Three Cheers for Tyranny [part 4]

[silentdescant]

Three Cheers for Tyranny

[index] - [prologue] - [part 1] - [part 2] - [part 3] - [part 4] - [part 5a] - [part 5b] - [part 6]

[art by laziilemon] - [mix by quarterturn]

For once, Frank was already asleep when Gerard crept into his bedroom. He felt the mattress dip under Gerard’s weight and his eyelids fluttered open. After a moment, he could make out Gerard’s outline in the darkness, and then his sad smile, almost lost beneath the mess of long hair falling in front of his face.

“Gee?” Frank asked cautiously. He reached for Gerard, pulled him by the hand to lie down, and rubbed his shoulder.

“I can’t sleep,” Gerard whispered, once he’d situated himself on Frank’s pillow.

“Try counting sheep?” Frank asked to lighten the mood. Gerard shook his head.

“I’m so scared all the time, Frankie,” Gerard said, and he really did look frightened and exhausted. Frank squeezed his shoulder. “I’m so afraid that someone will come in and kill me in my sleep, and half the time, I don’t even care.” Frank opened his mouth to voice his protest, but Gerard cut him off. “I almost want it to happen, sometimes,” he said, “because it would make everything so much easier. And just thinking that scares me, Frankie.”

Frank pulled Gerard into a one-armed hug. “Nothing’s going to happen, Gee, I promise. I won’t let anybody hurt you,” he whispered. “I’ll protect you, always.”

“How can you protect me always?” Gerard asked, and if it had been any other time, Frank would’ve thought Gerard was teasing him. He sounded alarmingly serious now, though.

“I won’t let you out of my sight. I won’t sleep. I won’t let anything happen to you, I swear.”

But Gerard pushed him away and gave him that same sad, accepting smile. “You’re sleeping now, Frankie.”

Frank jolted upright, eyes wide and heart pounding. He was alone. The clock read 3:42am. Frank had no idea where Gerard was, if he’d gone to bed or stayed down in his office to work, or if he’d been murdered while Frank was sleeping.

Frank shook his head. Gerard was fine. He took several deep breaths to calm himself down, but the panic didn’t recede. He needed to know, for sure, if Gerard was okay. Frank tiptoed to his door and cracked it open. The hall lights were off, and he couldn’t see the tell-tale glow of lights on downstairs, which meant that Gerard had probably gone to bed. Unless he was sleeping in his office, which he’d done a few times recently. Frank crept down the hall and pressed his ear to Gerard’s door, but he couldn’t distinguish any sounds from within.

He took a breath and held it, and very, very carefully opened Gerard’s door. He slipped inside and closed it behind him, and when he saw the lump of blankets and pillows breathing on the bed, he exhaled in relief. His chest didn’t feel quite so tight anymore. Frank sat down on the floor and leaned back against the wall. He couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been.

Why had he gone to bed before Gerard? Why hadn’t he waited up, to be there if Gerard needed him? He supposed he could technically go back to bed, now that he’d seen Gerard, alive and well, with his own eyes, but what if someone snuck in and Frank wasn’t there to protect him? He could feel his anxiety levels rising again and decided it would be better to stay on Gerard’s floor, just in case.

Frank rolled onto his hands and knees and crawled closer to the bed, so he could see Gerard’s face. Just to be absolutely sure. Frank finally settled with his knees pulled to his chest, leaning sideways against Gerard’s nightstand. It was soothing, watching Gerard’s chest rise and fall in a steady, constant rhythm, and Frank concentrated on that, trying to relax.

Frank didn’t know how long he sat there, watching Gerard sleep, but at some point, Gerard woke up. He blinked at Frank as if unsure whether he was real, then finally whispered, “Frankie?”

Frank jumped, even Gerard’s whisper sounded loud in the silent room. “I’m sorry,” Frank said quickly, “I just—”

“C’mere,” Gerard interrupted, patting the bed. He scooted back a little and lifted the blankets for Frank to crawl under. “C’mon, Frankie, come up here.”

