Antichrist (Frerard)

21: The Elusive Milky Bathtub

Really, Frank should have thought this through before just following Alex's every wish and whim, but really, there were a lot of things that Frank Iero should have done but didn't, and thinking this through was practically nothing in comparison.

For starters, he shouldn't have blurted out those three little words and basically fucked this all up in the first place, and in like seventh grade he should have tried harder on that maths test, but both were now in the past, and believe it or not, just as irrelevant as each other.

But there was just nothing that Frank Iero could tell himself to really make anything involving Gerard Way irrelevant at all: the vampire meant far too much to him and those three words had made that all too clear, and the silence that followed his words made the fact that those feelings were mutual all too obvious.

It was fucked: they were fucked, and perhaps that was just that, and perhaps Frank would have even let this go if it wasn’t for Alex and every single little fucking demand that Frank gave into too easily.

Frank wouldn't say that he was a pushover, but he was nothing but that, and this made it all too clear, and impossible to ignore, but the reality of the fact that Frank was actually confronting Gerard about this, at least ensured that the nineteen year old wasn't a coward.

But what did that really mean?

In a town like this?

In a life such as his?

It meant nothing and maybe that was okay, and maybe it wasn't.

Frank needed people to tell him what was okay and what wasn't these days: people like Alex, people like Gerard, people who used to mean so much but were supposed to mean nothing now, but didn't, because nothing quite ever seemed to work as planned.

And perhaps that was just the reality of life, and perhaps the reality of climbing over the metal gates of the graveyard at dusk was nothing more than the world's stupidest decision, but perhaps, just perhaps, for Frank at the very least, it was a necessary one.

Because, Gerard was important and there was absolutely no way around that: Gerard fucking mattered to Frank, and Frank fucking mattered to Gerard, but it was made evident that perhaps vampires weren't exactly the best with emotion.

And it was also made evident that vampires weren't exactly the best with staying away from cute human boys, as Frank's gaze met another: bright in the dark - none other than Gerard Way, leaned up against the mausoleum, and smirking like a motherfucker, because maybe, just maybe, he knew things would work out in the end.

Or maybe, he didn't, and maybe, just like poor, lost Frank Iero, he was just relying on hope and praying to the God that hated him that someday this would all work out okay.

And at first, it was all staring, and gaping mouths as Frank forced himself to adjust to the fact that this was actually Gerard over there and that he was in fact not hallucinating his ex-boyfriend, he wasn't Mikey, after all.

But soon, things escalated, and the silence snapped in two, and of course, with nothing other than a snide comment from Gerard, who just hated to admit that he missed the nineteen year old so much more than he could ever possibly admit to himself, or especially not to Frank, and especially not aloud, and especially not in the form of those fucking three little words that had put him in this situation in the first place.

"You're not supposed to be up here, you know. If anyone else had found you here, you'd be fucked, Iero, you'd be absolutely fucking fucked." Gerard sighed out, forcing back the urge to just grab the nineteen year old and fucking make out with him - right then and right there.