Archive of Our Own

 Gerard hadn't really thought that love was going to be the thing that killed him.  He hadn't thought he was going to die at all, not once he'd found Frank, not yet. But the truth was, since he'd met Frank, his life had been turned upside down. He talked to people in dreams - people in basements who no one else could see. He discovered that he had been willing to give Frank everything, even something inside of him that he couldn't put a name to, and it scared him.

Gerard had needed to leave because he couldn't say aloud how much he was willing to give Frank. He'd been walking out his front door, on his way to stay at Mikey's. And then he was dead. Or maybe not dead, but not exactly alive.

And now Gerard is running, and he has to get his feet under him or he isn't going to make it, but it feels like he is running through sand instead of across the shiny wood floors of a hallway in a sunny apartment. It isn't his apartment, except that it isn't quite not his apartment. It feels a little like he's just gotten turned around, like he should know how to get away. He just can't find the right door.
 
He doesn't know what is chasing him, only that he has to run from the shadow at his heels. He needs to get away.

His feet slip on the floor, and he stumbles, rights himself. The hallway seems to go on forever.
 
"In here," a voice says, and Gerard ducks into a room around the corner, skidding with his fingers on the jam of the door.


The door slams behind him, and the lock catches. "Thanks," Gerard says, catching his breath, feeling his legs weak. He's looking around, but he can't see who called him or who latched the door

"Did it touch you?" the voice asks.
 
"Not this time," Gerard says, though he's not sure why he says it like that. He can't remember this ever happening before.
 
"Ok," the voice says, and from some part of the room Gerard can't see steps out - himself. He thinks for a second that he has to be looking into a mirror, but no, it's him, but not his reflection. It's someone else, standing there in front of him. "You shouldn't be here," the other him says.
 
"You shouldn't either," Gerard says.
 
"Oh, I know," the other him says. "I keep trying to leave."
 
They look at each other for a long, weird moment and the other him presses his ear to the door, listening.
 
"How long do we have to wait?" Gerard asks. "Until it goes."
 
"I don't know," the other him says. "It's never long."
 
"Ok," Gerard says. "Is there anything we could do?"
 
The other him sighs. "I usually just talk to Frank.”

Gerard wakes with a start. He's fallen asleep, sitting on top of the dryer in the basement, his neck sore from where it had been pressed against the wall at a weird angle. His brain feels strangely dulled, like everything that happens here happens while Gerard's half asleep. Time doesn't move correctly. He's been sitting on the washer for hours or days- and Brian has been eying him, concerned, the entire time.
Bob is leaning a hand on the wall, like he's feeling for something, and ignoring Gerard entirely, which is fine with Gerard, considering the last thing he told Bob was that he didn't want to talk to him. Bob seems to be keeping to that agreement.
 
"Do you believe in other dimensions?" Bob says.
 
"You don't have any proof," Schechter says before Gerard answers.
 
"Ok, then, well you tell me what's going on," Bob says.
 
Brian says nothing, and Gerard is too confused to have anything to add.

“So, this is another reality?” Gerard says. “With a you and a me and a – wait, is there a Frank?”

"No," Brian says.
 
"There used to be," Bob says, and Brian shoots him a look. "I'm not going to hide that from him, it's important."
 
"That there used to be a Frank?" Gerard asks.
 
"Yeah," Brian says. “He died here. The same time as the other Frank did, in the other apartment."
 
"Dimension," Bob corrects.
 
"Whatever," Schechter says.
 
"But, so,  Frank - " Gerard says and then stops. "Are you saying that Frank might be....this Frank?"

"I don't know," Bob says. "I don't understand what's going on with Frank. Look," Bob says, "We're not supposed to be here. I mean, more than the fact that people aren't supposed to cross into other dimensions. We," he says, pointing at all of them, "should not be here," he says, pointing around. "It's bad."
 
"No shit it's bad," Gerard says. “What about Mikey?”

Brian and Bob share a grave look.

“There's no Mikey,” Brian says.

“What do you mean there's no - “

“You don't want me to answer that question, Gerard, ok?”

Brian's right; Gerard really doesn't want to know.
 
"Something's wrong with this house,” Bob says. “Something's really, really wrong."

"What?" Brian says. "What aren't you saying?”
 
Bob sits on the stack of boxes across from the stairs, and they creak a little. Gerard wonders what's in them.

"You ever walk into a place and just know something was off?" Bob says. Brian shrugs, and Gerard - well, his apartment was haunted and he knew before anyone believed him, so, yeah. "This is like walking into a place and seeing blood on the walls and not looking to see where it's coming from, but not turning around and getting the hell out."
 
***

Frank feels like he's being watched, and not in a comforting way. If it's Gerard, then Gerard is probably pissed at Frank, and Frank knows he deserves it, but he doesn't so much feel like the thing watching him is angry, it's just - watching him. He wishes Gerard were here so he could ask him what it felt like when it was Frank haunting him, whether it felt this damn creepy, and when he asks Mikey, Mikey just tells him he’s the wrong one to ask.
 
"Besides," Mikey says, "My creepy meter is way off now anyway."

Frank doesn't want to talk to the house, because that feels wrong somehow, but he wants to talk to Gerard and he doesn't know where he is except somewhere in the house, and so mostly he keeps silent, to the point that Ray says something about it.
 
"I'm not one to talk," Ray says, "But you seem awfully quiet lately.
 
"Yeah," Frank says.
 
"If there's anything you want to talk about," Ray says, and trails off. 
 
"Yeah," Frank says.
 
"No, I mean it," Ray says. "You know, I think about it sometimes, what would have happened if I'd come over and talked to you more. Before you died."
 
'Ray," Frank says.
 
"Maybe I would have seen something."
 
"No," Frank says. "There wasn't anything to see."
 
"Not to you," Ray says, "but maybe someone else. Why do you think I'm watching you now?"
 
"You think I'm going to die again?" Frank says.
 
"They're worse things than dying," Ray says quietly. "Like you, being so quiet you stop talking at all."
 
"Ray," Frank says.
 
"No, see, this is my house," Ray says. "This whole place, and there's something wrong with it and I can feel it and I don't like how it sits under my skin. I'm going to go try to figure it out. You call if you need something, ok? This time, you call."

Gerard follows Frank upstairs and he wonders how much Frank did this, for how long, whether he had as much as control as Gerard has, to choose to stay and watch Mikey, to follow Frank. He doesn't really need to watch Frank dig through his clothes to find a hoodie - why would he need to watch that? Frank digs through two drawers where Gerard knows there aren't any hoodies and he wants to tell Frank that, wants to say, they're piled in the corner because I couldn't decide what drawer to put them in weeks ago and then forgot about it. Frank just stops and sits on the edge of the bed, leans forward and curls tight in on himself.  

Gerard wants so much to go to him and wrap him in a hug, even after how angry, how hurt he was, Frank just looks so sad, so broken. Gerard tries to sit on the bed, but it's a little like walking underwater and he only manages to get close enough to almost touch Frank's head when Frank abruptly sits up, grabs a hoodie from the pile like he knew they were there the whole time. Gerard's happy in a weird, sharp, possessive way, to see that Frank's wearing something of Gerard's.

Frank flips the hood up as he rattles down the stairs, puts on his sunglasses.
 
Gerard decides he's going to try to follow him. He remembers that Frank had said that he couldn’t leave before and so Gerard is surprised it works, surprised that he walks right out of the house along with Frank. Still, it doesn't feel easy. There's a weird pull toward the house, like it’s trying to keep him tethered, but he stays close to Frank. Mikey is waiting outside in the car, and Frank gets in and Gerard just – somehow is in the car, too. In no time at all, they're in the parking lot of the supermarket. Neither Mikey nor Frank seems to have realized they have a hitchiking ghost.

Frank's looking at bags of rice like he's never seen them before.

"Frankie?" A stranger's voice says, and Frank turns on instinct, even though he's not supposed to. A ragged looking guy in a well-worn and mis-buttoned shirt comes shuffling down the aisle. He peers at Frank for a minute, as if confirming his first impression, and then says, "Hi Frankie."

"Hey, James," Frank says, taking off his sunglasses.
 
Gerard watches as they stare at each other for another long moment. "I went to your funeral," James says.
 
"How was it?" Frank asks.
 
James shrugs. "I was sorry you died," he says. "So you need rice, you know, in the afterlife?"
 
"I was a ghost," Frank says, "Then I was corporeality. 

"Rice is good, then," James says. 

Mikey comes tearing down the aisle, skids to a stop when he sees Frank and James are talking. Mikey walks up all casual, like Frank is actually a normal guy in a grocery store and Mikey wasn't just on a tear to make sure he wasn't being called out for being dead.

“Hey,” Mikey says.

“Mikey, Frank says quickly, “This is an old friend of mine, James.”

“Hey,” Dewees says and gives a half-hearted wave."Who's the other guy?" James is looking right at Gerard.

"What other guy?" Mikey looks over his shoulder. There's no one behind him.
 
"Nevermind,” James says, but he's still looking at Gerard.
 
He decides to take a chance. "Hi. I'm Gerard."
 
"Gerard," James says.
 
"You know Gerard?" Mikey asks.

"Apparently," James says. Gerard is staring at him.
 
"You can see me?" he says. "And hear me?"
 
James sort of tilts his head at Gerard, looks at the other guys with a nod, asking, so they can't? Gerard nods and James picks up on it too fast for this to be his first ghost.

James takes a pill bottle out of his pocket, palms the cap, shakes something out and dry swallows it. Frank and Mikey share a concerned look, but James is blinking at Gerard as if the pill was supposed to make him go away. James clearly still sees him. Gerard gives him a sorry smile.

"You ok?" Frank asks.
 
James sort of giggles, them coughs. "Yeah, no, it's funny, I uh, I haven't been ok since you died."
 
Frank looks horrified. Gerard tries to take a step closer and James rattles the pill bottle, like he's trying to ward Gerard off.
 
"Nothing personal, man, I mean, it was tragic that you died, but I wasn't upset enough about it that I should have had a psychotic break."
 
"But you did?" Mikey asks cautiously.
 
"S'what my doctors call it," James says.
 
"What do you call it?" Frank says, and James' gaze flicks up at Frank and softens for the first time. Gerard can see the familiarity, can see how they clearly used to be friends.

"You want to go outside? This is not the sort of thing I want to talk about in the grain aisle, ok? Anyway, I’ve already been thrown out of here once." Gerard watches Mikey and Frank share another look, and Frank's trying to reassure Mikey with his eyes. James looks behind them to see if Gerard is following. He is, and Gerard's not sure if the look on James' face counts as acceptance.

They follow James to the parking lot, Mikey having left behind the shopping cart with their two total items somewhere near produce. James lights up a cigarette, and it seems to steady him in some otherwise unaccountable way.

"So you don't seem very, you know, fazed by me being here," Frank says. "Not that I want you to have a screaming fit or anything, it's refreshing, but - "
 
"Frankie, seeing you is like, the least weird thing to happen to me the past 3 months." James takes a long drag from his cigarette. "Ok, story time," he says, and leans back against the car. "About a week after you died, like, the Wednesday after the funeral, I remember that it was Wednesday because I fucking dragged myself out of bed to put out the trash. Never remember to do it Tuesday night. Anyway, Wednesday morning trash day, my buddy Frankie's dead, I've got to finish a report at work, and," James stops and takes two long drags from his cigarette, "And there I am sitting at my kitchen table, reading the paper."
 
Frank shakes his head at Mikey, and Gerard's glad that it's not just him, neither of them understand. 
 
"What - " Frank starts.
 
"Me. Sitting at the table. I'm looking at myself sitting at my own kitchen table, and I'm fucking standing there, holding the trash, in the hall."
 
"Oh," Frank says.
 
Mikey is quiet. James looks over at Gerard, as if to see if he too understands. 
 
"So what did you do?" Frank says.
 
"I took out the trash and went back to bed," James says. "For two days. Except when I woke up, he was in my shower."

Gerard watches Mikey and Frank.

"I know what you're thinking. Had enough doctors tell me. But it was not a hallucination. I've had hallucinations, and they don't use up the last of my shampoo."

"That's not what I was thinking," Frank says. James abruptly reaches out and grabs Frank, hugs him quick and tight then pushes him away. "Fuck you, Iero, you fucking died."
 
"Yeah," Frank says. They grin at each other for a few minutes. "So did he ever go away? The other you?"
 
"Fuck no," James says. "He fucking comes and goes like he actually lives at my apartment, which I guess he might? I don't know, this is why they give me all these drugs."
 
"What kind of drugs?" Mikey asks.
 
"Take your pick!" James says back. "Anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, anti-histamines, I fucking take it all, it doesn't make a difference, I still see - " he gestures at Gerard. "I still see things no one else can see."
 
"So no one else can see him?" Frank asks.
 
"You think I'd be such a mess if they could? Everyone thinks I'm crazy. I think I'm crazy."
 
They're quiet for a minute, and then Mikey says, "Have you talked to him? The other you?"
 
James nods. "He doesn't know any more than I do, which just makes it seem crazier, you know? You'd think that if you saw more than one of yourself in your apartment, one of you might know what's going on." James lights another cigarette. "He just says, "'sometimes I'm here.'"
 
"Do you know anything about him? Where he lives? If he knows a Frank, or a - " Gerard asks. James snaps his head around so fast, like he'd forgotten Gerard was there.

"No," James says, though Gerard can tell he's curious and he wishes he could ask more without obviously freaking the guy out.
 
"No what?" Frank asks.
 
"Fucking no to everything," James says dejectedly. "Seriously, I'm tired of talking about myself. Tell me why you're alive. Are you alive?"
 
"I don't know," Frank says at the same time Gerard says, "Yes, he is." James looks back and forth between Frank and Gerard.
 
"You want to tell him?" Mikey says, tugging Frank's sleeve, whispering, though Gerard can hear them. James looks unfazed that they're having a secret conversation right in front of him. 
 
"Who's he gonna tell, Mikey, his psychiatrist?"
 
"I have several," James says, unhelpfully, not bothering to pretend he can't hear them but also obviously not caring.

"I mean it, Mikes, I've known Dewees a long time, and he was an odd guy but he was never this crazy."
 
Gerard can see the moment Mikey gives in, and he's glad, because as crazy as he might be, he can see Gerard and Gerard feels like that might be key, even if that's not really that reassuring, it was more than he had going for him before this morning.

"So I died. Of fucking pneumonia. And then, I was still in the house. Later, though, because all my shit was gone and this new guy was moving in."
 
"My brother," Mikey says.
 
"And then," Frank says, and then Gerard can see him trying to figure out how to explain what happened, "Well, I haunted him for a while, and then this guy Bob did a ritual thing and brought me back."
 
"Huh," James says.
 
