Unholyverse

~Part 26~

Two days later, Frank opened the door, and Gerard was standing there.

He was so completely the last person Frank expected to see, that when Frank groped around for a reaction, he couldn't find one at all. When he thought about it, he supposed he'd been waiting for Gerard to show up ever since he left with the creepy suits, but now he was here he had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to act.

"Hi," said Gerard, after they'd stared at each other for a minute. Gerard looked really good. He had sort of a tan, and he'd cut his hair. "Can I come in?"

Frank stood back dumbly and let Gerard pass. He took his time closing the door, putting the chain on, straightening out the mat with his foot. If he'd known Gerard was coming - but he hadn't, and what the fuck did you say to a dude you'd only met during the worst and weirdest period of your life? He had a million questions; what happened with Luke, was Gerard sticking around this time, would Frank ever stop having bad dreams, was life ever going to get back to something Frank didn't have to work so hard at every day?

"Do you want some coffee?" he said in the end, twisting his hands together, and escaped gratefully to the kitchen at Gerard's nod.

He concentrated on stirring and pouring and tried to just breathe, tried to slow down the crazy dance his insides were doing, trying to go in all directions at once, just like his mind.

Gerard took the coffee from Frank and brought it up to his face, blowing on it a little before sipping carefully.

Frank couldn't stop staring it him; he felt better just looking at him, not in the way he had before, but...with Gerard there, he felt less like it was all in his mind, or something.

Gerard looked up and cocked his head to the side. "How're you doing, Frank?"

"Fine," Frank grumbled into his coffee.

"That's good," Gerard said mildly. "I'm amazed you've been going to work, even, I'd be rocking back and forth under my bed if I was you."

"No, you wouldn't." Gerard would be finding a way to fix it, Frank was pretty sure, not just blundering through the days, hoping it would get easier and not doing anything to help himself. "So - what happened with Luke?"

Gerard grimaced and put his cup down, then twisted his hands together, palm to palm, fingers fanning out like a bird. "I really can't tell you."

"What? But I'm the one he-"

"I know," Gerard nodded quickly, reaching out to touch Frank's knee. His fingertips made a rough sound against the material. "I know, but I can't. I promise you, though, he can't hurt you anymore."

"I wasn't worried," Frank said roughly, and he'd thought it was true, but hearing it straight from Gerard made something shift inside him and he felt the relief start, like a giant block of ice in his chest was slowly melting at the edges, making it easier to breathe. "You really can't tell me?"

Gerard shook his head. "I really can't. I'm sorry."

Frank shrugged and sat back against the couch. He crossed his legs so one foot was resting on the opposite knee, and bounced it a little, watching his shoelace swing where it had come untied.

He startled when Gerard's hand came up to touch his forehead, trace over the scars. Frank allowed it for a second, frozen by the press of Gerard's fingertips to his skin, then jerked back a little more roughly than he meant to.

"Sorry," Gerard muttered, dropping his hand. "I was just going to say they look better than last time."

"Yeah," Frank shrugged, "Ray made me some herbal stuff to put on them, marigold or some crap, I don't know."