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Gerard doesn’t care about soulmates. He really doesn’t: the entire concept of being tied to someone for the rest of his life makes him uncomfortable on a good day. And besides, people put too much significance into it, making it all sound like being soulmates with someone has an obligatory romantic and-or sexual subtext. Which, obviously, leads to ignoring the fact that most people have bonds with multiple people, and not everything has to be connected with sexuality. It was literally one of the first things in one of those educational books for kids Gerard’s parents bought him when he was old enough to start asking questions they didn’t feel comfortable answering. Soulmate bond is not inherently sexual. One of your close relatives can be your soulmate, it doesn’t mean the relationship itself has to change. Gerard made sure to remember this. Just in case.
Which obviously didn’t stop him from freaking out when his first dream came and he realised that he was sharing it with Mikey of all people. Mikey, who turned thirteen just the week before that, was just as freaked out as Gerard, to the point when the brothers spent an entire month avoiding each other at all costs, and it was only when Gerard collapsed from exhaustion in the middle of the school day (he stopped sleeping entirely at some point, too scared of what he was going to find in his dreams) that their parents decided to confront them. If Gerard ever had to name the exact moment when he stopped waiting for his other soulmates, if he even had ones, to show themselves, he would probably pick this one.
Not that it matters that much to him. It’s not that he feels left out while his classmates can barely contain their excitement over the anticipation. By the age of eighteen most of them have already encountered their first soulmate, while the only one Gerard has is Mikey — not something to be proud of when most of the people tie soulmates with romantic partners, and Gerard is already an outcast, the last thing he needs is to be known as the guy who fucks his own brother. The whole thing is overrated anyway. Gerard will be just fine on his own. No need to worry about him.
Besides, Gerard has other things to preoccupy himself with. For example, that asshole from AP Lit who somehow manages to get higher grades than him while doing nothing. The asshole’s name is Frank Iero, and he is one of the worst people Gerard ever had the displeasure of meeting. He’s loud, abrasive, he never listens in class and yet finishes in the top half of the scoreboard after every test, and, to make things worse, he is determined to make Gerard his best friend. And the thing is, Gerard doesn’t want to make friends. All he wants is to graduate, and then, hopefully, he will be accepted into the university in New York and will never have to go back to Belleville. He doesn't have time for making friends. Even if Frank is actually pretty cute when he thinks nobody is looking and lets the mask slip. Not that Gerard was secretly watching him. Absolutely not.
In hindsight, Gerard should have known how this was going to end, but he was so busy trying to keep up with Frank he completely forgot about anything other than AP Lit. Which is the reason why he finds himself awake long after he was supposed to go to bed. He has an essay on Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead due Monday, and even after realising how much he really despises postmodern literature he isn't about to give up, even if it means spending the entire night working on his assignment. He will not give Frank Iero the satisfaction.
The words on the screen are getting blurry. Gerard rubs his eyes and yawns, desperately trying to stay awake. He is just going to let his eyes rest for a moment. Just a few seconds. He’s almost done with the essay, he just needs to write an ending, and then he can do some proofreading in the morning before sending the result to the teacher.
When he opens his eyes again he isn't in his room. In fact, he isn't even inside anymore; instead, he finds himself atop of a cliff, facing a brightly lit meadow down below, and somehow he knows he is in a Dream with the capital D, and he really doesn't have time for this, he needs to wake up and finish that godforsaken essay. Why does it always have to happen at the worst possible time?
Someone is standing behind him. Gerard takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, trying to make himself wake up, but his attempt is futile. No wonder — this is not his dream after all, he’s trapped here until the other one wakes up. One of the worst parts of the entire “dreaming with your soulmate” thing: the entire dream is dictated by the one who fell asleep first. Gerard has heard stories about people getting stuck in a nightmare for hours because their soulmates were psychopaths getting off on other people’s misery. He thinks he even heard of someone trying to recreate the entire Saw franchise, but that one was probably made up. What matters right now is that someone is keeping him in their dream and Gerard is completely at their mercy.
The other person doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t try to get closer to him, and Gerard hopes that they also don’t want to meet him just yet. That would have been nice. They could agree on dealing with this later, when Gerard is done with his essay.
