This Gerard looks terrible.
His skin is grey and his eyes puffy; his lips are cracked and pale; his greasy, damp hair falls limply into his face. He’s sweating, radiating misery even in sleep, curled up in a ball in the armchair in the corner of the room. He looks so small, wrapped in Gee’s big fluffy bathrobe. His hands are tucked between his knees in a way that Frank is only too familiar with.
Frank had pushed this particular image of Gerard far, far back into his mind, and being reminded of how bad it had been, how close it had come, is like a punch to the gut.
Still, it pales in comparison to the way Frank's heart breaks when he sees the way Young Gerard is looking at his future self.
“This isn’t me,” Young Gerard says fiercely, a mix of fear and pity on his face. He’s climbed onto the bed, sitting backed up against the headboard, a pillow clutched to his chest like it’s going to protect him from his future. “It’s not true. I’m never going to be like that.”
Frank bites his lip. Gee hadn’t exactly been sober when Frank first met him, and he’s heard enough stories of Gerard’s college and high school years; he knows even the youngest incarnation of Gerard is already into pretty heavy stuff, a lot of drinking and prescription drugs. He doesn’t say anything, though, grateful when Gee comes up behind him to lean his chin on Frank’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around Frank's torso.
Blond Gerard goes and joins his younger self near the head of the bed. “He’s a part of us,” he starts, his voice soft, but Young Gerard turns on him immediately.
“Fuck you, okay,” he spits out. “Look at him! Is this going to be my life? Is this what I'm supposed to see about my future? It’s supposed to get better, and this is this what I get? Stupid haircuts and, and, him?” he rants, throwing a defiant chin towards Frank. “What the fuck is the point of this?”
“Hey!” Frank protests and tries to take a step towards the bed, but Gee’s arms tighten across his chest, keeping him in place.
“Let him,” Gee says, ostensibly talking to Frank, but projecting his voice in a way that makes it clear he’s really addressing his younger self. “He’s a little lost right now, and scared, and confused, and angry at himself more than at us. I get it. In fact, I remember it.”
“That’s no reason to be an asshole,” Frank counters. He doesn’t care about what Young Gerard is implying about their relationship. Insulting Gee, however, is a capital offense in Frank’s book; even if this is technically Gerard insulting himself.
Frank feels Gee’s chuckle through his own chest. “When did that ever stop me, though?” Gerard replies, and Frank has to concede the point.
“Besides, he’s lying,” Gee continues. “He already wants you so much, Frankie, it’s totally messing with his head right now.”
Frank suddenly remembers being introduced to Gerard’s girlfriend when they first met. This Gerard still thinks of himself as straight, Frank reminds himself. It’s probably a lot to take in.
“It’s messing with me, too,” Blond Gerard adds, turning towards Frank and Gee. The hungry eyes are back, and Frank thinks he can place this Gerard even more precisely.
There had been a time at the Paramour, after Mikey had left, when Gerard had lashed out at anyone who tried to come close. Frank had never been one to tolerate bullshit, and the insane writing and recording process had put him especially on edge. Things had escalated quickly. For a few tense, miserable weeks he’d barely talked to Gerard, never mind let Gerard touch him.
Blond Gerard rises from the bed and starts advancing towards Frank, intent and predatory.
“Um, guys?” Frank takes a step back, but all that does is make him press closer against Gee's chest. Frank means to protest but Gee plasters himself to Frank's back, effectively shutting him up by scraping his teeth over the back of Frank's neck.
