"You learn to take life as it comes at you. To make each day count."
- Jack Dawson, Titanic
Frank has only ever been on a ship twice in his life.
The Mauretania was the first ship he set foot in - the first ship that, well, took his ship-virginity - and so he wasn't so impressed when he first saw the RMS Titanic. He promptly remembers comparing the Mauretania with Titanic when he got out of the Renault carriage, to which Brendon smugly replied with, "It's over a hundred feet longer than Mauretania, Frank, and far more elegant. You're much too hard to impress, baby."
Although Brendon might be right about Titanic being a whole lot better, he was wrong about one thing. Frank wasn't hard to impress, he didn't think so.
He was impressed when Gerard brought him to the steerage folks the other day. He was impressed at the first push on the accordion, the first tap on the tambourine - it was when the music started, when he and Gerard tumbled into the fray to dance, eyes locked into each other, grinning crazily, and he was still pretty fucking impressed by the time the music stopped playing and everyone raved and laughed so hard, some even flipped a few tables out of enthusiasm (something Frank has learned to appreciate). He was impressed by a lot of things - just things that couldn't be found in the ship's fancy dining saloon where all the first-class idiots are clumped together, muttering mindlessly and discussing business transactions.
Back in the present, Mr. Andrews is leading a group, Frank included, back from the ship's bridge along the boat deck.
"Mr. Andrews," Frank says. "I was just thinking earlier, with the number of lifeboats in here times the capacity you mentioned," he trails off, and the group looks at Frank expectantly. "Pardon me, but it seems that there are not enough for everyone aboard."
Mr. Andrews stops in his tracks. "About half, actually," he says, smiling at Frank. "Mr. Iero, you miss nothing, do you? In fact, I put in these new type davits," he points along the deck, "which can take an extra row of boats inside this one, but it was thought by some that the deck would look too cluttered."
Brendon walks forward with Mrs. Iero. "Waste of deck space as it is on an unsinkable ship," he says, lightly smacking the side of the boat with a stick and following the rest of the group ahead of them.
"Sleep soundly, Frank," says Mr. Andrews as he hurries after Brendon and Mrs. Iero. "I have built you a good ship, strong and true. She's all the lifeboat you need."
Frank is walking slowly after them when he feels a nudge on the shoulder. He turns around. "Gee?"
"Come with me," Gerard whispers and grabs at his hand, cutting him off from the group and hastily leading him into a room Frank hasn't seen before.
"Gee, we - we can't. I can't see you." Frank is saying now, rushing back to the door away from Gerard. "We really can't."
Gerard grabs him by the shoulders before he could even leave and sets him against the door. He looks at him. "I need to talk to you."
"No, Gee, no. Gerard, I'm already engaged. I'm married to Brendon. I...I love Brendon."
"Do you really?"
There is a silence.
"Frankie, you're no picnic alright," Gerard smiles incredulously. "You're a spoiled little brat, even, but under that, you're - you're the most amazingly astounding, wonderful man that I've ever known."
"Gerard, I-"
"No wait," Gerard cuts him off. "Let me try to get this out. You're amazing," he stops and heaves a heavy sigh. "I'm not an idiot, Frank, I know how the world works. I have ten bucks in my pocket, I used to live in my Mom's basement, I have absolutely nothing to offer you, and I know that."
Frank doesn't say anything.
"I understand, but I'm too involved now," Gerard continues, tilting Frank's face with a hand on his chin. "You jump, I jump, remember? I can't turn away without knowing you're going to be alright."
They stare at each other for a few moments. Frank can hear the people chattering noisily outside the room; the muffled, sporadic clattering of boots against the floorboards. Frank takes advantage of that moment to look at Gerard's lips, then back at Gerard's eyes.
"Well I'm fine," Frank says finally. "You have nothing to worry about. I'm fine, really."
"Really," Gerard repeats blankly. "I don't think so. Frankie, they've got you trapped, and you're gonna die if you don't break free. Maybe not right away because you're strong but..." he pauses and slides another hand to cup Frank's cheeks. "Sooner or later, that fire that I love about you, Frank, that fire's gonna burn out."
Frank still doesn't say anything. He couldn't say anything. He swallows the acid in his throat, then again and again, fighting the urge to break away and throw a fit right then and there. He's always sucked at that, and he's sure of that because he can already feel a steady trail of tears sliding down his cheeks.
"Frankie..."
"It's not up to you to save me, Gee," Frank chokes out.
Gerard nods, accepting this and backing away slightly. "You know, you're right. Only you can do that."
