Chapter Text
Long after their shared bowl of popcorn had reached the last kernel—Ray and Mikey both passed out halfway through the movie—Gerard and Frank snuck quietly out to the dorm balcony to smoke a cigarette. Gerard leaned back against the railing, while Frank made the decision (an incredibly stupid one at that) to sit on it while he smoked his own cigarette. Gerard lit his first, taking a long and deep first drag, letting the smoke fill up his lungs, like a baby’s first breath of fresh air. Exhaling, then taking a sip of his mug filled with Diet Coke, he glanced over at Frank. He seemed to have lost his lighter, given the fact that he was patting random areas of his body quite frantically.
Gerard let out a dry laugh. “Here,” he said, holding his cigarette out to Frank to light up.
“Thanks,” He said through the side of his mouth that wasn’t holding the cigarette in place. He leaned down with his cigarette, connecting it to Gerard’s, taking a lasting first hit.
He could feel the heat radiating from Frank’s hands when he held them around Gerard’s to shield his cigarette. He felt the, now almost familiar, sizzle of electricity coursing through every inch of his body, spreading from his hand. If Frank had stayed there any longer, hands hovering just barely atop Gerard’s, he feared he might be electrocuted. He knew it wasn’t possible, but the presence of Frank so close shot static throughout Gerard’s whole being, and even made his brain feel just a tad fuzzy.
Gerard stared down into his mug, trying desperately not to notice how the faint orange glow of their cigarettes cast angular and rich shadows on Frank’s face. It made his skin look like the leaves of a tree, just barely kissed by the first chill of the autumn season. Gerard’s hands went ice cold and clammy, wanting so terribly to blame it on the nip in the air; knowing full well he couldn’t, because it was hardly there in the first place. He pulled his jacket tight around body, gaining the attention of Frank, the very last thing he wanted at the moment.
“Cold?” He asked through an exhale of smoke. The skin on the back of Gerard’s neck prickled and burned at the way his voice went deeper than normal when he spoke through the exhale.
“A little. It’s nice, though.” Gerard offered a tiny smile, hoping to make his statement more believable.
Frank made a humming noise in response, before hopping off the balcony railing and setting his cigarette down in the same spot. Before Gerard could ask what he was doing, Frank had disappeared into the dorm, appearing just moments later with the Halloween themed blanket Gerard had been snuggled into throughout the movie. Frank took a few tentative steps towards Gerard, then gently draped the blanket over his shoulders. He almost flinched at the crackle of energy when Frank’s fingertips grazed the side of his neck.
“Is that any better?”
“Yeah,” Gerard replied in a whisper, pulling on one side of the blanket to lift it a little higher. “Thanks.”
In his head, he thanked any God that would listen that it was so dark outside, Frank wouldn’t notice he was redder than a maple leaf at this point.
“You and your brother seem really close.” Frank said, hopping back up on the railing.
“Like I said, he’s not that much younger than me, so we’ve pretty much always been like that.” Gerard worried at his lip, unsure how to keep any sort of conversation going with Frank. It was different than when they were talking about music, because Frank did most of the talking. Now, the focus was almost entirely on Gerard, and he wasn’t sure what to say that would pass as acceptable conversation fuel.
“Must be nice.” Frank replied through the last drag of his cigarette—he really needed to stop doing that, it made Gerard go crazy inside and out.
“I guess so. He’s a lot to handle sometimes, but you honestly just learn to go with the Mikey Flow.” This earned a giggle from both boys; maybe he could keep this up after all. “He says some weird shit a lot of the time, though.”
“Yeah. When he said he ‘approved’, I was a little caught off guard, honestly. Probably more than a little.”
“I could kinda tell. You can just ignore him when he says stuff like that, though. He’s always trying to sabotage my game. Or lack thereof, actually.”
“You?” Frank said through a hearty laugh, “You have ‘game’?”
“I do, in fact, have game.” Gerard narrowed his eyebrows, while Frank laughed till his sides hurt.
“Alright, I’ll bite.” Frank said, after finishing his laughing session. “Let’s see it, then. Mr. Gerard Game.”
“Oh, fuck off.” Gerard rolled his eyes, hoping to distract Frank from the smile slowly forming near the corner of his lips.
“That’s it? ‘Fuck off’?”
“Y’know what,” Gerard began, stubbing out his long finished cigarette.
He then went on a tangent about how he does, for certain, have game, but that today was just a bad game day for him. Something about unbalanced chakras, or the Mets lost to the Dodgers today, or Mercury retrograde; he kept making up excuses on the spot until Frank almost fell off the fucking balcony because he was laughing way too hard for his balance to be trusted.
“So, I’m still not hearing anything about you actually having game. All I’m hearing is different admissions to having no game, you just don’t want to say it in so many words.”
“Why would I admit to falsehoods, Frank?” Gerard inquired, fake annoyed at the fact that Frank had seen right through the whole charade (even though it was extremely obvious from the beginning).
“You’re not. You’d be admitting to the truth, Gee.” They both froze, both equally as horrified as the other. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—Oh shit, I’m sorry man.”
“No, it’s alright! Most of my friends call me Gee, so it’s not your fault if you picked it up from one of them.”
“Oh, okay. Cool.” Frank rolled his lip ring around with his tongue, and Gerard felt his knees go weak at the sight. It was completely unfair that someone could be so effortlessly attractive.
The silence that followed wasn’t entirely awkward, rather mildly uncomfortable. It lingered in the air like smoke that wouldn't dissipate. Gerard opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. What would he even say now?
