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Prologue. Sinners Never Sleep.

“Jesus Christ.” Frank swears.

Gerard gives him a look, disappointed and sad, from the corner of his eye, but otherwise keeps his eyes on the road.

“You shouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain, Frank.” he says, gripping the wheel tighter.

Frank lets his head rest against the cold glass, still bitter from the morning frost, it calms his skin. He’s on fire, he’s always in fire lately, orange flames licking and bighting at his fragile skin, sometimes Frank can’t take it, but the flames only grow when he’s weak.

“It’s not in vain,” Frank grumbles, “My head is killing me. Hath thaw Lord no mercy?”

Gerard’s knuckles turn white against the wheel, but he doesn’t push the matter. Frank is stubborn normally, but this early in the morning the twenty-six-year-old is a force not to be reckoned with.

Frank glares at Gerard across the car, as if it isn’t bad enough that he’s forcing Frank to church at dick o-clock in the morning, he has to be wearing that thing- the collar- like Frank needs any more reminding of just what Gerard is.

He knows he’s being bitter, pouting and scowling out of the window, but it’s Gerard’s fault. He’s like his mom, forcing him into his Sunday best at un godly hours then ferrying him across town to Our Lady, all whilst telling him to “Be grateful, Frankie.”

The thing is, Frank is grateful. Gerard has given him house and home, hot showers and good food, he had taken Frank away from a life on the streets, and under his arm two years ago. And for that Frank will be forever grateful. But he is forever grateful to Gerard not whoever is supposedly floating about in the sky.

See, it’s not even like Frank doesn’t believe in God, he’s open minded, he grew up a Catholic boy and he’s gets it, he gets it, people like something to believe in. It’s just, where is he? If The G Man is so knowing and powerful then where the hell was he when Frank needed him? Too busy carving his sons face into toast, or creating tidal waves across the globe.

Frank so doesn’t dig that.

“You got any Advil?” Frank asks after a moment.

The glass isn’t doing it anymore, isn’t cool enough to calm his raging flesh, burning deeper than most of his headaches. He can see flames behind his eyes, lapping up against his skull, pushing out or maybe breaking in. He wants something stronger than Advil but Gerard’s hardly going allow that kind of relief. Not on a Sunday.

“No.” Gerard growls, then winces when he sees Frank writhe against the seatbelt, drops of sweat on his slick skin coating his forehead till even the slick water isn’t enough to distinguish the flames, they grow and consume eating away and forcing Frank to pay for his sins. “Sorry” he adds.

Frank shuts his eyes and makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. If only the flames would forgive him for today, if only he could rest like everyone else.

For a while they drive in a silence only ever broken by Frank’s whines and curses. Gerard keeps throwing glances, worrying his lip, peeping out of the corner of his eye. Eventually he stomps on the breaks and looks over.

“You’re burning up.” He pulls an angsty face, then, worries his lip some more.

Now’s not the time for Gerard to be having those thoughts, thoughts about Frank sweating and gasping. He’s paying for enough already, no need to add more sins to the list.

“I fucking know.” Frank grumbles He can no longer see past the white, past the scarlet blotches lining his vision, this is it, he thinks, it’s here.

Gerard winces then looks at his watch “We don’t have time to go back,” We don’t have much time at all, it’s coming, it’s nearly here, if he can just hold out for one more day.

“We would have time if you didn’t insist on traveling across fucking state to get to church.”

For a moment, Gerard looks like he’s going to agree Please, please just forget the church, we can leave now. But then he pushes on the gas and begins driving towards Our Lady

“There’s water under the seat.” he says.

-

Frank is leant against the car, smoke in hand slowly burning its way down to the stump. Just like you. His head still hurts but at least the cool air is a break, it’s better than the church at least. It pains him to be in the church, he’s always more irritable in there. He watches Gerard through low-lidded eyes and chews on his lips. He’s talking to some woman, all old and worn rotting and weathering away. They’re smiling sadly and Gerard has his hands clasped together, still clad in his full freaky-Priest-dress-thing

Sometimes, Frank hates Gerard.

Frank focuses his attention away from Gerard and the woman and the fucking church It angers him even to look at, especially on a Sunday. And finally pulls the cigarette up to his lips. His skin’s almost too hot for him smoke more fuel for the fire, more indulgencies to pay for. But the nicotine pushes him to carry on. He stares at his fake leather shoes and scowls as he takes a long drag.

