Chapter Text
Later turned into morning the way it always did when Frank said it. Then turned to Monday before Gerard knew it.
Monday. He was not looking forward to walking through the big glass doors. Almost didn’t go in, but then who’d deliver the stacks of envelopes—plus he’s just figured out how to reseal the good ones without anyone noticing.
Maybe if he walked fast enough she wouldn't notice him. He was good at that, disappearing without even leaving the room. What good was having a superpower if you didn't use it?
Chrys though? Always seemed like she saw him anyway. Their date was a bust, so Gerard wondered if she’d even smile at him when he grabbed her order. Probably should have taken her somewhere nice. Now he'd be lucky if she even looked his way, that's for sure.
So he made sure to put a few extra bottles of ink on the cart,
Up and down the narrow aisles between the faded gray cubicles. Trying to practice whatever he was gonna say underneath the sounds of copiers and ringing phones.
Maybe she wouldn't notice him circle for the third time.
But when he tried for a fourth he her foot stopped the cart…his mouth dried as he stared at the nearly bare cart in front of him.
Gotta look at her at least. If she's pissed he'll just leave the single envelope and the ink. Doesn't need to take her since he never forgets it.
When he pulls his gaze up to meet her she's smiling , “hey mail boy,”
“Hey... What's uh, what will you have today?”
Her palms dragged down her shirt, the purple one that he thought was his favorite because it got dark under the arms when it got hot, “ An explanation hopefully.”
Gerard's face drops, “Right…’
“If you wanted to go see your...roommate instead you coulda just said so. We coulda taken a rain check,”
Gerard lowered his gaze again, “It wasn't supposed to be that, my brother was supposed to bring his date and- it was supposed to be fun.’
Greg from accounting walked by, and Gerard tried to keep his voice from shaking, “We could try again on Friday. Go somewhere nicer than Bennigan's, really liked those potato skin skins,”
She laughs and shakes her head, “Nick in accounting has been asking me out for a whole year, told him no…said yes to you and-”
She wore his favorite shade of lipstick, he can tell because it stayed perfect even when her smile stiffened, “I like my guys with a little less..... eyeliner.”
Of course.
“I could ditch it next time”
“Or you could fix it before margaritas on Friday…girls might miss giving you shit.”
Maybe that could be enough?
Frank had spent the better part of the week staring at uneven script on the living room wall.
Lines that looked like they came out too fast and ones that looked like they were dragged out
Because can't ever sleep at night the same
This medication enjoys, enjoys most every day
Cause close my eyes
see land
Even a glimpse inside was enough to answer questions Frank pretended not to ask himself.
For days he'd have to watch him just…hovering. Never said anything. Just made it clear he was…there.
Threw his shit to the side the second he walked in the door. Sighed behind the bent up edge of his sketchbook…
It almost dawned on Frank that he could use a new one. Maybe then he'd get outta the mailroom. Be in a better mood.
On Wednesday he asked. Just after picking around the pasta Stacy had said would make great leftovers.
“So, uh, you think about what I said?
The sound of scaping plates sounded a lot better than that fucking voice.
“Yeah, got it all planned out,” Frank said flat faced, “you, me…some bullshit you gonna try to make sound romantic….Gonna be fun,”
The way the guy's face lit up should've been enough to lower the light bill.
Now, Frank had thought about it. In the shower, when he was tuning his guitar…when the top of Stacy's head got boring…
Couldn't come up with anything good.
And it had to be good.
Not that Frank cared—which he didn't. It was just that…the face.
Laid in bed all night not thinking about it.
The park looked worse in winter.
Everything that should have been green was dead or pretending to be.
The pond had a thin gray sheet over it, could barely see through it.
Caution tape tied to trees, floating in the wind like a ghost.
Frank didn’t seem fazed, his cigarette hung from his lips as they sat perched up on a faded, damp bench. They’d stopped by a bodega on the way to get all the essentials Frank claimed made a perfect date: a sixpack of Reingold because it was on sale, Zima for Gerard because it reminded him of the days where things felt easier even if they really weren’t. Condoms because…Gerard never really figured that one out—they never used them, so he took the chance to check the ingredients in a Mars bar. All in all their good time was worth a whole 7.69. The most any guy had spent on him, figured that had to count for something.
Gerard stood there with a Zima in his hand, looking around like he was waiting for the joke to reveal itself.
“This your idea of a date?”
