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Gerard never claimed to be the most observant person. He’s known for living inside his own head, often with his nose buried in either a comic or sketchbook. And in most social situations, people tend to see the bottom of his beer bottle more than his face. So what? Sometimes it takes a little longer for Gerard to notice the little details but he always pays attention when it's important.
The first time Gerard noticed Frank disappear for a few days was when Pencey split. He didn’t really think much of it, they were good friends but at that point didn’t spend every single day together. But one afternoon just days after the split, Frank walked into their shared practice lockout looking much more loose and like himself again.
On their first tour together with Frank as a full time member of the band, Gerard knows there’s an adjustment period to shape the band’s dynamic. Everyone’s getting used to how they mesh together, but after a particularly difficult soundcheck where Frank’s quick to snap at everyone, Gerard sees him seek out one of the other guys on the tour and they leave the club, returning just in time for doors open.
Gerard brushes those and a small number of other instances off, touring in a small van takes its toll and everyone has their thing that gets them through the day. Ray practices, Mikey and Gerard drink, Matt jokes, and Frank disappears.
Gerard is at his desk in the basement, leafing through an accumulated stack of comics. He’s thankful that the guys at the shop keep his pull list on standby when he’s gone on tour. The adventures of Wolverine take his mind off the usual post tour to-do list of menial tasks like laundry and scheduling band practice. They’ve been getting more and more pressure from a revolving door of major label A&R reps clambering to sign them and Gerard knows they’ve got to deal with that - likely before the end of summer. On top of that he also has suspicions that Brian’s trying to attach them on another tour heading to Europe before the year is out. But for now, Gerard’s tucked into his basement with a stack of new-to-him issues of X-Men and he has only a few free days before the cycle of touring picks up again.
He hears the door to the basement swing open and calls out, “What’s up Mikey?” before looking up. Instead of Mikey, Gerard sees Frank, head lowered and hands tucked into his hoodie, hovering around the door. Usually Frank runs down the steps to Gerard’s domain, when they’re not out playing shows this room is their number one hangout spot. Right now Frank’s lingering in the doorway, leaning against it and looking down at his shoes. Gerard’s seen Frank sick and hunched over plenty of times, but something in his gut tells him this isn't that. Something’s off.
“Frankie?” Gerard swivels his desk chair closer to the door.
“Gee,” Frank says, stumbling forward. Gerard crosses the room in three steps to catch him. He wraps both arms around Frank, taking his weight. Frank’s the perfect height to tuck right into Gerard’s neck, he feels Frank’s unsteady breathing against his throat as Frank’s hand grabs the front of Gerard’s t-shirt.
They stand there for a moment, Gerard holding Frank upright before he says, “I’ve got you, Frankie. Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Frank answers, but he clearly doesn’t sound okay. He sounds exhausted, his voice scratchy like he just finished playing a show. Gerard strokes up and down the sides of Frank’s arms, and leans his head back a little to catch Frank’s eye. He’s blinking heavily and when their eyes meet he looks glazed over, but not quite the same as how he looks drunk or high. This is different.
When Gerard feels that Frank is a little bit more steady under his own two feet, he leads Frank further into the basement and toward the desk to sit in the chair Gerard previously occupied. “I’m gonna get you some water, okay? I’ll be two minutes.” He sees Frank give a tiny nod in acknowledgement and sprints up the stairs toward the kitchen.
Trying to be as quick as possible, Gerard denies himself the luxury of time to think about what’s wrong. His first priority is to make sure Frank has not been hurt and that he stops looking so much like a spooked woodland creature and starts looking more like Gerard's too energetic best friend again.
Reentering the basement, Gerard quietly clicks the door shut to not startle Frank and hands him a glass of water. Frank reaches out and the sleeve to his hoodie rises up ever so slightly, enough for Gerard to see angry red bruise lines around his wrist. “You’re hurt?”
