He's sprawled out on the hotel bed, wrists hanging off the edge. Bottle of whiskey lying next to him, almost empty. He's just kind of laying there, helpless. Tired. Useless. The door opens a little bit, but only a crack. Frankie pokes his head in.
"Gee? Are you okay?" He asks gingerly. Gerard just looks up at him and shakes his head, eyes clouding over with tears. Frankie walks over and sits on the bed, tries to hide his concern, and fails miserably.
"I can't... I don't know why I'm still alive. Frankie, what's wrong with me? Why am I like this?" his bottom lip trembles a smidge.
"Like what? Gee, stop. Don't cry. I'm here. It's gonna get better. You'll get better, dude. Promise." Frankie curls up next to Gerard, cradling his hands in his own. Gerard just closes his eyes and breathes Frank in- trying to convince himself that he's still alive, here in Frankie's arms. The older boy sighs softly.
"it's gonna be okay, Gee. Shhhh. Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up." And so he does. Frankie can't sleep. He's kind of busy watching the singer rest- The soft breath that he emits each time he exhales, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he dreams. When Gerard wakes up, he feels better. He takes three Motrin (administered by Frank, of course) and snuggles a while longer. He loves it. He loves being this close to Frank. They get close on stage; they kiss and grope and touch. But it isn't the same. It isn't as intimate. It's like a secret. One of those awesome secrets that you're totally okay with telling someone, but you don't. Because it's special and just for you. But then they have to go to soundcheck. Both boys drift through the few hours, then go back to the hotel. It's really just cuddling, but then Gerard looks at Frankie in this totally weird and new and awesome way. Frank is fucking hot. Gerard has always acknowledged this, but it has never been so prominent, so fierce. And so Gerard doest the thing he believes he ought to do- he kisses Frank. Only for a fraction of a second is the younger boy confused. But then he's definitely kissing back. There's something about the way their bodies are pressed together, like legos. They seem to fit together in a perfectly imperfect harmony. He's only seen that shit in sappy movies, and porn that tries (and fails) to have an actual plot line. Maybe in his dreams, too, he thinks.
"G-gee. Holy fuck." Frank whimpers, his face pressed into Gerard's neck. The older boy simply kisses Frank's cheek and goes about sprinkling tiny pecks across his jaw, his collar bone, his shoulder.
"i... Frank. Frank. Look at me." And Frank does, with this lusty look that practically pins Gerard to the headboard.
"Yes?" He raises one eyebrow.
"I so wanna blow you right now, jesus christ."
"oh?" Frank asks, surprised. To answer this question, Gerard straddles Frankie, the bulge in his pants becoming more prominent by the second. And then he's kissing Frank, unbuttoning his pants at the same time. He slides them down as best he can, and their owner kicks them the rest of the way off. And then Gerard is flicking his tongue over the head of Frank's cock, and he's moaning while Frankie bucks his hips against Gerard's mouth. His eyes start to water, but he just breathes through his nose and keeps going. And- Jesus, Frank's brain cells are having awesome sex right now, he thinks. Gerard just moves up and down, moaning around Frank's dick. Gerard is totally loving it, too. This kids cock tastes like salt and candy, what the fuck. He wants Frank in him and on him and with him and beside him, holy shit. Meanwhile Frankie is trying his hardest not to blow his load in Gerard's throat, and it's not really working, because he's pretty much almost there. Jesus fuck, Gerard is so good at this, holy shit. Fucking Fuck, Frank thinks.
"Gee- I'm. I'm gonna-" and then he comes in Gee's mouth, all sticky and salty. Gerard just closes his eyes, swallows it, and gets up.
"Holy shit, Frank. Fuck me. Rip my fucking clothes off, dude." He pleads, already unzipping his worn-out hoodie. Frank stares at him, still slightly seeing stars parade around his irises. He really does want to bone Gerard- so goddamn bad- but he's not sure now is the right time.
"Gee- I. Um. Can we...? Um. Can I just? I can't fuck you, not right now. After the show, I promise. I swear. I want you so fucking much, you crazy mother fuck. I wanna jump your bones so bad. But I can't risk Ray or Bob or Mikey coming in here, dude."
Gerard fakes this kind of hurt look and thrusts out his bottom lip all pouty-like. Frankie kisses his cheeks, throws an arm around his shoulder. Gerard just smiles at him, and they spend the whole time waiting for the show like that. At 6:46, there's a knock on the door. Gerard looks over at Frank, puts his finger on his nose, and says
"Nose goes!" Frank just rolls his eyes and gets the door. Mikey steps in the room and says it's show time. Frans are waiting, he says. as they walk out the door, Mikey hands them each a black sharpie.
"Sign everything they give you."
"Even genitals?" Frank asks, only semi-kidding.
"Probably not. Ew. Don't make me think about that, Frank."
"Yeah, the only dick you'd ever sign is Pete Wentz's." Gerard pipes in.
"You dirty cocksucker! How about you fuck off?" Mikey splutters indignantly. Both boys simply grin in reply, an inside joke hovering between them. When they get down to the bus, Ray and Bob are waiting, wide-eyed and ready.
"You guys ready? They're fucking animals, dude. Watch yourselves. It's a fuckin' battleground, got it?" Bob explains.
"Uh, yeah." Frank says. Gerard just nods and hopes that's enough.
"Let's get on with it, then." Ray smiles and ruffles his fro. When they step off that bus, holy shit. It's deafening, their screams. Fans are throwing shit onto the pavement at their feet. They sign everything they possibly can. (Thankfully, no genitals are encountered) and then they go to the stage. Frank watches, mesmerised as Gerard pours his heart into that microphone, like he's oblivious to any trouble, any rejection or hurt that he's ever had. So he wanders over by Ray and goes,
"Watch Gee, dude. Holy shit. He's so different onstage."
Ray kind of looks at him like, "uh, yeah, dumbass. Old news," and rolls his eyes. Frank frowns and runs over towards Gee, stopping beside him, eyes bright. He glances at the audience, and catches the eyes of a firl in the front row. She's wearing a white v neck T-shirt with the word "FERARD" on the front. She gives him this "oh shit! You're looking at me!" look, so Frank looks at her like "Watch this". He turns to Gerard, and says in his ear,
"Kiss me, you crazy motherfuck. I dare you."
And holy shit, does Gerard have good timing. Frank is like, punched in the face with passion. When Gerard breaks away, he does not take his eyes off Frank for one fucking nanosecond, because sweet baby fucking Jesus, that boy is fine. And Frank just keeps playing his guitar, a crazy grin stapled on his mug. He hears a faint,
"Holy shit! I got it! I got the whole fucking thing on tape! I fucking swear! It's on video! FERARD LIVES!"
So Frank's pretty satisfied, really. He's filled his awesomeness quota for those few hours.