and Gerard realized he was really, sincerely looking forward to going, even if Ray did spend the whole time lecturing the both of them on attendance.

He just wished Frank and Mikey could be there, too.

Once in the house Gerard found himself annoyingly fixated on all the windows. The branches tapped invitingly at the panes, like the forest itself was beckoning Gerard out, but the rain was coming down harder now, lashing the glass, and Gerard had just gotten warm and dressed in dry clothes.

“Frank,” he said, frustrated, staring out the kitchen window. What was Frank doing now, what did he do all day? Was he out tormenting already tormented campers—if anyone was camping in this weather, they had to be fucking miserable. Or maybe Frank was just sitting alone in the ancient mill house, talking to Sally, playing guitar. Maybe he was reading Doom Patrol again. Gerard could picture that, Frank tucked up in one of the corners, flickering and pale, turning the pages and murmuring over Crazy Jane’s personality snaps, over Cliff’s clenched metal jaw.

Or maybe Frank just… stopped existing at all, for a while. Maybe he’d snapped back to his grave—no, not a grave, he’d said it wasn’t a grave. Fuck.

By the time his mom got home from the salon to pick Gerard up, Gerard had re-organized all his comics, DVDs, and graphic novels by the color of their covers, had sent Mikey approximately thirty-four texts, and had drank three pots of coffee and was about to bounce off the fucking walls. His mom didn’t seem incredibly amused.

When they finally got to Mikey’s room in the Research Center, Gerard flung himself onto the bed and buried his face in Mikey’s shoulder.

“My life,” he announced into Mikey’s sleeve, “is a wasteland.”

Mikey snorted and patted Gerard’s head.

“I can’t believe you’ve already managed to rack up a reputation for being good in bed,” he said, sounding cheerfully aggrieved. His voice was clear, only a little bit hoarse, and Gerard couldn’t help but smile a bit. “Your life is so hard. Is that mud in your hair?”

“It’s not funny,” Gerard insisted, and heaved a giant sigh and flopped over on his back, staring moodily up at the ceiling. He hoped he was getting mud and dirt all over Mikey’s pillow. “Her boyfriend is going to kill me. With antlers.”

“Maybe your boyfriend can protect you with his ghost mojo,” Mikey reasoned, and Gerard narrowed his eyes at a ceiling tile.

“Okay, one? Frank’s not my boyfriend.” Which was another reason his life was a wasteland, to be honest. “Two, he can’t leave the forest anyway, so it’s a moot point, shut up.”

Mikey hummed noncommittally and started flipping through the stack of comics Gerard had brought.

“Mikey,” Gerard said, pained. Mikey raised an eyebrow, not looking away from the page. “Miiikey”, he repeated, drawing his brother’s name out mournfully, and Mikey sighed.

“You’re such a dope,” he said fondly. “Frank clearly likes you. You had a campfire date in the middle of the woods.”

“Yeah, but,” Gerard protested, “He doesn’t—I don’t—”

“He snuggled up next to you and stuck his hands in your shirt,” Mikey pointed out patiently.

“He’s a touchy-feely guy!” Gerard retorted sadly. “I mean, he’d probably be all handsy with anyone, he’s stuck out in the woods all alone. I’m just a warm body to him! I mean, he likes me, I guess, like a friend, but if he like liked me—” Gerard wriggled over so he could stick his face back in Mikey’s shoulder. If Frank wanted him, Gerard had given him plenty of opportunities to show it. There were so many times they could have kissed, it was driving Gerard a little crazy thinking about it.

“Well, maybe he thinks that about you, too,” Mikey said, in an obnoxiously reasonable tone of voice. “That he’s just a dead body to you. And if he scares you away, he probably doesn’t have anyone else to talk to for, like another twenty years or something, right?”

“Shut up,” Gerard muttered weakly. Shit, twenty years. "He should know that I wouldn't, like. Leave him. Even if he wasn’t a ghost. Which is so cool, who would leave? Boggles my fucking mind, Mikey."

“I just want you to know,” Mikey said, turning another page and smiling slightly, “that I support your weird dead-guy fetishes. You have my blessing.”