Frank smiled around the cigarette, “It was either this or Taylor Eggers at the diner. Figured we do that too much.”
“You always pick off the best part.”
“Hey, you wanna eat dead shit be my guest, I got morals, ” Frank flicked ash into the snow, “Figured I’d switch it up. Haven’t been here in a while.”
Gerard squinted toward the ice, tried to remember the last time he'd been out this long, “Didn’t they just drag somebody outta there?”
Frank tapped the cigarette, “So it’s still the same.”
Gerard cracked the bottle open. The sound echoed more than it should’ve.
“So,” he said, like it didn’t matter, “you bring any…other girls here?”
Frank shook his head, “Nah. Most of ‘em don’t get past the bedroom door. Movie if I gotta try.”
Gerard took a sip, “So why aren’t we wrist-deep in popcorn instead of out here freezing out balls off?”
Frank shrugged, easy, “Never really gotta try with you.”
A beat.
“Even when I don’t feel like it,” he added, “you’re just…there.”
Gerard turned the bottle in his hand once. Twice.
“You could just tell me you don’t want me around, y’know.”
Frank glanced at him. “Did I say that?”
“No, but—”
“Jeez,” Frank cut in, smirking, “first date and you’re already whiny.”
Gerard didn’t laugh.
He let it sit there between them, heavy as the cold.
“You don’t have to make it sound like you're doin me a favor,” he said finally
Frank watched him for a second, then looked back out at the pond.
“If I didn’t want you around,” he said, quieter, “you’d know. I do a pretty good job disappearing when I want to.”
Gerard huffed a small laugh. “Yeah. I know.”
He tipped the bottle back.
“Wake up all the time to cold sheets and the sound of you playing in the other room.”
Frank shrugged. “Never wanna wake you.”
A beat.
“Better than down the hall, right?”
The chord that struck pulled Gerard's shoulders up, “You tell me.”
He watched Frank's throat as he drank, then nodded once like that settled something.
“So,” he said, going to the next best topic, “first date. You’re supposed to tell me shit about you.”
Gerard let it slide, “You know everything.”
“School?”
“St. Anne’s.”
Frank nodded. “Lady of Queen Peace. Every year.”
“Of course you did.”
Frank smirked, “Folks gave it a shot, sorta stuck,
Gerard smiled faintly, then took another sip.
“What’dya your folks do?” he asked.
Frank scratched at the label on his bottle with his thumb.
“You met my folks.”
“Yeah,” Gerard said, “but what do they do?”
Frank huffed.
“Dad’s a mechanic,” he said. “Always smells like oil.”
A beat.
“But he’s always got some strings in his hand.”
Gerard glanced at him, a little surprised, “Yeah?”
Frank shrugged. “Garage, kitchen, wherever. Doesn’t matter.”
“That’s… kinda cool.”
Frank didn’t react.
“Mom’s…” he waved, like the word should be obvious, “mom. Always got a baby in hers.”
Gerard let out a small laugh.
Frank smirked faintly, “I broke the all-girl streak.”
Gerard looked at him properly then, tried to ignore that look of pride on his face.
“Lucky them.”
Frank snorted, “Yeah. I’m sure they were real broken up about it.”
The wind moved through the trees like it had somewhere else to be.
“House was always loud, fuckin girls never shut up, dad yelling and ma reminding us all she had em ready to go…”
Gerard laughed more genuine than he was supposed to, the image of Frank being the quiet one for once, “That’s… so Jersey.”
Frank flicked his cigarette, ash sprinkled on the snow, “Yeah. Guess so—wouldn’t trade it for shit.”
Gerard rolled the bottle between his palms, wondered what it must’ve been like. Sure, he had Mikey and if anyone had ever asked he’d probably tell him they were best friends growing up, but mostly he tried not to think about how things had been the last two years.
“What about you? The Way household as fun as Christmas was?”
“Don and Donna,” he said almost like he was embarrassed about it,“High school fling that got them stuck with me,”
The way he said it sounded like a punishment or something. Always made Frank wanna smack some sense into him, but this was a first date afterall.
“Dad pushed carts till he discovered mail. Mom…” Gerard paused, like he could smell it again…“house always smelled like peroxide and burnt hair.”
Frank glanced at him, “Burnt hair?”
Gerard shook his head, a small smile creeping in.
“Every other day some lady’d come in. Loud. Pinch my face like I was still five. Then just…talk. All day long, one after the other. ”
He stared out at the pond, a smile breaking through the chill.
