chimneythunder

Once Show Pony is satisfied that all traces of Better Living Industries have been firmly eradicated from Frank’s appearance, he finally gives Frank something to do; a cleaning task. Frank stares at the massive box of vinyl disks Show Pony points to in disbelief.

“Do the best you can, OK?” Show Pony says, turning to leave.

“You’re leaving me?!”

Pony looks amused. “I’m needed elsewhere and I don’t think you need supervision for this.”

“But – but I’m from Scarecrow! I could use the radio equipment to call BLI for help, or I could just sabotage the whole thing –”

“Are you going to?”

“Well no, but I could –”

“Frank, Frank, Frank,” Show Pony says, calmly cutting through Frank’s babble. “You still don’t get it, do you? Everybody in the Zones has a past. We’re all running from something. No one cares out here what you were - it’s what you’re doing now that’s important.” He’s still smiling as he speaks but he sounds sad.

Frank wonders what Show Pony’s story is.

“Jet Star will be back soon enough. Like I said, just do the best you can, OK?” he says, cheerful again, and then with a clatter of plastic wheels spinning, he’s gone.

Frank glances at the radio desk by the wall. Even if he was planning on calling in Scarecrow, he wouldn’t know how to work the fucking thing anyway. With a shrug, he sits down on the floor crossed-legged and pulls the box of disks towards him. After a while, he’s got the disks sorted into four piles – Good, Fucked, Possibly Salvageable and WTF REALLY?? The last one consists of only one disk; The Greatest Hits of Barry White.

He’s so deeply involved in his task that he doesn’t hear the rumbling of the car outside until it’s far too close. Immediately, he’s on his feet, his hand automatically flying to the gun on his side even though he probably wouldn’t be any good with the thing if he tried.

What if it’s Korse?! What if they’ve tracked him down?!

He runs to the window but the graffiti completely obscures everything. He presses himself against the wall, back to the door, straining his ears to hear something.

And then outside he hears Show Pony’s laughter. Then Ray’s voice. And then –

“Where is he??”

Gerard. It’s Gerard’s voice.

Frank’s heart leaps in his chest – Gerard’s here! He’s safe! – and then it abruptly plummets as he realises what it really means if Gerard’s outside.

“No, I want to speak to him alone,” he hears Gerard say firmly. There’s footsteps, the door sliding back, more footsteps, closer now and then –

“Frank?”

He’s terrified to turn around.

Please be Gerard... Please don’t be Gerard...

“Frankie?”

He turns around.

It’s Party Poison standing in the room, his hair a vivid red tangle and his face alarmed. For the first time Frank’s known him, he’s unmasked; there’s a flash of yellow dangling carelessly in his hand.

It’s Party Poison.

It’s Gerard.

Of course it fucking is.

“Oh my God, what happened to your face?!” he asks. He’s moving towards Frank so quickly and his hand is lightly touching the fresh wounds on Frank’s cheek – it stings dully but he doesn’t feel himself react.

It’s Gerard. It’s fucking Gerard.

“Gee – ” Frank chokes, and then gives up. He’s not consciously aware of throwing his arms around Gerard – Party Poison – and burying his face in the crook of his neck but then Gerard’s gently saying “shhh, it’s ok, you’re safe now” softly and stroking soothing circles on Frank’s back, kissing the side of his head...

Frank pulls back and looks at Gerard properly. His face is thinner, more defined, and there are more lines around his eyes and mouth. He’s a lot more tanned too and it just feels so wrong to see Gerard with any colour to his usual vampire pallor... but the look of concern he’s got right now is the same one he gives when he thinks Frank’s been working too hard or hasn’t had enough coffee.

“I really should have seen this coming,” Frank mutters.

Gerard chuckles. “Yeah, Ray said you’re not from here.”

Frank shakes his head. “Really, really no... Gerard, what the fuck happened?”

So Gerard tells him. It’s a tale of war, fire and death, all starting one year from where Frank’s left off. The world ends with the war to end all wars. What few survivors were left grouped together to form a new civilisation but then that started to self-destruct too, so Better Living Industries took over...

Frank was actually referring to what happened to Gerard but it’s nice to finally have some history properly explained.

“But what about me and you?” Frank asks. “I mean, we were –”

He trails off as he sees Gerard’s confused look. “We were what?”

Oh fuck.

He suddenly remembers the conversation him and Ray had not too long ago.

“Party Poison can’t remember anything from before he was captured.”

“That’s it?”

“‘That’s it’?? Frank, think about every single memory you have; every happy childhood memory, the first guy you fell in love with, every single thing that shaped who you are today... and now imagine having that all taken away from you...”

“You... you don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what?”

“Me and you – in 2011 – we were –”

“Who cares about 2011?!”

Kobra Kid suddenly bursts into the room, interrupting them and sounding pissed. Ray follows behind, looking sheepish. Like with Party Poison, Kobra Kid’s unmasked but it’s still a few seconds before Frank recognises him.

“Mikey Way?!”

Mikey glares at him. If Gerard’s new appearance was a surprise, he hasn’t got anything on his brother. Mikey Way is virtually unrecognisable; the glasses and scenster-hair are gone and he’s blossomed from lanky to toned, finally growing into his features. Frank’s never seen him with such a look of utter hatred though; if anything, he’s never seen Mikey Way with any kind of expression.

“The past’s in the past so leave it there,” he says coldly, folding his arms and glaring at Frank. “And now, thanks to you, we’ve got a whole new bunch of problems because if you don’t think that Scarecrow won’t be coming down hard on us for this -”

“Hold on, back the fuck up!” Frank says, stepping away from Gerard. “Why didn’t you tell him about –”

“It doesn’t matter!” Mikey interrupts. “Don’t push this one Iero, trust me, you really don’t want to do this.”

“Mikey, maybe we should tell them,” Ray says quietly.

“Tell us what?!” Gerard sounds more annoyed than anything. “Mikey, were you keeping secrets from me??”

“It was for your own protection,” Mikey says shortly. “You don’t know what he did.”

“What?! What ‘I’ did?!” Frank’s struggling against the wave of hysteria that’s threatening to overcome him. Gerard doesn’t know him. “I’m not the one who omitted an entire relationship from someone’s history!”

“Relationship?” Gerard grabs Frank’s arm, staring at him with wide eyes. He looks completely freaked. “Me and you? Were we –”

“Yes!!” Ray cuts in, shooting an apologetic look to Mikey. “Gerard, yes, OK, you and Frank were dating back in 2011. Yes, we both knew. We didn’t tell you because...”

He trails off, looking uncomfortably from the other three in the room, and suddenly, Frank has the mad urge to grab Gerard and bolt out the front door.

