Chapter Text
He was just so tired. Tired of the disappointments, of the sleepless nights, of the fear that came with it all. Maybe he was done. Maybe he had missed his prime touring through his twenties. Maybe they should have kept the band together, stuck with it even through the hard times and sadness they all knew it was bringing them. What if it had gotten better?
Gerard felt like his life was just one big “maybe” nowadays. The what-ifs were paralysing. He could tell it was wearing Frank down, too, though he would never tell his husband that. No, Frank wasn’t like that; he knew Gerard had to work through this all by himself, even if he wanted to shake him around and tell him that everything would be alright, that he needed to stop worrying so much.
And Gerard almost wished he would. Wished he could just snap him out of this rut.
But not even Frank could work miracles.
Gerard knew he was trying, though. Frank had been nothing but supportive, as usual. While Gerard was stuck in a creative slump, the result of countless gallery rejections and denied grants, Frank was there, keeping him company, making sure he ate and showered, getting him out of the studio. Hell, out of the house.
He did all of the decorating this year, too. Nothing complicated. Just a small tree and some garland. He roped Gerard into putting a few ornaments on the tree, but other than that, it was all Frank’s work. He had insisted.
The gesture was nice, but Gerard just wasn’t feeling the holiday spirit.
How could he when he was staring at a blank canvas for the nth time this year? He needed to start working on pieces he could pad his portfolio with if he ever wanted to get into any shows or exhibitions. The decision to completely overhaul his portfolio hadn’t come lightly, but he had so much work in there from his SVA days. It was just so outdated, not at all representative of who he was now, where his skills were, how his style had evolved.
So here he was, surrounded by the smell of watercolors and acrylic, of canvas and ink, of turpentine and pencil shavings. He had every tool at his disposal but his mind.
It was so frustrating, it was like he lost his muse, even though he was just two rooms away.
He knew he had pulled away from his husband this year, too focused on his own failures and frustrations. But he felt Frank start distancing himself recently, too. They hadn’t had a fight or anything, but suddenly Gerard was spending his time alone more often than not while Frank was out with his friends or bandmates or Mikey and Ray, leaving Gerard to stare at a blank canvas, much like now.
He didn’t want to dwell on it right now, though; he needed to actually try and create something. So he picked up a pencil.
And then immediately put it down.
He started grabbing different paints–blues, yellows, greens, black–arranging them on a palette, hoping the colors would inspire something or maybe that they would just put themselves onto the canvas for him.
They didn’t.
He turned his record player up, letting the deep, melodic tone of Peter Murphy’s voice flood the studio. Bauhaus was his go-to for getting into a creative headspace, but not even that seemed to work this time.
He just couldn’t stop staring at the white nothingness in front of him.
A soft knock on the door behind him jostled him out of his melancholy, and the door opened quietly, not waiting for an answer.
“Hey, Gee. Dinner’s ready. Why don’t you take a break in here and join me, yeah?” Frank’s tone was light, but Gerard saw the way his eyes darted to the empty canvas, how his lips tensed ever so slightly.
He heaved a sigh, but nodded, “Yeah, alright.”
It isn’t like he had made any progress, anyway. Gerard felt like he’d had enough breaks to last a lifetime at this point, but he couldn’t force the creative juices to flow, no matter how much he wanted to.
His knees creaked as he stood–great, another reminder of just how old he was getting–and he followed Frank out of his little studio and into their dining room.
Frank slowed his pace as they walked and grabbed Gerard’s hand, squeezing it a little. Gerard reciprocated, warmth growing in his chest, loosening the grip that the icy claws of hopelessness had on his heart. Despite their recent distance, they still loved each other, and it was nice to be reminded of that, even if subtly.
The table had already been set, and two plates piled high with pasta and glasses of Diet Coke sat waiting for them. And it smelled good. Like, really good. Gerard’s stomach growled, and he realized that he hadn’t eaten anything substantial since he woke up that morning, if a bowl of cereal could even be called that.
The windows showed that it was already dark outside. And, yeah, it was the middle of December, so that didn’t count for much, but it made him feel like the day had been such a waste. He had gotten nothing done, hadn’t spoken more than a few words to his husband, and hadn’t left the studio other than to use the bathroom.
Just another day in the seemingly never-ending fugue state that his life had become. At least there would be one good thing to happen that day, thanks to Frank.
Their dining room was small, just a little table with a few chairs adjacent to the kitchen. It wasn’t really even a dining room, more like a dinette, but it was cozy and warm, and that was enough for them.
