"He thinks I have stigmata," Frank said, because what the fucking hell, it couldn't get any worse. He might as well just lay it out. "Oh, well," said Brian into his hands. "Of course." ~ I did not write this story. All credit goes to the author, Bexless on Archive Of Our Own. Link to the original story: http://archiveofourown.org/series/9795

That's the only time I saw him. When the moon was out. // 2017

"The hardest part is letting go of your dreams." There comes a point in time when your life gets so fucked up, so out of control, that you begin to wonder if anything good is supposed to come from it at all. Gerard wondered this, because amidst a mess of terrible night terrors and an everlasting existential crisis, Frank comes into his life. After nearly two years of struggling against the vivid nightmares that follow him in his sleep, Gerard goes out to break the cycle in the only way he can really think of: attacking it at its very source. Of course, that's when he meets Frank, of all times. Gerard's fucked up and desperate, and nothing is going right for him at all. If the fact that a stranger he met at midnight is the only thing keeping him grounded and sane isn't sad, then what is? And to what extent is Gerard willing to go to ensure that his nightmares don't bother him anymore? What's the cost if he does? does this description even make sense // trigger warnings: graphic content, gore, mentions of death, smut // if there are any others, tell me, and i'll gladly add them :)

The Pocket Universe Effect - the feeling that nothing else outside your little bubble of reality can quite matter at all. One am on a Friday in June, admist quiet neighbourhoods of New Jersey, the Ieros are away on a night out and Frank and Gerard are sprawled out across Gerard's green anorak, without the capacity to care about anything other than the night sky and the way the stars reflect in each other's eyes.

It's the lake in November, and the move closer to the ocean, and Gerard's fixation, and Gerard's compulsions like tidal waves dragging him down, and Mikey's more distant than ever: like they're drifting out into the middle of the ocean, whereas Gerard's just stuck there: water turning to quicksand around him, drowning. And it's the letter; Frank finds it on the floor of the boys' bathroom on the first floor. It's dropped in accident, perhaps from a pocket or something, and it's drenched in what Frank hopes is tap water, and the words: scrawled in blue ink are difficult to make out as the words join together in a fuzzy inky mess. The only paragraph legible is the final one, and even still, it barely is: 'I've been underwater for a long time now, but I'm not drowning, I'm beginning to think I can breathe like this, but I can't, I'm gasping for breath, and I have to do this, Mikey, I have to end this myself. I'm going to the lake on the 1st of November, don't wait for me... I'm not coming back.' And the name signed at the bottom is little more than a smudged mess of blue ink, and there's nothing Frank can do about it, but he knows for certain that the one thing he can't do is ignore this letter, and he reminds himself of that as he folds it into his pocket. It's a suicide note, Frank's stupid, but not stupid enough to brush over that fact, and whoever this person is, Frank knows that they most certainly don't deserve to die. And Frank isn't going to let them. Because he's going to find this person; he's got time now at least, and he can save them, he will save them - Frank promises himself that. But one person in a whole school, it's like a needle in a haystack, but he's got time, it's November 1st in thirty days, and he can only hope that it will be enough. He's got one month: the date is October 1st.