“Because Iero here betrayed us to Scarecrow,” Mikey says, sounding bored. Someone gasps. Frank’s not sure if it’s him or Gerard.

Mikey meets Frank’s eyes and adds very coldly “I warned you, you wouldn’t want to hear this.”

“I would NEVER do that.” Frank’s surprised by how little his voice shakes.

Mikey shrugs and simply says “You did.”

But Gerard’s shaking his head too. “Mikey, he wouldn’t –”

“We don’t know for certain,” Ray says, trying to diffuse the situation slightly. “But the timing of everything was just a little too perfect.”

“What happened?” Frank asks, grasping at the single hope. He can’t have done that. Everything here is just that bit too fucked up but he’d never betray his friends.

Ray lets out a slow exhale. “When we started to realise what BLI were doing with the pills, how they were using them to control the population, we knew we had to fight, or at least do something. Back then, you and Gerard were living together.”

Ray glances at Frank and Gerard, as if expecting them to say something, but they’re both listening intently. Mikey wanders over to the corner of the room, his arms still folded and sulking.

“Well,” Ray continues, “Gerard wanted to take a stand but you –” He nods to Frank “- wanted to stay in the city.”

Mikey mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “fucking coward.” Frank ignores him.

“There was already an underground movement back then. Mostly, it was harmless, like graffiti and stuff.” Ray’s mouth twitches as Gerard snorts, then he turns to Frank. “You didn’t want anything to do with it, but you agreed to pretend not to know anything when we were there.”

He stops, glancing at Mikey, who rolls his eyes.

“BLI raided the group one night,” Ray says, licking his lips nervously. “It was the biggest bust of the time. Me and Mikey got out. Gerard didn’t.”

“And then the next day, we find out you’ve been promoted,” Mikey suddenly says.

“Bullshit!” snaps Frank.

Mikey only shrugs. “Bit too much of a coincidence, if you ask me.”

“There is no fucking way I would have done that,” Frank growls.

“Guilty conscience, much?” Mikey sneers.

“Fuck you! It hasn’t even happened yet!”

“For you, maybe. For us though, it has. You just can’t remember it.”

“Listen, asshole, I –”

“Back off!!” Gerard suddenly yells. He steps forward, his eyes blazing with anger and for a second, Frank thinks he’s talking to him... but then he stares straight at Mikey. “Mikey – you – you never told me it was FRANK who – you always told me it was ‘just a friend’ and – and you said they were dead!! How could you let me – after everything you – you knew how I felt – and you just let me???”

Frank’s mouth drops. “You lied to him?! I mean, I get the not telling him about us but you actually fucking lied?”

“It was for his own good.” Mikey’s arms are still folded defensively across his chest. “He would have gone looking for you otherwise. ‘Mikey, Frank’s on our side, he’s just scared!! Give him a chance, he’ll come though!’”

Gerard looks completely murderous. For a few seconds, it’s easy to see just how dangerous he could be as Party Poison.

“I- I can’t deal with you right now,” he says, throwing his arms up in the air. “So – “

But instead of finishing, he turns around and storms out the shack.

There’s a tense silence. Dust mites lazily float through a beam on sunlight. Frank’s arms swing by his side, Ray fidgets with the edge of his gun and stares at the ground, but Mikey continues to glare at Frank.

“Fuck it,” Frank mutters and heads for the exit too.

“Where are you going?” Mikey says, far too aggressively.

“I’m going after him.” The ‘duh’ goes unsaid.

Mikey growls. “I don’t want you anywhere near my brother.”

“You don’t get a say in this.” He pauses. “Dick.”

*~*~

Gerard’s sitting outside on the bonnet of his car, smoking a cigarette, staring blankly off into the distance. Frank screws his eyes up against the glare of the setting sun.

“Hey,” Gerard says softly.

“Hey,” Frank replies. “Can I sit next to you?”

Gerard shrugs. “Free country.”

Frank’s barely settled against the bonnet of the car when Gerard suddenly grabs him, his hand shooting around the back of Frank’s head and pulling him in and kisses him aggressively. Frank grips the front of Gerard’s t-shirt, closing his eyes and tasting the desert and cigarettes on his tongue. He kisses him with everything he’s got, trying to spark some recognition...

Frank keeps his eyes closed when they pull apart as Gerard rests his own forehead against Frank’s. Frank can feel his hot breath on his lips.

“I wish I could remember you properly,” Gerard says, sounding so sad.

Frank doesn’t say anything.

“Mikey seems so sure you betrayed us –”

“I didn’t,” Frank’s eyes snap open and he sits back, staring earnestly into Gerard’s eyes, trying to make him believe him. “I’m a coward, I’ll be the first to admit that happily, but I would never betray you like that.”

“You worked for Scarecrow though,” Gerard says sadly. “You can’t have worked that far without killing anyone or at least turning Zone Runners over to BLI. You killed Fun Ghoul, remember? And that’s just in the last few weeks. Mikey was right. Just because it hasn’t happened to you yet, doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened at all.”

Back home, Gerard would believe him in an instant.

Frank stares at his feet instead, sticking over the edge of the car.

“This fucking sucks,” he says.

Gerard snorts. “Tell me about it.”

“Oh sure, I’m sure you can relate,” Frank says bitterly. “Because you’ve got to go back home to the one person who’s suddenly made your life so fucking perfect and now know that it’s not going to last.”

“No, but I’ve got to watch one person who’s suddenly made my life make more sense be hurt by me because I can’t fucking remember what we – fuck!” Gerard stops. “Forget I said that.”

Hope tightens Frank’s chest. He looks at Gerard but Gerard’s determinedly staring directly ahead into the distance.

“Gee?” he asks.

“It’s Party Poison,” he corrects. He’s trying to sound tough but even to Frank, it’s not working. “I don’t – you shouldn’t call me that.”

“You call me Frankie. Look, I get that you’re trying to protect yourself -”

“And you, motherfucker! And everyone else here!!”

“Will you stop attacking me?” Frank snaps, his patience wearing thin. “Fucking hell, it’s like the worst parts of your personality got amplified or something!”

Gerard snorts. “This is who I am, Frank,” he says, looking at Frank coldly. “And maybe it doesn’t quite live up to whatever I was back in 2011 but –”

“Oh, no way, this is exactly what you’re like back there too - you’re still using aggression and overconfidence to hide when you’re nervous or scared!”

Whatever retort Gerard was going to use dies on the way to his mouth. A mixture of surprise and hurt flash across his face making him look more vulnerable that Frank’s ever seen, but then it’s quickly gone and Gerard turns away, staring back out into the distance and taking a long drag on his cigarette. Frank doesn’t look away from him.

“I’m sorry,” Frank says softly. He hates using such a low blow, but it had to be done. “But you’re acting like losing all your memories meant you changed entirely as a person.”

