Frerard One-Shots

To Think This All Started With A Mug, and Not Mikey

|A/N: bullets!G & current!F bc aw cute little babyg and daddy Frank with all the tattoos and just yes. Oh, this is also the 21st century, kids.|

Gerard had always had depression. He was diagnosed at 13 with major, he had to take pills for it every. single. day. He despised it, because no matter what, he still had bad days. Today, is one of those days. Not to mention, his boyfriend Frank had to witness it. His tattooed boyfriend had been standing outside his door for an hour, listening to his body wracking sobs.

"Gee, please let me in. Baby, I don't want you to feel this way, please let me help." Frank had his back towards Gerard's bedroom door, trying to calm his boyfriend down. All he could hear was the loud sobs coming from his sweet, sweet boyfriend. "Please, Gee," The tattooed man whispered, not that Gerard could hear him regardless because he was probably blasting Asleep through his headphones. It was really the only song he ever listened to anymore, and it broke Frank's heart.

He heard footsteps coming down the basement stairs, he looked up and saw Donna and Mikey. "Any luck, sweetheart?" Frank shook his head, threading his fingers through his hair. "No, he won't let me in. I tried everything, Donna. He keeps calling my name but he doesn't seem to know that I'm here no matter how loud I get." Mikey sat down beside Frank, as did Donna. "It's okay, dude. He'll be okay, I promise. Anyways, I'll see you at work later so just fill me in then." Mikey gave a few pays to Frank's back, getting up and trailing back up the stairs to go bother his own boyfriend and to get ready for work.

"Mikey's right. He'll be okay, Frankie." Donna got up, handing Frank a small silver key. She nodded towards Gerard's bedroom door, turning around on her heel and walking back up the stairs. Frank got up eventually, after contemplating whether or not he should use the key, but he decided he should. The tattooed man gently stuck the key in the lock, twisting and turning until it was unlocked. "Geebear?" Frank stopped in the doorway, eyes searching for his boyfriend in the dark escapades of his room. "Go away, Frank." If you listened carefully, you could hear the sound of Frank's heart breaking into a million tiny pieces.

"I'm not going anywhere, Gerard." Frank crossed the room, walking towards his sleepy boyfriend. "H-how'd y-you get in?" The brunette sat up against his headboard, tugging his blankets up over his body. "Your mom, she gave me the key." Frank pulled the key out from his pocket and handed it to his boyfriend. "I'm sorry you have to see me like this." The brunette wiped his eyes, sniffling his nose a bit. "I don't mind, baby. You still look beautiful." Gerard blushed, but looked away before Frank could catch it.

"Stop. I really don't." Frank sighed, pulling Gerard into his lap. "Yes you do, but what I really wanna know is if you're okay." Frank looked at the small brunette, eyes full of concern. "Frank, you and I both know that I'm not okay." Gerard gave out a bitter laugh, getting out of Frank's lap just to bury himself in his blankets again. "I know." "Then why'd you ask?" Gerard looked at his tattooed boyfriend incredulously, snapping at him. "Because Gerard, I love you, I care about you, and I want you to tell me how you're feeling. I am here to help you. By 'help', I don't mean help you get better, I mean help you get through this. I wish I could help you get better, but depression doesn't just go away with a few pills and talks. I'm sorry you have to go through this. But Gee, you have to let me in, I can't help you get through this until you tell me how you feel."

Frank raised his voice a lot louder than he intended, which he shouldn't have done because he knows Gee hates it when he yells. "You don't understand, Frankie. You don't know how hard this is, to live with constant pain even if you take some goddamn pills. It's terrible, I still hurt no matter what the fuck I do." Gerard sobbed out, clutching the pink pillow he kept on his bed-mind you it's very comfortable-very tightly. "You're right. Maybe I don't understand, but you still need to talk to me. I'm sorry I yelled at you, sweetheart. C'mere." Frank held his arms out for his crying boyfriend, which Gerard climbed immediately into. "It's not okay, don't do it again. You know I hate it." The small brunette squeaked out, hiding his face in Frank's shirt covered chest.