FicWad

Gerard sat solemnly on the big, drowning armchair in the corner, floating somewhere between the cushions. “Why are you here?” he asked quietly. There was a trace of bitterness on his tongue, as well as the wavering notion that he didn’t know how to treat this situation. Frank stuttered and tripped over his own words, more nervous than he’d been in a long, long time.
“I n-need to…I want you to, I just, c-can you let me…I have something for you.” He finished. The lights were dim and he perched temporarily on the edge of the sofa, staring across at Gerard nervously.
“Where?” Gerard asked dubiously. Frank didn’t seem to be carrying anything. If all he was going to do was maybe try to kiss Gerard and then ask for forgiveness, no way was that happening. He would refuse to be swept away by any sort of physical compensation.
Frank ran his hand through his messy hair shakily, hearing the letter crumple slightly as he did. Gerard frowned…he had heard it too.
“Get on with it, please. I don’t really want you in my house right now and you’re not making it any better so you might as well get it over with and leave.” Frank was shocked by Gerard’s ability to be so straightforward, so harsh, so cutting. He never used to be like that. Was it his influence?
“Hang on,” he muttered, and pulled the letter out, revealing his stomach and chest in the process. Due to the rain and the heat of his body, the words had inked themselves on to his skin and he pulled his shirt down quickly, blushing. Gerard stared shamelessly, eyes wide, as Frank wrote something more on the letter, something that had only just hit him. Somewhat of a worrying realisation.
P.P.S. I’ve just realised that I wrote this whole thing about me, the effects you’re having on me, and how much I feel for you. I never for a second considered the impact that I’m having on you. Has what I’ve done made you a better person, or a worse one? Are you glad that you’re out now, you’re properly gay? Are you happy that you had me, at least for a while? I hope so. I hope that I can do the same for you as I feel you’ve done for me. I know this letter isn’t good enough, and by the looks you’re giving me now you really won’t think it is either. So I’m going to give this to you and I’m going to leave, and I’ll walk back home in the rain thinking about your face as you read it. The only thing I can hope for is some sort of goodbye, because I think I love you.
His hand ached from the awkward position and his mind ached from the thoughts whizzing around it in horrible, cyclical movements. He gathered the sheets and walked over to Gerard, knees still shaking, and dropped them into his lap before stumbling round to leave again. He wanted Gerard to have finished the letter already, to call his name, to run after him and gather him in his arms and…it didn’t happen. His voice didn’t break the silence. Frank let himself out silently, deliberately leaving the little pile of his things so that he had an excuse to come back at a later date.
Gerard watched silently, tears gathering in his eyes as he let Frank walk away, hands grasping the thin paper he’d handed him. He waved feebly at Frank’s back and looked down at the scrawled, desperate handwriting and started to read.
It took him a while to take it in. The first few words took long, intense seconds to engrain themselves into his mind, but once he’d started reading, he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t look away. “I really care about you”…. “I loved having you in my arms…” “maybe I just felt equal.” Tears welled up in his tired eyes, dripping on to the paper causing the ink to run silently in the same way that Frank’s had done. “Night after night I fell asleep crying.” A sob rose in Gerard’s throat he forced it down, determined to reach the end of the letter. How could he have been so selfish? All he’d thought about was himself, his own sorrows, his own wellbeing. He’d thought that Frank cheating on him had only hurt Gerard’s feelings, thought that Frank really didn’t give a fuck. And here he was, writing from the heart and proving that for him, it was just as difficult. “You’re the closest thing I’ve had to real, Gerard.” His heart was beating uncontrollably fast. “I want you back. I want you forever.” He really meant it? He felt the same as Gerard? He felt the same irrevocable desire? He thought back to the day at the supermarket and Frank’s extreme jealousy and he knew that this had to be true. Screw what he’d done with Bert. Screw it all.
He found himself giggling weakly at Frank’s celibacy joke and at his comment on the size of Bert’s genitals, bursting into fully fledged laughter at Frank’s the reference towards his intolerance of anything inappropriately explicit. Frank knew him so well. And now he was beginning to learn just as much about him…it was all sinking in. Everything made sense to him.