“It did, Frank,” Gerard says, sounding anguished. “Mikey’s been telling me enough times lately that I’m not the same as I was.”

“What, is that after you met me here?” Frank snorts. He means it as a joke but the expression on Gerard’s face confirms it. “Son of a bitch, I’m going to kill him –”

He’s starts to pull himself off the car, ready to go back towards the shack and fucking punch Mikey-fucking-Way in his fucking face or something because, seriously, what the actual fuck?!

Gerard grabs his arm, freezing him immediately.

“Frank, what – what was I like?” he asks. “Me back then, I mean. What was he like?”

Just like that, all the anger evaporates from Frank. He’s already unconsciously shifting back closer to Gerard.

“He was –” Frank catches himself and changes the tense. Gerard’s not dead. “Is. He’s awesome. He’s just got his first big break as a graphic artist –”

“The Black Parade?” Gerard interrupts, looking curious.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

Gerard bites his lip and looks at his boots, the same excited smile gracing his features that Frank knows so well.

“Echoes,” he says, waving his hand around his head loosely. “I sometimes get... vague things. Emotions, names, faces, ideas. Never much but... sometimes. And when you mentioned it back at the club...”

He stops and it’s like watching a metal shutter suddenly clang down.

“I don’t want to remember,” he says in a blank voice. “Whatever we had, it can’t have been that special if I couldn’t even remember your face.”

Frank’s never been one for dramatics but when he felt his heart break, he always thought it would be louder. Instead, the only noise is the sound of his breath catching in his throat and distantly, there’s a faint rumbling noise.

“You remembered Mikey?” he asks.

“Not immediately,” Gerard admits, “But eventually –”

“So when you first saw me – when you first picked me up, when I first climbed into your car, when you saved me from those Draculoids – can you honestly tell me that you never got some kind of recollection??” Frank demands.

Gerard’s silent for a bit. “I... I was intrigued by you, that’s all.”

“Sure, whatever,” Frank says, not believing a word of it. “You know what? Fuck this. Fuck you. When you decide to stop being a dickhead and shutting me out, let me know, OK? You’ve been through hell and I’m so unbelievably fucking sorry about that – Jesus Christ Gee, you have no idea how much I hate what’s happened to you – both what BLI did to you and what kind of fucking monster they created but I'm not giving up on you just because you think that being a total asshole is going to get rid of me that easily and what the fuck is that noise??!!”

The ringing in his ears had gotten louder as he’d been speaking, becoming more punctuated.

“What noise?” Gerard asks, looking around in confusion.

“That – that buzzing!!” Frank says, rubbing his ears but the noise only gets louder. “It sounds like – it sounds like –”

His head feels too heavy.

“Frank??”

Gerard grabs his arms, shaking him slightly. He’s going blurry, the sun is setting too quickly... the car feels so soft...

“Frank! Frankie! Wake up!!”

Frank blinks.

“Gee?” he asks blearily.

There’s the sound of a thud as Gerard slams his hand down on the alarm clock, silencing it. The pillow under Frank’s head and the sheets around him are warm against his naked skin as he lies on his side, and then Gerard snakes an arm around Frank’s waist from behind, pressing up against him. Automatically, Frank rests his own arm over Gerard’s, linking their fingers together.

“Morning,” he says sleepily, nuzzling into Frank’s hair.

Frank’s eyes shoot wide open.

“Gerard?” Frank asks again.

“Who else, silly?” Gerard replies, giving Frank a squeeze. “What time do you have to be in at work?”

“9.”

“Ahh good.” Gerard stifles a yawn, tangling his leg between Frank’s own.

Frank looks down at the hand beneath his own. It’s pale and covered in ink splotches with none of the roughness that Party Poison’s had. He can’t take it anymore; he turns over and faces Gerard –

And it’s his Gerard. Gerard with his long, greasy, tangled black hair, with his round face and massive bags under his hazel eyes and his stupidly pale skin.

Frank kisses him, his hand cupping Gerard’s cheek. His breath is disgusting but he doesn’t care, he’s so unbelievably relieved. Gerard kisses him back, lazily, sleepily and he blinks a few times when Frank realises he’s forgetting to breathe in all of this.

“I could get used to that,” Gerard says lazily with a smile.

“Gee, you’d remember me, right?” Frank asks. “Like, if you got amnesia or something, if you knew you’d forgotten me, you’d try to remember me, right??”

“I – huh, what? Frank, it’s a bit early for that kind of thinking, I haven’t even had a coffee yet!”

“I’m serious; if you forgot me, would you want to remember me?”

There’s something in Frank’s tone that makes Gerard sit up in bed. The sheet slips to his waist as he props himself up with his arms revealing his soft, pale belly.

“Are you OK, Frankie?”

“I – I had a really fucked up dream...”

Gerard nods, blinking sleepily. “You were mumbling in your sleep a lot; something about running from a scarecrow. I tried to wake you up but you were pretty much out for the count.”

He reaches out and strokes Frank’s hair, letting his hand stop on Frank’s cheek. The ghost of future wounds cries out at the touch.

“Of course I’d want to remember you, you dope,” he says with a reassuring smile.

“But what if you forgot everything?” Frank presses. “Like, not just me but everything about who you were, your past... even Mikey. Would you be happier like that?”

Gerard frowns slightly as he thinks it over.

“There’s no way for me to get my memories back?” he asks.

Frank shakes his head.

“Well... I guess if I couldn’t remember it, I wouldn’t know what I’ve lost.”

That’s exactly what Party Poison said. Frank feels his stomach plummet.

“But... I dunno. If I forgot you but then found you again and I knew I’d forgotten you... same with Mikey, actually... I wouldn’t be happy. Yeah, actually, that’d be worse...” He looks at Frank worriedly. “You don’t always ask these kinds of questions every single morning, do you? Coz if you’re staying over more often, we’re gonna have to have a chat.”

Frank laughs. “No no, I swear, I’m normally pretty inarticulate. I just... weird dream.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Nah.”

~*~*~

Breakfast at Chez Way is a fucking strange experience. For one thing, Mikey Way seems to vaguely like him here.

“So what time you get in last night?” Gerard asks as they sit around the kitchen table. Mikey had staggered into the kitchen, wincing and clutching his head and didn’t say a word to either Frank or Gerard until he’d downed a whole cup of black coffee from the machine.

“Late. Or early. Not sure,” Mikey groans, not lifting his head off the table. “I’m too old for Thursday night gigs. You guys have fun after you left? And I mean that in a purely polite question way. I do not want to know.”

He doesn’t say anything else and when Gerard mentions that he probably needs to go to work, Mikey responds by flipping them off, painfully pushing himself to his feet and staggering out the kitchen.