“There was one—Marleen. Big blonde hair, bluest eyes I'd ever see. Always gave me these sloppy red kisses all over my face and then just went on and on about some guy named Larry.”
Frank smirked, hoping for a shred of something normal, “Don’t tell me this turns into some Jersey Mrs. Robinson thing.”
Gerard shook his head and looked like he'd just been asked to read Marvel, “No. I didn’t want to, probably figured she could do better.”
Trees rustled in the background, almost like they agreed.
“I just…watched her.”
Frank didn’t interrupt.
Gerard rolled the bottle again.
“Used to be the only thing that got me outta my room on a Thursday. She’d come in looking like shit and then leave looking like a fuckin’ SCORE centerfold.”
A laugh that was only shared with himself.
“Always thought that was kinda cool.”
Frank watched him a second too long, then looked away.
“So that what landed you in a therapist chair every week?” he asked.
Gerard tossed the bottle onto the ground in front of them, disappointed it didn't shatter, “think my dad just likes to waste his money.”
Frank looks unimpressed,
“Hundred bucks an hour just for some guy to lie to me once a week.”
“He give you the Xanax back yet?”
Gerard shakes his head. There’s a word he needs, maybe ten of them, but none line up in the right order. He just shrugs and opens another bottle.
“Then why do you bother? We could be having a lot more fun, maybe finish up one of those songs you keep scribblin’ on the wall.”
Gerard goes quiet “‘Cause… I kinda wanna figure out why I’m so… this.” He gestures vaguely to his whole body, “hoping he could answer some of my questions.”
Frank scoffs, cracking open beer number 3, “I could do that for free: you’re a fucking weirdo. End of story.”
Gerard looks over, searching Frank’s face, “Don’t you wanna find out why I’m like this?”
Frank takes another drag. Exhales slow right in Gerard's direction, “Don’t care. Don’t know why you do.”
“That’s ‘cause You’re always waving your dick around like you’re scared somebody’ll miss it, you don’t get what it’s like to-”
“I don’t care because it won’t change anything. He could hand you a book of reasons why you’re… you. But you’ll still be you. And you’ll still end up on your back—hundred bucks an hour down the fuckin’ drain.”
Gerard opens his mouth to respond.
He wants to say no. He wants to say that’s not true. He wants to say he’s scared he won’t ever get better.
Instead, he just nods, “Sometimes it feels like I’m not…anything. Normal because I'm not."
Silence spread thin.
“Yeah,” Frank scoffed. “Every guy loves getting called ‘Illi’ while some dude goes to town on him.”
Gerard smiled despite himself. “Maybe if they did, there’d be less wars.”
Frank snorted.
Gerard tossed the empty bottle onto the concrete. It shattered sharp and clean.
“And you?” Gerard said. “You always drag dudes up to your room? Your dad doesn’t seem like the type to let that slide.”
Frank took a long drag, thinking.
“I’d notice ‘em,” he said. “Some of ‘em looked too long. Liked that I didn’t get that growth spurt mom promised would hit Senior …”
He exhaled.
“Never thought anything of it till you.”
Gerard tried to take that as a compliment, “You got a thing for fat guys with bad hair?”
Frank didn’t smile, acted like the wind didn't bother him.
“It wasn’t that."
He looked at Gerard then. Really looked. Couldn't see the same kid he borrowed ketchup from when the cafeteria couldn’t lay off him.
“You walked around all pathetic and shit. Like you were waiting for one of those heroes you draw to come get you.”
The truth always had a way of finding him even when he wanted anything but.
Frank shrugged, like it didn’t matter.
“You kept looking at me.”
The sound of sirens carried on the wind.
“And I figured…Might be nice to be that guy.”
Gerard swallowed.
“What guy?”
Frank flicked the cigarette into the snow, “The one that threw a bone for once .”
The cold settled between them.
Real. Uncomfortable. Close.
Gerard looked away first.
“So why the others?” he asked.
Frank took a drink. Didn’t answer right away, “let it go,” he muttered,"trying to make this a good one…”
So he did.
The rest of the night was just laughs that echoed too loud and failed attempts at using swings they weren’t allowed to try as kids. The bookstore that was closest to the PATH stop they needed to take was too crowded to do more than leave with worn copies of books they convinced themselves they needed.