“Okay, listen,” he sucks in a breath and turns around. “I’m sorry, but I’m kinda in the middle of something, so if you could—”
He stops mid-sentence. In front of him, staring at him with wide eyes, is Frank Iero. His hair is much longer and messier than Gerard remembers, and he’s wearing an old T-shirt three times his size, and he doesn’t say anything, instead just gaping at Gerard as if it was the first time he saw him in his entire life.
Gerard lets out a short barking laugh. Of course. Of course, out of eight billion people, it had to be Frank. Because the universe doesn't want to give Gerard a break, ever.
“Well, this is awkward.”
Frank is the first one to overcome the initial shock. He grins in a failed attempt to hide his nervousness, and Gerard swears he could punch him in this moment. It wouldn’t deal any real damage aside from maybe hurt feelings, but it would be so satisfying.
“Can we please do it some other time?” Gerard grumbles. “Seriously, like, tomorrow night, maybe? Or on Saturday. I’m free on Saturday.”
Frank’s grin grows wider. “So it’s a date, I take it?”
“No!” Gerard huffs in frustration. “It’s not a date, it’s— can you just— just wake up and let me go? I need to finish that fucking essay, and I really don’t have time for this!”
He half-expects Frank to force him to stay. This is how it usually goes, right? The stronger one makes the rules. But Frank’s grin falters, and he takes a small step back before sighing:
“Okay. See you tomorrow, then.”
And then Gerard wakes up. For a few moments he stares at his laptop screen, at the essay he is now certain he will not finish by tomorrow. It feels so meaningless now. He spent several years trying to convince himself that these dreams meant nothing, that from the very beginning it was nothing but another weird quirk of nature, like tailbone, appendix and male nipples, and yet he can't shake off the feeling that there might be something more to Frank than he was ready to admit. He tries to think about something else, something that isn't connected with Frank, but fails miserably.
Why does he feel so competitive when it comes to Frank anyway? They only share one class this year, and Gerard has no idea what Frank’s GPA looks like in the first place. Maybe Literature is the only subject he's good at and he's failing every single class apart from it, and Gerard should be more focused on his own grades instead of thinking about Frank’s — even if they just shared a dream, it doesn't mean they have a future together.
So why can't he stop?
***
Gerard doesn't tell Mikey about the dream. Doesn't get the chance to: they both are too busy getting ready for school in the morning, and then, just as Gerard finds the courage to tell Mikey about the events of the last night, he finds Frank waiting for him next to his locker. A wide grin appears on Frank’s face when he notices Gerard approaching him, and Gerard wishes he could turn invisible right now.
“Hey, Gerard.” Frank leans against the locker next to Gerard’s. He is desperately trying to look cool, to the point when it becomes painfully obvious. “How's the essay?”
Gerard immediately cuts him off.
“No.”
He makes a point of not looking directly at Frank. He wants to send a clear signal: he is not interested. Not even remotely. He didn't spend the past night thinking about Frank and the dream they shared, about what he should do now that they both know they share a certain bond.
Mikey gives Gerard a long hard look.
“Right,” he mutters. “I’ll leave you two to it.”
With these words he disappears in the direction of the nearest classroom, leaving Gerard alone with Frank. Traitor.
“Come on, I just wanted to know if you finished the essay, no need to be rude.”
“I didn't,” Gerard grumbles.
“No way, me neither!” Frank lets out a short chuckle.
Why can't he just lay off?
“I’m almost done with it.”
“Lucky you, I haven't even started yet,” Frank leans closer to him. “Which topic did you choose?”
“None of your business.”
“Dude, come on—”
Gerard slams the locker shut and demonstratively turns his back to Frank. All he needs to do is endure the next few months, and then he will be free. Free from school, free from Belleville, and, more importantly, he will be far enough from Frank to eventually forget about him. It scares him for some reason: the idea that he is going to leave Frank behind. Gerard tries to shake it off.
Frank continues chasing him throughout the day. Well, maybe chasing is not the right word, but he does seem to hang around Gerard even though he doesn’t try to establish contact anymore, and during lunch break he finds an excuse to sit with Gerard and Mikey, and the entire situation is getting progressively weirder. They don’t even talk, Frank just keeps following Gerard around like a puppy, happy to be there, and Gerard knows he should put this to an end, that he should tell Frank to stop following him, but for some reason he can’t find the right words no matter how hard he tries.