In comparison to Kobra Kid, that’s about the same as Mikey forging BFF bracelets and demanding Frank never ever takes his off.

Determination twists in Frank’s gut. He doesn’t care what Kobra Kid says. There is no way in hell he would have betrayed Gerard. Heck, he wouldn’t have even betrayed Mikey, no matter how much of a douchebag he is. And even if he did (which he didn’t), there’s no way on earth Frank could go through the entire horror again and purposefully make the choice to turn Gerard in, not now that he knows what he’d become...

A jolt of excitement runs through him. He could change it. He could save Gerard. Fuck, he could even save the world. He could warn people about the Helium Wars. He could tell people not to trust Better Living Industries. And if all that failed, he could join the rebellion with Gerard...

Gerard is absently doodling in his sketchbook, his bare feet curled up underneath him as he sits on the chair, a cup of coffee steaming next to him. Without even looking up from his sketchbook, he reaches out his free hand and links his pinky finger with Frank’s, giving it a squeeze, as if he just wants to have some kind of physical contact with Frank at all times.

Frank smiles. Yeah. He’s going to fucking save him.

~*~*~

When you’ve just quit your job in an incredibly overdramatic manner that involved a high-speed motorbike chase, gunfire and explosions, it can be a little bit of a comedown to be back in the office. As Frank sits in his tiny cubicle ignoring the sound of gossip behind him, he sighs heavily and continues to do the same menial task he’s always been doing.

Something’s got to give. He can’t keep this up anymore, not without going insane from sheer monotony alone, especially now he’s had a glimpse of what lies in the future. Maybe he should look into getting a new job...

“Iero, have you seen Bryar today?”

His boss’s voice interrupts his thoughts and Frank looks over at Bob’s cubical; he hadn’t even realised it was empty.

“N-no,” Frank stammers.

“Huh. He hasn’t been in all week,” his boss mutters.

Frank feels sick. How did he not notice Bob’s absence? He immediately sends Bob a text and, in typical Bob form, he replies with a blunt “been ill.” Bob seems absolutely fine with how Frank’s only just enquiring into his absence now but Frank feels like a complete and utter dick; Bob’s the only friend he has in this place and he’s been so fucking self-absorbed that he didn’t even realise he wasn’t in.

Just to really ruin Frank’s day, when he gets back from lunch, a card with “CONGRATULATIONS” written across the front in glitter lands on his desk.

“What’s this?” he asks.

“It’s for Carol,” one of the girls in his department behind him says. “She got the promotion! Quick, sign it before she gets back!”

Frank stares at the card until the well-wishing messages go blurry. He quickly signs his name and tries not to let his handwriting look too bitter.

Carol’s not even been working here that long. Frank’s been here a good two years longer than her. How the fuck did that –

He’s aware of handing the card back to the girl. He’s aware of returning to his desk, turning off his computer and collecting together his things in his bag.

“Going somewhere?” his boss calls out as Frank passes his office.

“I don’t feel well,” Frank says through gritted teeth. “I’m going home.”

His boss frowns. “Can’t you work through it?”

“No.”

“OK... but I’m logging this and you’ll just need to make up for the hours next week. The usual drill.”

Frank nods.

“And I hope you’re feeling better soon. You’ve been a bit distracted lately.”

He wishes his boss was more of an asshole. He wishes he’d just fire him on the spot. He wishes he meant more to the company than just a nameless office worker. Not useless enough to be completely disposable but not important enough to merit being forced to stay in.

He’s home in record time. Immediately, he heads for the kitchen, setting the coffee maker up and then he grabs all his notes and drawings he’s been making of Battery City. He chucks them in a messy pile on the kitchen floor and starts shifting through them frantically.

He eventually finds what he’s looking for; Party Poison’s info sheet. The cartoon Gerard drew is stapled to the back. The more he stares at it, the more he sees random details he didn’t notice before; Gerard even drew in the beads around Party Poison’s wrist, labelled “Bad Luck Beads” in his scribbled handwriting. He’d even put some of the designs on each individual bead; they’re mostly Japanese symbols for bad luck, such as 13, black cat and broken mirror.

Bad luck can’t find you if you already know where it is is written next to it.

“Jesus,” Frank mutters. “You must have remembered some of this.”

He grabs a pen and starts to fill in the blanks.

“Name: Gerard Arthur Way. Date of birth: April 9th, 1977,” he says as he writes. “Age... fuck me, you’re 42.”

Once he’s done with Party Poison’s sheet, he finds Kobra Kid’s and amends it to the best of his abilities. He starts shifting through the rest of the notes, looking for some kind of clue, sorting them into piles. There’s a section of the kitchen floor for the Zones, for the people in it, then another section for Better Living Industries, then another for Battery City with the incredibly detailed maps he’d drawn from memory.

At some point, the sunlight dies. At some point, he replaces the copious amounts of coffee with copious amounts of whiskey. At some point, his phone buzzes.

“Hello?” he slurs.

“Frank!! Hey, it’s Gerard!”

“Gee? What are – why are you –”

“I – uh – are you OK?”

Frank pauses, looking at the piles all around him with his handwriting scrawled over them. The words swim and leap out at him.

“I’ve... I may have had a few to drink,” he admits.

“How drunk are you?” Gerard sounds amused.

“Not sure yet.”

“Ah.”

“You don’t drink, do you?”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Whole history of alcoholism and depression mostly.” Gerard’s voice is light but he says it just that little bit too casually.

“Wow... you must think I’m a real prick now,” Frank mumbles.

“Not at all, Frankie! I don’t drink coz it’s bad for me, but my friends can still do it!”

“Do you want to come over?”

Gerard pauses. “Can I take a rain check on that one?”

Fuck. Frank presses his knuckles to his head.

“Will you see me when I’m sober?”

Gerard laughs. “I’ll come round tomorrow, I promise.”

“Thanks... I swear, I won’t fuck this up.”

Gerard laughs again. “You’re a funny one, aren’t you?”

“Not funny enough to be remembered,” Frank mutters, holding the phone away from his head.

Pause.

“What are you doing right now anyway? Are you out or something?”

“No... I’m... I’m in my flat. Alone. Drinking. Fuck. That’s a bad sign.”

Gerard bursts out laughing. “Oh Frankie... what happened? Bad day?”

“A little. Didn’t get the promotion.”

“What?!” Gerard sounds outraged. “But – how!? What’s wrong with your boss?! How could they just disregard you like that?!”

Frank closes his eyes and listens to Gerard continue to rant angrily, letting his words wash over him. It’s soothing.

“And – and, Frank are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m still here... back in good ol’ 2011.”

“Oh Frankie,” Gerard says, sounding sad. “How much have you had?”

“Not much... I think.”

