Parisian Hearts // Frerard

3

"Gerard, you look like a wreck." Mikey was halfway down the hall when he saw his brother looking extra dishevelled, and decided to inform him.

"We're in deep shit mikes." Gerard whined, his head still hung low. "The jerry's here, living with us. We gotta clean up." 

Mikey stiffened at the news. They'd both known this was coming, but it seemed so real now. It was real now. The younger Way looked around the room anxiously, unsure of what had conspired when he wasn't there. There wasn't anything that stuck out; Gerard would've been smart enough to clean up after him.

"He hasn't found anything... has he?" Gerard shook his head at his brother, letting out a sigh. 

"Not yet, but he hasn't had a chance to snoop. I've been with him pretty much since he arrived." Mikey let out a small grumble, flopping onto the table.

"How bad is he?" He looked at Gerard, biting down on his lip. His older brother returned his glance with a shrug.

"He seemed alright last night, said he didn't care about curfew. He was a dick this morning though." 

Mikey hadn't expected the soldier to be decent. Even if his bar of decent had been set pretty low considering the events of the last few years, no Germans had managed to reach it. The only thing that gave him hope for this soldier was the fact that he hadn't arrested him for breaking curfew. That was unheard of, especially with the rising tensions between the communists and the nazis. 

"Frank Iero." 

"Hmm?" Mikey looked up at Gerard, unsure of who the name belonged to. 

"That's the soldier. His name's Frank." Frank. Mikey decided that was a pretentious name. He stood up, eyeing the plate of food on the bench. Gerard nodded when he picked it up, so he began eating.

"I'm gonna start clearing out the bedrooms. You know." Gerard excused himself from the table, moving away from his brother.

"Mkay," Mikey replied through a mouthful of white bread. "I'll show you the finished flyers from last night after we get the house in shape."

---

Across town, Frank Iero was sitting alone at the barracks, nibbling on some rations he should really be saving for lunch. It wasn't as pleasant as the meal he'd shared with Gerard this morning, and that was saying a lot.

He observed the scenes playing out in front of him. There were trucks coming and going, a couple of soldiers washing down the tank the man himself had rode in on when they'd taken Paris, and people looked tired. But they're sleep deprivation couldn't hide the air that followed them around; it was pretentious and filled with false-righteousness.

But Frank couldn't say anything. He just lifted his chin and hoped god might have mercy on his soul when the time came.

Two men approached Frank, wearing dubious grins that worried the smaller man. The blonde one, Ernst, pulled out a chair across from Frank, leaving his companion to stand over the two of them.

"Frankie boy!" He greeted him, slapping his arm in a sarcastic 'buddy-buddy' manner. "How've you been?" 

He kept talking before Frank could reply, which was fine by him, seeing as he didn't really want to be an active member of this conversation.

"Heard about your new posting. Those molly brothers in the slums on the west side." His friend laughed at the mention of the Way brothers, triggering an eye roll from Frank. 

"Yeah, it's alright." Frank replied, pursing his lips into a reluctant smile. He hoped the two men would leave him be, stop taunting him. He also wasn't a fan with the direction of the conversation; it always left a pit in his stomach, the mention of anything slightly gay. It wasn't that he didn't like it. It just wasn't safe to have anything to do with the subject other than condemn it.

"Heard they fuck each other," Ernst continued, kicking Frank in the shin under the table. "Tried anything on you yet?" Frank looked down at his tea, inhaling slowly. 

"N-no, I don't swing that way, I guess." It was best to agree with them when they had an agenda. With any of the soldiers, not just Ernst. Frank thought that this must be what it's like for the French when he roamed the streets. Having to hide little pieces of yourselves to stay alive.

He was right, too.

Ernst chuckled at his reply. "Oh, I'm sorry Frankie, I wouldn't have guessed with your lack of action here." He was referring to the French girls that so many of Frank's comrades had got with. People called them whores and shamed them, but Frank sympathised with them. It wasn't like they had much of a choice. You do what you need to survive.

When Frank didn't reply to his taunts, Ernst stood up, shaking the table enough for Frank's tea to spill over the sides of his mug, burning his skin through his trousers. 

"I fucking knew you were a fairy. I feel sorry for the boys you're lodging with." His minion followed Ernst like a puppy as he walked back to the dorms, leaving Frank to wonder what he did to deserve any of this.

---

The way brothers had spent a good few hours clearing their house of any resistance-related propaganda and trinkets that might give Frank the wrong Idea. They'd hidden their hand guns in a different roof panel, and plastered over the sides. They shouldn't need those until the British finally find a way in, so there was no use in putting them somewhere easier to access, when Frank might find them.

They'd burnt some of the outdated flyers on the stove, and hidden the rest in the lining of the sofa. Now, they sat hunched over the newest addition to their collection, locked in the basement.

"We've gone for a different angle this time, instead of all that king and country bullshit." Gerard nodded as he traced the first block of text on the pamphlet, skimming over it. "Trying to win people over with philosophy and academics. Jacques wanted to put in a bible verse, but the rest of us wanted to keep religion out of it. You know, keep it human."

Gerard nodded again at his brother, reading the rest of the paper. He was so proud of Mikey, how much he'd sacrificed for this. Even though Gerard was older, it was Mikey that really got the wheels turning after his parents were taken away. He'd wanted nothing to do with the resistance after seeing what had happened to his mother and father, but Mikey got him involved. 

Looking back, it was for the best. His parents would be proud of their effort, he knew that much. Even if he hated the violence, it was better than subserving the Germans.

"This is good Mikes, I really think it'll get more people on board." Mikey smiled up at his older brother, moving to grab the flyer.

"You reckon? I can feel it coming, Gee. The poms will have us out of this mess soon. The war won't last another year, I know it." Gerard wished he could have an ounce of his brother's spirit. It wasn't that he'd lost hope; he knew that everything came to an end. Recently he'd just come to wonder whose world would end, and how they'd live like this forever.

"I hope you're right, Mikey. I really fucking hope so."

A/N

hello readers,

this is the next chapter of this book (shocking, i know.)

i'm literally a socially awkward wreck via text on a website where nobody knows who i am and is trash enough to read fanfic like myself.

i would be a horrible youtuber.

song i'm listening to: under the bridge by the red hot chilli peppers

anyways

thnks fr rdng ths chptr

xx la