“Should I talk to him?” Mikey asks at the end of the school day, too tired of whatever it is Frank is trying to do to keep his mouth shut.
“No,” Gerard sighs. “I’ll do it myself.”
Mikey raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
Why wouldn’t Gerard be sure? All he needs to do is find the right words, it shouldn't be that hard.
And yet he doesn’t say anything. He might be jealous of Frank’s ability to breeze through the AP literature course like it’s a walk in the park, but it doesn’t mean he wants to hurt his feelings. Frank obviously believes that their shared dream was a sign that Gerard is his one and only — not an uncommon misconception, but it doesn’t mean that he has to follow Gerard around waiting to be noticed.
And so it goes. Gerard soon gets used to Frank’s constant presence — they even begin exchanging short greetings in the mornings, have brief conversations from time to time; nothing too serious, definitely nothing personal, they mostly talk about school and complain about the assholes on the football team, but it’s more than they used to talk for the past few years. They don’t dream together anymore, and for that Gerard is thankful. He isn’t sure he is ready to handle the entire soulmate situation. Frank doesn’t mention it either, so he might be content with the relationship they have right now, or at least he’s waiting for the moment Gerard is ready to take the next step — if he is ever ready. It’s still too confusing, Gerard has no idea how he is supposed to feel about Frank. How much of what he might be feeling is real and how much of it is his mind playing tricks on him.
What Gerard notices, however, is that Frank’s grades are plummeting. He has never been the kind to pay attention in class but now it seems like he isn’t even trying to pretend. He fails pop quizzes, he stops doing any homework — can’t even be bothered to read a ten pages long story for the class, — and Gerard knows for a fact he makes a point of not answering the questions during tests. Not making more mistakes than usual, not skipping some of the questions: he outright refuses to give any answers at all. Which is weird. Which is more than weird; it crosses the line between weird and goes straight into the “possibly frightening” territory.
Gerard should probably do something. Whatever is going on with Frank isn’t normal, and even if he suddenly decided he doesn’t want to be taking the class anymore it doesn’t mean he has to fail it on purpose.
For some reason Gerard has a feeling that this sudden change in Frank’s behaviour is directly connected with him. He hopes he is mistaken. He might be overreacting. It might be something happening at home — Gerard knows that Frank’s parents are divorced, maybe his mother has met someone else and Frank struggles with these changes. Maybe this is something he has to figure out on his own. Maybe Gerard will only make things worse if he gets involved.
It’s the middle of November when Gerard has another dream. He’s at the top of the same cliff above the meadow, but something feels off this time. Maybe it’s the wind — Gerard is convinced the air was still last time, — or maybe it’s the clouds covering most of the sky. Frank is waiting for him, sitting on the edge of the cliff, staring somewhere in the distance. Gerard sits next to him without a word, and suddenly realises that this is the closest they have been since the last dream. Their hands almost touch.
“Hey,” Gerard says, not sure how to start. If they should talk at all.
“Hey,” Frank mumbles. He doesn’t look at Gerard, and if he didn’t reply to him Gerard might have thought Frank didn’t notice him.
He needs to ask. He won’t be able to look Frank in the eyes in the waking world if he doesn’t ask.
“What’s going on?”
Frank shrugs. “Nothing.”
“Come on, something’s wrong.” Gerard tries to touch his hand but Frank swiftly moves away — by a mere inch, the cliff edge is too small for him to put significant distance between Gerard and himself, but he manages to make a point. “What’s going on with you?”
“I told you, nothing!”
“Then why are you—”
“Why am I what?” Frank snaps. “I’m fine. Everything’s fucking fine.”
“But—”
But they’re here now. Sharing a dream. And Gerard knows that sometimes these dreams are closer to distress signals, a way to reach out to another person in the time of need. Which means that something has been bothering Frank enough for his psyche, or the secret soulmate sense, or whatever it is to activate something in his brain.
Frank needs Gerard. And for some reason he is refusing to tell why.
“You’re having trouble with AP Lit,” Gerard says quietly.