"Except I wasn't right, you know," Frank says. "I was like a ghost vampire, and I was taking things from people. From Gerard."
 
"Gerard," James says.
 
"Yeah, sorry, he moved into my old place."
 
"And where's Gerard now?" Dewees asks, eying Frank 
 
"It's complicated," Frank says. 
 
"More complicated than becoming a ghost and then being recorporealized in a ritual that gives you a body that's not entirely here? Hang on, man, I need another pill."
 
"We don't know where Gerard is," Mikey says. 
 
Dewees and Gerard have a staring match. "Can I - "
 
"Shhh," Dewees says.
 
"But if you could - "
 
"Shhh - "
 
As neither Mikey nor Frank is saying anything, they're growing increasingly alarmed that Dewees appears to be telling them to stay quiet.

"Could you at least tell them that - " Gerard tries one more time.
 
"Shhh, I'm trying to remember something," James says. "Wait," he says, pointing at Frank and advancing on him, and resolutely ignoring Gerard now. "You moved into that house on Cross Street," James says, "Right before you went all hermity."
 
"The apartment next to Ray Toro, yeah."
 
"That's funny, that's really funny in a totally creepy way," James says, and then opens up a pill bottle and takes yet another pill, "Because my other self, he said," he thinks and then takes a third pill, "He said he was going there today."

And then all the pills seem to catch up with him and he passes out, falling slow as molasses, so slow that Gerard thinks he's going to catch himself, but then he just lands on the pavement at Frank and Mikey's feet. 

Gerard watches as Mikey and Frank maneuver James into the car. Mikey's surprisingly strong, as Gerard found out from years of brotherly wrestling matches. Gerard's interested in watching how Mikey and Frank work together, their immediate silent agreement that they need to get Dewees in the car as soon as possible and avoid the police. Dewees didn't seem like the kind of guy who did well in hospitals, even if he probably needed one, and so Gerard was just as happy to crawl into the backseat next to Dewees and let Mikey drive them home as Frank tugged his hoodie close over his face, as though somehow someone else recognizing him was worse than the drugged-up guy who sees his other self from another universe passed out in the backseat.
 
Gerard kind of loses time again as they're driving and comes back to the ground when they're pulling into the driveway. There's no one around, but Mikey does a look around, scoping out the neighbors, before opening the backseat, but when he looks for Frank, Frank's bounded up the stairs and gone over to Ray's door and knocked and Ray's following him out into the driveway.
 
"You guys kidnapped somebody?" Toro says.
 
"Nah, it's an old friend," Frank says.
 
"Who fainted when he saw you?" Ray says, and then he reaches in and yanks on James' ankles so he slides limply halfway out of the back seat. "Wait, is this Dewees? You seriously kidnapped Dewees, Frank, what is wrong with you?"
 
"Nobody kidnapped anybody," Frank says. 
 
Ray looks to Mikey for confirmation.
 
"We ran into him at the grocery store," Mikey says. "He's taking a lot of anti-psychotics."
 
"So you brought home a crazy guy," Toro says. "Great, just what we needed." 
 
Frank explains what happened, or what he thinks happened, to Ray while Mikey disappears out to the porch with the phone, presumably to call Pete. They settleJames onto the couch and Gerard watches him, less out of a sense of guardianship than a hope that he'll get a chance to talk to him alone before the other guys notice he's awake.
 
Still Gerard can't help but zero in on what Frank's saying, drifting closer to the hall as Ray pries off the light switch panel and starts tugging on wires.

"He sees ghosts, man," Frank says. 

"You just said he saw himself, Frank. That's not ghosts, that's looking in a mirror."
 
"It's different, I can tell. He's different."
 
"Yeah, he's heavily medicated, probably because he's insane."
 
Frank doesn't argue for a minute, as if something had just occurred to him. "Yeah, but you remember, he wasn't always like this, so what if seeing the ghosts or whatever - seeing himself - made him crazy."
 
"Sure's making me feel like I'm losing my mind," Ray says after a minute.
 
"Come on," Frank says, cheered, "Let's go see if he's awake."

Dewees isn't awake, and Gerard would know, because he's been lurking, watching. Frank comes over to the couch and gingerly pokes at James, who doesn't move.
"You sure we shouldn't call a doctor?"
 
"You know a doctor who'd come here and talk to a crazy guy?"
 
"I think they're all trained to do that, Frank."
 
"Gonna lock me up," James mumbles, barely audible. "Again." He adds in a kind of chilling way.

"Nah," Frankie says. "No one's gonna lock you up."
 
"Maybe it's better than seeing the ghost of my dead friend, and - " James waves at Gerard, as though annoyed beyond words, but as neither Frank nor Ray can see Gerard, Ray just assumes he's talking about him."
 
"I'm not dead," Ray says.

"'Course you're not, Toro," James says. "'Course you're not."
 
Mikey comes back in and stops when he sees James is conscious again. He looks to Ray, as if to see whether or not Ray's going to run off about anything James may have said, but Ray just shrugs.
 
"It's ok, Mikes, I've known James for a while."
 
"Pete thought so," Mikey says.
 
"What the hell does Pete know about my friends?" Toro says. 
 
"He said it would make sense that he could see," Mikey makes a handwave. "You know, weird things." 
 
"I see a bunch of weird things standing right in front of me," James says.
 
Gerard tries to wave for James's attention, but he just continues ignoring him.

"So what else did Pete say?" Frank says.

"Who the hell is Pete?" James says.
 
"Are we sure we should be talking to him?" Ray asks.
 
"I'm not sure we should be talking to anyone Toro's making that face about," James offers.
 
"Hey, I'm practically making that face about you," Ray says, and for some reason, that makes James smile. 
 

Mikey seems to decide that the situation requires an in person consult with Pete, who barges into the living room like he lives there.

"Ugh," James says and flinches away.
 
"Who's this guy?" Pete asks.
 
"An old friend," Frank says.
 
"He generally this much of an asshole?"
 
"Hey," Toro says.
 
"Come on, Pete," Mikey says. “This is the guy I was asking you about.”
 
"No, it's cool," James says. "I usually am this much of an asshole."
 
"It's true," Frank says.
 
"But I'm not casting aspersions against your appearance, however short or toothy you may be," James says. "I'm flinching because, I don't know if you know, but you've got some demon all over you."
 
Gerard watches everyone look at Pete. The last person to look away is Mikey.
 
"I know," Pete says. "It's pretty ugly, isn't it?"
 
"Sorry man," James says, "But holy christ, yeah."
 
"What's it look like?" Mikey asks, an unsteady curiosity in his voice.
 
"Like I got deep-fried in evil," Pete says, obviously trying to make a joke out of it.
 
"It'll fade," James says. "Was it recent?"

"Yeah," Pete says, "Couple weeks back. Happened right over there. The exorcism part, at least," Pete says.
 
"I'm sorry about your house, Toro," James says.
 
"What the hell does that mean?" Toro says.

"Hey," Frank says. "Take it easy."
 
"Can you just tell them I'm here?" Gerard says, frustrated.
 
James looks at him, reaches for the pills in his pocket, then stops. 
 
"Tell me about Gerard," James says. 
 
Gerard can feel the air in the room change. He thinks it's something in how everyone's suddenly uncomfortable, but then it's like everyone starts to blur. "No, wait," Gerard says, and in the space of a blink, he's sitting in an empty living room. 

***

 
Bob stalks in from the hall. "Gerard, Jesus, where the hell have you been? Schechter's going out of his mind." Bob turns around and shouts, "Schechter, I've got him."
 
A moment later, Schechter comes thundering up the stairs. "Jesus fucking christ, Gerard, where the fucking hell have you been? I've been shouting so loud the whole city's probably heard me."
 
"How long was I gone?"
 
"I don't fucking know, I wasn't watching the clock," Schechter says. "Long enough."
 
"You were in the other house, weren't you?" Bob says. 

"Yeah," Gerard says. "How does that work? How can I be there and not here? How can I go back and forth?"

"I keep telling you, you're special," Bob says.
 
"And every time it just makes me want to chain-smoke a pack of cigarettes," Gerard says.

"Do you know a James?" Gerard asks Brian.
 
"Probably several," Brian says. "Why?"
 
"Dewey something. James Dewey."

"Dewees?" Brian says after a moment. "Why the hell are you asking about James Dewees?"
 
There's a knock on the door. The other Gerard doesn't answer. There's another knock. "Shouldn't you get that?" Gerard says to Brian.
 
"Oh sure," Brian says. "Everyone in this world thinks I'm dead, I'm sure they'd all be pleased to see me open the door."
 
Gerard wants to tell them about James and Frank and how that didn't go so badly, actually, except for the passing out in the parking lot, when there's a rattle at the keyhole of the door, which, after a few moments of additional intermittent rattling, pops open.
 
James Dewees strides through the door. "Gerard? Fucking open up man, I know you're here." Dewees looks into the living room, right at all of them, and lets his gaze linger there for just a second before the other Gerard shouts from the kitchen.
 
"Fuck you, go away."
 
Dewees looks again at the group of them in the living room then stalks off toward the kitchen, following the sound of the other Gerard's voice.
 
"I can't do that. I promised Frankie I'd keep an eye on you and so here I am."
 
"Don't need your eyes," the other Gerard says miserably.
 
"I bet you need this," Dewees says, and Gerard hears the unmistakable clink of a full bottle being set on the table.

"What the fuck, you're psychic now?" Brian asks, sitting down next to Gerard on the couch. Gerard watches Bob drifts toward the open door, and Gerard can't tell if he's trying to listen in to the other Gerard's conversation, or if he's more interested in the front door. "How'd you know he was coming?"

"I'm not psychic," Gerard says. "When I was in the other house, Frankie and Mikes ran into James at the supermarket."
 
"You went to the supermarket?"

"Brian, who cares about the supermarket? I'm trying to tell you - "
 
"Brian's right," Bob says, coming further into the room, having abandoned whatever he was doing. 

"I don't understand why you're both focused on the supermarket, that's not - '
 
"You left the house," Bob says. He looks at Gerard, waiting.
 
"Yeah, so, but - "
 
"Frank couldn't leave the house when he was - whatever. Schechter can't leave the house here. How come you can?"
 
"I left with Frank, so I must have - "
 
"Go out the door." Bob says.
 
"He's just - "
 
"I'll keep watch. Go out the door."
 
Gerard looks at Brian, who shrugs.
 
"Ok, fine," Gerard says. Bob checks the hall. Gerard can hear the other Gerard and Dewees talking about getting stuck on the Jersey Turnpike. 

Gerard takes a step toward the door, expecting something to happen. Nothing does, so he takes a few more steps. And then he's outside on the porch. It's hazy and the sun's starting to make the sky orange. "So?" he turns around, and Schechter and Bob are standing at the door. "What?"
 
"I can't go out there," Bob says.
 
"Seriously, it's easy, it doesn't feel any different."
 
"No, Gerard, listen," Brian says, in that voice that Gerard knows is serious. "Neither of us can leave."
 
"And you tried?" Gerard says. 
 
Bob gives him a look, and then takes two steps forward. On a third, he should be out the door, but he's just.....stopped. 
 
"And you're not messing with me?" Gerard says. Bob sighs and Brian shakes his head. 
 
"Yeah, this is some big practical joke," Brian says.
 
"Well that's.....weird," Gerard says after a minute. "Don't you think that's weird in a way that doesn't make sense?"
 
"Yeah, I really do," Bob says. 

"Did you leave the door open?" other Gerard says, his chair scraping back from the table. Brian and Bob scatter, since they're standing right in the hall, Brian gesturing emphatically for Gerard to come inside, or to go further out, to be anywhere except right in front.
 
"Sit the fuck down, I'll get it," James says, and then he walks out into the hall. Gerard stands there, frozen, and James stops for a minute. 

"So?" James says. He makes a gesture of "in our out", so Gerard steps in, still staring at James, and steps toward the living room, where Brian is. James doesn't any anything more, just closes the door.
 
"Thanks," Gerard says, and James turns and looks at him. 
 
"Yeah, no problem," James says quietly before he heads back to the kitchen.

"What the fuck just happened," Schechter says, grabbing Gerard's arm. "Did you just talk to Dewees? How do you know who he is? How does he know who you are?"
 
Gerard just shrugs, shocked.
 
"That's not right," Bob says. "No one is that nonchalant about seeing the double of the person they're in the kitchen with out on the porch, nevermind inviting the fucking double inside. If I'd made it that far without running away screaming, I would have at least slammed the door in your face."

"It's like he knew me," Gerard says quietly. "Like he knew it was me and not the other....me."
 
"That's exactly what I'm saying," Schechter says. "That's not normal."
 
"You met him in the other house," Bob says.
 
"But not before this. Not before I was dead or whatever."
 
"You're not dead," Schechter says sharply.
 
"You think that's the Dewees I met?" Gerard asks Bob, trying to ignore the sudden flare of intensity that's coming from Brian, pretending that he doesn't know what it's about.
 
"No," Bob says, 'Although maybe a little bit."
 
"How can it be a little bit?" Gerard asks, frustrated.
 
"How can two guys who are the same guy both know you even though you've never actually met?" Bob says. 

"Tell us what happened with Frank," Schechter says.
 
"Not up here," Bob says. "We don't know whether he's human or not."
 
Gerard is suddenly hit with a wave of anger at Bob, thinking about Frank, about what human means, and what Bob means by it.
 
"You're not going to try to kill him," Gerard says emphatically and both Bob and Schechter look at him, startled. "That's what you do, right? Eventually, you kill the things that aren't human."
 
Bob looks deeply offended. He doesn't smoke, as far as Gerard's seen, but he snatches the pack of cigarette's from Schechter's hand, shakes one out, puts it into his mouth, and lights it. "I'm not some remorseless killer," Bob says. "But you haven't seen what these things can do."
 
'Frankie isn't a thing, he's a person," Gerard says. Bob just shakes his head. 
 
"For the record, I was going to suggest another ritual, not a murder," Bob says, and he turns and finishes his cigarette in silence.

"Can we do a ritual from here?" Gerard asks. "Won't it be a problem that we're incorporeal?" 
 
“”Not for you,” Bob says. “Since it seems like you can bend the rules.”

***

Frank calls Brendon to come over for the night and feels sick about it, but Brendon can still fix what's wrong with Frank, at least temporarily, and it doesn't hurt him.

"So the blood ritual won't work," Brendon says, coming in to the kitchen in the morning. Ray, who had come over to keep an eye on Frank with the excuse of bringing Frank breakfast, chokes on his toast. "Sorry," he adds belatedly to Ray.
 
"Blood ritual?" Ray says when he swallows. "You didn't tell me about that."
 
"We did," Mikey says. "Except we left out the blood part."

"I was hoping we would continue to leave that part out," Frank says, glaring at Brendon.

"Well it hardly matters," Brendon says. "You can shed all the blood you want, it's not going to work."
 