“It’s no big deal,” Frank shrugs it off, and takes a sip.
“It must be,” Gerard presses. “looks like someone had you by the wrist hard enough to cut off your circulation.”
“It’ll heal,” Frank counters.
Gerard lets Frank finish his water before trying to get more information out of him again. He squats in front of Frank, in effort to meet Frank's downward gaze. “Frank,” he reaches for Franks hand to hold his wrist loosely, “Who did this?”
“‘s not important. Kay? It’s what I asked for… just some rope.” He doesn’t look at Gerard’s face, but instead at Gerard’s hand circling his wrist.
Warning bells start chiming in Gerard’s head, he hasn’t dealt with this kind of thing before but he can guess at what Frank needs right now. His hand goes up from Frank’s wrist to his forearm and pats it.
“Come ‘ere.” He gently tugs at Frank’s arm and leads them over to his bed to sit.
Frank hesitates as he stands, instead of sitting beside Gerard on the bed, he lowers to the floor, “I just need to, uh, kneel for a bit.” He says softly, with the inflection of his voice unsure, almost like a question.
Gerard nods. “Okay,” He tries to sound solid in his reply. He grabs his pillow off the bed and presses it under Frank’s knees. He then leans over to the desk and picks up a comic book at random before sitting back down on the bed. Both him and Frank settle; Frank’s cheek rests against Gerard’s knee while he kneels on the pillow, and Gerard’s fingers card softly through Frank’s hair.
After a moment he picks up the comic with his free hand and let’s Frank interpret it as a sign to take all the time he needs. “I’m gonna read this, okay?” An idea pops in his head and he pauses before asking, “Would you like me to read it to you?”
“Please,” Frank responds, he finally feels more steady on his knees with his hands shoved into the pockets in front of his hoodie. Gerard’s voice begins to wash over him in a safe, familiar cadence.
During the last show they played Frank smashed a woefully out of tune guitar during “Best Day Ever.” Thankfully they have some sponsored gear now, but still - they don’t exactly have the means to be acquiring fresh guitars every couple of shows. Gerard knows that when Frank gets worked up and antsy his inner fire rages onstage and sometimes Frank will disappear after a show for a few hours and come back a little more subdued, fire temporarily quelled until the next time it surges again.
As Gerard continues reading, his mind runs at hundred miles an hour, trying to figure out how fired up Frank was two nights ago at that show compared to how he is now here, small - too small - crouched down into a ball on the floor.
Gerard’s been to art school, he’s heard plenty of stories from friends and classmates experimenting and getting into the BDSM scene. From Frank’s subdued state and the red bruising around his wrist, Gerard guesses that he’s a submissive, and more importantly, that he had not received proper aftercare. Gerard has been making it up on the spot since the moment Frank appeared at his door but he knows enough that he needs to be a solid presence for Frank to fall back on.
Gerard continues reading out loud, including the advertisements and back cover. When he finishes reading, he continues talking quietly about anything and everything. He keeps his voice low and steady while he continues to softly pet Frank’s hair and neck.
Just when Gerard thinks Frank may have dozed off, Frank slowly lifts his head up from Gerard’s knee. He brings a hand up to rub at his face and straightens up to roll his head and neck. He still doesn’t look up at Gerard, eyes trained to the floor. “Thanks Gee,” he says.
“Alright, Frank?”
Frank nods, looking toward the door, “I’m gonna go home. Eat something and sleep.”
“Should you be alone right now?” Gerard raises his eyebrow in question.
“I’ll be fine. Mom’s home,” Frank still won’t look up at Gerard. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Gerard confirms.
Frank gets up on his feet and heads out the door.
Gerard’s second hand art school crowd knowledge about this kind of scenario was thankfully enough to scrape by and help Frank once. But Gerard doesn’t believe in doing things by halves so he dives into research mode to learn more about what Frank has gotten himself into. From his reading and Internet sleuthing, he pieces together that Frank either attended a party or found someone to dominate him and participated in a scene that led to subdrop. And it was highly likely he hadn’t received any aftercare prior to showing up at Gerard’s door.