Frank reluctantly climbed up into Gerard’s bed and they lay quietly for a moment, watching each other and breathing in sync. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said, and felt a weird sense of déjà-vu from his dream. “I’m sorry.”

“S’ok,” Gerard replied sleepily. “Nightmare?”

“Yeah, kind of.” Gerard pulled him in close for a hug, and again, it was just like Frank’s dream, only opposite. Frank watched Gerard close his eyes again, and he whispered, “It’s okay now, Frankie. Go to sleep.”

It took a long time for Frank to finally fall asleep, even as comforted as he was by Gerard’s peaceful face and steady breaths.

***

Frank woke up the next morning when Gerard rolled out of bed. He blinked a few times, trying to figure out why he wasn’t in his own bedroom, and then Gerard reached over and brushed Frank’s hair off his forehead.

“Go back to sleep,” he said softly, “I’m just going to take a shower.”

Frank nodded and closed his eyes obediently, but he didn’t sleep. He listened for the sound of the water turning on in the en suite bathroom. Last night’s panic attack was over, but the reasons for it remained, and by the time Gerard came out of the shower, Frank had given up trying to sleep and was sitting upright on Gerard’s bed, waiting for him.

Gerard appeared in the doorway fully dressed, though his hair was still wet, and came over to sit on the edge of the bed. He bent down and put on his shoes. He didn’t speak, and he didn’t look at Frank other than when he’d come into the room. Frank felt weird, sitting there in his t-shirt and boxers, like he was intruding on Gerard’s routine. He wasn’t sure if he should just leave or wait for Gerard to say something, or if Gerard expected him to explain.

But then Gerard touched his blanket-covered knee and asked, “You okay?”

“I think so, yeah,” Frank replied in a strangled voice. “I should get dressed.”

“I’m sending you out with Chris today,” Gerard said.

“You’re—Wait, what?”

“You’re with Chris today,” Gerard said again, his forehead creased in confusion.

“I want to stay here,” Frank said quickly. “I mean, I’d rather stay here, with you, if that’s okay.” He hoped Gerard wouldn’t ask him why; Frank didn’t want to make Gerard more paranoid than he was already.

“I thought you wanted to—” Gerard began.

“I want to stay with you. If that’s okay.”

“Okay, yeah,” Gerard finally answered. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Gerard nodded. “Okay, I’ll send Worm with him.”

The next few days went by in a blur of Frank wasting time in Gerard’s office and not getting enough sleep. He didn’t go to bed before Gerard anymore, even when Gerard stayed up until three in the morning working, and he waited out in the hall until he saw Gerard’s bedroom light turn off before finally, reluctantly retreating to his own room. He kept his ears trained on the room next door, listening for any unusual sounds through the shared wall.

Frank was aware that he was acting a little obsessive, but then they received word that two of their guys, Joey and Matthew, had been gunned down only two blocks from the house. Frank figured his fears were justified.

***

Staying up late with Gerard played hell on Frank’s sleep schedule, and some nights, the insomnia got so bad that he didn’t even bother going up to bed. Which is why he was in the kitchen at six in the morning when Alicia appeared, her hair mussed and eyeliner smeared, and started making herself a cup of coffee.

“Alicia,” Frank said in surprise. He hadn’t even known she was in the house, and that scared him more than a little.

“Hey, Frankie,” she replied calmly, as if it hadn’t been months since they’d last seen each other. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Frank explained. “What are you doing here, are you and Mikey—”

Alicia shrugged. “Kind of.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Frank asked sharply. “Is this still about those girls?”

She waved his words and the steam from her coffee away. “No, I know he didn’t sleep with them.”

“He loves you,” Frank said.

“I know,” Alicia replied.

Frank lit a cigarette. “Do you love him?” He didn’t care if he was being blunt.

Alicia nodded and answered Frank’s next question before he even had time to phrase it. “I just don’t like what you do, Frankie. I don’t like that Mikey’s caught up in it, and he won’t give up this life. Not for me.”

“He’s not part of this life,” Frank said earnestly. “He loves Gerard, and the Family, but he hasn’t been part of it since he was in college.”

“Frank, don’t try to lie to me—” Alicia began.