The sobs were released as he reached the final few paragraphs. Shit, yes, he wanted to all of that stupid romantic stuff with Frank and he wanted to be with him forever too. He understood what happened with Bert. He knew that Frank regretted it and although he wasn’t quite ready to forgive, he felt he could accept.
And that was before he’d even read the ‘P.S’s.
“No more secrets.” The hurried concerns at the end, the thankyous and the apologies he thought he’d never hear. Frank obviously felt as selfish as Gerard did. “…because I think I love you.”
Gerard gasped, rubbing his eyes. Somebody loved him. Somebody really, truly loved him. He stood up slowly. Frank Iero, the twat from the tattoo shop, flourished into somebody capable of loving and - somebody who he was capable of loving back. Is this a fucking joke? He felt immobile, almost physically numb. Emotionally, he was thriving, but he didn’t seem to be able to get his body into motion. All he’d ever wanted was this moment, and now it had finally happened…and then it hit him that the person who had caused it was walking home, on his own, in the dark and the cold and the rain, far away from Gerard’s warm front door.
“Shit, Gerard.” He muttered to himself, looking at the clock. Twenty long minutes had somehow already passed. “You stupid fucking idiot.”
He shot into motion like a bullet, dashing for his car keys and running outside leaving all the lights on and the curtains open, casually inviting criminals into his house for a quick burgle. Falling into his car clumsily he shoved the keys into the ignition and reversed across the gravel much too fast, causing it to fly everywhere but – despite the damage it’d probably do to any surrounding objects – right now he really couldn’t care less. His heart thumped loudly within him as he sped off and he didn’t even know why he was driving like this, because all he had to do was get to Frank’s house and that’s where he’d be, waiting. Or maybe he’d pick him up along the way. Whatever happened, he figured that felt it needed to be done fast before the chance vanished into the smoky night sky. He saw a packet of Frank’s cigarettes in the passenger seat and smiled to himself, hastily grabbing one and lighting up quickly as he drove, watching for his Frankie intently along the way. Every drenched figure he saw he stopped for, checking to see whether or not it was him.
It wasn’t until he reached the street that Frank lived on that he saw him.
Pulling up with a screech on the kerb, he leapt out of the car desperately. “Frankie!” he called. He saw the figure turn slowly and grinned a tear-strained, impossibly relieved grin as he saw Frank’s nervous face.
He wrapped his arms around him instantly and as he’d forgotten to turn off the car lights he kissed him and they were illuminated in the rain, holding eachother so close that their shadow was thin enough to be one person. They shook with tears and moaned softly into the passionate kiss, Gerard pulling away momentarily only to study Frank’s surprised face. Frank could taste the cigarettes, taste the coffee, taste the sudden urgency in his kiss.
“I read it. All of it.” He whispered. Frank’s face reddened and Gerard kissed his nose, smiling. “You love me? Do you mean it?” he asked excitedly. Childishly. He was more alive than Frank had ever, ever seen him.
“Yeah.” He replied quietly. The droplets of rain started to slow and the light from the car flickered a deep orange as Gerard slipped his hands under Frank’s jacket. “I think I love you too.” He said quietly, holding Frank’s shivering hand to his chest so he could feel his pounding heartbeat. “See? Look what you’re doing to me!” he exclaimed. Frank giggled and he knew that his questions were being answered. “Has what I’ve done made you a better person, or a worse one?” He could see in this Gerard, this lively, excitable, passionate Gerard, that what he’d done was definitely for the best. “Yeah.” Frank confirmed, replying to Gerard’s earlier question. “I really fucking love you, Gee.”
There was truth in both of their smiles as they walked slowly into Frank’s flat, Gerard neglecting to turn off his headlights. He just didn’t have the time. By now, he knew exactly what his priorities were.