He looks at the bottle of whiskey. It was full earlier and now there’s probably only one shot left.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck. I am going to be SO ill tomorrow.”

“Do – do you want me to come over? Like, now, I mean. Coz I can...”

Frank looks at the pile of notes on the floor. He wants to see Gerard more than anything else right now.

“Nah, it’s ok,” Frank says. “I’m sleepy, I’ll probably pass out in a bit. But... if you could come round tomorrow -”

“I’ll bring coffee,” Gerard says warmly. “Anything else?”

“No... just please... please come round?”

Frank’s almost ashamed at how desperate he sounds.

“OK, OK I’ll be there... Get an early night, you lunatic. I’ll be round in the afternoon to nurse you back to better health.”

~*~*~

He’s not sure when he passes out on the floor amidst scribbles of WHAT SET OFF THE HELIUM WARS?? and there might be something outside the window - how the fuck is Party getting in?? and who is Fun Ghoul?? All he knows is that at some point, the lino suddenly feels a lot softer and the air becomes much hotter and heavier.

He opens his eyes a crack. He’s lying on a discarded mattress on the floor of what looks like another dilapidated shack. Sunlight streams in through cracks in blinds, lighting up the room pretty well. The walls are covered with posters and colourful spraypaint and doodles that could only be the work of Party Poison, and there’s even some mannequins in the corner that have been painted bright colours with numbers on their chests. Frank gulps as he realises they’re also covered in burn marks.

He sits up and a ragged blanket falls off his shoulders. There’s no one else around.

Something’s digging uncomfortably into his hip. After a moment’s fumbling, he realises it’s the gun and holster Show Pony gave him yesterday.

He clears his throat nervously. His mouth is dry as fuck and his head is swimming slightly.

“Fuck, it’s the 8-year-late hangover,” he mutters as his stomach swoops and he feels a rush of nausea. He curls back up on the mattress, pulls the threadbare blanket over his head and tries to get back to sleep.

It doesn’t work. He needs coffee, or at least water. And a cigarette. And food might be an idea too. And for all those things (if they’re even fucking available here), he’s going to have to get up and find out where the fuck he is.

“Fuck me...” he groans.

He sits up slowly again, inch by inch, letting his body adjust to being vertical. It’s then that he notices that whoever put him here removed his shoes and left a pair of incredibly battered DM’s by the end of the mattress. He assumes they’re for him. They’re his size.

With the new shoes on, he slowly gets to his feet, feeling incredibly dizzy. The room is apparently an abandoned diner, as there’s booths lining the wall and there’s a door at the far end which was probably the kitchen.

There might be someone in there.

Frank’s doing his very best impression of a zombie-walk when he stops dead in the middle of the room.

Mikey Way is asleep in one of the booths.

He’s stretched out along the chair and propped up against the wall, his arms wrapped loosely around his skinny body. He’s still wearing his usual Kobra Kid attire, right down to the colour-coded striped boots which are sticking out into the isle. He’s snoring lightly and he suddenly looks so much younger without the usual glare on his face.

With a shrug, Frank continues into the kitchen. Ray’s already in there, drinking coffee out a chipped mug.

“Hey, you’re up!” Ray says. Frank forces a smile and sits down on the nearest chair, resting his head on a table covered with computer parts. “You ok?”

“Whiskey. Bad. Hurts.”

Another chair scrapes across the floor as Ray sits down next to him.

“You get hangovers transferred over? Sucks to be you!” He sounds far too cheerful. Bastard. “Good night out?”

“Not really. Trying to make any sense of all this. Didn’t work. Got drunk. Gee now hates me. Unofficially quit my job.”

“You didn’t know he was a recovering alcoholic??”

“Not until he mentioned it.”

“Shit... so that’s where you’re from.”

Frank opens his eyes and raises his head a fraction, looking at Ray with one eyebrow raised. He’s half hoping Ray will come out with some magic wisdom from the past, like a “Oh, I remember this! Don’t worry, he’s not at all angry at you being an insensitive douchebag and yes, you find a new job immediately, and it’s super awesome!!”

Instead, Ray pushes his cup towards Frank and says “Well, drink up – we’ve got a fair amount of things we need to be getting on with today.”

“Where’s Gee?”

“Party Poison. And he’s out. He had to hit the market – something about now having two extra mouths to feed around here.”

“Oh... So what are we doing?” He can smell very weak coffee in the air.

“Well, for one thing, once Kobra wakes up, we’ve got to figure out a way to get you back home and staying there.”

~*~*~

Frank already knows Mikey Way is not a morning person. It turns out thought that he’s actually more just not a “waking up” person, considering they’re in a world where people measure time mainly by the sun. When Mikey stumbles into the kitchen, he grunts at Ray and flips Frank off as a morning greeting.

“Give him about half an hour,” Ray says.

“I have an idea about how to fix you, but I’m not telling you jack until Poison gets back,” Mikey snaps later. “I’m not going over this more than I need to.”

At a complete and utter loss of what to do, Frank goes outside, remembering to swipe a random pair of sunglasses off the side. The atmosphere inside the diner is stifling anyway. As he leaves, he distinctly hears Ray say “Go easy on him, OK??”

Outside isn’t much better. It’s unbearably hot and only marginally better in the shade with vast stretches of wasteland as far as the eye can see, but it’s still an improvement on inside. He wanders around the exterior of the diner a few times before slumping down against a wall, dust flying up all around.

“Fuck me, this sucks,” he mutters. “It’s like one fucking extreme to the other.”

Idly picking at a loose thread on the edge of his pants, he wonders if this is what the Killjoys do all day when they’re not drawing over billboards and blowing shit up. On paper, the whole thing seemed so glamorous but the reality seems to involve a lot more long periods of nothing and waiting around.

He decides to pester Ray, who’s sitting inside at one of the booths with a frown on his face. There’s a tangle of wires and equipment on the table.

Unfortunately for Frank Kobra Kid’s sitting next to him.

“What you doing?” Frank asks, sliding in opposite him.

“Trying to create a detonator,” Ray replies, not taking his eyes off the two wires in his hands.

“Is that a bomb?”

“You got a problem with that?” Mikey asks aggressively.

Weakly, Frank says “No no, guess not...”

“It’s nothing too serious.” Ray finally looks up and smiles reassuringly at Frank. “We’ve got a food run for one of the camps coming up and we need a big distraction –”

“And security around Battery City is going to be twice as manic now, thanks to your stunt yesterday,” Mikey interjects.

“Oh,” is all Frank can say. He’s burning to say something else – he’s got a whole bunch of insults that he’s just itching to use – but for the sake of global peace and unity and harmony (particularly towards the guy who’s house he’s crashing in right now), he stays quiet.