Frank tilts his head and lets out a quiet growl.
“Stop it. It’s none of your business.”
“I just wanna help.”
Frank scoffs. “You can’t.”
“You’re not telling me what’s the problem, of course I can’t!” Gerard takes a deep breath. “Frank, please. Let me try at least.”
For the first time during their conversation Frank looks directly at him.
“Why do you even care?”
“Why wouldn’t I care?!”
“Because you hate me.”
There is a long heavy silence.
And the thing is, Gerard has plenty of feelings when it comes to Frank, but none of them are even close to hatred. Frank is loud, and annoying, and so, so stubborn, and he talks too much sometimes, and he doesn’t know what personal space is, but he also seems to always know what to say, and he has this stupid dorky laugh that Gerard actually finds pleasant even if nobody else does, and he can be surprisingly sweet and gentle when he doesn’t try to appear cooler than he is, and he never kills spiders even though he hates them, and sometimes Gerard wonders what it would be like to kiss him—
Goddammit.
“I don’t hate you,” he says, barely audible.
Frank scoffs. “Yeah, right.” And then he adds: “Should’ve fucking known.”
“Frank…”
“You’re my first, you know,” Frank says bitterly. “I thought you might actually like me now, or, y’know, at least stop hating me, but I guess I was fucking wrong.”
“I never hated you, Frank, I—”
What can he possibly say? That what he thought was jealousy turned out to be an obsession, an attempt at covering up his true feelings? That he never wanted to make Frank believe he hated him just because Frank was better than him at something? Or maybe he should stop pretending and just tell Frank the truth before it's too late.
And then he wakes up, before he has a chance to say anything.
For a few moments Gerard stares in the space in front of him. The house is still quiet, and, when Gerard takes a look at his phone screen, he finds out it's barely a few minutes past three in the morning.
He makes a decision almost instantly; gets out of bed, picks up his jeans and a T-shirt from the floor and tries to get dressed without making any noise before walking up the stairs. His parents are going to be so angry if they find out he tried to sneak out of the house in the middle of the night but Gerard has to make things right. Something is telling him that it can’t wait, that in the morning Frank will refuse to talk to him at all, if he even shows up for school.
Gerard manages to put on his shoes and jacket almost without a sound. He stops for a second, listening to any suspicious noise upstairs, and then slips outside.
Frank’s house is thirty minutes away from Gerard's. Gerard manages to cross the distance in twenty three minutes. Some part of him is worried that he doesn't know which window is Frank’s and that he’d have to knock at the door and potentially wake Mrs Iero up, but the problem solves itself when he sees a light in one of the second floor windows. Frank must still be awake. Gerard doubts his mother would stay up at this time of night. He has a different problem now, however: he has no idea how to attract Frank’s attention without alerting the entire neighbourhood.
Gerard looks at the ground in an attempt to find something heavy enough to throw at Frank’s window but all he sees is dirt and half-melted snow. Well, it's not like he has any better options.
The snowball Gerard makes consists mostly of dirt. Gerard pays it no mind: it takes what it takes, and as long as it gets Frank’s attention he doesn't mind getting dirty.
His first attempt is unsuccessful: the snowball, if it can even be called that, doesn't reach the destination and splashes against the wall, leaving a large dark stain. So Gerard tries again. And again, until he finally manages to hit the window, nearly breaking it. For a few seconds it doesn't seem to work, and Gerard is almost ready to make another attempt when the window opens and Frank all but shouts:
“Dude, stop it!”
“We gotta talk!” Gerard shouts back.
“You’re gonna wake Mom up!”
“I don't care!”
Frank slams the window shut. Gerard squats and starts gathering dirt and snow for another snowball. He is almost done when the front door opens and Frank appears at the porch, still in his pajamas.
“Get in,” he whispers. “Come on, before Mom sees you.”
He doesn't need to repeat himself: Gerard gets inside in record time, allows Frank to guide him upstairs, to his room. It’s small, smaller than Gerard’s basement, with walls covered in band posters. The bed is unmade, the table is accumulating clutter, in the corner Gerard notices a guitar. He isn't even surprised Frank could play: he does look like the type.
Frank plops on the bed and gives Gerard a stern look.
