ஜ Capricious & Evanescent ஜ Assorted and Mainly Frerard One-Shots ஜ

Come Down, Give Up, Cuz It's All Right

Don't Try//Gerard Way

(My art skills aren't anywhere near Gerard's... But this is the general idea...)

That antique looking glow over his face was something I would never get over. So relaxing, so peaceful. It was times like these when I just wanted to cuddle up next to him and sleep the day away. No lust, no desire for pleasure. Just peace.

Nothing else gave me that peace I felt with him, not anymore. Life was synthetic feelings of highs and lows now. My happiness was like harsh lamplight, not sun. I was trying to force together molecules of dopamine, and I was getting atomic backlash in the form of dysphoria as a result of that. I was scared now that maybe even the feelings I got with Frank were fake, but I just couldn't help but feel a different happiness now. A happiness that resulted in calm, or perhaps even from calm, not calamity.

Soft notes feathered from his acoustic guitar, fueling the broad strokes of my soft leaded colored pencils. An imperfect, but still romantic clone of him flourished on the page beneath me. Within the paper he seemed better represented, however, all alone against the night sky, red, glowing fairy lights draped about his body and guitar like wounds. I had a reason for that imagery.

I knew I wasn't the only one constantly feeling pain, like I was out of place, and I felt so selfish when I hogged all of his attention to myself, because he had his own insecurities. I knew how Frank felt, alone, bleeding silently, not physically, but emotionally. It was so disgustingly romanticized by society and the media, pain, but his was so beautiful and I just couldn't help trying to capture it in stokes of color and ink.

And with those wounds that I so desperately wanted to capture, I'd become aware that I could never leave him. That much was clear to me. He would have to leave me some day, find someone better, a real girl whom he would love, maybe even marry. I'd made peace with that fact though. Just the fact that I could be with him like this for now, that was more than enough.

With dawn cracking in through the faintest sliver of a break in his heavy curtains, I carefully closed my sketchbook and curled up on the bed next to him. He didn't stop playing, just hummed in response to me, and for that I was thankful. Frank rarely felt the need to drop everything for me, though I knew that he could if I needed it. His music sounded simply ethereal acoustically, and I felt as if I might float away into the aether myself sometimes, with my own body wrapped up around his own. I wondered, from time to time, if this feeling was the original intention of the word love. Not just deep affection, but release. Calm.

I didn't have a need to describe my relationship with Frank like that, though. A single word like "love" was limiting, really. Being able to locate a single note on a guitar is the simplest step, even I knew how to do that. Songs, medleys, seamless compilations of notes, arpeggios. Alone, merely pitches, but together, masterpieces. And so could be my descriptions of the feelings Frank gave me.

Frank played the last chord, an E minor, and set aside the instrument before crawling up next to me.

"Hold me?" He asked softly. His hands slipped under my Darth Vader shirt as I pulled his tired body into my own. We'd been sketching and strumming all night, and I assumed his fingers had to be in pain by now. I could feel the flaking skin on his fingertips against my stomach, and quite honestly, it was calming. He was all weary, broken up, needing someone, anyone, not just from the wounds his guitar gave him, but from life. Maybe, just a few times in his existence, I could solace Frank, make him happy, and that was enough.

"Genevieve..." He mumbled against my shoulder. The syllables were high pitched, upset sounding. I scratched his back softly, humming. "Can we talk?"

I paused slightly in my actions, but only for a moment, and made a noise of hesitant affirmation.

"Am..." Frank paused, breathing in and out. "Am I a good boyfriend?" I stopped moving completely then, my hand frozen on his back. Good? Of course not.

"Sugar..." I sighed, making Frank shiver underneath me. He seemed all but frozen in terror. "Do you really think so lowly of yourself?" I lifted my hand to the back of his neck and gently scratched and caressed the skin. The gasp that he then released could have been elicited from my words or my actions, I didn't know, but I kind of hoped it was the former.

"I have never seen a sun shine as bright as you..." I murmured as I pressed light kisses to his hair. "I have never seen art that can capture you... I have never heard music that is as beautiful as your voice. I've never lo—I've never felt, not about anything, the way I do when I'm holding you."

"I don't... I don't do enough for you, though..." He sniffed. My chest tightened as that stupid lie fell from his mouth. "I don't know how to make it better when you feel dysphoric. I don't know how to make you smile when everything hurts. I can't make you see how beautiful you are, how much of a girl you are, because you don't have my eyes, you only have your own, yours are all broken, but that's not your fault, and I... I..." Frank trailed off, his hands now in fists against the flesh on my abdomen.

"Frank... You help me remember that it's okay to be a freak. And the fact that I'm a girl with a dick... That's not a part of why." Frank just sniffed and snuggled into my body, shaking and whimpering until the two of us fell asleep. Even when things hurt, everything was better with Frank. Everything was always better with Frank.

Have I ever mentioned how trash I am for trans!gerard bc she is so cute