Ray makes a displeased face and sets down his toast, pushing his plate away.

"How do you know?" Frank says.
 
"I just know," Brendon says.

"We can ask Pete," Mikey says.

"We might have to," Frank says. "We're running out of ideas."
 
"Bob didn't leave any of you, like, the name of some organization we could call?"
 
"What, Contacting Other Dimensions, Inc.?" Frank says. "It's not like it's something we can look up in the phone book."
 
"I'll call Pete," Mikey says, and takes out his phone.

"You don't know anyone else?" Ray asks Brendon, who shrugs again.
 
"I just know it's not about blood," Brendon says. "It's not like someone leaves me detailed messages, it's just...senses."
 
"Yeah," Ray says, annoyed. "Senses."

"Pete says he can come over," Mikey says. "He thinks he might, like, remember some stuff."
 
"From being a demon?" Frank says.
 
Mikey shrugs.
 
"Great," Ray says. "Mysterious senses and demon memories and I can't even finish my breakfast because someone mentioned blood."
 
"You need a stronger stomach," Frank says.
 
"I need stronger something," Ray says. 

Mikey brings Pete over later that afternoon, and Frank fills in the details that Mikey leaves out, like why they're doing it.
 
"Gerard's missing?" Pete says, looking between Mikey and Frank.
 
"I said I hadn't seen him," Mikey says.
 
"You didn't say he was missing," Pete says. 

"I was thinking," Frank says, before they get into an argument, "That we could do the ritual that Schechter did. With the circle and the candles and stuff."
 
"Did you see that?" Mikey asks. "I didn't know that you'd seen that."
 
"I sort of saw it," Frank says.
 
"From the other side," Pete says sagely. 
 
"I just don't think it's a good idea for us to be trying things from the grimoire," Frank says. "Even if that one you found said you could find people."
 
"With blood," Pete says, just as Ray's coming in the door.
 
"Ugh," Ray says, about to turn and leave.
 
"No blood," Frank says quickly. "We were just talking about doing another ritual. A safe one."
 
"Yeah, because rituals to contact the spirits or whatever are totally safe," Ray says.
 
"No, man, they totally are," Pete says. "I mean, sometimes," he adds when Ray just looks at him.
 
"Look," Frank says. "I just feel like we shouldn’t be ignoring this part of it." And sure, maybe Frank's saying it because he used to be a ghost, because he used to be on the other side, but he just, he feels like, wherever Gerard is, they're not going to be able to find him by waiting.

"Fine," Ray says, and Mikey nods too.
 
"Excellent, I'll go get my candles," Pete says, and runs back out to the car.
 
"I shouldn't be a part of a ritual like this," Brendon says, when Frank goes upstairs to wake him up and update him. "I'm not exactly the most balanced person," he says.
 
"Neither am I," Frank says. "And you know a lot more than we do."
 
"I don't know about that," Brendon says. "I only know about my own particular experience."
 
"Still," Frank says. "You'd know if we were doing something wrong."
 
"I'll stay up here," Brendon says, after considering. "But I'll stay out of the circle, ok?"
 
Frank shrugs. 
 
"Look, Frank I'm not - " Brendon says, grabbing Frank's arm, and Frank turns and kisses him. 
 
"I'm just freaked out," Frank says, breaking the kiss when they're both breathing hard, threading his fingers in Brendon's hair as he tries to settle himself.
 
"Yeah," Brendon says. "I can tell."
 
"It's just," Frank says, between kisses, "If I'm doing this, if it's me - then who am I going to send away next?"
 
"Shhh," Brendon says. "Shh, it's ok," and Frank presses his face to Brendon's shoulders.
 
"I sent Gerard away," Frank says, against the material of Brendon's shirt. "If I could do that to Gerard, then - "
 
"Shhh," Brendon says. ”Why don't you go downstairs and try to call him on the spirit telephone, ok? I'll be right up here."
 
"Ok," Frank says, though he feels like it's just going to make something worse happen, break someone else or break something inside himself.

Pete seems to be enjoying setting up the circle, with candles, branches of lavender and sage, salt and something Pete won't say what it is that looks like dirt.
 
"Seriously, you don't want to know," Pete says.
 
"Is that gonna ruin the floor?" Ray says. 

"It's not corrosive," Pete says. "I don't think."
 
Ray just sighs.

"So do I have to do anything?" Ray asks.
 
"Nah," Pete says. "Let me do all the black arts stuff."
 
"He's not as comforting as Schechter," Frank says. "I can't believe I just said that."
 
"Cut it out, Pete," Mikey says. "It's fine," Mikey says. "We've done this one before. It's just like a phone call."
 
"Sure," Ray says. "A phone call."
 
They watch in silence as Pete starts lighting candles, and says something that sounds sort of familiar to Frank, but his memory of what happened when Gerard and Mikey and Schechter did this is not as clear as it could be. 
 
Almost soon as Pete finishes the candles and the chanting or whatever kind of deep voiced thing he's doing, something happens and the room kind of shifts, like they've been spinning in a chair that suddenly stopped, like a car sliding on ice and everything going by both slow and fast at the same time.

"Hello?" Pete says. Frank hears Ray take a sharp intake of breath and when he looks in Ray's direction, he sees why. Bob is standing between the front door and the circle they're all in.
 
"Hey," Bob says.
 
"Bob, what the fuck," Frank says, going to stand, and Mikey catches Frank's ankle.
 
"Stay in the circle, remember?" Mikey says.
 
"Mikey's right," Bob says. "Stay in the circle, Frankie, or I can't stay."
 
"Are you dead?" Pete asks.
 
Bob laughs. "No," he says. "I'm just stuck."
 
"Stuck where?" Pete asks.
 
"Here," Bob says. "But not here."
 
"Helpful," Frank says.
 
"Frank knows," Bob says. "You know what it's like, don't you?" he says, and Frank shivers.

"Is Gerard there?" Frank says, to cover. "And Brian? Are they with you?"
 
"No," Bob says, “but I think I know where they are. Listen, Ray, I want you to read something for me from the grimoire."  

"Ok," Ray says. "I don't have it in the circle, though."
 
"I can get it and bring it to you," Bob says. "If you tell me where it is."
 
"How can - " Frank says, but he stops when he notices that Pete suddenly goes very still. 
 
"Pete, are you ok?" Mikey asks. Pete's eyes are closed and he doesn't answer. "Pete?" Mikey says, more panicked.
 
"Ray," Bob says firmly. "Tell me where it is."
 
"Ray, I don't think - " Frank says, but suddenly, Brendon comes thundering down the stairs.

"That's not -"Brendon shouts but Frank can't hear the rest of his sentence because Brendon's being thrown back against the wall, and tumbling the rest of the way down the stairs.
 
"Brendon," Frank says, at the same time Ray says, "Bob."
 
Frank realizes why when he sees that Bob still has his arm stretched out, pointed at Brendon.
 
"What are you doing?" Frank hisses,
 
"That's the wrong question, isn't it?" Bob says.
 
"Who are you?" Pete says. His eyes are still closed, his voice deeper.
 
"No one you know," Bob says. 'Now come on, Ray, what about the grimoire, or do I need to bleed out the kid?" Brendon groans feebly from where Bob seems to be holding him in place.
 
Ray moves next to Frank and Frank's worried that he's actually going to get the grimoire, which he knows is such a bad idea even if he doesn’t understand what's going on with Bob, he knows whoever - whatever - this is shouldn't get their hands on that book. But then Ray smears his hands through the chalk of the circle and Bob disappears. A moment later, Pete slumps and Mikey scrambles to his side.

Frank and Ray get Brendon up off the floor, though he waves them away. "I'm ok," Brendon says. "Sore, but ok. Seriously," he says. "He didn't hurt me, he just - " Brendon stops and kind of rubs his chest. "It was like he had his hand around something inside me."
 
"So if that wasn't Bob," Frank says.
 
"Demon," Pete says.
 
"A demon inside Bob?" Frank says.
 
"Or one that just looks like him," Pete says. "Sorry I went all - " he kind of waves his hands around. "Guess there's more residual demon gunk inside me than I realized. Probably why we didn't end up making just a regular ritual."
 
"That was good work with the circle," Frank says to Ray, who's been quiet this whole time. "I couldn't even think, he was just - "
 
"Yeah," Mikey says.
 
"Well," Ray says, shrugging. "He said he was gonna bleed out Brendon. And I don't like blood." With that, Ray goes out the front door and back into his apartment, and Frank doesn’t see him for the rest of the day.

"I'll call if I hear anything," Mikey says, though they both know he's not going to hear anything. 

By now, the weird buzz is inside Frank's head and his chest, the need is burning in him, but he keeps his hands in tight fists and avoids Brendon, instead passing the broom over the place where Pete had half-heartedly swept.
 
Brendon takes the broom from him, setting it aside as he leans in to kiss Frank. "Don't do it just to make me feel better," Frank says, breaking away a lot later than he means to.
 
Brendon just shakes his head. "It makes me feel better, too," he says and Frank kisses him again.

***

Gerard stands in the hallway and wonders what it is that Frank felt when he was here. It's the in between that troubles Gerard, being here and not being able to be seen, and it makes him heartsick and scared. He wonders if Frank got past this, or if he felt this every moment he was watching Gerard. Gerard knew what it had felt like to feel Frank there, to really believe he was there, but it must have been a hundred times better for Frank, because everything was dulled here, everything was far away, except for Frank, who shone so bright. Gerard wanted to risk everything just to get closer, just to stay, and he knows, he knows that's not right.

Frank's reading at the table, and he looks up from his book, looks around the room like he can feel Gerard, like he doesn't know where to look. Gerard freezes, because he's not sure whether or not it's actually just his hope that Frank can see him. Frank scans the room, listens, looks back at his book and Gerard breathes out a sigh, he's not sure if it's relief or not. He wants Frank to see him so much but he's also terrified what it could mean - confirmation that he's dead, that he can't ever come back.

Frank flips a page in the book and then he slams the book shut, cradles his face in his hands. Gerard rushes to him before he realizes that he can't touch him and he just - he gets so close and just, imagines it as strong as possible, imagines wrapping his arms around Frank. Frank breathes out a shaky sigh and then looks up, his palms flat on the table. "Gerard?" he whispers. "Gerard, are you - "
 
"I'm here, Frankie," Gerard says, but he can tell Frank can't hear him. He remembers, sort of, distantly and twisted, feeling like Frank was there and also, that it was all in his head. It seems so ridiculous now, because being here is so real to him, he's not sure how he ever could have doubted.
 
"Feel like I'm going crazy," Frank whispers. 
 
"You're not," Gerard says. "I'm here."
 
The door opens, and Frank startles, scrubbing his face. "Frank?" Mikey calls out. "You here?"
 
"Yeah," Frank says, and he starts cleaning up the books and notes on the table, throwing away crumpled pieces of paper. "In the kitchen," he says.

Mikey's eyes scan the floor before he comes all the way in, and Gerard can see him checking for changes in the symbols, still dubious, stepping carefully across the boards that are standing in for the floor. 
 
"You want some coffee?" Frank asks.
 
Mikey shrugs. "So I had to tell my mom that Gerard is on a work trip," Mikey says, and Frank's hands fumble on the coffee filters, and he drops them. Gerard watches as they land on one of the roosters carved into the floor, like Frank's thrown dice, and is watching where they land.

"Jesus," Frank says, and bends to pick the filters up.

"Should buy us a week, maybe two, if I can guess his email password and send Mom an email from him."
 
"Buy us a - " Frank suddenly holds folds in on himself, knees buckling.
 
"You ok?" Mikey asks, standing up, going over and pushing Frank so he's leaning, propped up better against the counter.

"Where is he, Mikey?" Frank says, his eyes closed, his hands trembling. 

"I checked all over town and - "
 
"You don't really think he's in town, do you," Frank says. It's not a question. "Please, Mikey, tell me you don't really believe that."
 
"No," Mikey says. "But if he's not there, then I don't know where he is. I mean, I have no idea, I can't even - " Mikey takes the coffee from Frank and starts making the pot while Frank just stands there, breathing in and out, his eyes closed.

"What if he's where I was?" Frank asks quietly.
 
"You think he's, like, a ghost?"
 
"I don't fucking know, Mikey," Frank says. "I don't know enough about this. I don't know anything. This whole world of, like, resurrection and haunted basements and fucking symbols carved into the kitchen floor, this is way beyond me."

"And you've tried to get hold of Bob?"

"Mikes, before you got here I was considering a fucking blood ritual to try and reach Bob, ok? I'd do anything if I could just - just find someone who had some answers."
 
Mikey turns the coffee maker on, and kind of steers Frank by his elbows back to the table.

"What about Brendon?" Mikey's voice is neutral and Frank's eyes snap up to Mikey's face. 
 
"Shit, Mikey, I told you - " Frank looks miserable, and Gerard feels jealousy so strong it creeps up his arms, all over his skin, making the hairs stand on end like he's walked into one of those science static experiments.
 
"He might know something," Mikey says. "I mean, you said he was weird about knowing things."
 
"I can't be around him without - " Frank says, and then stops.
 
"So we have him over," Mikey says, assessing. "He does, like, a reading or whatever. Then we leave you two alone."
 
"God," Frank says, "It's like, I want it, but I can't stand it and - "

"You're an addict," Mikey says. Frank eyes him warily. "I mean, think about it, though. You think it makes you better but it makes you worse. We gotta get you clean."

"I’m addicted to freaky demon sex."
 
"You're an addict," Mikey says. "I can process that. And I can talk to my therapist about you like that. I told her Gerard had run off to another world, and that I didn't know how to reach him. She thought it was a metaphor."
 
"Jesus, Mikey," Gerard says, and both Frank and Mikey look around.
 
"Did you - " Frank says.
 
"Yeah," Mikey whispers.

"Gee?" Frank says.

Mikey and Frank wait, but no matter how hard Gerard tries, he can't make them hear anything else he says.

***

Frank lies on the bed, tired but not able to fall asleep. The house is empty and it should be a relief, but it just makes Frank feel like he's still a ghost, haunting someone else's life. 

"Frank," he hears, and tries to sit up, but feels heavy against the bed. "Frankie," the voice whispers again.

"Gee," Frank says, and he tries to open his eyes, but somehow his eyes are too heavy, too. "Are you here? I can't see you."

"I'm here," Gerard says.

"Then let me open my eyes," Frank says.

"Why?" Gerard hisses, close to him, and angry. "Why would you want to see me? What if I've been here and you’re just not looking hard enough?"

"Gerard,” Frank says, trying to struggle against the weight holding him down.

"Why would you look for me?" Gerard says, sharp and angry. 

"Because I miss you," Frank whispers.

Suddenly Frank feels like someone's tugged the heavy blanket of sleep from his chest, and someone's standing just beside him, their hand curling in his. Gerard's hand.

