So in love with you, so I thought. (Frank/Gerard, oneshot.)
He buries his face in a pillow, breathes deeply, smelling ink and freshly-ground coffee. The cloth's still cool. When Frank moves he leaves a damp stain where his face was - he wipes his cheek roughly with the back of his hand, sniffs, and hopes like hell his eyes aren't red-rimmed. What the hell kind of man am I? he thinks, staring at a spot on the wall where the paint is peeling off. He can see grey mould underneath.
Frank tells his arms to move. They refuse. He sobs, suddenly, sucks his breath in and holds it so it won't happen again. He curls over on his side. He will not give in.
He lies there for hours, but when he can finally bring himself to look at the clock it's only been five minutes. He forces himself to push back the blankets. HIs skin looks filthy against the white of the sheets. When he sits up his muscles scream at him, and he stays frozen on the edge of the bed with his feet barely brushing the floor for another five minutes until his legs will work. They carry him clumsily across the floor, stumbling on purpose.
His hand is shaking almost too much to open the door.
Gerard is standing in the kitchen, staring blankly out the window. He is wearing sweatpants that are two sizes too big for him, and his hoodie is zipped up all the way; eyeliner is smudged from his cheekbone to his temple. His mouth is a thin grey line.
Frank says, "hey," but it chokes halfway out his mouth, so he coughs and tries again. Gerard turns, the corners of his mouth turning up in what's supposed to be a smile but doesn't quite work. Frank can feel himself shaking and fights the pain in his throat.
Frank watches Gerard. Gerard looks right through him. Glass.
"Gerard," Frank says, and the name tastes distant. Gerard doesn't even flinch. Frank's screaming in his mind, look at me, see me, motherfucker, look at [us], but nothing comes out his mouth. He's too scared. Instead, he shuffles forward, grabs at Gerard's hoodie and curls against his chest. Gerard feels like he's about to give way. "I love you," Frank hisses, but it feels desperate, like he's drowning, clutching at air.
He doesn't have to look up to know that Gerard's crying too.
Crossposted to deviantart.