“It’s a pretty simple plan,” Ray continues, as if Mikey never spoke. “There’s a BLI function-party that evening, so we get into the city, plant this outside the building of the party and when it goes off, while everyone’s running around, we run in and nab the supplies.”

Frank looks at the plans on the table which show a map of Battery City with a giant X marked outside one of the buildings.

“Surely it makes more sense to make up a bunch of little ones and spread them around along one wall than one massive one hidden a few feet away?” Frank asks, gesturing on the map. “Like, if you planted one here and here, and then had them set to timers so that they went off in a sequence, it’d spread out the damage and really keep everyone distracted.”

Mikey stares at the bomb for a second, the expression on his face akin to as if he’d just been forced to eat a whole tin of Dog Chow.

“Fuck,” he spits, which Frank takes as confirmation that he’s just had a really good idea.

Ray’s grinning. “Nice! Fun Ghoul used to be our go-to guy about explosives – really knew his shit.”

Curiosity building, Frank leans forward a bit, trying not to knock any of the homemade bomb parts. “How did you guys know him anyway? Gera- Party said you’d never actually met him.”

“We met him once, me and Mikey. Very briefly though – the rest of the time it was through contacts mostly,” Ray nods. “He had this guy – Briar Rabbit - and he’d be the one who you had to go to to get a hold of him and then he’d communicate for him.” He sighs. “No one knew their way around the city like Fun Ghoul did. The one time we met him, it was when we needed a wall blown off a supply hold.”

“He blew up a supply hold?!”

“No no, he just blew a hole in the wall. Got the timing and placement exactly right, none of the stuff inside even got a scratch on it.”

Frank lets out a low whistle. “But you actually met him? Like, spoke to him and everything?”

“Not really,” Mikey says. “We ran into some Dracs as we were getting the stuff out and they outnumbered us. Just as we’re about to get ghosted, there’s another explosion, we’re thrown to the ground and there’s Draculoids flying all over the place.”

“He’d chucked at grenade at them,” Ray grins. “Anyway, he came running up to us, yelled ‘I’m Fun Ghoul, move motherfuckers!!’, helped us up and got the rest of the boxes into the back of the van. Seriously short guy, no wonder he could get around the city so easily.”

“Didn’t say another fucking word and then just took off once we’d got the last box,” Mikey grumbled. “Never even took his mask off.”

“The Frankenstein one?” Frank asks, remembering the description in the file.

“Yeah the Franken –“ Ray suddenly stops, staring at Frank. “Huh.”

“What?” Mikey and Frank both say in unison.

“Never mind,” Ray waves his hand in a ‘forget about it’ motion.

~*~*~

By the time Party Poison gets back, the bomb’s almost finished. Once Mikey grudgingly admitted that they could do with an extra pair of hands, Frank jumped to the task, eager to have something to do (and a distraction from his hangover). When Gerard strolls into the diner carrying a large, battered box, he looks incredibly surprised to see Frank and Mikey sitting in close proximity to each other and acting civil.

“I got dinner,” he says, rattling the box. “Get your dog chow while it’s disgusting! Grabbed some more coffee too, we’re running low. How’s the bomb going?”

Mikey nods. “It’s going.”

“Turns out our boy Scarecrow is quite the natural with explosives,” Ray says with a grin. “Lucky us, eh?”

The smile Gerard gives Frank is almost blinding.

“Yeah, lucky,” Mikey snorts. “We wouldn’t have needed a new detonator guy if Iero here hadn’t ghosted the last one.”

Frank feels his stomach twist uncomfortably and he looks down at his hands, focusing on the familiar tattoos. The ink’s a little greener and not as sharp in places, particularly on the older ones. He makes a mental note to get a proper look at the rest of his tattoos when he gets a minute to see how they’ve fared here.

“Kobra...” Ray says warningly.

“Just drop it, OK?” Gerard adds. “We all make mistakes.”

There’s an awkward pause.

“So what else did you get?” Mikey asks tensely.

“Supplies mostly. Traded in some stuff... May have been pimping out your skills a bit too,” Gerard says with a nod at Frank.

“Me?! What can I do?!”

“Dr D wants to speak to you at some point. You were on surveillance, right? So you must know where the cameras out here are located.”

Frank nods. He remembers what Show Pony said - No one cares out here what you were. It’s what you’re doing now that’s important.

A clean slate. Perhaps...

He catches Gerard’s eye. Gerard immediately looks down.

“Well anyway, now that you’re back, we can get down to business,” Mikey says, rolling his eyes.

“Business?” Gerard asks.

“Getting Frank settled back in his own time,” Ray explains.

“You can do that?” Frank’s jaw drops.

“Possibly,” Mikey says as Gerard slides into the seat next to Frank. “From what we know, here’s what we’ve got - Initially, we thought the idea behind Project Two-Zero-One-One was that it was supposed to be about time-travel and the like... but actually, it’s impossible to jump a physical object from one point in time to another. The best BLI could come up with was to isolate the “jump” in the non-physical conscious of a host. In this case, it’s Iero.”

Frank’s head already hurts trying to get his brain around this.

“So I’m not actually travelling through time?” he asks.

“No, you’re travelling all right,” Mikey says, looking sour. “But it’s only your mind that’s travelling, not your body. Your consciousness can only exist within your own head. There’s the Frank’s head here in 2019 and the one in 2011 as the two... let’s call them portals. The minute your body and brain shuts down for sleep, the portal at the other end opens so your consciousness instantly goes back to it. Because Korse didn’t think it worked the last time you tried it, he probably didn’t bother trying to close the portals down.”

“But why didn’t the Frank from this time end up going back, instead of bringing the Frank from the past forward?” Ray asks. Frank’s relieved to see that he’s not the only one in the room who’s getting confused by all this.

“Well, there’s a whole bunch of possibilities... misaligned wire, error in the input, the coordinates were incorrect...” Mikey counts each one off on his fingers.

“In layman’s terms, they probably fucked up,” Gerard says flatly.

“Fucking hell...” Frank presses his hands to the sides of his head, half expecting to find a giant hole there. His fingers tangle in his greasy hair. “So, where’s the me from here? There’s two consciousness...ess...sees... things. What happened to him?”

You know, the one who actually knows what the fuck is going on here, he mentally adds.

There’s an uncomfortable silence.

“He’s not, like, gone, is he?!” Frank asks, his eyes widening.

“I don’t know,” Mikey says. “Would serve him righ-”

“Mikey!! He could just be in the other part of the portal.” Gerard glares at his brother. “Like, Frank... you’re always awake and when you fall asleep here, you wake up back in 2011... so, maybe he’s just inhabiting the sleeping part of that. He could be having some wonderful dreams and not having a care in the world right now!”

Lucky fucker.