"You're here," Frank says, and he can open his eyes. He's not in his bedroom any longer, but he doesn't recognize the place. The features of the room keep blurring, like there's a fog passing through the hallway, and Frank catches corners of a chair arm, the shadow of a door ajar. "You're mad."

"Yeah, I am," Gerard says, though it sounds a lot less angry than he did before. "I was going to come back," Gerard says. "After I'd talked to Mikey."

"I was going to take from you until there was nothing left," Frank says, without really meaning to, but Gerard just smiles. 

"I wouldn't have minded."

"That doesn’t scare you?"

"Terrifies me," Gerard says. "I'm afraid of what will happen if you find me."

"But I've found you," Frank says. "Aren't you here right now?"

"Here and not here," Gerard says. "And we're still just as badly off."

"Gee - " Frank says, and then Gerard kisses him, so softly.

"Go back to sleep, Frankie," Gerard says. 

Of course, that's when he wakes up.

Frank calls Dewees with one thing in mind. Dewees is their best chance of figuring out what's going on in the other side

"Can you try and at least talk to him?" Frank pleads. “The other you?”
 
Dewees just sighs. "He's an asshole," he says.
 
"You realize how that sounds?" Frank says.
 
"Fuck you, Frankie," Dewees says, sitting down and putting his elbows on the table, his head balanced seemingly precariously in his hands, like he didn't want to hold it too tightly. "What do you want me to say? I don't talk to the other me, because it's the fucking other me. There are two of me in my apartment, I can barely think about it without giving myself a panic attack."
 
"He might know something," Frank says.
 
"Look," Dewees says, "I'm not making any promises. Even if I can have a conversation with him without having a meltdown, he might not be cooperative."
 
"What do you mean?" Frank says.

"Just what it sounds like, ok?" Dewees says. "Maybe he doesn't like seeing me either, ok?"
 
"That's pretty messed up," Frank says. 

"You can't talk until you've met your other self," Dewees says, "And you both look at each other and make the same face of disgust, ok?"
 
"Fine, forget it," Frank says. 'I'm not here to cause you pain or whatever."
 
"It's ok," Dewees says. "It's not you. Or maybe it is you, but if you were here, I'd talk to you. I mean, you are here, and I am talking to you, even though you're supposed to be dead, see? But he's different."
 
"He's you," Frank says.
 
"Exactly," Dewees says. "Yeah, you'll owe me one, right?" Dewees says absently, like they do this all the time. "Frankie," Dewees says, and Frank realizes that his hand is on Dewees' thigh, fingers stroking up over his knee and then higher.
 
"Sorry," Frank says and snatches his hand back, folding his hands in his lap as if keeping a tighter hold on them will help.
 
"Not that I'm not flattered," Dewees says, "but we were never that kind of friends. Unless there's something you're not telling me. Or something I've forgotten, that would be a good explanation for a psychotic break. Heartbreak."
 
"No, man, sorry," Frank says, and Dewees looks disappointed at his memory that he and Frank didn't have a tragic love story. "It's just the – thing," he says, waving his hand up and down his body.
 
"Your battery needs charging," Dewees says, and Frank can laugh about it when Dewees talks about it like that.
 
"Whatever, yeah," Frank says. "It's not like a conscious decision."
 
"So if you had a choice about it, you wouldn't have your hands all over me, thanks, Frankie, that makes me feel even better," Dewees says.
 
"Fuck you, man," Frank says, but he's still laughing. "That's not how it is."
 
"So, you do secretly want me," Dewees says, holding the back of hand over his forehead. "Be still my cock," Dewees says. "Frank Iero wants me."
 
It feels so good to laugh, and Frank just lets it take over, bubbling up warm through him.
 
"Look where your hand is," Dewees says, laughter making his voice uneven.
 
Frank looks. It's back on Dewees thigh. "Sorry," Frank says, pulling back, but still giggling.
 
"You've lusted after my thighs, you can tell me," Dewees says. "When did it first start? Was it the summer, when I was wearing those cut-off sweatpants?"
 
"Get the fuck away from me," Frank says, holding his stomach, stumbling up and out of the room, wiping his eyes.
 
"You ok?" Mikey says, but he's smiling. "What the fuck is going on in there?"
 
"It was the time I borrowed your shirt, wasn't it?" Dewees calls from the living room. "Your brain began to associate me with the intimacy of sharing clothes - or was it your heart?"
 
Frank can't answer Mikey because he's laughing too hard. 

Dewees decides that there's no better time than the present to try and contact his other self, and Mikey loans Frank the car, as much to help as to get Frank and Dewees and their near hysteria out of his sight.

"You still at your old place?" Frank says, driving Mikey's car, checking the mirrors more than he would if it were his own.

"Pull over," Dewees says urgently.
 
"You gonna be sick, man?" Frank says, as he guides the car over to the side of the road. 
 
Dewees unbuckles his seat belt and Frank's about to open the door and follow Dewees out to make sure he doesn’t pass out but then Dewees isn't leaning his weight on the door, but toward Frank. "You ok?" Frank says, because he can't tell at all.
 
"No, I'm not ok," Dewees says, breathing out loudly. "I've been fucking hard all day."
 
"Uh," Frank says.
 
'Don't 'uh' me, Iero, you're the one who's fucking had your hands all over me, and it's not like I'm all that interested in your body or whatever, but there's only so much a guy can take."
 
"Sorry," Frank says.
 
"Don't be sorry, just let me blow you."
 
"Uh," Frank says again.
 
"Now, Frankie," Dewees says, and since Frank can't get his fingers to work enough to undo his belt, Dewees sighs and shoves his hands away and does it himself. "Push your seat back, Frankie, what the fuck, have you never gotten a blow job in the car?"

Frank slides his hand down the side of the seat, pulls the lever, and the seat releases, sending him back a couple of inches. It's not much, he can still see how Dewees' head is against the steering wheel, but when Frank leans back, Dewees has enough room to shove Frank's pants down around his thighs and start unceremoniously sucking on his cock.
 
"Yes, fuck, yes," Frank shouts as Dewees sucks him, Frank trying to wriggle back, to move anywhere where he has more range of movement but Dewees has his hands firm on Frank's hip and there's really nowhere to go. "Fuck, feels so good," Frank says, because it's not just Dewees' mouth on his cock, which is amazing, but it's that feeling, that energy, the buzz that takes the edge off, that makes him feel him feel still. There's guilt lurking around the corners of his vision; he's taking this from Dewees, but Dewees is the one who made him pull over and demanded Frank let him suck his cock, and that's new. No one besides Brendon was ever interested in initiating it, and Frank wonders when this became an it, not sex, not just sex, but an exchange of energy, an arrangement.
 
"You gonna put your hands in my hair?" Dewees pulls off and says impatiently, and God, the way his mouth looks, lips swollen and red, spit on the corners of his mouth and his chin.
 
"Yeah," Frank says breathily and when Dewees bends his head back, Frank does grab his hair and pulls, and Dewees makes a deep, pleased noise in his throat so Frank does it again, and then Dewees is sucking him so hard and he's so close that he's yanking at Dewees' hair, he's probably hurting him, but everything's going light at the edges, and he's going to come, he's going to come so hard, he doesn't even warn Dewees, who digs his fingers into Frank's hips hard and doesn't choke.
 
"There," Dewees says, sitting up, wiping his hand across his mouth. 

Frank's fallen back against the seat, pants wide open, cock out, shirt pushed halfway up his chest, his eyes drifting lazily shut. He makes a noise that he knows isn't words but he can't help it.
 
"That's the most relaxed I've seen you since I was looking at you in your coffin," Dewees says, and then he sits back in the passenger seat, opens his pants, and starts stroking his own cock, lip between his teeth. 
 
"Do you want - " Frank manages, after a few moments of just watching Dewees fuck his own fist, when he feels the need build in his again, already, so soon.
 
"Fuck yeah, get over here," Dewees says, and he actually doesn't wait for Frank to move, just grabs Frank's hand and positions it on his cock underneath his own hand and Dewees feels so hot, like his skin's superheated, and the noises he's making, small, needy noises make Frank crazy and he leans forward and sucks on Dewees' neck because his mouth needs to do something and Dewees gasps and opens is neck toward Frank offering him more. 
 
Frank's so focused on the feel of Dewees' skin under his teeth, the slide of his cock in his hand that he's surprised when Dewees comes, splashing hot and messy against their hands. 

"Fuck, Iero, you're gonna fucking give me a hickey," Dewees says, pushing Frank away, looking for something in the glove compartment to clean up their hands. Napkins from the coffee place that may or may not already have coffee on them. Fine. Dewees' hand on the blooming purple spot on his neck sends a jolt through Frank and he feels disgusted with himself. This is his friend. "You can bring me home now," Dewees says.
 
"Yeah, ok," Frank says, and buttons up his pants and turns the car back on.
 
"Quit freaking out, you fucked everyone in that house and you're flipping your shit because I sucked you off?"
 
"It's not - " Frank says, and then, "I didn't fuck Mikey."
 
"Well good for you," Dewees says, and then they're both laughing and Frank feels like it might just be ok.

He drops Dewees off, but they end up kissing across the parking brake and Dewees says, "You weren't fucking kidding about this, were you?" and then hauls Frank inside his apartment. Frank used to come to Dewees' place all the time before what Dewees called his hermit phase, when he got sick and stopped going to the clubs and moved in next to Ray Toro and, well, before he died but long before then, really. Dewees' apartment looks familiar in that way of something he hasn't seen for years but is still basically the same. Frank wonders how long Dewees has lived here, and why he hasn't moved.
 
"Fuck, fuck," Dewees says, voice strained, and Frank realizes it's because he has his hands around Dewees' throat. 

"Sorry," Frank says, pulling back and stepping away, "Sorry, fuck," Frank says, panic blossoming in his chest, but the energy buzzing, wanting him to do it again.
 
"No, we're - we're good," Dewees says, his eyes wide. "You ever done shit like this before?"

"Not - really," Frank says, "Gerard and I - a little," he says.
 
"So are you really this much of a kinky fuck or is this your demon side or whatever," Dewees asks.
 
"I don't know?" Frank says. "Are - you - do you like this?" Frank says, fingers skirting up Dewees' neck, brushing over his Adam's apple.
 
"Yeah, I like it a lot, Frankie," Dewees says, "But I ain't exactly normal."
 
They end up on the couch with Dewees showing Frank how to strangle him and the shadow inside Frank going crazy wanting more until Dewees is shoving Frank's clothes off and opening his own pants and they’re rubbing against each other, skin to skin, Frank lost in the hot building heat of it, not feeling the way his knees are rubbing raw against the old couch, not caring about the way he can feel what he's taking from Dewees, until they're both coming.

***

He wakes up alone on the couch, sits up stiff and sweaty and in need of a shower, and Dewees nowhere in sight.

"Dewees, man, where are you? Can I use your shower?"
 
"Frank?" Dewees says, from the kitchen table. His voice sounds wrong, like he's forgotten Frank is there.

"Yeah, it's me, who else would it be."
 
"Uh," Dewees says, "I guess I don't know."

"What the fuck, man, you having some sort of morning after regret?" Frank says, finally finding the kitchen where Dewees is sitting in his bathrobe at the kitchen table.
 
"I'm having something like that, yeah," Dewees says.
 
"Oh," Frank says, "Well, I'll just take a shower and go then," Frank says awkwardly.

"Don't - " Dewees says. "Don't go back to your apartment. You'll upset Gerard."

"I'll - what? Gerard's at the apartment? What the fuck, why didn't you say. Is he ok? When did he come back?"

"Oh," Dewees says distantly, then he stands, and folds the paper. "Oh," he says again. "You're the wrong Frank."
 
"What do you mean, I'm the wrong Frank?" Frank says, not sure whether he was more alarmed or offended.
 
"Well clearly I'm also the wrong me," Dewees says.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, man?" Frank asks, getting increasingly nervous.
 
"Quite a lot, I'd imagine," Dewees says. "You want some coffee?"
 
"Sure," Frank says, after a moment, and so Dewees starts filling the coffee pot with water and looking around in his cabinets for coffee filters. "Tell me what you meant earlier, about Gerard."
 
Dewees actually sighs. "I really don't think that's a good idea."
 
"Fuck you," Frank says, "Is this some kind of meltdown you're having because we fucked last night?"
 
Dewees fumbles with the coffee filters. "So that's something we do," Dewees says. "Like, regularly?"
 
"I don't know," Frank says.
 
"See, you don't know, either!" Dewees says.
 
"I mean, I don't know if it's….regular," Frank says. "It was the first time last night. Well unless you count what happened in my car."
 
"What happened in your car?" Dewees says.
 
Frank scrubs his hand over his face. "You made me pull over the car so you could blow me."

"Interesting," Dewees says.
 
"Look, do you just….not remember?" Frank says. "Is it like, some kind of blackout? Because maybe I did that too you, with the – you know," he says.
 
"I don't know," Dewees says.
 
"With what I took from you," Frank says.
 
Dewees stares at him. "This isn't your world," he says finally.
 
"You fucking sound like Bob now," Frank says, "Yeah, I know, I'm some kind of demon half-ghost thing, I don't belong in this world, whatever, " he says. "Did you need to take some of those pills you were taking yesterday?"
 
"I don't take pills," Dewees says.
 
"Sure looked like you took enough yesterday."
 
"That's what I'm saying," Dewees says. "I'm not that Dewees."
 
Frank stares at him. "You're a freaking weirdo, man."
 
"Yeah," Dewees says. "Come here and kiss me."
 
And ok, Frank can do that. Dewees seems tense as Frank's stepping forward, and then the warmth of being this close to someone takes over and Frank gives in to the pull, because it's just a kiss and maybe it will make Dewees remember. They kiss slow at first, and then before Frank knows it, he's hard and rocking against Dewees, gasping into his mouth, Dewees' hands tight on Frank's hips. Dewees gives him a sharp tug and Frank steps back.
 
"You're, uh, quite a kisser," Dewees says, eyes wide. "but don't you feel the difference?"
 
For a second he has no idea what Dewees is talking about, and then he feels it. It's like standing in the middle of a stream and the current's going the wrong way.

"Holy shit," Frank says.
 
"Yeah," Dewees says. "So. You're the wrong you, and I'm the wrong me."
 
"And Gerard – "
 
"Not your Gerard," Dewees says.
 
"So where's – where's the other me?" Frank says. "Did we switch places."
 
He knows immediately from Dewees' expression before he even says it. "You're dead."
 
"You didn't seem all that surprised to see me," Frank says. "Am I, like a ghost here, too?"
 
"Too?" Dewees says, sounding strained. "If the other you is a ghost, I haven't seen him, but I've seen a lot of other shit," Dewees says.
 