“It’s not a fetish!”

“His cold ghost hands are all you can think about,” Mikey said, waving about his phone like it was some sort of proof. “I have text messages to prove it.” Damn.

“I hate you,” Gerard said, and hooked his chin over Mikey’s shoulder so he could see the pages better.

“Hey, maybe you should just let him know how great you are at giving head. Tanya could be a character reference.”

“I will disown you,” Gerard threatened, and then said, “Turn the page, already, you’re almost at the part where Steph unmasks the Mayor.”

“Thanks,” Mikey said, rolling his eyes, and turned the page.

***

The weekend went by way too quickly. The sleepover was pretty awesome, even if all the sleepless nights finally caught up with him and Gerard had woken in the morning with marker all over his face, because Bob and Ray were dicks. At least it’d been Crayola and not Sharpie. Gerard spent the rest of the Saturday moping with Mikey and wandering around the hospital’s research wing and wishing he could send Frank texts about the creepy basement they found and the two interns that they’d interrupted in some kind of weird clinch that involved hospital masks and bandages. Like, way to play doctor, guys.

He’d passed on the Dinosaur Jr. concert that night, citing exhaustion and lingering resentment over the facial graffiti, but then on Sunday Bob had kidnapped him again, all polite smiles to Gerard’s mother and throat-cutting gestures when her back was turned. So Gerard wound up being hustled out to the car, forced to be sociable all day.

Ray’s mom really did make awesome pizza, though. And now Gerard had a ride to school, because Ray didn’t approve of him walking alone when Ted and his gang were gunning for him—Gerard kind of hoped the whole thing might have blown over by now, but Ray and Bob weren’t so sanguine. Anyway, Gerard didn’t have to walk to school anymore, which was definitely a plus.

Bob and Patrick re-enacting Gerard’s epic Halo failures Monday morning in the parking lot, though, was a huge red minus. They were all squashed in Bob’s car, smoking and waiting for the bell, and Gerard, for once, really wished the damned thing would just ring.

“I didn’t even know someone could die that many times in a row,” Ray said in a hushed voice, and Gerard flipped him off. Again. “And in such a short time, man. Like, twelve regens in a under a minute? That has to be some sort of record.”

“I hate you,” Gerard said, smiling helplessly. “I told you I can’t play video games. I told you, and you made me play anyway, and acted all surprised when I sucked.”

“Yeah, but,” Bob said, “this goes way beyond sucking. It was almost beautiful. Like art.”

“So much hate,” Gerard reiterated, rolling his eyes. “Can we go inside yet?”

Ray hummed thoughtfully and peered out the window at the parking lot.

“Yeah, give it another couple seconds and I think most everybody’ll have already headed in.” Time enough to finish off last cigarette and brace himself for the day. Ray called the coast clear, and bustled out of the car a minute or so later.

“I gotta get in to Attendance soon anyway, or Gertie will flip.”

“I still think you’re all wrong. Nobody’s going to do anything on school grounds,” Gerard grumbled as they bustled out of the car.

“Just try not to tongue Tanya during Geometry or anything,” Bob suggested, and Gerard spluttered futilely. Unfair. Totally unfair. Gerard wasn’t tonguing anyone at any time. He shot a glance back at the parking lot, at the woods behind them. He hadn’t had time to sneak out and see Frank all weekend.

“C’mon, I’m going to be late!” Ray hissed, and Gerard turned back towards the school again with a heavy sigh. Fucking Mondays.

The day actually went surprisingly smoothly, other than Ted asking politely how his weekend had gone, his eye twitching alarmingly, and Tanya blowing him a kiss in the lunch line. Like Gerard wasn’t already doomed enough. But Gerard had caught up on all his homework on Saturday night, and he thought he might have aced the make-up quiz in history, so life was going pretty good, for once. Well, except for Noltes and that Ryan kid dogging all his footsteps.

Then a scowling, towering man stopped him on his way to art class, stepping into his path and staring down at him, ignoring the brush of other students in the hall.

“So you’re the Way kid,” he said, looming over Gerard. Gerard squinted at him in confusion.

