TONIGHT WE'RE GOLD

FORTY-SIX

'Okay, I'm off to work,' Frank says, grabbing his backpack and his coffee mug, before kissing his husband goodbye. 'See you later, take care.'

And just like that, it's just Gerard and the twins. And the pets, and his manuscript.

He doesn't know how he does it, but he has a system to make it easier.

Emi and Dylan are still asleep, so he uses that time to have his coffee and do some edits. He has a deadline in a week, and the storyline for next season of the show. He needs to hurry up so he can send it.

So he puts on some Bowie, and opens the document.

Usually, he would be singing and dancing with the babies, drawing, procrastinating.

But this is not the time.

He needs to do as much progress as possible before they wake up, which can happen any minute now.

Except, half an hour later, he's just staring at the screen, no progress at all, and he knows it's useless to even try. His brain is somewhere else.

As much as he tries to ignore, it's one of those days.

He can't remember when was the last time he felt this bad, but it was definitely before he met Frank. Not even when he was away on tour or in rehab did Gerard was this anxious or depressed. He had to stay strong for him.

And now he has to stay strong for his children –

He's been taking his meds and seeing his therapist, so it's weird because he was doing good.

No –

It's not happening.

He's not letting it happen. He takes a deep breath, and gets up to get some water. Something to keep his mind off. Maybe he needs a break, yes. But not before the deadline. The showrunners are waiting for his outline for the next season.

He just needs a second.

And just then, Emi wakes up.

'Fuck,' he whispers to himself, and then gets up to get her from her carrier, trying to calm down before he holds her in his arms. The last thing he wants is to take it out on the kids.

He knows what a nightmare it is to live with someone like him. and it's not fair to Frank or their children. He knows it's not easy. It wasn't easy for his parents or Mikey growing up. All the shit he gave them, all the breakdowns and the late nights crying. Days spent in the emergency room after his suicide attempts. Their savings spent on meds and dozens of psychiatrists.

And it wasn't that Gerard thought he was magically cured when Frank showed up. He knows it doesn't work like that. Love doesn't cure depression, it doesn't make any of it go away. The pain, the emptiness, the anxiety eating him from the inside out. It's all in there, just waiting to come out. Waiting to remind him of all his failures. Telling him that Frank will leave him the second he sees the real him. That he'll keep pushing people away, and he'll hurt his kids and that everyone is better off without him.

No – he tells himself. Don't listen to them. Frank loves you, you're doing great.

He takes another breath, making a mental list of all the good things he has, like his therapist told him. His family, financial security, a house, his pets. He's healthy, despite his age and everything. He gently pats Emi's back, in an attempt to get her back to sleep, and following her breathing patterns at the same time, hoping that helps him to calm down.

Breathe in, breathe out.

And then repeat.

It seems to be working.