“No, seriously, Alicia… Mikey’s just Gerard’s brother.”

Alicia was quiet for a moment, sipping her coffee. “I still don’t approve,” she finally replied.

“Mikey doesn’t want this life,” Frank said. “He wants a life with you.”

“So, Frankie,” Alicia said, an obvious change of subject. “Why are you up, besides playing relationship guru?” Frank blushed but Alicia pressed on. “Are you having girlfriend issues too?”

“No,” Frank answered immediately. “I just haven’t been sleeping.”

“You look wrecked,” Alicia pointed out. Frank knew he looked awful; exhaustion and worry had created dark shadows under his eyes and his skin tone was nearly as pale as Gerard’s. “What’s keeping you up, hon?”

Frank sighed heavily and rested his head on one arm. “Just worrying. I’m just worried all the fucking time, and I can’t stop. I’m going insane.”

Alicia covered one of Frank’s hands with her own. “Sounds a lot like love to me,” she said, and smiled. “Wish I could help you, babe.”

***

Two days after his conversation with Alicia, her words finally sank in. “Sounds a lot like love,” she’d said, and Frank realized she was right. He’d loved Gerard all his life as a cousin, a brother, a friend, but Frank’s recent obsession seemed like something different, something more than that. Frank didn’t feel the same way about Gerard as he felt about the rest of the Family. Gerard had always been a little bit different. Frank considered Gerard his best friend. That was probably all it was, their close friendship making Frank think about Gerard all the time, worry about him day and night. That could easily be the reason Frank would gladly lay down his life to protect Gerard.

Somehow, though, he knew it wasn’t. The reason for Frank’s behavior had nothing to do with their friendship, or maybe everything to do with it, he wasn’t sure. He’d been closer, growing up, to Mark, and even a little closer to Mikey than Gerard throughout high school and while Gerard had been in New York, and Frank wasn’t in love with either of them.

He couldn’t be in love with Gerard. Gerard was his friend, his boss, and Frank wasn’t delusional enough to think that anything could ever, ever happen between them. And he wasn’t good enough at denial to convince himself that he didn’t want something to happen between them. He could remember the feel of every touch Gerard gave him, and he wanted more of that.

“Shit,” Frank said to himself, under his breath so Gerard wouldn’t hear and ask what was wrong. Frank couldn’t possibly answer.

He glanced over at Gerard; he was hunched over his desk, black dress shirt partially unbuttoned with a t-shirt peeking out from underneath, and his long black hair falling from behind his ear. Frank wanted to tuck it back for him. It wasn’t the first time he’d wanted to, either.

“Fucking shit,” Frank breathed. He needed a drink.

Frank stormed into the kitchen, angry at himself for being such a fucking idiot to fall in love with somebody like Gerard, and swung open the refrigerator with unnecessary violence. “Do we have any beer?” he snapped at Mark, who was eating some of Frank’s leftover veggie lasagna.

“It’s the middle of the day, Frank,” Mark answered with a chuckle. “And no, we don’t.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Frank said. “Like you haven’t gotten drunk at noon before.”

Mark held up his hands, a gesture of peace, and said, “Jesus, Frank, chill. What the hell’s going on?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Frank hissed. He glared at Mark’s plate.

Mark pushed it across the table to Frank. “Okay, okay,” he said quickly, “I’m sorry I stole your leftovers.”

Frank shot him a sour look and grabbed Mark’s fork to finish off the lasagna.

***

Frank really liked living in Gerard’s old bedroom; it had been his favorite since he and Mikey were sharing the smaller room across the hall. When Gerard moved into the master suite, Frank had offered the room to Mikey, but Mikey insisted on staying in his own room. Frank wasn’t really sure why Gerard had given it to him instead of Mark or Tony, since they’d also moved in full-time, but, as with the position of consigliere, he was grateful for it.

All through high school, Gerard had painted crazy shit all over the walls. Gothic castles and vampires and bats and Mikey’s fucking unicorn. There used to be spiders and realistic-looking cobwebs in every corner, too, but Gerard painted over them when Frank moved into the room. While he was at it, he also painted a huge red and gold dragon on the ceiling.