“Hold on, I don’t get this,” Frank says, screwing up his eyes. “OK, so BLI find a way to pull someone’s fucking mind out of its current spot in time and space and shove it elsewhere – bit of a fucking wooly concept but I’ll go with it... but... why? It’s completely useless! If this – 2019 – is the starting point, then you can’t change the past because that then fucks with the reason why they travelled to the past in the first place. It’s the whole cause-and-effect thing – they wouldn’t be able to do a fucking thing!”

He suddenly feels cold. If that’s the case can’t change anything. He can’t save Gerard.

He swallows the lump in his throat and continues. “And it’s a purely mental travel so you can’t even do anything useful like go back in time and bring forward a whole bunch of something useful like fresh vegetables or cigarettes... so why create the fucking technology in the first place??”

There’s a silence. Frank can see that he’s made a very valid point.

“We don’t know,” Gerard says eventually.

“Yeah, it could just be like the Hadron Collider.” Ray shrugs. “If you can do something in the name of science, you might as well do it.”

Frank buries his face in his arms. “The world’s gone mad, it’s official. I’ve found the future and it’s run by utter fucking lunatics.”

Everyone else laughs. Gerard gently pats his shoulder.

“Yeah... you’ll get used to that eventually.”

Frank shifts his head and offers Gerard a tiny smile before pushing himself up.

“So... how do we get me back home?” he asks.

“Well, in theory, all we have to do is get you back in the machine, make sure we’ve got the right conscious in the right place and then close the portals,” Mikey says. “We’ve been able to get hold of some of the files on it and it seems fairly straightforward to operate but –”

“The machine in question is in BLI,” Frank finishes. “Fuck. I should have just let Korse put me through it a second time.”

“Actually, it’s probably for the best you didn’t.”

Frank stares at Mikey. “Why am I suddenly so scared to ask why?”

“The whole portal thing is already ridiculously unstable,” Ray says quickly, speaking before Mikey has a chance. “We’ve seen the test results – for everyone else, the amount of power and energy that it required was too much. They got completely fried, literally. Forcing another portal to open – especially when there’s one already open – probably would have caused it to implode on itself.”

Mikey’s attempting to hide a smirk behind his hand; he probably wishes Frank had gone through with it.

“I probably also should mention that there’s also a risk that if we do get you in the machine and it goes wrong, we might end up trapping you here,” he adds.

“So let me get this one straight,” Frank says, ignoring him. “For me to get home, we need to get back into Battery City, break into Better Living Industries, fight past thousands of Dracs and into the most highly secured locations inside, and then in there, we’ve got to use machinery which no one really knows how to use and is admittedly unstable and could quite possibly turn me into a human torch if it goes wrong.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Mikey says. “Getting you back is low-priority right now.”

“Mikey!!” Gerard slams his hand on the table.

“Well, he is!!” He looks to Ray for support.

“Actually, I’m more with Gee on this one,” Ray says. He slides away from Mikey, just an inch. “No offence Frank, but the other you – the one who’s from here and been working for Scarecrow for years – would be far more useful right now. You don’t know enough.”

It’s not meant to be an insult but it still stings. Great. He’s useless. Something obviously shows in his expression because under the table, Gerard suddenly grabs Frank’s hand and gives it a squeeze.

“Plus, if we can get the Frank from here back, he might be able to clear up a few things for us,” Ray adds.

“I’m not risking my life for him-” Mikey begins.

“I did the same for you, Mikeyway,” Gerard suddenly says fiercely. “Pete, remember?”

Mikey folds his arms but says nothing.

“We’ll get you home, Frank,” Gerard says with a reassuring smile to Frank. “And we’ll get the you from here back safely too.”

~*~*~

Frank makes his excuses and goes back outside. He says he wants some time to properly think things through but more than anything, he really just wants to be alone. He can’t take Gerard right now, he can’t deal with this stranger who keeps showing flashes of his boyfriend.

That, and Mikey is really starting to piss him off.

“I should be more scared,” he mutters, sitting on the bonnet of the Trans Am. “Be scared, Frank.”

Except he’s not. The idea of finally getting some peace, of finally being settled in one place permanently is far too pleasant a thought.

He crosses his legs and rests his chin in his hands, staring out into the ruined landscape.

“Smoke?”

Frank doesn’t bother to verbally answer. Instead, he holds out his hand.

“Seriously, you’re rubbish at getting hints,” he says, taking the cigarette Gerard’s already lit for him. “I said I wanted to be alone.”

“Oh.”

Gerard looks so upset that Frank can’t bring himself to be mean.

“It’s cool. I’m just thinking. Wanna join?”

He feels the car dip slightly as Gerard sits next to him.

“I’m worried about you,” Gerard says without preamble.

“You think I’m going to fuck up the space-time continuum?” Frank grins. “Relax, I’m enough of a nerd to know not to even bother.”

Gerard gives him a very stern look. “Do we need to have The Talk?”

“Blah blah, don’t change things, you might make them worse, blah blah –”

“So you actually believe that?” Gerard cuts across Frank’s joking.

Frank takes a long drag.

“Kinda,” he admits in the exhale before looking straight at Gerard. “Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna fucking try though.”

For a while, they stare at each other. The afternoon sun turns Gerard’s hair in a firey halo, an angel made of neon.

“I don’t need anyone to save me, Frank,” he says softly after a long pause. “I got here by myself and it’s not up to you to choose what I do.”

“I wouldn’t –”

“You’d join the rebellion with me? Even though you now know what happens to the first wave?” Gerard asks with a wry smile.

“Well, no... but I could tell you what would happen! I could warn you and –”

“And I’d still join up. I would known what I was getting myself into. It’s worth it – we’ve got to fucking fight this. You gonna stop me?”

Frank looks away, unable to meet Gerard’s eyes anymore.

“Don’t take it so hard. It’s not up to you to save the world... If I were you, I’d worry about saving you first.”

“I’m fine,” Frank lies.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Last night.”

“I meant slept properly. Where your brain’s shut down and you’re not conscious anymore. Resting and all.”

Frank can’t answer. He honestly doesn’t know. He stares helplessly out into the distance.

“I’m not tired,” he says instead.

“What did you do two days ago?” Gerard asks.

“I – we went to a club. Me and you. No, wait, that wasn’t two - no, that was me and Ray, we got out of Battery City –”

“That was yesterday.”

“Was it?!”

It feels like it was years ago.

“You’re not resting, Frankie.” Gerard shuffles closer to Frank and gently pushes a few strands of black hair off his face.

“I can’t – I can’t shut off,” Frank admits, looking at Gerard. “And... so much... so much has happened. I just want five minutes where I don’t have to be conscious. And... I’m so... I’m so tired of constantly being so scared that it feels normal.”