“Uh, yessir?” he said blankly. “Can I… help you?”

“Tuck in your shirt, boy,” the man said, and oh, fuck, Gerard knew him now, it was the baseball coach. Ted’s uncle or whatever. Great. Now that Gerard squinted, he could see the family resemblance. “I just like getting a chance to meet all our new students, make sure they’re not troublemakers. You’re not a troublemaker, are you, son?”

“…no?” Gerard tucked in his shirt, and then said, “Um, I… have to get to class,” and scuttled down the hallway, glancing back at the guy uneasily. Wow, there was someone he never, ever wanted to get detention with. Maybe he should stop skipping classes.

Art was boring, as usual. They were doing pointillism studies now, and Gerard zoned out during the slideshow on Seurat and stared out the window. Today he was going to bite the fucking bullet and talk to Frank, like, really talk to him. No bullshit. No almost-kisses. Even if Frank was dead, he couldn’t jerk Gerard around like this; it wasn’t fair. It was fine if Frank didn’t want more, if he didn’t want Gerard. That’d be par for the course, really. But Gerard had to know for sure or he’d drive himself crazy wondering. Gerard wasn’t going to be able to focus on figuring out Frank’s forest dilemma if he was wondering miserably every other second whether Frank even liked boys, or if he liked Gerard, or—fuck, he was making himself crazy now, and Frank wasn’t even here.

Patrick and Worm met him outside the classroom door after the bell rang, looking shifty and upset.

“Uh, hi?” Gerard said, eyeing them suspiciously. “How’d you get up here so fast? Don’t you have Library Studies this period?”

“Got out early,” Patrick said, and Worm took Gerard’s arm and started hustling him down the hallway, opposite the direction he’d have normally taken. “So we’re taking you to band practice with us. No, no protesting, just blind obedience, thanks.”

“But!” Gerard protested, and got shoved into a stairwell. “But why?”

“Ted’s on the warpath,” Worm said, looking worried. “He’s been spreading rumors that your ass is grass. Guess Tanya must have said something to set him off, but he is… not in a good mood.”

“So now you’re trying out for band,” Patrick said, tugging on the brim of his hat and smirking. “How do you feel about tubas?”

***

Luckily, the band director wasn’t too upset about having his time wasted or his ears abused by Gerard’s tuba-playing skills, or lack thereof. In fact, he and Gerard actually had a pretty decent chat about the possibility of Glen High eventually developing a choral section. Gerard sang him a couple showtunes, which produced a smile and some snapping fingers. Actually, to be honest, it was a little distressing how interested Mr. Stewart was in getting the trumpets to play along with ‘Luck Be A Lady.’ Gerard didn’t actually want to be in a chorus; he was just trying to avoid being pummeled to death in the school parking lot.

He escaped the band room after practice started up in earnest. The 1812 Overture followed him across the field, the big bass drum booming like thunder. Frank was waiting for him at the edge of the path, bobbing his head to the music and whistling along, slightly off-key; when Gerard got closer, he saw with each beat Frank was kicking his foot against an invisible barrier, his foot bouncing off it relentlessly.

“What would happen if we planted more trees in this field?” Gerard asked curiously. “Would the boundaries of the forest move out too?”

“And hello to you too, Gerard,” Frank snorted, tackling Gerard into a hug as soon as he crossed over into ghost-territory. Gerard hummed happily and fought the urge to bury his nose in Frank's hair, which was lucky, since Frank let go pretty fast and started waving his hands around and nearly took out one of Gerard's eyes as was. “C'mon, this way, we're headed in new and exciting directions today. Fuck the path, right? Anyway, I have no fucking clue how this shit works. You could stage a daring tree-planting expedition later, though. You and Johnny Appleseed.”

“I could be Gerard… Pinecone?” Gerard offered, dodging a low-hanging branch. “I dunno, it was just an idea. Maybe we could steal some saplings from a nursery or something.”

“‘We,’” Frank said, finger-quoting the word. “You mean ‘you.’ Try not to get yourself arrested, Nature Boy. I’d miss you if you went to prison. Anyway, hurry up, no time to shilly-shally about today.”