“What do you want?” he grumbles.
Gerard isn't sure if he is supposed to sit next to him — Frank seems tense, like he could lash out at any moment if provoked, so Gerard remains standing.
“I don't hate you,” he says. “That's pretty much all I wanted to say. I don't hate you, I never hated you, and— and I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”
Frank is silent for so long Gerard seriously begins to worry he is about to get punched in the face. But instead all Frank says is:
“Why are you such an asshole?”
“What did I do?” Gerard sighs. He is so tired of fighting. “Just tell me what I did wrong.”
“Everything,” Frank hisses. “Fucking— I thought you’d notice me now, but you still don’t give a shit, and I don’t know if you really hate me that much or if I’m just an idiot!”
“What are you—” Gerard sucks in a breath. “Frank, if it’s about the AP Lit…”
“And here it is again!” Frank grumbles. “I don’t give a shit about AP Lit! I don’t even fucking need it, I enrolled only because I wanted to spend time with you!”
Oh.
Oh, no.
Gerard lets out a nervous giggle. Frank throws him a murderous look.
“Don’t,” he scowls. “You don’t give a shit about me, I got that part, but don’t you fucking dare laugh at me.”
“I’m not laughing at you,” Gerard murmurs. “It’s just— I thought you were trying to piss me off because you’re better than me.”
Frank scoffs. “Only at cheating.”
Gerard gapes at him.
“What?!”
“I was cheating,” Frank shrugs. “I thought that if I looked smart you might notice me but you either ignored me or were a complete asshole, so,” he stares at his feet. “Doesn’t fucking matter. I’ll fail it, you won’t have to see me again anymore.”
“No, wait.”
Gerard goes down on his knees, takes Frank’s hand in his. Frank still doesn’t look at him, and Gerard is almost sure he is waiting for the moment Gerard leaves so that he could break down properly.
“I want to see you again,” Gerard whispers. “You don’t need to fail the class because of me.”
Frank shakes his head.
“Stop messing with me,” he rasps. “Please, just fucking stop. Go home or whatever, I don’t care anymore.”
It’s now or never. If Gerard doesn’t say it now, he’s never going to forgive himself, and Frank is going to do something stupid because, if he was reckless enough to waste his time on a course he doesn’t need, he is fully capable of ruining his life even further.
Gerard reaches out and cups Frank’s face in his hands. Frank flinches and stares at him, and suddenly the words get stuck in Gerard’s throat, and he can’t make a single sound, and Frank is still staring like he is expecting Gerard to lash out and strike him. In this moment Gerard hates himself: for being so blind, for making Frank feel hated — by his own soulmate, no less, — when in reality Gerard was obsessed with him and didn’t even realise it until it was almost too late.
How could he be so stupid?
His lips gently press against Frank’s. Gerard feels Frank flinch at the unexpected kiss, but he doesn’t protest, doesn’t try to push Gerard away, and this has to mean something. That Gerard didn’t screw things up completely. That he can still fix it.
“Don’t,” Frank whispers as Gerard pulls back to catch some air. “Stop with your fucking games.”
“It’s not— I’m not trying to fuck with you, I’m serious!”
Something changes in Frank’s eyes; Gerard can't tell exactly what it is but it doesn't feel like disdain. Confusion, maybe? Distrust?
“I’m sorry,” Gerard says, and his fingers squeeze Frank’s hand a little bit tighter. “I was an idiot, and I understand if you don’t wanna see me anymore. But…”
Why is it so hard to say out loud? He has never been this bad with words, so why can’t he make himself say the most important thing? Why does every option he has in mind sound stupid, or childish, or not sincere enough?
“I think I’m in love with you.”
Frank blinks. Gerard holds his breath.
“Oh.” Frank gulps. “I—”
“It’s okay,” Gerard murmurs. “It doesn’t have to— If you don’t want to—”
Frank shakes his head violently.
“No,” his voice cracks. “It’s just… I think I’m in love with you too.”
Gerard lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding until now. Distantly he feels Frank’s fingers brush against his shoulder, his lips pressing gently against his cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he hears himself say.
“Stop it,” Frank whispers. “You're ruining the moment.”
And maybe Gerard was wrong about soulmates after all.