The hallway always seemed to smell like wet carpet and day old laundry. Neither of them noticed it as much this time. Their words were too close and every breath carried a mix of six packs they’d left scattered in the snow and whatever Frank seemed to be waiting for on the other side of their door.
Frank missed the lock the first time.
“Hold on—”
Metal scraped. Missed again.
“Jesus—”
Gerard hovered behind him, hands shoved in his pockets, rocking slightly like he didn’t know where to put himself.
The key caught.
Frank pushed the door open with his shoulder, stumbling in, laughing under his breath like none of it mattered.
Gerard followed slower.
The door shut behind them.
Quiet.
“So…” Gerard said.
Frank was already shrugging out of his jacket, “So.”
Gerard swallowed.
Second date. First one that was supposed to count.
“This the part,” he said, trying for casual and missing, “where do you kiss me?”
Frank laughed. Loud. Easy.
“I spent twenty bucks on beer and Marlboros,” he said, turning toward him. “You better be givin’ me more than that.”
Gerard smiled, small.“Yeah, but—don’t dates usually—”
“Not any I’ve been on,” Frank cut in, stepping closer.
“C’mere.”
Gerard didn’t move right away.
Something in his chest caught—on the park, on the way Frank had looked at him in the park. Maybe he could let him be that guy, even if it
“Frank—”
But Frank’s hand was already at his waist.
Pulling him in.
Familiar.
Easy.
Except—
it didn’t stop there.
His hand moved.
Slower than usual, sliding up under Gerard’s shirt, fingers dragging along his ribs like he wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere.
Gerard’s breath hitched, quiet and involuntary.
Frank felt it.
Didn’t comment.
Didn’t rush.
His hand kept going.
Higher.
Paused.
Cupped his chest—not grabbing, not squeezing, just there.
Gerard went still.
Waiting.
Frank didn’t move.
Like he’d forgotten what came next.
Then—
fingers catching in his hair, dragging through what little there was before settling at his jaw.
Thumb brushing once across his cheek.
Light.
Unthinking.
But it stayed.
A second too long.
Gerard’s grip loosened.
“Yeah,” he breathed, soft, like something had finally lined up.
Frank didn’t answer.
He was looking at him.
Something quieter there.
Something he didn’t seem to recognize.
And then—
it slipped.
His hand dropped.
“C’mere,” he muttered again, tighter now.
The kiss came harder.
Faster.
Back where it always was.
Gerard felt it—the shift.
Still—
he leaned in.
Because it had been there.
Frank’s grip tightened, pulling him closer.
Putting it back where it belonged.
“Hey,” Frank slurred low,
Gerard blinked, let things come back into focus, “W-what?”
“Opn yer mouf.”
Gerard hesitated.
“Why—”
Frank huffed, dragged his fingers down his face, “Jesus, whole thing’s yer fault.”
“My—wha?”
“Gotta apologize.”
There were a dozen ways out.
Gerard didn’t take any of them.
Because—
Frank’s hand had been on his face.
Time seemed to slow, just for a moment. Frank lips tightened then parted just enough to send warmth that landed right on
Gerard’s tongue—barely tasted the difference .
It should’ve felt wrong.
He waited for it to.
Nothing came.
Just something low tightening in his stomach.
Frank pulled him back in before he could think about it, kiss rough again, sealing it over.
“Yer fuckin’—” Frank muttered, crooked grin buried in Gerard’s neck, “unreal.”
Gerard didn’t answer.
Just held on tighter as a free hand dragged the zipper of his jeans down.
Frank was always better at apologizing.
Didn't even have to use words.
Just had to look at him with that too-wide smile and eyes that always felt like they shifted at just the right time.
Green.
It was the sting after a drag of teeth on his neck or the tongue that wiped it away.
Or the kiss that landed feather light against his.
Frank took the moan against his lips as forgiveness or permission. Didn't need either.
Always knew that Gerard would be back where he belonged, knew they both wanted to fit together the way they always had.
Nails dug into his back with every thrust.
Gerard could feel him throb inside him every time he pulled out a gasp.
Couldn't ever get tired of the way Frank pulled him closer, tight enough that the pounding was starting to become his favorite song.
Might've been his name, the one they'd practically picked together, hissed in his ear.
Definitely wasn't Frank's snores that came when all that was between them was a wet patch and tangled sheets.
The condoms were still in the bag. Frank had bought them. Gerard Illi didn't ask why.
Just let Frank's arm drape across the patch like it meant something.