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Gerard stared at himself in the mirror with a look of pure burning hatred clear on his face. Nothing was working. He had tried dieting, exercising, cutting his meals in half and giving the rest away to one of his other bandmates and nothing was fucking working and he hated himself for it.
The small bit of chub on his stomach stared back at him in the mirror, mocking him, making him feel like absolute shit. He wanted it gone, he had done anything a normal human being would do to lose weight, but no, he couldn’t be fucking normal, not even at something like weight loss.
He started declining food when it was offered, saying he ate at the last truck stop. It was so easy, even though they were all stuffed in a shitty van together, it was so fucking easy to become unknown. Sure, he would go with the guys when they went to a restaurant, and ate whenever someone called his bluff, but soon after he would drink himself into a stupor and throw up everything that he had consumed.
Gerard knew that it would destroy him, but he wouldn’t admit that fact to himself. He felt weaker at shows, but he never cared in his drunken state, still able to seem energetic and happy. No one was noticing, just as Gerard knew would happen. No one cared about him that much, maybe not even Mikey, who would often steal away after shows with unknown girls from the crowds.
He would always head back to the van after a show and crash, avoiding contact with anyone, even his best friends, until necessary. He would wake up, pretend to be hungover if he wasn’t, and stare out the window, and ignore the hate curdling in his stomach, eating away at him.
It was only when they could afford a motel room that Gerard ever took time to inspect himself, and that was very rare. It was three weeks since when he had first stopped eating when he was able to look again, and what he saw shocked him.
His body had shown signs of weakness over the past two weeks, the first week being easy, but now it was a struggle to sit up sometimes. His stomach had shrunk in size, just enough that his ribs could be seen poking through. His legs felt weak, arms barely able to pull his shirt off. But it wasn’t enough, not yet. He could still see fat, and he hated it, he wanted to cut it off his body and for it to be gone.
When they left the following day he was thankful he didn’t have anyway to stare at himself anymore.
As much as Gerard thought he was hiding it though, he wasn’t doing it as effectively as he thought he was. Frank knew, he saw how weak the front man was getting, how little energy he had. He wasn’t sure how to bring it up, not wanting to offend him, but worrying so god damn much.
He didn’t want Gerard to go through this. Frank knew that he had stopped eating, keeping careful count in his mind of each meal Gerard ate, and when he threw it up, and there was never enough time between the two to do any good. He was getting increasingly anxious whenever Gerard took too long in the washroom in a motel, the water running loudly, but Frank knew that he wasn’t showering.
It was another week after the night at the motel until Frank welled up enough courage to talk to him. “Gerard, what’s going on with you?” He asked when they were alone one night, everyone else in the van asleep, Gerard sitting up in the front with him as Frank drove. Gerard shrugged at the question, looking out into the night.
“Nothings going on with me.” He replied simply, and Frank sighed, turning down the already soft music.
“That’s bullshit, and both me and you know it.” Frank said, and fear struck in Gerard, though he prayed that Frank didn’t actually know what was going on. “You’ve been skipping meals, and don’t lie to me and try and say you ate at the last stop because I know that it’s bullshit.”
“I ate a yesterday with Ray and you, remember?” Gerard shot back, rolling his eyes and acting like Frank was overreacting, though there were sirens fucking screeching in his mind.
“Yeah, and then twenty minutes later I had to hold your hair back as you puked everywhere because of drinking that much, Gerard. I’m fucking worried about you, okay? Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.” Frank said, glancing over from the road for a second and fixing him with a stern glare, though it probably didn’t work because Frank was still shorter than Gerard even while they were sitting down.
“I’m fucking fine Frank, you’re not my damn mother so fuck off, okay?” Gerard snapped, glaring back at Frank, whose worry was only increased. Gerard never spoke like that to him, unless he was really fucking hung over, or literally wanting to kill a man.
“I know I’m not your mother, trust me, I wouldn’t want you as a child, but I’m your best friend, so I’m allowed to be fucking worried, okay? You might die if you don’t eat."
“I know what I’m doing Frank.” Gerard replied, his resolve loosening. He knew that he had no reason to be mad at Frank, but it felt better to be mad at someone, even if they had nothing to do with it.
“No you fucking don’t!” Frank almost yelled, louder than he intended, and Matt snorted in the back in his sleep, shutting them both up for a few minutes before Frank angrily started whispering. “You have no fucking clue what you are doing, because if you did you wouldn’t be doing this. You need to fucking eat Gerard, or you’re going to fucking die, and you know how fucking upset Mikey is going to be, and you know that it would tear him apart, and that isn’t even talking about how Ray, Matt and I are going to feel.” Frank was glaring at Gerard now, wanting him to understand fully why he had to stop this.
“Tell my why you thought this was necessary, why this was the right way to go.”
“I’ve tried dieting, I’ve tried exercising, I’ve tried cutting back on the amount I eat, but nothing is fucking working. I’m fat and disgusting, and I hate it, I hate myself because of this, and even though I’m losing weight I still feel like shit and- fuck, nevermind, I didn’t fucking say anything.” Gerard cut his rambling off, full blown panic taking him over, and making him want to open the door to the van and throw himself onto the highway, embarrassment burning him. “I don’t matter.”
“Don’t you ever fucking say that again.” Frank bit out, barely letting Gerard finish his sentence. He pulled the van over to the side of the road, no longer able to concentrate on the road. “You are worth so much to me Gerard, if no one else, and I know that you matter a fuck-ton to Mikey. That kid thinks the world of you Gee.” Frank said, his voice softening towards the end. He reached over, and squeezed his arm gently, trying to communicate how much he cared through his gaze.
“Mikey would survive, he’s a tough little shit. I just can’t live being with my body, I look fucking gross constantly, and can barely keep up on stage, while you’re doing just fucking fine, while still flipping around. I sound like a fucking teenage girl, oh my god.”
“I don’t give a shit, you don’t look gross, you look fucking amazing.” Frank replied, and didn’t let go of Gerards arm. The air between the two of them changed slowly, and Frank was so thankful that he was able to unbuckle the seat belt and slide across the seat, ending up on the weird bump thing in the middle of the two, but he didn’t care as he pulled Gerard into a hug.
The affections between the two had grown during the time they had been on tour together, and often times they had exchanged drunken kisses, but they never really did anything while sober. Frank knew he had feelings for Gerard, and Gerard had feelings for Frank, but they never really acted on it.
Though it was probably a shitty time to act on it, Frank felt at the time that it was now or never, and pulled away slightly, and kissing Gerard. There wasn’t any pulling away in surprise, or any regret between the two of them, it was something they both knew would happen eventually.
Things weren’t perfect automatically because they were now in a relationship, Gerard didn’t recover automatically just because Frank was there to kiss him. More times than Frank would like to admit, he had to force Gerard to get some food into him. It took a long time for Gerard to get better, but Frank was there the whole time, helping him through. There were fights over how much he should intervene in the singers life, but it worked out in the end. He slowly became more comfortable in his body, and started eating on a regular basis again without Franks help, though he was still there, watching over.
They only told Mikey after he had recovered, and of course, the younger brother was wracked with guilt for not being there, but also eternally grateful to Frank, and that made telling him that they were together a lot easier. Things were looking up, and Gerard had survived.