A small part of Gerard’s stomach leaped at the thought that he was the one Frank sought out when he felt raw and vulnerable. But the overwhelming feeling in his gut is the need to protect, and that brings down Gerard’s pride and turns it humble.
Gerard vows to not let anything like that happen to Frank again.
When they head out on the road again just over a week later, Gerard keeps a closer eye than usual on Frank, watching for different signs. They’ve lived inside each other’s pockets for about a year now, and Gerard has learned how to read most of Frank’s emotions. He knows when Frank’s hangry. He can hear the soft sniffles when Frank’s about to get sick. And he knows when Frank’s blissed out on good weed or drunk off booze. But now Gerard’s learning something new about Frank all over again, he’s learning how to tell when Frank needs to expel the built up energy inside of him and submit.
It’s several weeks before he sees Frank get riled up and antsy to the point of near destruction again. They’re nearly done with this current string of shows and everyone is bone tired, and tonight the entire set feels off. None of them are performing at their best and they stumble through their first three songs. Usually on off nights they find their rhythm again by “Sorrows” but this time it never comes together.
And in true Frank fashion, his frustration is a fiery tornado. He has a habit of injuring himself and while the stages they play are steadily getting bigger, Frank’s spatial awareness is murky at best whenever he’s in the moment. And from what Gerard observes as he tries to spit out the chorus to “Halos” it's not so much that Frank smashes another guitar, it's that the guitar smashes him, and he nearly lands into Otter’s drum kit and just narrowly avoids taking Mikey down with him.
During load out, Gerard takes Frank aside before Frank has the chance to snap at someone about their bad show and says, “Don't go looking for whoever you seek out to blow off steam.”
“What?” Frank asks.
Gerard’s hand wraps around Frank’s wrist and squeezes, “You know what I’m talking about.”
Frank’s gaze immediately falls to his shoes and his shoulders slump. “Gerard. You don’t get it, I need it-”
“Come to the van with me, the rest of the guys are gonna be drinking and hanging out for a while.” Gerard asks, “Please, Frank.”
“You don’t know what I need,” Frank’s still looking down at his shoes but manages to sound defiant.
“You can tell me. But I don’t trust whoever you went to before, not when you came home like you did last time.”
“That was one time,” Frank whines.
“One time too many,” Gerard says as he tightens his grip on Frank’s wrist. “I can’t make you, but I’d like for you to let me help. I’ll make it good for you.”
Frank looks up from his shoes to Gerard. Gerard sees his cheeks are still flush from post-show sweat, his eyes slightly unhinged as he assesses Gerard, the frustrated lines on his face morph into a look of consideration. “Fine, you can try.” It sounds more like a challenge. Make me. Frank’s eyes say.
“Have a smoke,” Gerard hands Frank a lighter, “And meet me in the van in five minutes.”
Frank nods and takes the lighter. Gerard releases his wrist and Frank pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and lights up.
Gerard dashes back inside the venue and seeks out Ray, telling him that he’s gonna talk to Frank and asks to give them some space for a little bit. Assured he’s bought them at least half an hour alone, Gerard heads to the van and grabs a few new things he’s started carrying around in his backpack since the night Frank showed up at his basement.
Just as Gerard’s ready, the van door slides open and Frank joins Gerard in the back row, hands tucked into his hoodie. He chews on his lip ring and looks anxious, a stark contrast to just minutes ago when they talked out behind the club.
“I don’t know what all you like or need,” Gerard says as he puts his sketchbook on Frank’s knee, “But I made a list of things that are my limits.”
Frank skims Gerard’s bullet point list and nods. “That’s fine. I do like being tied up. Painplay. Sensory stuff. Um, sometimes toys.”
Gerard hums in agreement, “Okay. We can do those things. Anything else?”