Gerard nods, and then, unexpectedly, he starts to massage Frank’s shoulders. It feels so good, Frank almost cries out in relief. His head rolls back as Gerard shifts himself so that he’s sitting behind Frank with his legs on either side. The warmth in the air is nothing to the heat coming off Gerard’s body behind him and Frank has to remind himself very sternly that this isn’t his boyfriend here, this is Gerard when they’re not together anymore.

“Frank, when you come back – the you from here – would you remember this?” Gerard asks, his breath tickling Frank’s ear.

“Well, going on the assumption that there’s only one timeline...”

“So... let’s say you knew this would all happen.” Gerard’s hands move down to Frank’s sides, continuing to gently massage. “The you from here has already lived through this, back when it happened to him in 2011. He’s had to sit back and let all the terrible things happen because he knew that ultimately, it would lead to –”

“To murdering people?! To you getting your mind completely raped?! To losing everything I care about?! Wow, I make some amazing choices in my life...”

“To this,” Gerard says softly. “To Ray and Mikey finding each other. To me becoming Party Poison and setting up the second rebellion, the Killjoy movement, the thing that’s actually doing something. To you getting out the city. To me and you... sitting right here, right now.” Gerard’s arms snake around Frank’s waist from behind, holding him close.

“Gee –”

“I don’t think you betrayed us. I think you’ve had to sit back and let a lot of horrible things happen because you knew things would resolve eventually.” Gerard’s teeth catch on Frank’s earlobe, sending shivers down Frank’s spine.

“You don’t know that for certain–”

“I don’t need to.” He presses a light kiss to Frank’s neck. Frank’s hand grips Gerard’s knee. “You’re not a coward, Frankie. You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met.”

“You said I was the most pathetic kind of human there was,” Frank points out.

“I was pissed at you. And I didn’t know that at the time, you were 8 years out of your timeframe,” Gerard shrugs. “And – ”

Frank twists around and grabs the back of Gerard’s head, kissing him. He doesn’t care that they’re out in the open, completely exposed on the fucking bonnet of a car... Instead, Frank leans in, pressing his body up against Gerard’s, feeling Gerard kiss him back, hesitantly at first and then bites down gently on Frank’s lip, making Frank gasp and he takes advantage of this to slide his tongue inside Frank’s mouth. He tastes the same, he kisses the same here as he did then...

Frank pushes Gerard’s shoulders, forcing him to lie back as Frank manoeuvres himself so that’s he’s above Gerard, straddling his hips, never breaking the kiss.

“This is really fucking dangerous,” Frank murmurs.

“We’ll hear if anyone approaches,” Gerard replies into Frank’s lips. His arms are wound loosely behind Frank’s neck.

“I meant if Mikey comes out.”

Gerard laughs, loud and honking, and so unlike the mocking, self-righteous sneer of Party Poison. Frank presses himself harder against Gerard, wanting to just sink into him there and then and never have to leave him – there’s a small voice in his head that’s triumphantly screaming he’s still Gee – and feeling Gerard’s hard as Gerard automatically rocks his hips up against Frank’s.

He lets out an irritated mewl when Frank pulls back, instantly tangling his legs up with Frank’s to prevent him from leaving. Frank’s not got any intention of moving from this spot but what he wants to do is slowly unzip Gerard’s Party Poison jacket. Gerard sits up slightly as he shrugs the blue leather off his shoulders. He’s only wearing a simple, baggy black t-shirt underneath with the sleeves cut off –

“Holy shit, you got toned up.”

Frank sits back, tracing a finger down one of Gerard’s muscular arms in awe. Gerard grins, then takes advantage of Frank’s momentarily distraction to pull the hideous mustard t-shirt over his head, throwing it carelessly to the side. Gerard sits up, pressing his lips to Frank’s chest, his breath hot and wet as he deliberately slowly licks the skin, nipping gently with his teeth and sucking. Frank groans and arches into Gerard’s touch, with Gerard gripping the small of his back and making every nerve in Frank’s body scream and sing for more.

He gasps, forces himself to look down at Gerard. Frank’s still straddling him, sitting on top but with how Gerard’s holding his back in an incredibly possessive way... Frank laces his fingers through Gerard’s red hair, cupping his face with both hands and leans down, kissing him again. Gerard groans and leans up, his fingers digging into the skin on Frank’s back so tightly he’ll leave bruises. They’re both soon rocking against each other, continuing to explore each other’s mouths with Frank on top, Gerard controlling.

Frank can tell when Gerard’s about to come just from how his breathing picks up; he follows the line of Gerard’s jaw with his lips, not minding the stubble, and bites down on the sensitive skin of Gerard’s neck, sucking gently, tasting the sweat on his skin. Gerard comes with a guttural moan, his entire body tensing up and trembling as he locks Frank in against him, which is all Frank needs to push him over the edge himself. They collapse back against the windscreen, panting heavily.

“I am never going to be able to look at this car in the same way again,” Gerard says after a moment’s pause, making them both laugh.

Frank rolls off him but tucks in so that’s he’s still pressed up against Gerard’s side as Gerard wraps an arm around him. The metal of the bonnet is slightly hot underneath his skin and Gerard smells really bad – a mix of sweat, dirt and gasoline – but Frank’s in no hurry to move.

Frank grins, nuzzling into Gerard’s side. “Really got a whole new bunch of appreciation for the spider now...”

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me, Frankie.” Gerard gently nudges him.

“Not falling, I swear, I’m awake!”

He’s not lying. He feels wide awake, fully aware of everything around them, of how he can hear Gerard’s heartbeat and feel the rise and fall of his chest with every breath...

“Good. You’re a fucking deadweight to move when you’re asleep.”

“Oi!” Frank pokes Gerard in the side in retaliation, in the exact spot he knows he’s ticklish.

They remain like that for a while, blissed out and talking about everything and nothing as the sun starts to set.

“We should go inside,” Gerard says, sounding slightly reluctant. “It get’s dangerous out here at night – not to mention fucking freezing.” He shifts and then groans. “Oh God... next time, the pants come off. We don’t exactly have regular access to laundry here.”

He slides off the bonnet and scoops Frank’s t-shirt off the ground, shaking the dust off it before handing it to him.

“Gee, I know this sounds sappy but I swear, I –”

“Hey, no promises you can’t keep, OK?”

Frank blinks, his fingers curling around the material. “OK. But... just so you know... I’m not leaving you again if I can help it.”

And I’m going to try. Even if I can’t save you, I’m going to find out exactly what happened... and I’m going to make Better Living Industries pay.

Gerard smiles. “I know.”

He waits for Frank to pull his top back on, patiently holding his hand out. When Frank takes it, he links their fingers together and with his jacket slung over the other shoulder, they walk back into the diner.

Part Eight