Ray appeared in the doorway, looking sleepy. His shirt was all askew. It was probably a bitch to get dressed when your hands were all fucked up. "What's going on?"
"Bob's being a douche," Frank told him.
"Okay," Ray said easily, coming into the room. He sat down next to Mikey and promptly sneezed three times in a row.
"Ugh," said Mikey. "You should be wearing a sweater or a blanket or something, you could still get really sick."
"I'm fine," Ray insisted, although it came out more like 'I'b fide.'
Frank looked at his bandaged hands and wondered how they'd even managed to have sex. And it wasn't like he could even just ask, like he usually would. Ray wasn't some random, and Frank didn't know if he wanted to see Mikey's impression of his orgasm face. Frank had to see him every day.
"The thing is," Ray said after they filled him in, "That they weren't trying to raise Pete. Right?"
"No," Gerard said, chewing on his pencil. "They were using him to collect all that energy that was focused on him."
"And then when you took his place, you got in the way of that," said Frank. "Do you think it was the sacramental tattoo thing that fucked it up?"
"I don't know. The energy they wanted wasn't focused on me, anyway."
"And until we find the meaning of that symbol, we won't know why they wanted it in the first place," Brian sighed. "Man, I miss working in a hair salon."
Frank excused himself, then, to go out on the deck and have that smoke he'd been robbed of by Ray throwing himself down a well after Mikey or whatever the fuck had happened. It was coming up to sunset, and as much as Frank basically hated nature and would be happy to see only concrete for the rest of his life, it was a fucking nice view across the grounds, Craig hadn't been lying about that.
He felt...not angry, more resigned. Frank was so frustrated with himself, it was like no matter how much evidence the universe shoved in his face that it was never, ever going to happen between him and Gerard, he just couldn't let it go. He just felt like he should be with Gerard, not in the stupid you-complete-me way, but in the way where he just couldn't see the bad in it. Frank wanted to be with him literally every second of every day, and he had never felt that way, ever, about anyone, and certainly not someone who disagreed with him about basically everything, and was completely unavailable to boot. Frank was beginning to feel like it would never change; not the situation, or the way he felt about Gerard, and that was a fucking depressing thought.
Maybe Ray was right. Maybe it would be better if he coudn't see Gerard at all. He thought about Mikey and Ray and his guts clenched. He was happy for them, if it worked out, but the jealousy and the it's not fair it's not fair was a seriously bitter pill.
"Hey," said a voice behind him, soft. Gerard. Frank didn't turn around. Gerard came up next to him after a minute, leaned on the railing with him. "Can I bum a smoke?"
Frank handed the pack over wordlessly. Gerard shook one out, lit up, and then moaned in pleasure because he was a fucking sadist asshole. "Do you wish I hadn't gotten in your way?" he said, exhaling out the side of his mouth. He rolled the cigarette between his fingers, studying it. "Do you still wish I'd let you take Pete's place?"
"No," Frank said immediately, thinking about the way it had been when Gerard was gone. "No way. I could never put you guys through that. Not now I know what it's like."
Gerard nodded, taking another deep drag on his cigarette. "So you understand, now," he said quietly, turning around to brace his elbows back against the rail, his shoulder against Frank's. "Why I couldn't let it happen."
