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"No!" Frank screeched, sitting up and staring at Gerard. "Gerard, no! I don't wanna... Fuck!" He rubbed his eyes and frowned. "Don't you get it? That's why shit's fucked up, man..."
Gerard bit his lip and looked down at the carpet. He knew Frank was right, of course. It made him regret suggesting it. "I'm sorry," He said quietly, "I didn't-"
"Didn't what?!" Frank shouted, curling his fingers up into tight, angry fists that made his knuckles white. "You did! You did everything, you ruined everything!"
"Frank, I don't..." Gerard mumbled, his face flushing. His eyes felt wet when he blinked them and he suspected all of the moisture from his throat had gone into them, as the dryness made it hurt to swallow. "I thought-"
"You let me blame myself!" Frank screamed, no longer looking at Gerard but up at the ceiling, almost in hysterics. "Every single time I hated myself and I thought it was my fault but it's fucking not, it never fucking was!" His voice broke on the last word. A tear slid down his white cheek and he looked back at Gerard. "Let's fucking face it, you'd rather hang out with Cosmic fucking Kelly any day." He croaked, staring into Gerard's permanently distant eyes with his own tired ones.
His chest hurt. His cheeks were wet with tears and his hands felt too hot, his nails digging into his palms too fiercely. His head soared then plummeted at random moments and his tongue felt much too big for his mouth. He'd felt this way when Mikey died. Maybe it was because, in a sickly, poetic way, a part of him had died right there in front of Gerard, in that dark, ugly room that had always smelled of alcohol.

He was so, so tired.

He looked into Gerard's eyes and felt his lip trembling as more warm saltwater trickled from his own. "Why wasn't I enough for you?" He choked.
"Please don't say that," Gerard almost pleaded, "It's not... I mean, I didn't..." He shuffled closer to Frank and put his arm around his shaking back and, to his surprise, felt him cling onto his waist almost immediately and press his head against his chest. Gerard held him tighter and twirled his dark hair gently around his fingers, trying to calm him down. "It was never you, I promise, I... All my fault, you're right, I know it is, I'm sorry, I just... Just, when Mikey... Y'know, I..."
"Say it," Frank croaked, looking up at Gerard. His eyes were red and his cheeks pale. "You need to say that he... Say he died. Please."
Gerard looked at Frank like he didn't understand what was being asked of him. "Why do I-"
"You've never said it," Frank said, "I don't think you've ever said it to me, you haven't said it to anyone, have you?"
Gerard thought for a second. Now that it'd been mentioned, he honestly couldn't think of a time when he had said that. But that was unimportant, it didn't mean anything. What could it possibly mean? He'd never said he was president either, so what? "I don't want to." He whispered.
"You have to." Frank insisted.
"Why?"
"C'mon, please."
He swallowed and inhaled sharply, looking at the dirty beige carpet and counting the stains subconsciously; like that stain from that time he'd puked on the carpet, and the one from where Frank had spilled beer on it. "I, um," He croaked, sucking his cheeks a little. "Mikey, he, uh... Frank, come on, I don't want to."
Frank sighed and nodded. "Okay."
Gerard shut his eyes and held Frank tightly, feeling his ribs expand and contract and he breathed and the steady thump of his heart beat against his own chest, then noticed the smell he'd picked up on earlier again, and almost recognised it the second time. He bit the inside of his lip and concentrated, trying to place the it. Where had he smelt it before? It reminded him of being... Calm, he supposed. Sort of a soaring, swooping calmness. Like a waterbed.
"Frank," He said, suddenly picking up on what it could be. "Have you been...?"
"Mm?" Frank hummed, glancing up at him.
Gerard didn't know how best to ask; if he was wrong he knew that Frank would flip out again and he didn't want that. "What did you smoke today?"
Frank giggled (which increased Gerard's suspicions by at least twenty percent). "Fine, you got me," He said, "I'm a huge hypocrite and I smoked some of your weed. Hours ago, though."
"You...?" Gerard said almost incredulously. "Did you?"
"Yeah, but it's no fucking cocaine, is it? I'm still mad at you."
"Fine."
"I'm sorry, though," Frank croaked, squeezing Gerard tighter. "I just... It's not your fault. Not all of it."
Gerard nodded and moved his other arm around Frank. "It is." He said under his breath, "Course it is."
Frank shook his head fiercely. "Don't say that," He said, "If I hadn't asked him to come out with me that night, he wouldn't've fucking..." His voice faded away and he buried his face in Gerard's shirt, screwing up his eyes.

He couldn't help but blame himself for what had happened to Mikey. He didn't think he'd ever stop feeling the way he did about the whole thing. If Mikey were still alive none of this would have happened. So many things would and wouldn't have happened.

Gerard wouldn't be sick.

Gerard would be at home.

Gerard wouldn't be so sad.

Gerard would be with someone worth being with.

Gerard wouldn't miss his brother.

Gerard would go outside.

Gerard wouldn't blame Frank as he knew he always had done.

He wouldn't have ruined Gerard's life.

Of course he'd ruined Gerard's life and of course this was all his fault. How could he have had the nerve to blame him for this? The thought of doing that made Frank's stomach knot and twist and made him feel evil. He was evil, he was a twisted, ugly, evil murderer.

He closed his eyes and cried against Gerard's old, cigarette scented t-shirt, trying hard to be quiet but whimpering every now and again. "I'm so sorry," He choked, wrapping his arms so tightly around Gerard he worried he might break him in half - he'd gotten so thin... "I... It isn't..."
Gerard shushed him gently and stroked his hair tenderly, holding him close and resting his cheek on top of his head. "It's okay," He whispered, "Shh, it's okay."
"It's not okay!" Frank wailed, the corners of his mouth twitching uncomfortably and his hair dragging over his cheeks. "It's not your fault, I promise, it's my fault, I -" He breathed in sharply and almost choked on his own tongue. "I killed him, didn't I? I just, I... I'm so sorry, Gerard, I-I didn't mean-"
Gerard kissed Frank's hair softly and felt a tear slide down his cheek. "Frank, it's okay..." He assured him, his voice shaking. He ignored the fact that he was telling himself as much as he was telling Frank (if not more). "I love you."
Frank shook and dug his nails into Gerard's t-shirt. "Don't, please don't, don't, don't, don't, please, don't..."

A/N: Sorry it's a short one, the next one will definitely be longer (and posted sooner). Thanks again for the reviews!