Friday I'm In Love

△ 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 △

The soft white smoke left his lips, filling the silence with a gentle exhale. He leaned over to the ashtray and set the cigarette down on the groove, laying back down with a sigh and looking up at the ceiling. He reached out to his side, the back of his arm falling flat against the ice-cold sheets. He closed his eyes as his heart fell through the soft white clouds, scrambling as it crashed down to Earth with a deafening thud and a trembling breath. The bed creaked and groaned with the shifting of his weight, even the layers of blankets couldn't stop the ambitious springs from trying to dig into Frank's back. Gerard had left for work at seven, dragging his feet and clutching his coffee cup to his chest as one would hold a newborn child. Frank watched him go with a deep ache, a fist gripping his heart and squeezing mercilessly,  and so he lit a cigarette and stared off into space as the city began shaking off and waking up before him. 

He wished he could've said no. He wished he could've told him the truth. He wished he could've grabbed Gerard's hand and ran with musical laughter and the childish carelessness that growing up had beaten out of them both. Frank didn't. He never could. He just. . . watched as Gerard slipped back through his fingers with his usual smile.

A knock at the door came two hours later. Frank didn't move; he rolled his eyes and ignored the knocking - putting it down to an annoying neighbor. Gerard himself had told him that no one knocked on the door. Frank swung his legs over the bed and got to his feet begrudgingly, rubbing his eyes and running his hands through his bird's nest hair. He opened the door. 

Mikey smiled back at him, his hair in his eyes and his arm slung across Bert's shoulders. He swayed only slightly with most of his weight dispersed across the other man's right side. It was an all too familiar scene; except now Frank, in place of Donna, was standing in the doorway mostly sober. It was a strange feeling, one he never thought he would experience until he had children of his own, which paired itself nicely with a tidal wave of overwhelming dread. 

"Is Gerard home?" Bert sighed as he nodded towards Mikey like an underpaid babysitter. Mikey, who simply burped in response and focused his energy on not falling over. Bert, himself, looked like he had fought with a tornado - not that he was to blame.  

"He left for work a few hours ago, he said he'll be home at five." Frank said with a worried glance towards Mikey.

Mikey groaned, his face green."Nope- and I'm about to throw up so move!"

Frank moved out the way with a shrug and opened the door for the other two men to stumble inside. He closed the door and prayed for Gerard's bathroom as Mikey began retching the second the bathroom door slammed closed. Frank shrugged and walked back through to Gerard's room, extinguishing his cigarette, and picking up his phone. 

To Gerard:

Mikey's relapsed bad Bert brought him over

Bert emerged from Gerard's bathroom a few minutes later, his eyes downcast and his hands wrung nervously at his sternum. He was equally as disheveled as Mikey, although sober, not that it took much effort. He glanced behind at Mikey and closed the door with a sigh. 

"So... you and Gerard" Bert asked, fighting to keep his voice neutral as the silence dragged on. Small talk was never their forte, not with everything going on with Gerard, but the silence was unbearable. "Are you guys. . .?"

Frank shook his head as a telling red blush flared across his cheeks. "No, no, it's no-... it's nothing like that. I'm just going to be his roommate for a few weeks until I can get back up on my feet." he said in a sort of strangled tone that did not help his case in the slightest.

"Do you care about him?" he pressed. Frank gaped in horror as if there mere insinuation that he didn't was offensive, before closing his jaw and turning away with a disbelieving shake of his head. "Good. He needs you to care about him - he needs anyone to care about him."

Frank stared out the window, folding his arms over his chest. "You know how he is. . . he won't like me meddling." 

"Please, it's Gerard, like he'll let anyone else meddle."

"Mikey? Ray? You? What makes  you think he's likely to open up to some guy who he used to be friends with in high school?"

Mikey snorted from the doorway, his Docs in hand. "You were never just. . . some guy."