"Your other self," Frank says.
 
"Yeah," Dewees says. "And some other people who are dead. And some other people who shouldn't be here. "
 
"Who?" Frank says. "Here?"
 
Dewees sighs.
 
"Who?" Frank demands.
 
"Schechter, who died a couple years ago, and this kid who used to live a few streets over whose whole family was killed in a freak accident, and – there's more than one Gerard."
 
"Take me over there," Frank says, his voice hoarse.

"No," Dewees says. "You're gonna freak him out, and I don't think – "
 
"I don't care, I need to see him," Frank says, and suddenly he has Dewees backed against the counter and Dewees has his arms raised.
 
"Ok, ok," Dewees says, "I'm not gonna stop you. I just think it's a bad idea. To go over there. There's something wrong with the house."
 
"It can't be worse than my side," Frank says.
 
Dewees shrugs. "It can always be worse," he says. 
 
 
 
Frank asks Dewees lots of questions he doesn't - or can't - answer. He doesn’t know why he can see his other self, or why they switch universes. He doesn't know how Frank got here, or how to get Gerard back. Dewees doesn't know what Frank is, or why he steals energy, or why it feels weirder in this universe. 

Dewees tries again to get him to give up on his idea to go into the house when he's parking. "I'm serious, Frank, I've got a bad feeling about this."
 
"I need to see Gerard," Frank says. If he sent him here, he needs to apologize. He needs to say so many things. He just needs to see Gerard. 
 
"At least let me go in and take a look," Dewees says. "If it looks ok, I'll come get you."
 
Frank doesn't ask what Dewees thinks will be ok, whether that means Gerard will be there or he won't. So of course Frank doesn't wait. As soon as Dewees is inside the house, Frank gets out of the car, comes around to the porch, peers into the living room window. At first, he doesn't see anything but the dirt on the window, and then his reflection. 
 
And then he sees Gerard. He's on the other side, staring at Frank open-mouthed. Frank knows it's his Gerard. He knows, he can just feel it. He rushes in the door, skids to a stop in front of the living room door. It's not just Gerard. Bob and Schechter are there, sitting on the couch. 

"Gerard," Frank says. Gerard's standing there, looking back at Frank, then to the window.
 
"I thought I'd imagined you," Gerard says quietly. 
 
"Can you see us?" Bob says, gesturing between himself and Schechter. Frank nods. 
 
"Thank fucking god," Schechter says.
 
"I don't think it's a good thing," Bob says. 

"I'm here," Frank says. "We're in the wrong place, and we need to go."
 
"I tried," Gerard says. " I don't think we can. How did you get here?"
 
"It's....I'm not sure," Frank says, and then he realizes it's ridiculous since they're both standing there, and he rushes forward and then stops abruptly when he hears an anguished sound behind him, and then Dewees' voice, swearing.
 
"Fucking, I told you - " Dewees says.

 
"Frank?" the other Gerard says in an unsteady voice. Frank looks up at his Gerard, who closes his eyes, as if in pain. When Frank turns, a more sickly looking Gerard is looking back at him, eyes red and face terribly, brokenly sad.
 
"Hey," Frank says. "I'm not who you think I am."
 
"You're not Frank?" the other Gerard says.

"I am Frank," Frank says. "I'm just not the one you know."
 
"No, of course not," Gerard says. "Because he's dead."
 
"So am I," Frank says.
 
"That's not helping," Dewees says. 
 
"Can you see me?" Gerard asks his double. Gerard nods. "Brian, too? I mean, I know, but - And Bob?"
 
"Yeah," the other Gerard says. 

"So," Frank says, and he looks between the two Gerards, and then at Dewees, who is shaking his head.
 
"Frank, are you - " his Gerard says, and reaches out for him.
 
Something awful happens the moment they touch. Frank feels it tear through him, like something underneath his ribs is breaking. He can see on Gerard's face the same echo of pain, and then suddenly, Gerard's gone.
 
"No," Frank says. "What - no," and then he falls to the floor. 

***
 
When he wakes up, he's being lifted on the couch. "Gerard," he says.
 
The other Gerard answers. "You ok, Frank?"
 
"He's fine," Dewees says roughly.
 
"What happened," Frank says.
 
"You happened," Bob says. 
 
And yeah, that's exactly it. All of this, all of it has been Frank's fault and he's helpless to stop all of it from just getting worse.
 

 
Gerard lands knees first and then hands outstretched, like he tripped over an invisible wire.

"Frank?" a voice says, and then James Dewees comes out of the kitchen and looks at Gerard sprawled on the floor. "Oh, it's you," he says, and then a little belatedly, "Are you ok?"
 
"I guess," Gerard says, and he feels heavy with exhaustion, it's a struggle to get to his feet, and he stumbles twice before Dewees comes and helps him. Dewees looks startled when he actually touches Gerard and helps Gerard over to the couch. Dewees takes a pill bottle out of his pocket, dry swallows one, and offers the bottle to Gerard, who shakes his head.
 
"How'd he do it?" Dewees asks.
 
"What?" Gerard says.
 
"Frank," Dewees says and Gerard flinches, because Frank, jesus christ, he'd finally seen him, "He did something, right?"
 
"I touched him, and the next thing I knew I was here. This is my world, right? You're the guy I saw in the supermarket."
 
"Don't talk to me about the supermarket," Dewees says. "You feel right, too."
 
"Excuse me?"
 
"When someone's from the other...." James says, "they feel different." James sort of surveys him and then says, "Frank's not coming, is he?" Dewees says.
 
Gerard shakes his head. "I think, if he was going to, he'd have come by now."
 
"Quite a change from earlier," Dewees says and kind of bubbles with laughter.
 
"What?" Gerard says, because this guy can't mean-  
 
"Sorry," Dewees says, but the laughs again. "Frankie doesn't have a problem coming, from what I saw." Then he kind of coughs and sobers and says, "Let me call that kid. Your brother. And Toro. Do you remember his number?" Dewees says after a minute of staring at the numbers on his phone.
 
Gerard tells Dewees Mikey's number and tries not to think about how Frank's face had looked when he'd seen him, so relieved.
 
"Your brother is on his way. I'd drive you, but, you really don't want that," Dewees says. "Ok. Want some tea?"
 
"Uh," Gerard says, "Sure." He sits down on Dewees' couch while Dewees bangs around in the kitchen, occasionally shouting things from the other room that don't really require Gerard to answer, like, "I can never find the sugar anymore, the other me keeps it somewhere else, and whenever he's here, he moves it." 

Dewees is carrying in two mugs when there's another crash and the thud of someone landing on their hands on knees in the hallway. Dewees drops the tea mugs and the ceramic cracks loudly as they shatter and splatter tea on the floor. Gerard's on his feet, rushing to where Dewees is standing frozen, staring.
 
"Brian?" Gerard asks. "How  - " Brian gets to his feet, looks around.
 
"You think I wasn't going to follow you?"
 
Dewees has gone to the kitchen and has come back with a handful of paper towels and a dust pan, and he seems completely unfazed by Brian's appearance.
 
"Hey," he says, as he sweeps up the ceramic and mops up the spilled tea.

"Hey James," Brian says. "I mean, I met the other you."
 
"Yeah," Dewees says. "It happens. Welcome back to this world. I mean, I guess," he says, and sweeps the last of the tea cups into the dust pan and turns and walks off.
 
"He ok?" Brian asks. "He seems a lot different."

"He is," Gerard says. Brian looks at him for a moment, and Gerard thinks that Brian's going to reach for him and hug him and then Brian just doesn’t. "You ok?" he asks, crossing his arms in front of him.
 
"I don't know," Gerard says. "I really wanted to get back. But it doesn't feel right."
 
"Because of Frank," Brian says. 

"Because of a lot of things," Gerard says.
 
"Should we try again with tea?" Dewees asks, coming into the hallway. "Or has all this interdimensional travel ruined the moment?" 

 
Bob's just standing there watching Frank and Gerard page through the books trying to match the symbols on the kitchen wall. Frank knows that they're similar to the ones in kitchen floor in the other apartment, but he can't quite remember them well enough in his head, even though he knows he stared at them for ages. There's something about the image in his head that's foggy, like the ones here are somehow distracting him from remembering the ones that are in the other apartment.

"It's not a coincidence," Bob says, finally breaking the creepy silence, "That they're in both houses."
 
Like every time someone mentions both houses, Gerard gets up and gets a drink.

"Do you think they're everywhere?" Frank asks. "All through the house?"

"Yes," Bob says, "But they're in a pattern, going out from the center."
 
"Which is here?" Frank asks.
 
"So we can't just, like, scrub the symbols away?" Gerard says. "That won't work, right?"
 
"Some of them are carved in," Frank says.

As if to demonstrate, Bob steps forward and traces one of the symbols under the peeled back wallpaper with his index finger.
 
"I thought I told you not to come back here," Ray's voice says. Frank looks up, startled, and Gerard takes several nervous steps back until he's backed up against the kitchen counter.
 
"Ray," Frank says. "It's ok, it's Bob."

"Its not your Bob," Ray says.

"What are you talking about?" Frank says. "There's only one Bob."

"No," Gerard says. "There's a Bob here, too. Or there was." 

Frank realizes that Gerard is pointedly not looking at Bob. Ray, on the other hand, is advancing on him.
 
"Did you hear me?" Ray says. "I told you not to come back here."
 
"But I came all this way," Bob says, and for the first time Frank realizes that there's something wrong with Bob, something about the way he's holding himself. 

"You're a demon," Frank says. Bob laughs. 

"Surprised it took you so long to notice," Bob says. "Thought you'd have better practice by now, Frankie."
 
"Don't talk to him," Ray says. 
 
Bob's attention snaps back to Ray. Gerard is frozen next to Frank, and Frank backs closer to him, trying to be assuring though he's not even sure what he's reassuring Gerard against. 

"What are you going to do if I don't want to leave, Toro, huh?" Bob says.

"I'll do the same thing I did last time," Ray says. "I'll set you on fire."
 
Bob laughs again, but the laughter stutters to a stop when he sees that Ray's holding a torch.
 
" A little bit of fire won't hurt me," Bob says.
 
"But a lot will," Toro says. "Get out of my house."
 
"I don't want your house, Ray, I don't even want you anymore." Gerard makes a sound that's a little like a gasp and Ray's fingers tighten on the torch. "You know what I want. Just let me have it and I'll leave you alone."
 
"No," Ray says, and flares the torch, "get out."

"You don't need to tell me three times," Bob says, and then he's gone, flickering out like Ray's torch.

"What does he want?" Frank asks. 

"Me," Gerard says. "He tried to get me, before."

"What do you mean, to get you."
 
"He said  - he said killing me will make something happen in the house, I don't know what it is."
 
Gerard's shivering, and Frank wants to put his arm around him, to steady him, but he can tell from the way Gerard sort of tenses even when Frank thinks about it that he shouldn’t, and so he just sits there and breathes deep.
 
"Frank didn't die of pneumonia," Gerard says abruptly, and then squeezes his eyes shut tight, clenches his fits over his knees. It's a few moments before he opens his eyes again, and he looks at Frank so nakedly that Frank wants to look away, it's so intense.

"Bob killed him, didn't he?" Frank says, because it seems like it's too much for Gerard to say. "Was he trying to kill you?"
 
"He was trying to hurt me," Gerard says in a quiet voice. "He did it right in front of me, just took all of the life out of Frankie, and he just fell and - " Gerard stops and Frank just waits again. "And I would have - after seeing that, I - I would have let him kill me. But that's when Ray came in. They were old friends," Gerard says, "before the demon got him."
 
Gerard's seriously starting to shake, and Frank says, "Want me to make some coffee?"
 
"Yeah," Gerard says, and Frank's glad for the excuse to go into the kitchen, to do something with his hands.

Bob's there, just standing in the doorway. His face is blank, he's clearly been listening. Frank startles when he sees him, because he looks so much like the other Bob, and so soon, and this expression of terrible sadness passes over Bob's face before he checks it.
 
"It's ok," Frank says. "I know it's you."
 
"Never thought you'd be glad to see me, huh," Bob says. 

"How's Ray?" Frank asks.
 
"Not particularly happy to see me either," Bob says. "Understandably. But we got a few things squared away. And he knows what to do if the other me comes back."
 
"Good," Frank says. 
 
"You keep an eye on him for me, ok?" Bob says. "On Gerard, too."
 
"Yeah," Frank says, "Of course." He's not sure why Bob's saying this now, and in fact he's waiting for the scolding, the admonishment, waiting for Bob to point out something about his demon self, but Bob just reaches forward, his hand outstretched, going for Frank's shoulder.
 
Frank stumbles back. "What are you doing?"
 
"I'm going back," Bob says.
 
"You can't - we need you to - "
 
Bob just shakes his head. "No one needs me here," Bob says. "I'm wearing the face of a demon and Toro flinches when he looks at me. Gerard's lost too much to care if he dies or not, and you- "
 
"What about me?" Frank says.
 
"Yeah, exactly," Bob says. "Why would you listen to anything I have to say when the me on this side is a demon and I didn't even know."
 
"It wasn't you who killed me," Frank says.
 
"Close enough," Bob says, and before Frank can stop him, Bob touches his hand to Frank's shoulder, and in a flash, he's gone.
 
Frank just stands there, hands on his knees. Gerard rushes in second later. "What was that?" Frank can't answer, until Ray rushes in from his side of the house.
 
"Did you feel that?" Ray says. He takes in Gerard standing over Frank, "What happened?"
 
"Bob went back," Frank says. 

Ray just nods, and Gerard turns and goes back to the living room without another word. He doesn’t say another thing for the rest of the afternoon, even when Frank brings him coffee, just sits there in the raggedy old chair, watching absolutely nothing out the window.
 
"You ok?" Frank asks Ray, who's nursing his cup of coffee.
 
"I should be asking you that," Ray says. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Bob right away."
 
Frank turns his coffee cup in three perfect circles on the table, spinning it with his fingers on the handle. "You think that's why I died?" Frank says finally. 
 
"I think that whatever Bob did was pretty powerful," Ray says. "Whatever's going on in this house is more powerful than I can understand."
 
"But it makes sense," Frank says. 'More than anything else does, for why I'm still here. If I was - if the other me was killed here and it reached through and got me, but not all the way or whatever- " Frank shakes his head, as if trying to force the train of thought out. "My Bob said he talked to you? Did he like, have an idea or something?"
 
"You could call it that, yeah," Ray says. "I need to figure out some things first," Ray says, and stands up. "Call me if you need anything." Ray tilts his head toward Gerard, and Frank nods.
 
Frank actually calls Dewees. "Can you come over man?" Frank says.
 
"Yeah," Dewees says. "I'll be right over. Want me to bring a couple of bottles?"
 
