Gerard woke up around midnight.
"Frank..." He wheezed, crying.
Frank, who had become a very light sleeper, jolted awake.
"Gee, it's okay, I'm here." He turned on the lamp.
Gerard just moaned in pain, reaching blindly for Frank.
Frank took his hand, pressing it against his chest. "Right here. I'm right here."
Gerard just panted. Frank held him close.
He hummed Romance, off of the first album. He didn't know why, it just seemed soothing.
Frank sat in the chair at the tattoo shop.
"Gerard, huh? Some special someone?" A lady, maybe fifty, was tattooing him.
"Uh, yeah."
"Most romances don't last, honey. His name is just gonna be a reminder." She shrugged.
"He's my husband that's dying of brain cancer. It's supposed to be a reminder." Frank rolled his eyes, sighing.
"Oh, I'm sorry-"
"You didn't know. It's fine."
She looked up from the tattoo for a second. "Hey, aren't you the guitarist from that one band?"
"Uh, yeah." He smiled dryly.
Then, the tattoo was finished.
Gerard's name was written in splattered bubble letters that were filled with rainbow colors. It was his most colorful tattoo. It was on where his wrist met his palm, where it would never be covered by a shirtsleeve. It'd always be visible.
Frank called Gerard from the waiting room to come behind the curtain.
Within a minute, Gerard stood by him. He didn't wear a wig today, he wore a grey beanie and a cannula, dragging a small oxygen filter that looked like a rolling backpack behind him.
"Hey, beautiful." Frank kissed him.
Gerard giggled. "Can I see it?"
Frank peeled back the bandage.
"Do you like it?"
"Aw, Frank, I love it." He hugged his husband tightly.
Frank kissed him again, holding him to his chest. It was perfect.