He disentangled Gerard from some demented hawthorne branches and took him by the hand, started tugging him along.

“’Shilly-shally’?" Gerard laughed, delighted when Frank shot him an exasperated look, smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Seriously, dude? Shilly-shally?”

“What, Sally says it all the time. It’s a totally valid fucking phrase. But fine, get a fucking move on, dickbag," Frank said, smiling for real now, teeth brilliant white in the afternoon sun. "Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Gerard assured him, eyes fixed on their linked hands. “So, uh, what’s the rush? Don’t we have all afternoon?”

“Yeah, but I want to show you my body, and it’s kind of out of the way.” Gerard missed a step and would have gone sprawling into a mud puddle if Frank hadn’t caught him deftly by the back of his hoodie and yanked him upright again. “I figured I wouldn’t make you ask to see it,” Frank continued nonchalantly. “You'd've probably sprained something.”

“I was going to work up to it!” Gerard protested uneasily. A dead body was great on paper, but he wasn’t so sure he was up for seeing one that wasn’t in a comic book. Gerard stared uneasily at his own hands for a moment. “It’s not, uh. Messy, is it?”

“Hmm?” Frank asked, tugging him along, expertly skirting mud puddles and keeping to high ground. “Oh, no, it’s just bones. I wouldn’t take you to maggot-land or anything.”

“Oh, good,” Gerard breathed, and then regrouped. “I mean. I’m totally cool with this. It’s cool of you. To show me, and all. It’s like…” Gerard trailed off, uncertain what to compare corpses to on the general scale of friendship. It was a bit more intimate than showing someone, say, a weird scar. Maybe even more intimate that admitting you liked wearing lipstick and silk panties on occasion.

“Eh, you bring me some X-rays, we’ll call it even,” Frank said breezily, not meeting Gerard’s eyes. He was still holding Gerard’s hand, though, and the forest seemed to be slipping past them easily again. Branches and brambles didn’t snag on Gerard’s hair and clothes like they normally did, and he didn’t trip on fallen logs or slip on piles of moldering leaves. Maybe that was why they were holding hands, just so Frank could pass along some of his ghost-mojo. That probably was it. But Gerard couldn’t help tentatively tightening his grip on Frank’s hand, on the guitar-calloused fingers, cool and slim and tattooed, and then Frank turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh. So. How… was your weekend?” Gerard asked quickly, heart thumping wildly. Frank was so fucking cute, fuck. It shouldn’t be legal. Well, it wasn’t, Gerard supposed, there were laws against necrophilia or whatever, but this wasn’t necrophilia, he’d decided. More like spectrophilia. Gerard was going to Google more on that shit when he got back to the house.

“My… weekend?” Frank said slowly. “Right. Weekends. Well, it was just like every other fucking day, I guess. How was your weekend, Gerard?”

“Oh, you know, it was okay,” he said nervously, and rambled on for a while about how he and Mikey got locked on a service staircase for twenty minutes at the hospital and how Bob had beat them all at Guitar Hero but Patrick was a fucking boss sniper and destroyed everyone at Halo, especially Gerard, dammit, and how Ray’s mom made these awesome mini pizzas with English muffins and marinara sauce and tons of cheese.

“Sounds like fun,” was all Frank said, and then he went all weird and non-communicative and wouldn’t let Gerard draw him into conversation, even about the new Batgirl comics. But he didn't let go of Gerard's hand, so that was something, he supposed.

They were getting into wilder parts of the forest—which seemed stupid as soon as Gerard thought it. All the forest was wild, wasn’t it? But this was different, somehow. There were no paths lined with old stone walls, no traces of litter, no signs of people at all. And the terrain was different, rocky and steep. The river was below them, a white froth of rapids, tossing up spray that got caught by the wind and throwing rainbows in glittering arcs across the narrow, twisted canyon. Even this high up, Gerard had a fine haze of water drops clinging to his clothes, dampening his hair.

“I figure my body got dumped in somewhere around here,” Frank said, his voice so neutral and evenly toned that it took Gerard a moment to register what he was saying. “If it’d been closer to the mill, I'd have probably lodged on one of the little islands or something. I dunno. I don't remember that part of it very well.”