“Mostly I just need to be taken out of my head a bit. Submitting helps, you know?” Frank explains.
“And do you, um..” Gerard tries to ask.
“Let them fuck me?” Frank guesses. “Yeah, sometimes. Not all the time. But yeah, I like that too.”
Gerard’s had his share of sleeping with guys and he gets it. He considers Frank attractive, but it's not conducive to the band to harbor feelings for your rhythm guitarist so it was something he always compartmentalized to the back of his mind. “Okay,” he says. “Safe word?”
“Jersey. Yours?”
“Manhattan,” Gerard says. “We don’t have a lot of time, but would you like to do something now?”
Frank nods and takes a deep breath. “Can you,” he holds out his hands, “tie me up?” he asks.
“Okay. Are you ready?” Gerard asks. When Frank nods Gerard asks again, “I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes.”
“Good, Frankie. On your knees, back to me,” Gerard instructs. He’s thankful for Frank’s smaller stature and that it's easier for him to maneuver around in the van. He settles on his knees in the space between the seat rows and his hands automatically clasp behind his back.
“Ten minutes. I know you’ve done this before but we don’t have time for me to learn where your limits are for myself yet,” Gerard says. “Can you do ten minutes, Frankie?”
“Yes,” he answers.
“Close your eyes,” Gerard grabs the pair of handcuffs he placed on the top of his backpack and fixes them around Franks' wrists. Once they click into place Gerard speaks again, he thinks back to Frank kneeling in front of him in his room and how he talked to Frank through the whole thing, giving Frank something to focus on.
“Focus on my voice, Frank. You’re doing so well. I need you to breathe. In slowly, just like that. Good. Hold it, now out,’ Gerard pets Frank’s hair and observes the rise and fall of Frank’s chest as he breathes. Gerard instructs him through breathing for a little while longer and he can feel Frank’s body relax and settle into the position.
Time seems to pass slowly, but Gerard keeps a careful eye on the wristwatch he is thankful he had the foresight to place next to him in the seat. He’s explaining the plot to a comic he read recently to Frank as he continues to run a hand through Frank’s hair.
When time’s up, Gerard thinks that he better not push it. He knows it's a matter of time until the rest of the band makes their way to the van. They’re not staying in this city overnight, and will drive toward a truckstop near the stateline before stopping for a few hours of sleep.
“Frankie?” He says slightly louder than he’s spoken since they entered the van. “Time’s up. How do you feel?”
Frank hums, his head tilts back to lean closer to Gerard, “Mm, good Gee.”
“You were so good for me, I’m gonna unlock these now.” Gerard grabs the little key and unclicks the handcuffs. His hand rubs at Frank’s wrist, “Come here, Frankie.”
Frank rolls his shoulders, feeling the stretch from sitting in a cramped position. He climbs up toward the seat and sits next to Gerard, leaning into his side. Gerard’s right arm comes to wrap around his shoulders and Frank rests his head against Gerard’s chest. “Thank you,” he whispers.
“And thank you for letting me help,” Gerard presses a kiss to the top of Frank’s head. “I could murder whoever just left you like that.”
Frank nods into Gerard’s chest. In the past year since joining My Chem, he’s learned that Gerard has his back, he knows it like he knows the sky is blue. But now he knows just how far Gerard would go to keep him safe. “Appreciate it, but we don’t need you getting thrown in jail.”
Frank’s hand clutches at Gerard’s shirt and Gerard’s free hand comes up to rub at the imprint the handcuffs left on his wrist. Frank reaches up to kiss Gerard lightly on the lips, like a seal to end their scene. He tucks his head back down and lets the feeling of Gerard’s breathing lull him to sleep.
Gerard smiles down at Frank in his arms. He closes his eyes and follows Frank into sleep. The fire’s been tamed for now and even though Gerard’s still learning the signs, he knows that he’ll never let Frank get burned by it again.