Friday I'm In Love

△ 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 △

Frank didn't know what to think. Well, he did, he just didn't want to. His mind tossed and turned like an old rowboat in the middle of a violent storm, a storm which shook his bones and left him empty inside. He'd woken in a cold sweat, his skin shining with a sticky gleam as the moonlight crept through the cheap blinds in their bedroom. Pete had stirred awake an hour later, murmuring softly as he molded himself into Frank's back. His arms moved around Frank's stomach gently, pressing featherlight kisses to his shoulder. 

"Do you want to talk about it?", Pete whispered against the nape of his neck.

"No", he sniffed weakly as Frank sat back against his boyfriend's arms. "you've got work tomorrow. Petey you need to sleep."

"I'm off tomorrow, remember? I asked Jimmy for the weekend so we could go to the Pumpkins concert." 

"I'm going to go for a walk." 

Frank turned to press an open mouthed kiss to Pete's lips, pausing for a few moments as they drew apart. "I love you."

Frank didn't say anything else as he tugged on a pair of jeans and a Misfits shirt, followed shortly by his decomposing converse and the nearest denim jacket which luckily already had his phone and his pack of cigarettes in the right hand pocket. 

He'd always been a wanderer - wandering towards someone, away from someone, to somewhere. He never knew where he was going but that was the fun part. Frank's feet led far better than his brain ever could so he let them.  He found himself walking towards the dimly lit Costa on the corner of West boulevard. It was the closest one - open twenty-four hours - and quieter, because the addicts and the bachelorette parties went to the Starbucks down the road. 

Frank walked through the door sleepily and dragged his feet up to the counter. "Coffee, black, two expresso shots." 

He walked through the night, sipping the steaming cup of coffee as Rosehaven's night life raged on like a wildfire. Frank wandered back past the apartment blocks, slipping in the back entrance with a sigh. He could already hear some skank making out in the stairwell,  moaning like a cheap pornstar as Frank desperately tried to block out the noise. The further he climbed up the stairs the more he was starting to regret his life. It was only when he reached the floor under his when did he want to throw himself over the bannister. Two men stood pressed against the wall. One with long, shaggy, black hair already had his button down torn open. The smaller, blond, man pressed him back a against the wall.

"Frank?", one of the men croaked, shoving the blond off lightly before stumbling to button up his shirt. Frank spun around to give them privacy, his dinner already making a guest appearance in his throat. 

"Am I supposed to pretend like I didn't see that, or does Gerard know you're fucking his best friend?", Frank replied as his face turned a nice shade of toxic green.

Mikey ran in front of him, face flushed and his breathing ragged at best. "Frank, Frank please - It's not... we're not... it was an accident okay. It's not anything serious, we just...", he croaked weakly as he glanced over at Bert with trusting eyes. 

"Dude, we're just lonely.", Bert said quietly. "Today was the last time. Mikes has a date tomorrow." he smiled weakly, shoving his hands into his pockets before dropping his eyes to his converse.

"You're both monumental idiots."

Gerard felt disgusting, sitting in his bedroom covered in paint and surrounded by paintings of nude men. Hopelessness had taken over far sooner than he'd liked, after forty-eight hours of complete isolation, and he was lost. Gerard Way was completely and utterly lost. He sat in the middle of his bedroom disgusted with himself. He didn't understand. What truly shook him to his core was the sketchbook. He'd kept it, hidden away under his bed for twelve years. A sketchbook from when he was fifteen - which he'd forgotten about until his mental breakdown a mere four hours ago. Gerard was shaken, there was no denying that, and that sketchbook as hammered the last rusty old nail in his badly made coffin. 

So he crawled into the shower, curling into a ball under the icy jets. He leaned back against the tiles, his eyes falling shut as everything faded into a sea of calm white behind his eyes. All the noise, all the static, all the screaming in his mind was blocked out by the sound of water bashing against his skull in a bittersweet symphony of pain and death. 

A pair of strong hands suddenly grabbed Gerard's soaking shirt, dragging him forcefully out the shower as he struggled to breathe. The lights above him spun as the figure dumped him beside the heater, his body moving like a ragdoll thrown across the room. 

"Gerard? Gerard can you hear me?"

The voice seemed to echo as spots of red and amber danced across Gerard's irises. He couldn't move; the sheer exhaustion keeping an iron grip on every single on of his muscles as the figure tried to stir him to action. 

"Gerard... please."

"M'fine.", he mumbled sleepily as he swatted the figure away. "Just tired."

"What did you take?"

"Frankie?"

The man - who Gerard now recognized as his guardian angel - knelt down in front of him with that kind smile that just made him feel sicker. Gerard shook his head weakly, tearing his eyes away from Frank like acid being poured into his eyes. Frank looked stunning and it hurt more than anything Gerard could ever do to himself.

He looked disheveled, his black hair falling into his face as he tugged his denim jacket off - giving Gerard a stroke in the process. "Gee, what have you taken?" Frank asked strongly, turning Gerard's head to face him. 

"N-nothing."

"Bullshit. Gerard don't fucking lie to me."

"Just... just tipsy." 

"Jesus Christ-" Frank sighed, pulling Gerard into his arms - heart racing as he cradled his best friend's body. "Do you never get sick of scaring me?"

Gerard shifted against Frank, running a hand through his hair to push it off his face. "It's your fault.", he whispered, meeting Frank's eyes swaying slightly. "If... if you weren't  so fuckin' pretty and hot." 

Frank flushed only slightly from his comment, dizzy from the proximity. "I'm not hot."

"Sure you are... you're all muscley and sexy with your muscles and your tattoos and your hair."

"You're pretty and cute."

"You only think that because I'm skinny now. Skinny and disgusting."

Frank shook his head, brushing Gerard's soaking hair out his eyes. "No," he murmured thoughtfully. "I've always thought you were beautiful."

Gerard shifted impossibly closer, looking down panting heavily as he moved into Frank's lap. Frank made the rookie mistake of looking up at him, gulping nervously as Gerard grabbed his forearms for support - shivering like a washing machine on a hardwood floor. Frank's hand moved eight paces without his head, unzipping Gerard's sweatshirt with shaking hands. 

"I feel like we've been here before.", Gerard whispered as Frank shoved the sweater off his shoulders.