“Dumped?” Gerard said slowly, because that sounded… that was a weird word choice, for a hiking accident or whatever, but Frank just pulled him on, voice bright and cheerful again.

“The river goes fucking wild in this part of the forest, you get all these gorges and rapids. Right at the bend up here you get a kind of cul-de-sac or something, right off the main river. And there I lie. Probably some flash flood'll knock me loose one of these years. C'mon, I won't let you fall, it's right up here.”

“You mean, dumped, like, you mean you fell in, right?” Gerard tried to say, but Frank was talking right over him, hauling him right up to the edge of the gorge and gesturing Gerard to lie down, flat on his belly in the moss and pine needles.

“Just scootch forward and look straight down,” Frank was saying, and Gerard felt his vision go oddly narrow. Tunnel vision. Gorge vision.

Directly beneath them was a little cup of boulders, away from the main tumble of the river, a small tributary that rushed in and got caught, was forced to slow down and trickle through the cracks in the rocks. Half submerged in the swirling water was Frank's body. Gerard could see the curved skull, the line of vertebrae and ribs. Some pieces were disarticulated--some were probably missing, some caught up in the rocks next to him. A rib, a white gleam of finger bones. Gerard felt something small and quiet trying to make its way out of his chest, a sob or a scream or a protest. Something. He wanted to climb down and tug the body out, away, into the sunlight. It was too lonely, there. Frank didn't belong in a place like that.

“Hey, whoa," Frank said, his voice puzzled and incredibly far away, hard to hear over the roar of the river and the rush of blood in Gerard's ears. “Breathe, Gerard. I thought you'd think it was cool, don't—don't freak out on me. Gerard?”

“Frank,” Gerard said, and rolled on his side and Frank was leaning over him, silhouetted against the sky, eyes huge and concerned, and Gerard just shuddered and wrapped a hand around the back of Frank's neck and tugged him down. “ Frank,” he said again, helplessly, and Frank had gone strangely stiff and still and then suddenly he just melted, hand tangling in Gerard's hair and mouth falling open. Gerard pulled him down, harder, arched and pressed their bodies together, and Frank was there, right there with him, there and not down at the bottom of the gorge, and they were kissing. Frank tasted cold and clean, like river water, and he was making startled, desperate noises into Gerard's mouth and Gerard couldn't breathe and finally had to pull himself away, panting and gulping in air.

***

art by sunlit_paradox

***

“Fuck,” Frank moaned into the line of Gerard's neck, mouthing shivery kisses along the jawline, and his hands were everywhere and Gerard felt his eyes start to cross at how good it felt, Frank's knee pressing down between Gerard's legs. And then, no, no, fucking no, Frank was scrambling away, why would he scramble away?

Gerard made an unhappy keening noise and tried to find a way to articulate his emphatic need for Frank to be back on top of him right at that exact moment, but Frank just stared at him, jaw open. Gerard blinked at him uncertainly. And then Frank found his voice and started shouting.

“What the fuck, Gerard, what the fuck was that!” Frank flailed a hand at Gerard incoherently. “You can't just—dude, what was that, I don't even…”

“I, um. Okay, my timing is off,” Gerard said in a tiny voice, remembering abruptly that he was inches from a giant cliff and that Frank's goddamned skeletal body was down there, waiting for him if he fell. "Really off. I just... Frank," his voice wobbled a bit. “I just I like you? A lot. I...”

“What the fuck were you thinking!” Frank rocked back on his heels, glaring. Gerard stared up at the sky miserably. Fuck. He was never listening to Mikey again.

“That I wanted to kiss you? I don’t know!” Gerard snapped, face flushing. But then… but Frank had kissed him back, hadn't he? Maybe it was just, just… make-out deprivation or something. Frank hadn’t been able to help himself, and Gerard had taken advantage. “I dunno, I sort of thought you liked me too, I guess. I’m sorry—”

“Oh, don't even do that to me,” Frank snapped, running his hands through his hair, and Gerard dazed out a little, staring at his forearms, the lean lines of them and the tattoos curling around them. “Gerard, you're not—this is really, really stupid.”