“I hate you smoking.”

Frank looks up and blows smoke into Gerard’s face. “You holy men even allowed to hate?” he asks, then tosses a glance towards the woman from earlier, she’s crying delicately and being helped into a car. “We done here or did you want to take that bitch round the back for a quickie?”

“He grandson just died, she was talking to me about the funeral.” Gerard speaks in a cold voice.

“Whatever,” Frank says “Can we just go already, I’m freezing my balls of here.”

Gerard says nothing, just unlocks the car and gestures for Frank to get in. Is hope already lost for him? Just one more day, may he last just one more day.

The drive back is much like the one there. Gerard keeps tossing nervous eyes at Frank, who glares out the window, brooding.

They’re nearly home when Gerard finally says, “You still look hot.”

“Save it for the alter boys.” Frank snaps.

Gerard puts on his heartbreak face but says nothing.

-

Once home Frank assumes his position in front of the TV- may the indulgence keep him at bay even for just a few moments- content to stay there for the next six hours. At least.

Gerard hovers worriedly in the door way for a little while. Has it got this bad that he is scared to go near him? Shifting his weight from foot to foot- like standing on hot coals- and looking unsure. “Um,” he eventually says.

Frank looks up from Ed Edd and Eddie and scowls at Gerard “What.” he snaps.

Gerard comes close to drawing blood from his lip and clings to the silence for a little longer before elaborating, “Are-do you…”

“Do I what?” Do you know? Is it that obvious?

“Need anything?” Gerard winces, as if perhaps he has said the wrong thing It’s always the wrong thing these days, the wrong thoughts, the wrong feelings.

And Frank almost feels bad, except Gerard is still wearing the collar-He can feel it as though it’s bound to his own neck- and he won’t take anything more from this man.

“No. I’m fine.”

Gerard nods a few times then rakes a hand through his hair, says, “I’ll be in my office then.” I don’t think I should leave you alone.


When Frank first moved into Gerard’s he hadn’t known he was a man of god. He had dropped out of collage, I feel you and this school are ill fitted, Francis. It would be better if you found somewhere else to complete your studies, failed his band You’re too drunk to even hold your guitar. Dude, are you even listening? And lost every crappy job he got I just think your skills would be more suited to a different line of work. His mom had been sympathetic You know I love you, Honey but she refused to let Frank back into her home But, you’re a big boy now. You need to find your own feet. Frank and Alistair didn’t get on anyway I love your mother and I will do her right, you’re a burden to this home, Frank.

So Frank had turned to Mikey, who had offered him a place to stay C’mon Frankie, let’s get you cleaned up. Frank slept on Mikey’s couch for nearly a year, he even held down a semi reliable job at Eyeball Records. Things had been, not great, but okay.

Then Mikey had met Alicia and things had gone down hill- like a snowball out of control, down and down destroying everything you come in contact with, just like always- She moved in after what? Two weeks and that had been that.

It would have been okay, except, Frank was kind of a slob and Alicia had, well, clashed with that. Mikey, It’s disgusting, look that pizza’s been there forever! Then eventually the house became too hostile and something had to be done. Mikey said his brother could take him in. He’s a good guy, you’ll like him and so Frank had moved in with Gerard.

He thinks about it sometimes, when he’s lay awake at night some place in-between dreaming and reality. He thinks about his other options, maybe if he’d just tried harder things would be different maybe he wouldn’t be living with a man that drives him insane. Maybe his skin wouldn’t be so tight, suffocating him and burning him until he can’t take it anymore. Maybe if he’d tried harder he would be somewhere else, a nice house with a pretty girl, someone he could bring back to his Ma.

Gerard thinks too, late at night with his rosary beads clacking between his fingers catching himself carefully whenever his thoughts wonder too far. He imagines a different life, a different plan, sometimes he thinks it would be nice, to be like Frank, to not care. Mostly though, he just prays for the strength to break another day, he keeps his faith close so that he can keep his prying eyes at bay, it’s not fair to think of Frank in that way.

They both stay up late that night, just listening to the house and the neighbours Frank thinks he can hear Gerard’s breath through the thin walls, his late night prayers and chants. He’s paranoid now, he knows, he has to. But Gerard is silent, his face smashed against his pillow, his hands made numb by the weight of his chest one more night, he just needs the strength to last one more night.