Frank looks at Gerard's face, and after a minute he reaches up and slides a hand over Gerard's own. His eyes are still fixed on Frank's, all sympathetic, when he says, "Frank-"
"I'm going back," Frank says sharply, pushing Gerard away. "Leave me alone."
Later that afternoon, Frank is sitting on a divan with a group of other first-class men chatting around him, not listening at all, still and silent like a statue, just letting the conversation drift, when he sees a mother and her young son having tea.
Of course, Frank thinks privately, fucking tea to make things a lot more boring. What was he expecting to see in a mind-numbingly dull saloon?
The son, wearing a pair of expensive gloves, gingerly picks up a piece of bread before the mother quickly corrects his posture and discussing, like, the whole stupid tea etiquette. Ugh. The young boy looks so serious, so afraid to make a mistake that might displease his mother, so trapped. And at that point Frank realizes he has to make a decision.
The Titanic voyages forward, the entire ocean basking in the fiery sunset. Frank sees Gerard at the tip of the bow railing, leaning against it so peacefully, and for a moment Frank just watches him - watches the way he closes his eyes and the way he lets the wind run freely through his unkempt hair.
Frank giggles a little. Gerard suddenly turns around. "Frank?"
"Oh, uh, hi," Frank smiles sheepishly, slowly walking towards the railing. "I changed my mind, actually."
Gerard just smiles, fixing Frank with a soft stare, as if considering something.
"What?"
He hushes Frank and offers a hand. "Come here."
Frank reluctantly takes it.
"Now close your eyes."
Frank does, and Gerard puts his hands around Frank's waist so that he can turn him to face forward in the direction of the ship. "Keep it close, alright," he says as he presses him gently to the rail. He's standing behind Frank, and Frank can feel his heart starting to race. If not for his ribcage or something, his heart probably would've already rushed to America before the ship does.
"Do you trust me?" Gerard asks softly, taking both of Frank's hands and raising them until his arms are outstretched on either side. Frank doesn't mind and goes with the flow, feeling the chilly wind brush against his hair, his cheeks, everywhere. He feels good. Then Gerard lowers his hands, leaving Frank's arms on their own, raised in the air.
"I trust you."
"Open your eyes, then."
Frank gasps and laughs in amazement. He sees nothing but water, as if there's no ship below them. No Brendon. No anything, just the two of them soaring through the ember sky. Frank feels free, and most importantly he feels safe. He can see the blue Atlantic unfolding towards him, the burning hearth above, and the fast but therapeutic hissing of the water.
"Gee, I'm - I'm flying!"
"I know," Gerard laughs gently, then he puts his hands on his waist to steady him.
Frank leans forward and closes his eyes. He has never felt anything so magical like this before. Not until this moment, at least, and Frank feels so happy and free that he might explode.
"Come Josephine in my flying machine, going up, she goes," Gerard sings softly in his ear.
Frank smiles then slightly leans backward, pressing his back against Gerard's front and feeling the warmth of his body. Gerard allows this and raises his arms, gently tracing Frank's own until they were both outstretched to meet his. He tangles his fingers with Frank's, and it'd be a lie to say that each touch didn't give Frank goosebumps. It pretty much did.
Gerard pushes his face into the crook of his neck. "Frank," his lips are now against his ear.
Frank hums and turns around, his lips unimaginably close to Gerard's, and he stares for a second before looking away to look at his eyes instead. "Gee," he sighs, slowly lowering his arms and tipping his head further until their lips could finally connect.
Magic and fireworks, Frank thinks, even though he can't really think of anything aside from how Gerard's lips feel like. He isn't even freaking out. His face is hot despite the cold gusts of wind, and his heart's thumping wildly. In Frank's experience, kisses have always been so awkward and unpleasant instead of magical and passionate, but that was just because he was having them with Brendon. And he didn't even have a choice, not with Frank's mother forcing this marriage on him.
From behind, Gerard wraps his arms around Frank even tighter, and they kissed in a way that's full of passion, so full of magic and everything Frank has read about and watched in romantic films. Frank didn't even think they were possible. Well, that obviously has changed now.
"I don't want you to leave me," Frank softly says against Gerard's mouth.
"I'm not leaving you, Frankie," he whispers back, and Frank feels like he's about to fucking melt. He feels all his limbs succumbing to him, to the ocean, to the passion that's so carefully instilled.
He feels like he can take over the world as long as Gerard's right there to protect him, as long as he is there to protect Gerard. Just like that. Safe and sound.