“Stupid," Gerard repeated frostily, and started to sit up. Fuck, there was no way he could find his way home from here, and now it was going to be so awkward, for hours, and he was stupid. "Stupid. Right.”

Frank made an intensely frustrated noise, and then leaned down and tilted his head, and Gerard blinked at him, confused. And suddenly their mouths were pressed together again, but this time it was slow and sweet and almost tentative, just their lips together, and then Gerard opened his mouth, just a bit, and Frank shuddered and bit down gently on Gerard’s bottom lip, a sweet shock of almost-pain, and Gerard got hard so fast he was almost dizzy. Then Frank was backing away again, eyes dark.

"You make it so hard," he said seriously, and then rolled his eyes at Gerard, who’d let out a nervous bark of laughter. “Oh, shut up. But man, seriously, I can’t. I can't fucking do that to you.”

“You can do anything to me,” Gerard said hopefully, confused but willing to let it all slide. Frank smiled at that, wicked and bright, but when Gerard leaned up the fucker backed away, shaking his head. “Ugh, fine, what are you even talking about? If I let you explain, will you, um. Will you let me kiss you again?”

“Gerard,” Frank said, closing his eyes. “You fucker. I’m dead. Do you even get that? I’m dead. I’m stuck in a forest. I’m a dead guy stuck in a forest; you can’t go around kissing me like that, you just can’t.”

“I get that you’re dead,” Gerard said slowly, eyeing Frank warily. “But it’s not a big deal, really. I mean, you’re still you, right?”

“I don’t even know what Halo is!” Frank yelled, and Gerard blinked. What the hell did Halo have to do with anything? “Don’t you get it?”

“It’s a video game?” Gerard offered, eyes wide. “For Xbox? It’s kind of stupid, I suck at it. I don’t know, there’s this whole backstory about fighting this alien race called the Covenant, but that’s not really the point of playing from what I can tell. It’s all first-person shooter—”

“What the hell is an Xbox!” Frank’s voice had gone all upset and high-pitched, and Gerard bit his lip. He didn’t even like video games, okay, this was fucking ridiculous. “Look, there’s no possible happy ending here!” Frank was pacing now, arms wrapped tightly around himself. “The world has fucking moved on, and I’m goddamned stuck here, and I don’t—I’m trying to be sensible for once in my fucking existence, okay? You’re going to get older, and I’m stuck here. You don’t want to do this, I promise.”

Gerard shoved himself back up to a sitting position and glared at Frank. “Well,” he said stonily, crossing his arms over his chest. “I still think that shit doesn’t matter, not really. And if you’re trying to let me down easy, don’t bother. Just fucking say it.”

“What?” Frank said, like Gerard was the one that didn’t make any sense. “Look, you’ve got a life out there, is all I’m saying, and I don’t. I don’t have anything out there. I can be your friend, for now—I have you for now, but you can’t just fucking—it’s going to be hard enough watching you go, Gerard.”

“Wait,” Gerard interrupted, relieved. “Wait, you think I’m going to, what, I’m going to leave you? That’s what you’re worried about?”

“Well, you are eventually,” Frank started to say, but Gerard interrupted, beaming.

“See, but that’s the thing, we’re going to fix that anyway! Seriously, Frank, we’re going to figure it out, and you’re going to be able to leave the forest and it’s all going to work out, honest. There’s no reason not to make out, see?” He bit his bottom lip and peered in what was hopefully a sultry way up at Frank through his bangs.

“You're a prick,” Frank said sullenly, but his eyes zeroed in on Gerard's mouth when Gerard causally wet his lips. “And dammit, Gerard, you don’t know that. You can’t know that. You’re just getting your hopes up, and it’s not going to work, and it’s just… it’s just going to make it worse.”

“It will work,” Gerard said determinedly, taking a step closer, heart pounding. He ignored the way Frank groaned and buried his face in his palms, because Frank was clearly just hung up on some tiny little technicalities that didn’t matter in the long run. “Look. You like me, and I like you, and we'll figure out the rest as we go, okay? I’m gonna—is it okay if I kiss you again?”

