Frank had never been on a plane before, and so far he hated it. His legs were cramping from being folded up for so long, the air tasted stale and recycled, and the pillow he was supposed to sleep on was smaller than any human head, he was pretty sure.
Even worse was the fact that nobody else seemed to have a problem sleeping at all; not Ray with his freakishly long legs, or Bob and his giant head. Even Mikey was slumped in the seat next to Frank with his eyes closed and his mouth open. The only person apart from Frank who was still awake was the annoying dude a few rows back who kept coughing every seven seconds. Well, and the pilot. Frank hoped, anyway.
Frank sighed and readjusted the stupid tiny pillow for the umpteenth time. It was so quiet on the plane, with everyone sleeping. Frank was totally alone with his thoughts, which was the absolute last place he wanted to be. Every time he let his inner guard down and tried to relax or breathe or tell himself to be patient or something, he would immediately flash back to Gerard lying in Mikey's arms, or the look on Brian's face when the Suits took the body away, or the way Frank had spoken to Gerard the night before -
Frank swallowed sharply and shook his head, warding off the memory. He rubbed his hands over his face, which didn't help because every time he closed his eyes he saw Gerard's face. He tipped his head back against the seat and stared at the ceiling instead, resigning himself to wakefulness.
"I slept with Toro."
Frank startled, turning to Mikey, who had cracked one eye open and rolled it slightly in Frank's direction, peering out at him from under the lid.
"What?" said Frank.
"Toro," Mikey repeated, opening the other eye and turning his head all the way towards Frank. "I slept with him."
Frank stared. "When?"
Mikey frowned slightly. "Like, yesterday? Maybe the day before. I don't remember."
Frank could relate. He actually felt like it was still the same day it had been when Gerard died.
"We kissed before," Mikey continued. "When you and Gee were fighting."
Frank winced. He couldn't think about that at all. He couldn't think about it or he would just throw himself out of the plane. Instead he looked across to where Ray was asleep in the aisle seat. He didn't really know what to say - none of his usual responses to one of Mikey's sex stories seemed appropriate. He hesitated, then asked, "Was it just because you're sad?"
"I don't know." Mikey lifted one shoulder. "I honestly can't tell."
"Shit." Frank sat back in his seat. He made himself think about the way Ray was, how he'd gone to work early every morning at the shop so Mikey could get his hair done, how worried he'd been when Mikey met Pete, the way his face looked when Mikey made him laugh. "Shit," he said again, realization dawning. "Toro's into you. Of course he is. How the fuck did I miss that?"
Mikey shrugged the other shoulder. "Same way the other guys missed you and Gee, I guess."
Frank didn't know what to say to that. He looked down at his lap and rubbed his thumb over Gerard's rosary, wrapped around his wrist.
"We're supposed to be able to trust each other with our lives," Mikey said. Frank looked up, but Mikey was staring straight ahead, his jaw set. "And then we don't tell each other shit."
"But you knew," Frank said. "I didn't think - Mikey, you knew."
Mikey shook his head. "That's not the point."
Frank knew he was right, but he didn't know how to explain it. The things he'd kept to himself - the secret conversations, the nights he'd force himself to stay awake just so they could talk when nobody else was listening - he hadn't hidden them just because he knew Mikey would be pissed. It was because they were the only things of Gerard that Frank had all to himself, the only time Frank got something from Gerard that nobody else did.
He said honestly, "I thought Gerard would tell you."
"Yeah, well." Mikey pushed his fingers under his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "He didn't."
Frank was secretly glad. He looked out of the window so Mikey wouldn't see it in his face. He moved the rosary around his wrist.
Eventually Mikey said, "I don't think it is. Just because I'm sad, I mean."
Frank looked at him. He pressed his foot against Mikey's. When Mikey pressed back, Frank said, "Then you should tell him."
"I don't know." Mikey shifted in his seat, rolling his shoulders. "I can't even...I don't even really feel like a person," he admitted, shooting Frank a wary, sideways glance. "Do you know what I mean?"
"I know exactly," said Frank, wishing he didn't.
"Yeah." Mikey closed his eyes for a moment, then scooted down in his seat and put his head on Frank's shoulder. Frank turned towards him, resting his cheek on the top of Mikey's head.
It was still really quiet on the plane. Frank felt like his whisper was really loud when he asked Mikey the question he was afraid to hear the answer to, but couldn't keep to himself. "Mikey? Do you think he's alive?"
Mikey was quiet for a long time before he said, "I don't know."
It wasn't the answer Frank wanted, but it was the best he was going to get. He closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.