“It’s okay to not have any game, Gerard.” Frank began, clearing the smoke like a subtle breeze. “I don’t really have any, either.” He let out a laugh, but the kind usually follows a self deprecating comment.
“I knew it!” Gerard exclaimed.
-
Wednesdays and Thursdays were Gerard’s days off, which usually consisted of him snuggled up in the depths of his bedsheets with whatever comic he was fixated on that week. Unfortunately for him, Frank was up early—far earlier than any normal person would be after being up until almost 4 in the morning—and rearranging his side of the bedroom. Gerard groaned at the sound of Frank busying himself with books and guitar gear and whatever the fuck else he’d brought with him into their room.
“Heh, good morning sleepyhead.” He said cheerfully. The sudden nickname made Gerard flush and his stomach did somersaults. It was far too early for this much emotion.
“I haven’t had coffee yet. Stop talking.” Gerard said from under the cover of his sheets, icy and sharp like a snow storm.
“I figured you’d say that.” Frank replied, making a sort of hum noise afterwards. Gerard heard the soft patter of Frank disappearing from their bedroom.
Gerard took this as a sign to try and fall back asleep, so he rolled over under the sheets and adjusted himself into a comfy position, before feeling a gentle tap on his shoulder moments later. Smelling the familiar warm and comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee, he peeked out from under the sheets. He was greeted by Frank, smiling brighter than the sun and handing him his favorite coffee mug.
Gerard whispered a “Thanks” and took the coffee, taking a rather large sip. He set it down on the bedside table and rolled back over underneath his sheets, letting out another groan, still not quite ready to fully get up and start his day. He was much too tired from last night's shenanigans, and he didn’t have any classes today, so there wasn’t anything stopping him from staying in bed and sleeping all day. Nothing, except the fact that he was graduating soon, and he still didn’t know what he was going to do with his life after college.
His complete and utter lack of a decision for a career path loomed over his everyday life; a perpetual rain cloud, threatening to become a monsoon and destroy anything and everything at a moment’s notice. It was like standing on a beach in the sand, a tsunami hovering just above his head. It stared down at him—frightening, hostile, and unmoving.
Despite his paralyzing anxiety, he managed to drift back into the peaceful lull of sleep (though the cinnamon pine cones Frank had brought into their room could’ve been a contributor to this, but he didn’t want to think too deeply about that).
In the silence of his dream, he felt a little more calm about all the stressors in his waking life; things were just easier to handle if he was asleep. He was standing in some kind of forest, but everything was tinted an odd—and if anything, menacing—shade of blue, mixed with green. The sky looked like someone tried to color it with sunglasses on. It was dim, and lacked any real distinguishing colors; rather, it looked like a cup of used paint water. The air smelled sweet, like tree sap and petrichor, and the earth beneath his shoes was damp as he moved throughout the forest.
He knew he was dreaming, but the atmosphere of the forest was so inviting, despite its melancholy hue; he wished he could just stay forever.
There was something that was off, though. Gerard couldn’t quite place what it was, but it was a gut feeling that something bad was about to happen. He usually liked being right, but this time was an exception. There was a flash of light, and then everything went pitch black.
Suddenly, he was watching a funeral service, hovering just above the small crowd. He shut his eyes tight immediately, feeling like he was intruding on something he wasn’t supposed to be a part of. The air felt tense, and Gerard wanted nothing more than to return to the forest from the previous moments of his dream. But something pried his eyes back open as the priest began to speak to the mourning friends and family. It was his funeral. The friends and family he was hovering over were his, and they were all crying—for him.
He let out a shriek, and began to desperately yell for someone to see he wasn’t dead. He was there, right in front of them. Right there! Why couldn’t they hear him?
“Look at me! I'm not dead! I’m right here!” He cried, but to no avail. He was dead, and now there wasn’t anything he could do.
He screamed and cried out—nothing changed.
Before he even realized, his surroundings had changed; he was still crying, but he was being held. It was a warm and tight embrace, something he hadn’t experienced for a long time. He didn’t know who it was, but at that moment, he couldn’t care less. He wrapped his arms around the person’s torso, pulling them closer. They smelled sweetly of cinnamon and coffee beans, and it calmed Gerard, to the point where he had finally begun to steady his breathing. Through teary, clouded eyes, he glanced up at the person embracing him.
Before his eyes had adjusted, he thought it must be Mikey—who else would be holding him when he was having a nightmare?—but he was shocked to say the least when he realized it wasn’t. It was Frank, and his expression was just as equally terrified.
“You,” Frank began, gentle and sweet, even though his voice cracked a bit. “Um, you had a nightmare.” He swallowed the tension in his mouth, trying to calm himself.
“I’m, fuck, I’m s—” Gerard stumbled over the words of an apology, the syllables caught somewhere in his lungs, just out of reach.
“Don’t apologize; it’s alright. I promise.” Frank replied, squeezing Gerard ever so slightly to try and offer additional comfort. “Just breathe.”
Frank rubbed circles around the middle of Gerard’s back and shoulder blades, whispering calming sentiments in his ear as Gerard—almost unconsciously, though he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying this endearing side of Frank—nuzzled in closer to him, just under his collarbone. They stayed like that for quite some time; their breaths syncing together, gentle and slow. But Frank never let go of Gerard, even after he heard soft little snores coming from the older boy. He held Gerard in his arms just a little longer, making sure the boy was asleep, before slowly settling him back into the tangles of his bedsheets.
He lay there, Gerard still tangled up in his arms and fast asleep, as he felt his own eyes betraying his ability to stay awake. It wasn’t long before Frank had disappeared into his own land of dreams, Gerard still curled up into his arms.