“Gerard,” Frank said incredulously, and Gerard waited impatiently, bouncing on his heels and staring at Frank’s mouth. Frank caught him at it and slung his arm over his eyes. “Look, okay, even assuming—which is a big fucking assumption, by the way—that we work shit out and I leave the forest. You’re going to get older, and I’m stuck in this tiny fucking teenage body. Forever.”

Gerard hadn’t thought of that. That… okay, that did sound kind of awful. "Are you not going to want me when I’m old and all?" he asked tentatively, wincing, because yeah, he’d probably get old and gross and wrinkled, lose his hair and shit. Frank was going to be eternally gorgeous and perfect and—and Frank was staring at him like he was an idiot.

“Don’t be stupid,” he hissed, looking offended, and Gerard felt a triumphant, delighted smile creeping on his face without his permission. But he couldn’t help it. He didn’t think he could stop smiling if he tried. “Dammit,” Frank said, looking resigned. “Look, just… you’re not thinking.”

"Believe me, I am," Gerard said, sort of embarrassed, but sort of completely not. He tugged at the hem of his hoodie. His dick had lost interest in the proceedings as they argued, but it didn’t take much thinking about Frank on his knees or about his hands, about Gerard’s hands in Frank’s ghostly pants, for it to perk right the fuck back up again.

“You are killing me,” Frank groaned, and he actually did look pained. “And I can’t believe I just said that. Gerard. Jesus, just… at least admit there’s some fucking issues, okay? There’s a lot of fucking issues. I sincerely fucking doubt I’ll ever get out of this damned forest, for one thing. And you don’t belong here, in this tiny backass town. You’re going to be a famous artist someday, I know it. You’re going to go to college. And that’s—that’s good, you should go. I don’t want you to stay."

“Frank,” Gerard said, frustrated, and sat up. "Look, I don’t care about college, I’d fucking stay. Be a park ranger, or—” But Frank's face was closed off and far away, like he wasn't even listening, and Gerard deflated. “Fine. Fine, if that's what you want. But for the record, I think you’re being stupid. But I’ll respect it.”

For now. Gerard wasn't giving up, not yet. There had to be a way to bust Frank out of this ghost-prison deal, and Gerard would figure it out. In the meantime, Frank was a sucker for Gerard's body heat, and Gerard was totally going to exploit that like a motherfucker.

"But I'm not going away, either. You're stuck with me. As a friend!" he clarified as Frank's eyes narrowed. "Frank, you're like. I’ve never had anyone like you. You can't just make me go away. I won't ask for more than that, but please, man. Don't shut me out."

"Okay," Frank said quietly after a moment, "Goddammit. Okay." And he sat back down next to Gerard, dangling his feet over the canyon edge. When Gerard leaned against him, he sighed but didn't pull away.

"I should have known seeing my bones would get you all worked up," Frank said after a few moments of silence. "You giant freak."

"Oh my god, I was going to say something today anyway!" Gerard said, outraged. "I just. It, well, it like, gave me impetus to speak up, I guess, and... and you're laughing at me."

"You're so fucking weird," Frank giggled, shaking his head fondly. "I love it. You're like, the weirdest asshole on the planet, I swear."

"'m not," Gerard grumbled. Frank was clearly way weirder. Turning down make-outs for no good reason. Weird and evil.

"C'mon, Gee," Frank said after a moment, smiling crookedly. "Gotta get you back home before you turn into a pumpkin."

“I guess it is getting kinda late," Gerard admitted regretfully. He stayed quiet most of the way back, and then spoke up as they got into what looked like a more familiar section of the woods—and how fucking weird was that, that Gerard was familiar with sections of the woods. He shook himself. Focus, Gerard.

"You know," he said tentatively, remembering what Mikey had said, about Frank being alone, and only having Gerard. And Gerard liked having Frank to himself, but it really wasn’t fair. Gerard had friends, and he should share. Everyone should get to partake of Frank’s awesomeness. "I bet, uh. I bet Ray would like to see you again. Maybe Patrick and Bob, too. What do you think?”