Frank knows that he should say no, but instead, he says, "Sure." He doesn’t think he can be any more damned if he's the one to fill Gerard's glass tonight. 

 
***

Mikey won't stop hovering around Gerard since he's come back.

“Not now, Mikey. I don't want to talk now. We need to get Frank back. “

“But then you'll talk about it. Promise.”

“You won't let me forget.”

Dewees shows up then, with Bob in tow. “Look, I'm tired of my apartment being Grand Central Ghost Station, and this guy says he can fix it. So, if we can do something, let's do it.”

 Ray comes in to the kitchen, and stops short when he sees Bob.

“Can you really fix this?” Mikey asks Bob.

“What are we talking about fixing?” Gerard asks. “We're talking about getting Frank back, right?”

Ray pulls out the step ladder and checks the wiring of the bare kitchen bulb, peeling back plastic caps on the wire, then into a pause in the conversation where Bob is obviously reluctant to promise Gerard anything, he says, "So remember when I said that my side of the house was fine?"
 
Everyone stops, and Ray twists the wire and then he sighs and gets down off the ladder, stops with one foot on it like he's bracing himself.

"I had a dream last night," Ray says. "It was about me. In the dream, there was me, and there was - another me. He was - I was  - painting."

"But it was just a dream," Mikey says, as if trying to reassure himself.
 
"It was not fucking just a dream, " Ray says, and he's really angry. Or, not angry, Gerard realizes a minute later. Scared. "You think I'd be telling you about it if it was just some fucking freaky dream? I've been around for all of the weird shit that's happened here and I know something is.... otherworldly," he says, finally finding the right word. 
 
Mikey looks unconvinced, but he's not arguing.
 
"So what happened. In the dream. I mean, whatever  - " Gerard says before Ray can start to shout again. "Did you - talk?  To yourself?"

Ray nods.

"What did he say?"
 
"He told me I had to fucking burn the house down," Ray says. The three of them are quiet. Ray seems to struggle with saying anything after that, and then Ray says, "And the weirdest thing is, Bob told me that, remember?”

“I remember,” Bob says. “Someone read it in the grimoire. On the other side. And this house, it was primed for this kind of magic. It's still inside, working, messing with us, and if we don't stop it, it's going to tear everything apart.”

“So how is fire the solution?” Ray asks.

“It's the consequence,” Bob says. “We have to read from the grimoire on this side.”

“I'm not doing anything until we get Frank back,” Gerard says.

“Reading from that book's gonna make things worse before they get better,” Dewees chimes in. “Right?”

“Yes,” Bob says. “That's our chance.”

“Hell of a chance,” Mikey says, and Gerard couldn't have put it better himself.

***

The other Gerard is sitting slumped on the floor, leaning against the couch. He doesn't have a glass or a bottle in his hands, but Frank doesn't think he looks particularly sober. It's strange, because it's something different than the drinking, or the sitting on the floor in the dark. 
 
"Can't sleep," Gerard says. Frank can't tell if it's a question for him or an explanation of why Gerard's sitting here. "Used to fall asleep listening to Frank wheezing."
 
Frank feels a chill run through him. He knows what he must have sounded like, what it must have sounded like for the other Gerard. Frank remembers listening to his own ridiculously loud breathing when he was sick, trying to hide his uneven breaths, his coughing, with his head under the sheets.
 
"You don't sound sick," the other Gerard says. 
 
"It's because I'm dead," Frank says, because it's true, and he doesn't really know how to talk to this other Gerard.
 
"What'd you die of?" the other Gerard asks.
 
"Pneumonia," Frank says.
 
"Guess he was no better off in your universe than," the other Gerard says. "Poor Frankie."
 
"Maybe there's another universe where I get better," Frank says, because the idea that his dying is so hard on Gerard, the idea is too bleak for him, too, the possibility that in every existence, he dies of pneumonia before he's had time to grow old.
 
"Maybe," Gerard says, though he sounds doubtful. "Wonder where I am in that universe."
 
"I hope you're with me," Frank says.
 
The other Gerard looks up at him, and it's so like the Gerard he knows, so intense, that Frank takes a step toward Gerard before he realize what he's doing. The other Gerard looks as surprised as Frank does. "Sorry, I - "
 
The other Gerard doesn't say anything, just holds out his hand. Frank takes it, and pulls Gerard to his feet.
 
"Hi, Frank," the other Gerard says. They're standing close. Frank can feel the other Gerard's breath on his cheek, can see his eyes, blinking fast in the dark.
 
"Hey Gerard," he says, and then they both lean forward at the same time to kiss. Frank doesn't know if it's Gerard's grief that's wrapping around his heart, but right now, he's so afraid of losing Gerard, of never seeing him again, that grabbing onto the Gerard that's in front of him is the only thing that makes sense.
 
Gerard kisses him slowly, fingers brushing over his face, into his hair, but the slowness is driving Frank crazy and so he grabs Gerard's shoulders and digs his fingers in and kisses deeper. Gerard makes a needy noise and yanks Frank closer, fingers tight in his hair. 

"Can I just - " Gerard says, though he doesn't wait for an answer before kissing Frank again. It feels almost the same as kissing his Gerard, but there's just enough that Frank can tell he's a different person, he doesn't even know what it is, just - different. As though Gerard can hear what he's thinking, he says, "I know you're not him."
 
"I know," Frank says. They stare at each other, Gerard's features blurry in the dark and because they're so close. 
 
"Ok," Gerard says, and kisses Frank again, still achingly slow. Frank makes a noise against Gerard's mouth, needy and impatient, and Gerard smiles. "Ok," he says, and then kisses Frank again, this time without any hesitation, giving Frank everything he's asking for. 
 
They're on the couch before Frank realizes what's happening, and it's been so long since he's felt like this, since he's gotten so lost in kissing someone and hasn't felt the weird chase of energy. It's like with Dewees earlier, when he made him kiss him. It's not the same draw, but it's also not the magnet pushing against him, the current pulling in the wrong direction. Kissing Gerard is just kissing - which is even more amazing for how normal it is.
 
Gerard strokes his thumbs over Frank's cheeks, pushes his fingers into Frank's hair. "Always were so gorgeous," he says, as he kisses Frank's eyebrows, his jaw just by his ear, the corner of his mouth, lingering, so Frank makes an impatient noise and Gerard smiles. "Should have told you more often."
 
"Tell me now," Frank says, and Gerard kisses him, hard and fast, digging his fingers tight in Frank's hair and Frank likes the way it dances the edge of pain. It makes him feel in the moment, the immediacy of Gerard soothing the jagged edge of terror, the sharp knife of Gerard's loss. 
 
"Love your tattoo here," Gerard says, kissing the scorpion on Frank's neck. "Love all your tattoos. Spend hours tracing them with my tongue. Love you," Gerard murmurs, his mouth against the ink on Frank's neck, and Frank's sure he's heard him wrong though he doesn't know why he's surprised. You don't get broken like this over a crush - but it's hearing it from Gerard, feeling like it's for him- Gerard murmurs it again. "Love you. Never told you. Never told you, Frankie. Should have told you."
 
Gerard's murmuring desperately against his neck, not looking at Frank's face, just saying over and over what he should have done.
 
"I'm sure you told me," Frank says clutching Gerard's back, holding his head close against Frank's shoulder. "I'm sure."
 
"Never," Gerard says again. "Couldn't - "
 
"But I knew," Frank says, and he feels Gerard start to tremble. He says it again. "I knew, Gee."
 
"You did?" Gerard says, his voice so small.
 
"Of course I did," Frank says, and means it with all his heart, because, whoever he was, whatever universe this is, he had to know Gerard loved him. 

"Can I - can I please - " Gerard says, licking Frank's neck, mouthing at his jaw. "Frankie, can I - "
 
Gerard keeps asking for permission that Frank's already given him, and Frank doesn't know how to answer except to say yes with his body. He flips them over on the couch, pressing Gerard's shoulders down. "You can," he says, except then he's the one who's kissing Gerard's neck, biting his way across his throat, pushing up his t-shirt so he can kiss Gerard's stomach. Gerard makes a noise and Frank feels it tear through him. "I fucking love you, do you understand?" Frank says, pushing Gerard's shirt all the way up to his collarbone so he can drag his teeth over Gerard's nipples one after the other,  "I'm fucking dead and I'm still here, telling you. I love you so much that I even love you in another world."
 
Gerard clings to him, and Frank clings to Gerard, and Frank thinks he could just stay here, holding Gerard so tightly he can't breathe, but then Gerard's kissing him again, and it's hot and dirty and turns Frank on so much he's achingly hard and thrusting against Gerard's thigh. Frank gets his hands between them, traces the line of Gerard's cock through his pants. Gerard breaks the kiss to gasp, like it’s a revelation that they can touch like this. 

"I'm afraid you might go back," Gerard says, and the soft uncertainty in his whisper is incongruous with the fact that Gerard's unzipping Frank's pants. "I heard what you said with Dewees. This is how you got here."
 
"Yeah, interdimensional travel by orgasm," Frank says, and Gerard snorts against his neck. Then Gerard has his hand around Frank's cock and Frank's thrusting into his loose fist. "Don't let me come," Frank says, and he has to bite his lip at the sound Gerard makes. 
 
"You want that?" Gerard says, but it's not a question. He's clearer, and when Frank wouldn't have thought him capable, here's the singular focus he recognizes. 

"Yeah," Frank says, and then adds, "But you have to stop me, I'm not - " he swallows. He doesn't have the willpower. "I don't know if I can stop myself."
 
"I'll stop you," Gerard says, and then he's licking Frank's neck, mouthing open and wet and so hot, tongue flicking over Frank's skin like he's tasting him. "Let's go upstairs, ok?" Gerard says, and Frank nods. "I want more room than on the couch," he says against Frank's ear and Frank shivers, imagining Gerard spreading him out on the bed.
 
"Yeah?" Gerard says. "I'll make you stay, Frankie," he says, and Frank shivers hard again. 
 
Upstairs, Frank feels like he has a better hold of himself, until Gerard is crawling on top of him on the bed, hands brushing through Frank's hair, sliding over Frank's stomach, spreading open his pants again from where Frank had hastily buttoned them. Frank gasps when Gerard fists over his cock, stroking him hard and fast. Frank thinks that Gerard's forgotten his earlier fear, but and Frank’s about to mention it if he can find the words around the hot slide of his cock through Gerard's slick fist, but then Gerard stops, and Frank whines and thrusts up and there's nothing, nothing.
 
"Yeah," Gerard says, "yeah, Frankie," and then he's bending low, licking at Frank's neck, taking off the rest of his clothes. Frank's cock brushes his stomach and Frank whines, and Gerard murmurs against his neck, "I know, Frankie, I know,” and then moves so every part of his body is just out of the range of Frank's thrusts. 
 
He gets himself back under control in a minute, when Gerard's taking off the rest of his own clothes.
 
"What do you want," Frank asks, because there are a couple of things that are out if Gerard isn't actually going to let him come. "Want me to suck you?"
 
"Yeah, Frankie," Gerard says, breathy and pleased, and they kiss for a few moments, and Frank's just getting into it, just rocking into Gerard's hips when Gerard stills him, grip tight on his hip. "Come on," Gerard says, pushing Frank down, and Frank settles between Gerard's legs and teases a little, but it's so good, and Gerard's shifting in this hot, needy way and Frank's mouth is watering. He sucks Gerard, using his hands for good measure to keep them off his own cock. He can feel the roughness of the sheets against his cock, and it's so good, he wants to thrust down into it, needs the pressure, but he can't, he can't, so he sucks harder on Gerard, focuses more on the feel of Gerard's cock, the noises Gerard is making, the way he's rocking up, saying, "God, Frankie, yes," hands in Frank's hair, and Frank just has to rock down, get something on his cock, he just has to -

"No, Frank," Gerard says, sharp and clear, and Frank groans around his cock but he forces himself to still. "Wait," Gerard says. "You gotta wait," and then it's an agonizing blur of need as Frank sucks harder on Gerard's cock, and Gerard rocks up faster, and Frank just needs to touch his cock, he's got to, but, but he keeps his hands tight on Gerard’s thighs as Gerard says, "Wait, Frankie, wait, wait - " until Gerard's coming in his mouth, hot and bitter and so good. Frank falls back onto the bed, hands in tight fists. 
 
"Please, Gee, please," he's saying, heels against the sheets, cock so hard, leaking and wet. He doesn't think he can wait, he doesn't think he can stop. He just needs to come.
 
"Frankie," Gerard breathes, hand over Frank's cock. Frank thrusts up and Gerard's hand is gone and Frank whines. "Oh, Frankie," Gerard says, and does it again, hand on his cock, then gone again. "Do you wanna come?" Gerard asks.
 
"Wanna stay," Frank moans. Gerard grabs his cock, strokes twice, takes his hand away. "Please, just need - "
 
"I know, Frankie," Gerard says, his voice so quiet, and then he strokes Frank's cock three times, pauses, but doesn't move his hand. 
 
"Gee, I'm gonna - if you don't  - "

"I know," Gerard says, so soft, and strokes Frank's cock over and over, one too many times and Frank's coming, head back, shouting, his whole body shaking with release. 
 
 
He wakes up at what he thinks is a sound in the hallway, but he strains and can't hear anything again. As soon as he shifts his legs under the sheets, he touches someone's warm leg - Gerard. He has a sick, terrifying moment of confusion when he doesn't know which Gerard, and then Gerard reaches out and Frank can feel the energy. He's in the other world, still, with the other Gerard, who's still fast asleep next to him.  There's a shadow in the hallway, and Frank's sure now that the sound that woke him is someone out there.
 
"Schechter?" Frank says quietly, and then, "Mikey?”
 
"No," the voice says, and Frank turns on a lamp.
 
"Bob?" Frank says. He feels Gerard stir beside him
 
"Yeah," Bob says.
 
"How'd you get back?" Frank says. "You ok?"
 
"I'm fine, Frank."
 
"What's going on?" Gerard says. He sees Frank and Frank watches as it strikes him that Frank's still here and Gerard throws himself at Frank, hugging him tight across the chest, ignoring the fact that Bob is standing in his bedroom doorway.

"How'd you get back?" Frank asks Bob again once Gerard has stopped squeezing him quite so tightly.

"Bob?" Gerard says, and finally seems to notice the reason they're awake and who Frank's talking to. "Are you ok?" Gerard asks. “You don't look right."

It's not until Gerard sees it that Frank sees it, the way Bob is kind of shimmering at the edges.
 
"Did you come through the basement?" Frank asks. 
 
Bob nods. "I'm fine. I know I look weird, but it's fine. Come on, we don't have a lot of time."

Bob turns and walks out of the doorway, and Frank swings his legs over the side of the bed, ready to put on his pants and get up and follow, but suddenly Gerard's arms are wrapping around him, Gerard's mouth on his neck. 
 
