~Gerard's POV~
I loved him. He loved me. We both knew. Hell, even our wives knew. But neither of us knew what to do. Do you ever have that uncertain feeling? The one that leaves you angry at yourself because you can't choose? I feel that way. Right now I do. I see him, next to me, leaning against me, playing guitar with his usual energy that would leave him on an adrenaline high for the rest of the night, until he finally dropped off in the early hours of the morning. He would sometimes crawl into my bunk at night, either because he was cold or he just couldn't fall asleep without having someone there. I would pretend to be asleep and he would usually buy it, wrapping his arms around my waist and nestle his head into my chest before his eyes slammed shut and his breathing shallowed, signaling he was asleep. I would play with his hair sometimes. Or I'd run my hand up and down his back, if he was muttering in his sleep. When he did that he was having bad dreams. When I rubbed his back he'd calm down in a few minutes and have a happy smile plastered on his face. But right before I fell asleep, I would always whisper, "I love you, Frank Iero." Then I would kiss his forehead and fall asleep into peaceful dreams. When I'd wake up, he'd be there, still asleep until I shook him awake. He'd get bashful, claiming he must have sleep-walked again. But I knew. He knew, too. How did he know? Well, he told me that he loved me. It was after a show on the Projekt Revolution Tour. It was the fifth or sixth time I'd kiss him fiercely on stage before continuing with the show. Afterwards, he caught me alone, pinned me to a wall and kissed me the way I did on stage. His hands were fisted in my hair, his mouth desperate. I was just as bad. He had no idea how badly I wanted, no... How badly I needed him. My hands went to cup his cheeks and press my mouth more frantically to his. He's soon pulling me into the lone bathroom, a one person type of thing. I slam and lock the door behind us before pinning him to the wall not even three feet away.
I glance back at the 5'4" man who's got his mouth open so erotically. I glance away, into the crowd. I immediately am calmed down. Famous Last Words' lyrics are pouring from my mouth and I glance over at my brother. He's playing with all his heart. I strut over and sling my arm around his neck, before kissing him on the cheek. I know what he went through. The song is for him. I know why he plays on the opposite side of the stage from me and Frank, more towards Ray. I know how he feels. If only I wasn't sworn to secrecy. I belt the last lyrics and hold the microphone up, looking down and closing my eyes.
I say my thanks and loves to the crowd before the lights are shut off, the curtain is dropped and the inner demons are put back in their cages. When you're on stage you're a totally different person. I could never get enough of it. Mikey smiles at me, knowing about the song. I hug him tight and whisper in his ear, "Love you, baby brother." He laughs and nods, going to put his bass in its case. Ray glances at him from time to time, messing with his own guitars. Then my eyes wonder to Bob, who looks ready to fall asleep on a couch. Finally, I look at Frank, who's looking right at me. I smirk at him tauntingly and go back to the exit of the venue, ready to fall asleep in the skeleton pajamas I usually wear. Then again, if it gets too hot tonight, I'll end up taking them off and sleeping in my boxers. I see my wife on the side of the stage, smiling. I smile back and pick her up around the waist, hugging her. She knows I don't love her like I do Frank. And she's okay with it. So long as I don't abandon her and our few month-old daughter, Bandit. I would never. I love them, but now Lindsay is more like a sister. Bandit's still like my daughter, though.
"Great show tonight, Gerard." I set Lindsay down and smile at Jamia. She knows and thinks the same as Lindsay. As long as Frank doesn't abandon her and his twin daughters, she doesn't care who he loves. They're legally divorced, but he still lives with her, pays bills and child support. Actually, he pays double what he should, but that's because he cares about them.
"Thanks, Jamia." I say. She smiles back and Frank quickly hugs her. Looking at them, they could be related, really. They look so similar it's a bit scary.
As Frank comes to stand next to me, we both share a knowing glance. We can do this. They're okay with it. We can love each other. Because they know, and they don't care.