"Hunh?" Frank said, eyeing Gerard like he’d started doing the Macarena and talking in verse, or something. "Look, Gerard, do I really have to go over the whole 'can't leave the forest' thing again now? Do you like watching me bash myself against walls?"

"Well, it does look pretty cool," Gerard said thoughtfully. "Like you’re a really intense mime or something. Uh.” Frank was glaring pretty hard now. “Nevermind. I just meant… I could bring Ray out here, if you wanted. Tell him what’s going on. I think he misses you."

"Really?" Frank said wistfully, and then shook his head. "I dunno, man, what if he flips out?"

"What’s he gonna do," Gerard asked, rolling his eyes. "Call Bill Murray?"

"He might blame you," Frank said seriously. "And tell other people, and they might think you do devil-worship, or that you’re insane, and that’s if Ray even sees me at all. People don’t—they don’t always react so good to dead people, you know? There’s running, and screaming. It kinda takes a toll on a guy’s ego."

"Hey, I didn’t run or scream,” Gerard pointed out, and Frank smiled at him.

“You screamed a little,” he pointed out, snickering.

Gerard rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, totally not the same thing! You startled me, it wasn’t like I was fucking scared.”

“That’s true,” Frank allowed, and something about the way he was looking at Gerard made him feel weird and warm, like he wanted to simultaneously hide his face in his hoodie and pin Frank up against a tree trunk. “But that’s different. You’re different.”

“In a good way?” Gerard asked diffidently, tugging at the hem of his hoodie, and Frank smiled at him.

“The best way.”

Gerard was about to explode from blushing, he didn’t even know, so he just hurriedly continued and ignored the way Frank was looking at him like he was something great, something amazing.

“Yeah, but Ray and Bob, they’re good guys, too. I don’t think they’ll freak out. I mean, they might freak out? But they wouldn’t freak out for real. They’re my friends.”

Frank hummed thoughtfully, and he didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t look super upset or anything, either.

“I won't tell anybody if you're not comfortable with it," he assured Frank, in case that was the problem. "But think about it, yeah? They’ll love you, honest. You’re a ghost! It’s pretty much the coolest thing ever, and that’s on top of you being, you know, uh. You. You’d be amazing even if you were alive."

"You're just trying to butter me up so you can get in my pants, aren't you?" Frank said, eyeing him suspiciously, but he was clearly fighting a smile.

"Is it working?" Gerard asked hopefully, and Frank rolled his eyes.

"Get the fuck out of here, asshole," he said, but he was smirking playfully and wrinkling his nose, and he liked Gerard. Gerard hadn't expected it to make life harder, Frank actually liking Gerard back, but this was beyond torture, knowing that Frank wanted him too and that he had some weird ghost-hang-up that was keeping them from dating, or whatever.

He dithered by the edge of the woods a while longer, wondering if he could swing a goodnight kiss somehow, but Frank just snickered, eyes shining, and then just... disappeared, melting back into the shadows of the forest. Totally gone between one blink and the next.

"Whoa," Gerard said, hushed, unable to keep from beaming. His not-boyfriend was so cool. But he really was going to be late to visit Mikey, and he didn't have time to stand here staring moonily at the forest, hoping for a glimpse of Frank between the trees.

He’d gotten a good way across the field, back towards the school, and was just dreamily lighting up a cigarette when he heard something. The crackling of something large, footsteps in the darkness. A deer, maybe? But then he saw it, a figure in white and red emerging from behind one of the parked trucks and coming towards him. It took a minute, of seeing it but not taking it in, before Gerard understood what was going on, and fuck. Fuck.

“There you are,” Ted said, terrifyingly casual, hands in his pockets. "Thought you'd never show. You campin' out or something, city boy?"

Noltes was standing at his shoulder, and Isaac was looking bored beside him. But there were only three of them. It wasn’t the whole team, or anything. There only had to be three of them, Gerard’s stupid internal voice said, while Gerard stood perfectly still, watching the sun hang on the horizon for a brief red moment before disappearing.

Дата добавления: 2014-12-23