“Thank you, Frankie, this looks really great,” he said as he sat down across from him. And Gerard meant it. He was always grateful that Frank loved him enough to cook for him almost every night he was home. Plus, his husband was really good at it. Sometimes he wondered if Frank’s true calling was as a chef rather than a musician.
Frank smiled at that, something warm and relieved flickering across his face. “Eat,” he mused. “I made plenty.”
“You always do,” Gerard gave a little laugh, but he did as he was told and finally took a bite. The tangy sauce hit his tongue, setting off little fireworks in his skull. Yep, it was delicious and exactly what Gerard needed right now. Warmth settled in his chest and his stomach alike, steadying something in him that had been wound too tight all day.
They ate like that for a few minutes, mostly in companionable silence, with the odd comment here and there; Gerard asking Frank how his day had been (good, he had spent the day Christmas shopping with Mikey), Frank asking how his time in the studio had gone (awful, absolutely nothing came of it). The sound of their forks clinking against their plates and the hum of the fridge filled the gaps.
They were both almost finished when Frank cleared his throat.
“So,” he began, voice casual but hiding something tense, apprehensive, “I’ve been thinking we could do something for Christmas.”
It caught Gerard off guard. They hadn’t talked about Christmas yet, not in any serious fashion, and it was only a week away now. “Yeah? What did you have in mind?”
In previous years, they had hosted big parties filled with all of their friends, family, and neighbors. He was hoping that that wouldn’t be the case this year. Frank had always been more social than Gerard, and he just wasn’t in the right headspace to deal with such an event right now. Had Frank not picked up on that?
“Nothing big,” he continued, quicker this time, like he wanted to get it all out before Gerard completely shot the idea down. “I was just thinking it would be nice to have Ray and Mikey over. You know, just for dinner and gifts. Maybe a shitty Hallmark movie if we’re up for it.”
“Oh.” Gerard nodded, poking at what was left of his food. Not as bad as he feared, but he was still not sold on the idea.
“Yeah. I mean, only if you want to,” Frank added. “We don’t have to. I just thought it might be nice, you know, to not let it completely pass us by?”
Gerard was quiet for a moment. The idea of company, even just his brother and best friend, made his chest feel tight, but the idea of saying no, of possibly disappointing Frank, felt even worse.
Before Gerard could respond, Frank shrugged a little, “I just-” He huffed out a quiet breath. “I thought it might be nice. That’s all.”
Gerard nodded a little. His husband was probably right. They hadn’t had anyone over in a while, and Gerard hadn’t seen his brother or friend in a long time, longer than he’d ever wanted to go without seeing them.
“Yeah,” he began, “yeah, we can do that.” Frank’s eyes lit up at that, and Gerard’s heart swelled, confident that he had said the right thing. “I can’t promise that I’ll be the best company, though.”
“It’s only the guys; they aren’t expecting anything from you, you know that.” Again, Frank was probably right. If anyone would understand, it was them.
“Did you have a day picked out?”
Frank hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, I think so. We can talk about it later, if you want, but Mikey and I were talking, and we were thinking of having it pretty soon, before Christmas.”
“Okay, yeah, that’s fine.” Was it fine? Maybe. He wasn’t sure yet.
There weren’t very many days left to do any planning, but at least he had done his shopping right after Thanksgiving, so he wouldn’t have to worry about that, at least. And Frank said they wouldn’t be doing anything big. Just dinner. He could handle that.
They settled into another silence as they finished their food, and the silence persisted as they cleaned up after themselves. No words were spoken, but Frank hummed along to a tune stuck in his head, something Gerard couldn’t place.
Their house hadn’t always been so quiet. It used to be filled with laughter and music and constant chatter. Somewhere over the course of the year, as all of the little things piled up and wore him down, as he retreated inward without really meaning to, the noise had faded. He noticed it now, standing there in the kitchen, and wished he’d known how to stop it sooner.
The rest of the night came together just like it always did. Frank finished the dishes while Gerard wiped down the counter and table. They turned the lights off one by one, as they went through the motions, the house dimming until only their room was left, bathed in the soft, warm glow of a bedside lamp.
Eventually though, that too was flicked off, and they climbed under the covers, breaking the silence with two quick goodnights. And just like every night, Frank pressed close, like he wasn't even thinking about it, his arm draped easily over Gerard’s waist, like it was made to fit just there. His breathing evened out quickly, sleep finding him without resistance. Gerard stayed awake a while longer, forever losing his battle against insomnia, staring out into the dark, listening to the steady rise and fall of Frank’s chest until his thoughts finally loosened their grip and let him rest too.