"You're here," he whispers.
 
"Yeah," Frank says, and despite himself, despite knowing he shouldn't, he leans back into Gerard's arms, lets Gerard hold him close, lets Gerard kiss his neck, and Frank's cock stirs, but he manages to say, "Come on, we should go see Bob."
 
"It's good that he's back, right?" Gerard says.
 
"Yeah," Frank says, though it doesn't feel quite right, but he thinks it's just the leftover feelings of Gerard and still being here, how much he didn't want to leave, how much he'd hoped he could go home.
 
"Ok," Gerard says.
 
"Ok," Frank says, and Frank's feet are cold in the floorboards and he thinks, yeah, that's new. He hasn't felt something like the temperature of the floor, something under his feet, forever.
 
Gerard doesn't turn on the hallway or the light over the stairs, or, Frank realizes, he flicks the switch but neither of them come on. Bob's got the light on in the kitchen, so Frank follows the yellow glow and the shadow Gerard’s casting
in front of him. Gerard stops at the door to the kitchen, and Frank's eyes are blinking as he adjusts to the bright light, and before he can really blink into clarity, Gerard says, "Frank, get out of here."
 
"What - " Frank says, and then the sharp light aligns itself with a word in his head, and Frank knows there's a fire in the middle of the kitchen, and Bob is reaching right into the wall and pulling out pieces of something and throwing them into the fire. Frank's never seen fire like this, though, inside a house, this kind of controlled burn like a campfire, and he's certainly never seen drywall burn like campfire wood.

"You're not Bob," Frank says.
 
"I am," Bob says. "Just not your Bob. I'm his, though," he says, looking at Gerard. "And he's mine."
 
"Fuck you," Gerard says, and Frank thinks, jesus christ, good for him, at the same time he thinks, finally, this is how he's really going to die. He wonders if there's a way to get Gerard out of here first. 

"What do you want?" Frank asks.
 
"Just the power," Bob says.
 
"What power," Frank asks. There's a brief struggle where he and Gerard try to shove each other back out the door and both of them end up staying put.

"This power," Bob says, and the fire kind of flares. 
 
"Whatever it is, you can have it," Frank says. "We'll go."
 
Bob shakes his head. "You are already in it, Frank," Bob says, and he doesn't like the way Bob says his name right there. He can feel Gerard doesn't either.
 
"Then let Gerard go,” Frank says.
 
"No," Gerard hisses.

"No deal," Bob says. "I need Gerard, too. Haven't you figured it out yet? How he's the key? And you're the door."

It's a very disturbing image, flashing hot and dangerous in Frank's mind. Gerard tenses beside him, and takes Frank's hand, and Bob moves too quickly, and before Frank can do anything, Bob has his hands on Gerard's chest. Frank's knocked back by the force of it. He's sure there has to have been some sort of explosion, but when he can open his eyes again. Bob is just standing there with his hands on Gerard's chest, but Gerard's face is contorted in pain. The fire flares in the background, and just like that, Bob lets Gerard drop. Frank rushes to his feet, rushes to Gerard, expecting to be knocked back by Bob, but Bob's just standing by the fire, staring into it.

"Gee," Frank says.
 
Gerard's eyes flutter open. He looks like he's not really here. "Frankie?" he says.

"Yeah," Frank says. "You're gonna be ok."
 
"Thought I'd lost you." Gerard tries to lift a hand and clearly can't manage it. Frank takes his hand and places it on his own face, holding it there. 
 
"I'm right here," Frank says. 

Gerard smiles weakly. His eyes fall closed again. "Knew you'd come find me."
 
"Of course," Frank says. "Of course, I always will."
 
"I know," Gerard says. "You weren't here and I knew, I knew if I died, you'd come find me."
 
Frank can't help the sob that escapes. "You're not dying."
 
"It's ok," Gerard says. "I found you again. Frank, I found you," he says, and then he slumps in Frank's arms. Frank just stares at him, waiting for him to open his eyes again, but he's still, and Frank realizes his chest isn't moving. He's not breathing.
 
"What did you do to him?" Frank demands of Bob, who looks back and then looks back at the fire. "Fix him."
 
"No," Bob says. 
 
"Fix him," Frank shouts. Gerard is still in his arms. 

"No," Bob says again, and with a sweeping gesture, the fire leaps around the kitchen, starting to catch at the room like real fire does, spreading and climbing, but there's no smoke, even though Frank feels like he should cover his mouth with his sleeve, the fire's burning something else, like it's somewhere else.

"Stand up, Frank," Bob says, and Frank tires to resist, tries to say no, but he's standing anyway, Gerard sliding from his arms, slumping on the floor. Frank forces himself to look away from Gerard's body on the floor. Bob looks terrifying, demon-fierce and surrounded by a magical fire that still seems to be eating away from the integrity of the house, wiping it away until it's somehow more transparent, the light too bright and not bright enough for all that fire. 

Bob strides forward, hands out, and Frank knows what's coming. He knows this is it, that Bob's going to kill him the way he killed Gerard, to take everything away and put it into this magic fire, and Frank's frozen, and he knows it's more than Bob's magic. He's just watched Gerard die and he's next and what in the world is he going to do but stand there and let it happen, just close his eyes and give himself over.
 
Bob's a step away, and Frank just takes a deep breath, fills his lungs, and tells Gerard he's sorry, not even aloud, just with his thoughts broadcast as strong as if Gerard could really hear him. Just before Bob touches his chest, Frank feels someone grab him from behind, arms tight around his chest, and pull.

"Let me go - " Frank says, but they're pulling hard, so hard Frank can't pull away, so hard Frank can't actually move, can't even struggle. He thinks it's someone holding him for Bob, except he's getting pulled away from Bob and Bob is reaching out for him, and the flames are swirling and Frank starts to smell actual smoke, choke with it.
 
"Let me go, let me - " he says, because Gerard is still there on the floor, and he can't breathe from the tight way whoever's arms are wrapped around his chest, and the smoke. "Let me  -"
 
"Jesus christ, stop struggling," the person with his arms around him curses, and Frank realizes it's Dewees. 
 
"Let me go, man, I have to - "
 
"Can someone give me a hand?" Dewees shouts and then someone else has their hands tugging on Frank's legs, and he's being pulled through something that's more than just the doorway to the room.
 
"Let me go," Frank shouts, twisting, eyes clouded with smoke. "I need to get to Gerard, I need to  -"

"Frank," Gerard's voice says and Frank stops struggling.  "Frank, it's ok, I'm here."
 
"Gee?" Frank says quietly, and he feels the arms around his chest relax and then he crashes to the floor, landing hard on his shoulders and tumbling over. "Gee," Frank says, and he tries to blink through the smoke. "The house is on fire."
 
"Yeah it is, Frankie, come on," Gerard says, hauling him to his feet. Frank's unsteady and unbalanced and he leans most of his weight on Gerard. "We need to get out of the house."
 
"Gerard, is it really you?" Frank says, clinging to Gerard, coughing in the smoke. "Gee, is it - "

"I'm here, Frankie, come on, we took so long to get you, and the house - we need to get out."
 
"I don't understand, why - "
 
"The house is on fire, Frankie, come on," Gerard says, "We need to leave."

"I can't - Gerard - he - the other Gerard I - "
 
"I know, Frankie," Gerard says. "I saw."
 
They just look at each other for a minute, and then Frank starts to cough at the smoke.

"Come on," Gerard says, starting to drag Frank along at every step he can't quite manage.

"But I don't understand, this isn't going to stop anything, it's just going to - " Frank realizes, though, that there's someone standing in the fire. "Is that - "
 
"It's Bob." Frank freezes. "Our Bob," Gerard clarifies. "He's going to take care of it."
 
"What does that mean?" Frank says. "He can't - if he goes - "

But then Gerard's dragging Frank outside, and Frank coughs at his first clear lungful of air. 

The house is going up spectacularly, flames rolling up the sides. It's so shocking, so devastating, Frank just stands there and watches it. He's never seen a whole house on fire like this, and it's nothing like he might have imaged. Fire is harsh and angry and unforgiving and beautiful, and he is hypnotized by it, can feel the waves of heat, the uncomfortable dryness in the air. Ray comes over and joins them at some point, and Mikey and Pete, and finally Brendon, who looks strangely pale. Dewees is sitting on the curb across the street, a bathrobe over his jeans and apparently shirtless. 

"I hope he knows what he's doing," Ray says.
 
"Is it burning both houses?" Frank asks. It takes a while before Ray answers.
 
"That's what it's supposed to do," Ray says. "If it doesn't work - "
 
"It will work," Brendon says.
 
Frank's surprised how long it takes for the sound of sirens to fill the air. Or possibly, time is bending weirdly around them. When Dewees hears the sirens, he comes over to Frank and says, "I'll be in the car, when you're ready."
 
Frank isn't sure what it means, but when he looks up at Gerard, he understands. Gerard's looking nervously from Frank to Mikey to the fire, and Frank gets it. None of them live here anymore. 

"So Bob gave Ray his place, to watch over and, well, I'm gonna stay with Mikey," Gerard finally says, and he doesn't really need to say that he's going to stay there alone. Frank feels as if they're back to the moment ages ago when Gerard walked out the door. He didn't think anything could hurt this much after watching Gerard die in his arms. He actually wasn't sure he could feel anything other than the heat of the fire and the way it felt when Bob hauled him to his feet and Gerard fell out of his arms. But Gerard's expression is so conflicted, and Frank just closes his eyes and nods, and without another look at Gerard, he follows Dewees to his car, opens the door, and gets in.

"You ok to drive?" Frank says, when Dewees fumbles for the keys.

"Fuck you, Iero," he says, half-heartedly, and then starts the car. Frank can see the glow of the fire lighting up the sky, and Dewees just barely pulls over to the side as fire trucks come racing in a line down the street, followed by a police car and an ambulance.
 
"Is everyone going to be - "
 
"It's protocol. First responders," Dewees says. Frank doesn't know what that means. There's a giant crash, and Frank flinches, tries to look back but can't see anything over the smoke. "Structure collapse," Dewees says.

"I can't believe it's gone," Frank says. "I used to live there."
 
"You also used to be dead," Dewees says. "Count your fucking blessings and shut up."
 
Dewees' hands shake on the wheel, and Frank wants to say something, but, seriously, after today, what does it matter if Dewees can get them to his place without crashing. They can crash for all Frank cares. He watches the road pass, moves with the car as they take shaky turns, and waits for the sound of the sirens to fade.

***

It's nearly a week before the fire at the house on Cross Street stops showing up in the news. It's ruled accidental and the news never says what the cause was, though from Dewees' mutterings as he reads the newspaper over Frank's shoulder, he knows that the cause was Ray Toro pouring accelerant all over the four directions of the house and lighting it up. Frank's not sure how they made that look like an accident, but it's good that no one looks too close. He figures explaining supernatural fire would be harder to get people to understand. It's mostly in the news because of how old the house was, historical landmarks and all that.

It's back in the news two weeks after that, when the property's getting razed.
By that point, Frank has a new haircut, and more importantly, some fake documents that prove he's someone who didn't die. He borrows Dewees' ugly truck and doesn’t tell him he's going to drive by the old lot, but Dewees knows without Frank having to say. Where else, really, is Frank going to go?
 
He thinks it'll be a quiet, razed field, but it actually just looks like a clear, dirt-filled new lot. Ray Toro is marking foundation marks on the ground with a snap of a chalked line.
 
"Hey, Frank," Ray says, as Frank climbs out of the car.
 
"Hey," Frank says.  "You rebuilding?"
 
"Yeah," Ray says. "I mean, this was my house, you know."
 
"I know," Frank says. They're quiet for a while. Frank watches as Ray marks off more measurements, takes a notepad out of his pocket and scribbles something down. "Are you sure it's safe?" Frank says, and it's loud in the empty yard. Ray looks up, then looks around.

"I don't know," Ray says. "The fire was supposed to have....cleared everything up." Frank thinks the word Ray was doing to use was cleanse, but he thought better of it. "Are you better?" Ray says. "I mean, not better, but," he says, stumbling over it.
 
"I'm better," Frank says. "So I think whatever we did - whatever Bob did " - Ray's face falls when Frank mentions Bob’s name. "It worked."
 
"Good," Ray says, though he's started fidgeting with his chalked string and the wheel measurer. "Have you seen Gerard?"
 
Frank wasn't going to bring him up, and he wonders if this is fair trade for bringing up Bob. But Ray just looks concerned the longer Frank doesn't answer and so he says, "No, I haven't heard from him, but James says he's talked to Pete, who talked to Mikey- Anyway," Frank says, because the musical chairs is only serving to highlight how far away he feels from Gerard, how ridiculously far. "I guess he's doing ok."
 
"Ok," Ray says. "I haven't really tried to, you know, talk to anyone. I'm sorry."
 
"Don't be," Frank says. "If someone had burned down my house to get rid of a demon, I'm pretty sure I'd need some time."
 
"Someone did," Ray says. "Burn down your house."
 
Frank shrugs.
 
"Listen," Ray says, and takes a few steps toward Frank, and Frank's pretty sure Ray's gonna ask him to stay away, and Frank's known it was coming, but he wishes he could tell Ray that Ray doesn't need to ask him, that he gets it, he just needed to come back this one time. To make sure it felt ok. "I can rebuild this anyway I want, but I was thinking. I liked having the apartment on the other side. If you wanted. It probably won't be for another year, but - "
 
"Are you asking me if I want my old place back?"
 
"Yeah," Ray says. 

"After everything that I did, how could you want me to- "
 
"Frank," Ray says. "You didn't do anything. Well, ok, you died and that was pretty upsetting, but everything else - it just happened, it's not like you're evil."
 
Frank shrugs.
 
"Frank," Ray says, a hand on his shoulder and Frank's glad to see it just feels normal, that he doesn't want to grab Ray and get on his knees or anything. "Think about it."
 
"Yeah," Frank says.
 
"I mean it," Ray says. "You were a good neighbor."
 
Frank smiles when Ray smiles, though he feels kind of hollow and scared. 
 
"You ever done any construction work?" Ray asks. Frank shakes his head. Ray grins at him, a real smile this time. "Well come back next week, I'm having some guys put down some concrete and once it's set, I'll start teaching you some of the basics."
 
"Ok," Frank finds himself saying without being sure he means it.
 
"OK," Ray says. "James is welcome, too, though I don't know how I trust him with a hammer."
 
"Yeah," Frank says, "I'll mention it, but, he's still James."
 
"That he is," Ray says. "I'm glad you came by, Frank."
 
"Me too," Frank says, and gets in the car before he can start thinking too much about what he's cost Ray, and why in the world Ray would be glad to see him.

