FicWad

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4-“

Gerard can see Frank from across the stage. He fidgeting; nervous. He’s always nervous before shows. He doesn’t dare do pre-show exercises, he might just end up leaving behind his lunch.

Suddenly they’re in front of the crowd, in the crowd, above the crowd; it doesn’t matter.

Screaming, jumping, it blurs in Gerard’s eyes and he can’t see. But he doesn’t need to see, he can feel Frank near him, against him.

It’s a joke, all a joke. The whole arena explodes when skin touches fabric, but Gerard can’t tell the difference. It’s a joke.

Gerard sings and he sings for the world, but he wished, just once, to be able to sing for Frank, and only for Frank. It’s been days since the night Frank lay cold and sick in his sweat, three tour stops ago, but Gerard can still feel his overheated skin against his in the tub.

Gerard winces when Frank touches him, almost pushing him away, because, God, does he wish he meant it.

Frank is backstage, throwing off his guitar and handing it to a roadie.

“Hey, Gee!”

Frank is next to Gerard, ruffling his hair despite the odd role swap.

“I love ya buddy. That was great.” I love you is never enough. Frank loves Ray, Frank loves Bob, and Frank fucking loves Matt, for Christ’s sake.

Frank is on the bus, sleeping in Ray’s lap and waiting for the hotel to rise from the hill of the road.

“Isn’t he adorable?” Adorable doesn’t cut it. Frank is flawed, radiant, and horribly irresistible.

Gerard is absolutely pathetic.