“I’m sorry for slapping you,” he was blabbering like a madman once they’d reached the living room. “I’m sorry for everything I said to you. I’m sorry that I was always such a pretentious twat and I’m sorry that I made you walk home on your own.” The words were tumbling out and it was all Frank could do to accept his apologies.
“I know, Gerard, it’s okay. I’m sorry too. For fucking that fucking fuck of a fucker.” Gerard giggled at his foul language and smirked as he thought of a joke he’d come up with earlier during a fit of anger. “You know what,” he said deviously, “if Bert’s middle name was Phil, he’d be like Bert Phil McCracken, which is just the ultimate name for someone who participates in gay sex. You know. Phil McCracken equals ‘fill my crack in.’” Frank burst into a fit of astonished laughter and they both collapsed into a few moments of pure, quiet bliss.
“Frankie?” Gerard asked after a while. He was lying underneath Frank and they were just talking, laughing, sharing perfect moment after perfect moment.
“Mm?” he hummed in response. He’d been thinking about the way he first treated Gerard, the way he’d treated his fiancée, with the subtle winks and the constant teasing. He felt so bad, although part of him couldn’t shake off the feeling that one day, he’d be tempted to return to that way of life once again. He knew he had to stay locked to Gerard. It was the only possible way.
“Why haven’t you changed your calendars?” he asked, entirely out of the blue. Frank had four in the living room alone – he really liked calendars, but he was a few days behind on each. The month had changed a few days ago.
“Oh,” he said simply, “because I hate seeing the time pass so quickly. The month doesn’t feel like it’s passed, so I don’t see why I should have to change it to keep up with the whole time convention.”
Gerard was slightly stunned. Impressed. “You’re very individual, aren’t you?” He smirked, the beginnings of a wink forming on his face.
They spent a few hours like this, but there was that lingering question in the air that neither of them dared to ask. They could both feel it. Their hands that itched to touch and their legs that craved to accommodate one another. Gerard had claimed, night after night, that he wasn’t ready. Now that they were so very in love, so very proclaimed, would it work out?
Frank had thought that he hardly knew what love was. He’d felt desire, lust, maybe even worship, but with Gerard it was different. He felt like he’d physically fall apart if Gerard hadn’t come back for him. His limbs, his body and his soul, they were tied together by fragile string. Each knot had felt to him as though it were a glitch in a relationship, a flaw in his ability to be with somebody, up until now. Now, he felt honestly and truly that he was just one person. He had no qualms or doubts about who he was. Frank Anthony Iero. He was no longer loose at the seams, no longer fraying or spilling out into other people’s lives where he was unwanted. Someone had repaired him, had cut off the loose ends and had tied them all neatly together one by one, caringly, lovingly, by hand. By beautiful, pale hands. By Gerard’s hands.
“Frankie?” he asked again. “Can I see your chest?”
“Someone’s curious tonight.” He smirked, before rolling off of Gerard so that he was lying down next to him. He pulled up his shirt confidently and Gerard wriggled down until his face was level with his chest. “Your writing. It’s still imprinted onto you.” He whispered, trying to read it. It was backwards and he jumbled up the words quite a few times, but it was still there.
“We can go to sgig…I mean gigs together a-and have something…um… picnics together, and suck on different ends of…spag…spaghetti… until we kiss in the middle.” He read between the tattoos, smiling. “I wanna do that tomorrow.” He looked up at Frank hopefully. “I’m gonna make spaghetti and we’re gonna do a spaghetti kiss.”
Frank laughed, rolling his eyes at Gerard’s good mood. Gerard smirked a little, aware that he was being slightly over the top, and kissed Frank’s stomach where some of the ink was. Frank closed his eyes, relaxing, as Gerard placed soft kisses all over his chest, his bellybutton, the base of his stomach. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, caught up in the slight tan of Frank’s skin. His fingers curled around the band of Frank’s jeans as he felt the familiar hands carding through his hair and he opened his mouth and shakily voiced both of their thoughts.
“Hey, Frank,” he said nervously, “you wanna take this to the bedroom?”

-

This is the second to last chapter, guys. Enjoy.