It turns out construction requires a lot more patience than Frank expected it to. Ray is meticulous, and Frank's expecting to just be able to hammer shit, or saw wood, but there's a lot more that goes into building a house from the fucking ground up and Frank does a lot of following Ray back and forth as he goes to his truck, looks at the blueprints, measures more things.

Sometimes Ray just stands in the middle of the lot and squints, and Frank can't tell if he's like, checking something metaphysically, or if he's picturing things in his head. Frank just stands there, and listens to the quiet on the street. Sometimes the neighbors bring them sandwiches and coffee. They mostly talk to Ray, calling him nicknames that clearly came from when they knew him as a kid, telling Frank stories. Frank doesn't realize how disconnected he was when he lived here, how little he was actually living in the space between the two houses, how much of him was already gone. 
 

They get the frame of the right side up, and Frank's kind of amazed how quickly it goes from looking like an empty lot to looking like part of a house. Ray's nailing part of the door frame with a couple of sharp taps of the hammer over his head, and Frank goes to get some water, and Ray says, "hey, Frank, look, the first door," and then there's a snap in the air, like a tree falling, and Frank and Ray both look, trying to see if something's fallen in the yard. Frank can't speak when he looks back at Ray, though, his voice is gone, because standing behind Ray in the newly made door frame is Bob. 
 
Frank stumbles backwards and that's enough to get Ray's attention even though he can't use words yet, can't make a sound, because which Bob is, it, which one, and he just wants to run and run. Ray turns and sees Bob and just stands there.
 
"Aren't you going to say hello?" Bob says.
 
"Depends," Ray says, though his voice isn't as steady as his swagger wants to make him seem. "Are you our Bob?"
 
Frank watches as Bob's face remains completely passive. "You tell me," he says.
 
"Frank," Ray says. "What do you think?"
 
Frank doesn’t want to come over, but he does, taking a few steps closer. 
 
"How'd you get here?" Frank says.
 
Bob shrugs. "You built me a door."
 
"So does that mean-"
 
"No," Bob says. "It only works because I didn't belong there."
 
"And the other you?" Frank says.
 
For the first time, Bob looks like he's actually been lost for months in another dimension.
 
"He's gone," Bob says.
 
"Gone," Frank echoes.
 
"Gone," Bob says again, and then Frank startles as Ray rushes forward, but he's actually just grabbing Bob in a hug that seems to catch Bob by surprise as much as it does Frank.
 

Dewees is out doing some contract job and so Frank can't even tell him that Bob is back, or talk to him about what it means. He calls but Dewees' phone is ringing from the other room because he forgot it again. Frank's head is swimming, and the person he really wants to talk to about it is Gerard, but he still can't make that call, and when he lies down in the bed and closes his eyes, he remembers waking up next to Gerard, the other Gerard, and how much he hadn't wanted to come back, and how desperately he wanted his Gerard back.

And now he's back and he hasn't even spoken to Gerard. He misses him - he misses both of them so much that he can't even breathe, and so he just closes his eyes and tries to will himself to sleep, counting his breaths, images flashing through his mind, the fire, Bob in the door, Gerard in his arms, Gerard pulling him from the fire. 
It's why it takes him a minute to realize that when Gerard's standing in front of him, that it's a dream and not a memory. They're in a kitchen he doesn't recognize, though Gerard seems perfectly comfortable there. 

"Frankie?" Gerard says, when he looks up at him, and then Gerard's arms are around him and Gerard's kissing him, but so briefly because he can't seem to stop himself from talking. "I've been waiting so long," he says. "But you're here."
 
It's then that he realizes that this isn't just some random dream-Gerard. It's Gerard from the other world, and the second he realizes it, he squeezes Gerard tighter. "You're ok," Frank says.
 
"Yeah," Gerard says. "I thought, for a little while that I wasn't, you know. Ok. But I like it here."
 
"Where is here?" Frank says.
 
"Oh," Gerard says, "Of course you don't know yet. Let me show you around."
 
Frank follows Gerard around as Gerard shows him, a bright, well-lived in apartment. He doesn’t recognize anything, but he knows some of the things are his, and some of them are Gerard's and it's all familiar and warm. 
 
"We can stay here forever," Gerard says, when he sees Frank's smile. He grabs Frank by the shoulders, holds him close. "I missed you so much, but it's ok. Because this is ours. We get to have this."
 
"We do?" Frank says, and he feels himself starting to believe it.
 
"We do," Gerard says, and Frank presses his face into the curve of Gerard's neck and lets Gerard hold him as the sun streams in from the windows and a bell rings, like a wind chime, gentle, over and over.

***

Gerard can hear Mikey coming back in from where he'd been out with Pete, and he's going to get up and ask him how he is, but his limbs are heavy and his eyes fall shut and before he knows it, he's falling asleep. He thinks that he's actually managed to wake himself up and get out of bed, but when he opens his eyes, he's looking at an apartment that he knows is his, but isn't his. He's in the entryway, he thinks, and he wanders through the hallway, through the living room, through the kitchen, feeling pleased and happy and not really sure why. He knows he's looking for something but it's a calm, unhurried search. And he knows he's found what he's looking for when he starts to climb the steps and he sees Frank sitting there in the middle of the flight, elbows on his knees.
 
"Hey," Frank says.
 
"Frank," Gerard says, and he stumbles up the steps as Frank flies down them and Frank's launching himself at Gerard with so much force that Gerard's almost knocked off his feet.
 
"Look," Frank says, smacking his chest, and Gerard's not sure he understands until Frank says, "I'm not even sick. Isn't this great?" He knows then, who this is. It's Frank, of course it's Frank, with the wild energy and the bright smirk. But it's not a Frank he's ever met before.
 
"You're here," Gerard says. 
 
"Of course I'm here, I've been waiting for you forever," Frank says, impatient and bright. "But you're here now, so-" And then Frank’s shoving his tongue into Gerard's mouth, and they're kissing, and Gerard feels everything go bright and beautiful and perfect. "I fucking missed you," Frank says, breaking away.
 
"I missed you, too," Gerard says.
 
"So come on, want me to show you the place?"
 
"It looks like my stuff's already here," Gerard says.
 
"Of course it is," Frank says, impatiently. "Now come on."
 
"Wait," Gerard says, "I just - " and he just tugs Frank close, and feels Frank relax into it, feels Frank nuzzle his neck, rest his head in the crook of Gerard’s shoulder and breath out, warm and familiar.
 
"You hear that?" Frank says, against Gerard’s neck. He doesn’t hear anything until Frank says it, but then it's clear, there's a bell ringing, over and over.
 
"Is that a church bell?" Gerard asks. Frank laughs. 
 
"It's us," Frank says. "That's our sound."
 
"We sound like a bell?" Gerard asks.
 
'We sound like everything," Frank says, and he holds Gerard tight.

***

Frank wakes up to someone pounding on the door. "Coming," Frank says, though he stumbles out of bed, pulls on his pants slow and sleepy and fumbling. He's confused about where he is, the sunlight from the apartment in his dream still bright in his eyes even though everything’s dark in his room. "Coming," he says, when the pounding doesn't stop. "What?" Frank says, as he throws open the door, and then he just gapes. Gerard's standing on the other side of the door, fist still raised like he's mid-knock.
 
"Frank," Gerard says, breathless, like he ran here.
 
"Hi," Frank says. It's disorienting to see him, because he can still feel the warmth of Gerard's arms around him from the dream.
 
"Frank, can I  - we have to talk, I - " Frank gestures for Gerard to come in and closes the door behind him. He can feel Gerard’s eyes on him, feels suddenly self-conscious that he hadn't managed to put on a shirt.
 
He realizes, just from how panicked, how confused and intense Gerard looks, that something's happened, and then he knows. He doesn’t know how, but he knows.
 
"You dreamed it, too, didn't you," Gerard says, looking at the realization on Frank's face.
 
"Dreamed what?" Frank says, but Gerard doesn't even bother with his pretend confusion.
 
"The apartment. The sun. The bell. You heard it, didn’t you," Gerard says.
 
"I heard it," Frank says. Gerard steps closer, and Frank’s breath catches.
 
"We were there," Gerard says. "You and I - we were there."
 
"I don't think it was us," Frank says. Gerard's eyes are dark and wild, and Frank's eyes fall to Gerard's mouth as he worries his bottom lip with his teeth.
 
"You think," Gerard says. "You think they found each other?"
 
Frank just nods. 
 
"I hope so," Gerard says. "I hope so. Frank, I - " And then Gerard's stepping forward, closer, closer, and Frank meets him the rest of the way and they stand there, arms around each other, Gerard leaning down to rest his cheek against Frank's head.
 
"They missed each other so much," Frank says.
 
"Yeah," Gerard says. "They did. But now they're ok."
 
"Gerard, I - "
 
"Shhhhh," Gerard says, and then he leans down and kisses him. 
 
Frank feels like he's dizzy and confused, but he lets the soft warmth of Gerard ground him. He's not in the dream, he lets it go, lets the sun and the warmth and the bell and the safety fade until he’s here, cold and scared and uncertain, but Gerard's holding him, Gerard’s hands on the back of his neck. 
 
"I missed you," Frank says, when Gerard breaks away, breathing heavy, and kisses the corner of Frank's eyes, gently traces his fingers down the tattoos of Frank's chest.
 
"I missed you so much," Gerard says, "And I was so scared. The other me - he loved you so much that it broke him when he lost you and - "
 
"I know," Frank says. "I hurt him so much."
 
"Not you," Gerard says.
 
"Not you," Frank says, back. 
 
"But we dreamed - "Gerard says, and he tries to pull away a little and Frank holds him tight until he relaxes.
 
"Ok, so it was us. And not us. We're not them," Frank says. "It doesn’t mean - "
 
"But I don't ever want you to go," Gerard says quietly. "I don't ever want to lose you."
 
"You won't," Frank says. "And even if-  '
 
"No - " Gerard says, choking up.

'Even if," Frank says harshly, because it's important, because he has to say it, he has to believe it too. "We'll end up in that place. That beautiful place that's ours. Ok?" He says, hands tight on Gerard’s face, thumbs wiping away the tears. "We'll end up there together, because we saw it, right? You saw it with me."
 
"I did," Gerard says.
 
"So believe me," Frank says. "Tell me you believe it."
 
"I do, Frank," Gerard says. "I believe it."
 
"Ok," Frank says, and presses a hard kiss to Gerard's mouth, wipes more tears falling from Gerard's cheeks, realizes he's crying too when Gerard does the same.
 
"Ok," Gerard says, and they just stand there, staring at each other, until Gerard closes his eyes and Frank bends their foreheads together, and then they're kissing again, and it's different this time. It's hot, and edgy, and desperate, and Frank wants nothing more in the world than for it to go on forever, to give himself over to it, to the heat of Gerard's mouth, to the way Gerard's hands are traveling, possessive, all over his back, his chest. "Oh, god, Frank, can we - " Gerard says, and kisses Frank again, hard, and deep, not giving Frank a chance to answer. Frank doesn’t need words, he grabs Gerard's shoulders, yanks their bodies together, presses himself up against Gerard, breath coming short. He's dizzy with it and he doesn't care, just needs to touch Gerard, just needs to be touched.
 
"Come on," Frank says, and threads his fingers through Gerard's hair, tugs sharply so Gerard pulls back long enough to look at him. "Come on," Frank says, urgently, and Gerard's following him to the bedroom, Frank stepping out of his jeans in such a rush he stumbles, Gerard yanking his shirt over his head, undoing his pants and grabbing at Frank, falling onto the bed together before Gerard's pants are even all the way off.
 
"Frank," Gerard says, kissing Frank's chest, hands flying hotly over Frank's stomach, up his thighs. "Frank," he says, biting Frank's bottom lip, dragging his mouth open and wet across Frank's neck.
 
"Yes," Frank gasps, because he needs this so badly, he needs Gerard so much, he can't even breathe, he's so desperate for everything, he doesn't even know what to do except touch Gerard everywhere, tug at him, arch up against him.

"Frankie, I didn't want to stay away," Gerard says, sounding anguished, but then he grabs Frank's wrists and pins them at his sides and Frank makes a sound that almost sounds like a sob and Gerard kisses his neck, sucks on a spot hard enough to leave a mark. "But I thought - I thought if I gave you too much - "
 
"I know," Frank gasps, arches up against Gerard, tugs his wrists but not trying to get away, just to feel Gerard holding him, and Gerard's grip tightens and Frank groans. 

"But if we'll be ok," Gerard says, rocking against Frank, the open zipper of his pants catching at the elastic of Frank's boxers, rough and sharp and neither of them care, "If we'll be ok..." he says, and lets Frank's wrists go to shove down his own pants, kick them off, and yank down Frank's boxers before he can even move, and then Gerard's pressing the whole weight of his naked body down against Frank, sliding his open palms up Frank's thighs, all the way over his hips, up his chest.
 
"We'll be ok," Frank says. "You saw it," he bites out, as Gerard's cock drags hot against his hip, as Frank's cock nudges Gerard's belly, not enough, not enough. 
 
"We both saw it," Gerard says. "So how could I stay away?"
 
"Don't," Frank gasps out. "Don't ever leave," and then Gerard's kissing him, deep and filthy and grinding down against him, and it shouldn’t be enough, Gerard's barely touching his cock, but Frank's fucking on edge, he feels like he's going to come any second, just from the heat of Gerard's body, the weight of him pressing Frank down. 
 
"Fuck, Frankie, never - never," Gerard breaks the kiss to gasp, sucking hard at Frank's neck. He slides a hand between them to wrap around Frank's cock and Frank's fucking gone, bowing up off the bed, Gerard's mouth against his neck, heart pounding so loud in his chest, heels digging into the mattress as he bucks and writhes so hard he should be knocking Gerard off him but Gerard's holding him tight. Gerard's not going anywhere and Frank loses it, coming in Gerard's hand, hot and messy against both of their bellies and he's shouting Gerard's name through it, whispering it as he loses his breath, clutching at Gerard.

Gerard slides his messy hand around his own cock between them and strokes himself, the tip of his cock brushing Frank's hip with each stroke, Frank's fingers so tight on Gerard's back that he's going to leave marks, bruises maybe, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that Gerard is so close, Gerard's hot and he smells like sex and his mouth is open and gasping against Frank's, both of them panting too hard to kiss. Gerard moans Frank's name, bites Frank's jaw, hard, and he's coming, falling heavy against Frank, their chests heaving, sweaty and filthy and clinging to each other.

"Frank," Gerard says, whispering against his ear, drowsy and slow. "I want to hear the bell again." Frank shouldn't know what he's talking about, but he knows exactly what Gerard means.
 
"We'll hear it," Frank says, surprised at how thick his voice sounds. "When it's our time."
 
"We will," Gerard says. "And then we'll always be together."
 
"Always," Frank says, and it's the last thing he remembers before he's asleep.