The dragon was Frank’s favorite thing about the room, and he’d told Gerard on more than one occasion that if he had any room left on his arms, he would’ve gotten it tattooed. Gerard always laughed and shook his head like he thought Frank was crazy.

Frank already had several of Gerard’s designs on his body; the crossed guns on his lower back, the swallows on his hips, and the Virgin Mary on his forearm were his favorites. He liked having something of Gerard’s on his skin permanently, and it was only now dawning on him why.

He couldn’t look around the room anymore without thinking about Gerard: his face creased with concern whenever Frank came home covered in blood, the secretive smile he reserved just for Frank, the way he became totally focused when he was drawing, and the happy, proud look in his eyes when Frank showed him the finished tattoos.

Frank didn’t know when exactly loving Gerard as a friend had turned into something else, but he tried not to dwell on it much. It was all just a fantasy, anyway. He stared up at the dragon, remembering Gerard planning it out, excitedly showing Frank the sketches and asking for his approval, since it would be Frank’s bedroom. He remembered the way Gerard’s hair fell in his eyes when he leaned over his desk, and that memory morphed into others: the way his fingertips felt on Frank’s arm, and how the creases by his lips curved when he smiled.

“Shit,” he breathed, feeling himself getting hard. Frank slid his right hand slowly beneath his blanket, over his chest, lingering on his waist, tracing by memory the lines of the bird tattoos that Gerard had drawn for him. His boxers were already sitting low on his hips and Frank pushed his fingers beneath the elastic waistband.

He was lying on Gerard’s old bed, in Gerard’s old room, about to jerk off to thoughts of Gerard’s stupidly beautiful face smiling at him. And if that wasn’t fucked up enough, he could hear Gerard through the walls; in the next room over, he was talking quietly on the phone to Vinnie.

“I am so. Fucked,” he growled at the dragon above him. Then Frank closed his eyes tightly and just went for it. He pushed his boxers down to his thighs and made a loose fist around his dick, already hard from his stupid mind-wanderings about Gerard. “Shit,” he murmured again, biting his lip.

He got in a few good strokes, slow and firm, enough to make his breath catch, before Mikey and Mark burst in, drunk, with Tony on their heels.

“Jesus fuck, Mikey!” Frank shrieked, clutching at the blanket with his left hand. It was pulled up to his chin already, but he wanted to make damn sure it stayed there. “Mark! Get the fuck out!”

Mikey rolled his eyes and waved a hand expressively. He looked sort of like Gerard when he did that. Frank blinked hard and then it was just Mikey again.

“What?” Mikey slurred. “S’not like you have a… a… a girl in here or anythin’.”

Behind him, Mark cackled. “Yeah, man, when was the last time you got laid?”

Tony sighed the long-suffering sigh that he’d been sighing since he was twelve.

“Tony, get them out!” Frank cried. He tried to subtly pull his boxers back up to his hips, in case he had to actually get out of bed and force them out of his room. Gerard’s room. His room. Jesus Christ.

“I had enough trouble getting them in the fucking house, alright?” Tony snapped. Frank wasn’t in the mood to feel sorry for him. “Come on, guys. Frank’s like, sleeping or something.”

“Jerking off!” Mikey crowed, giggling.

“Dude, can I borrow some porn?” Mark asked.

“No!” Frank shouted. “Get the fuck out right now or I will fuck you up, I swear to god.”

They heard Gerard pound on the wall behind Frank’s head. “Shut the fuck up, all of you,” he said loudly. The obnoxiously drunk boys giggled and Tony sighed again. Frank flopped back to his pillows and stared up at the dragon. A minute later, he heard his door close and Mikey’s stereo start blasting. The Smiths. He was probably moping over Alicia again. It always got worse when he was drunk.

Gerard marched out into the hallway. Frank could picture every step clearly in his mind. “Mikey Way!” he shouted, knocking loudly on Mikey’s door. “It’s two in the fucking morning, go to sleep.”

The music was lowered to a less deafening volume. Frank heard a knock on his own door. Gerard didn’t wait for permission, though, he just cracked the door open and poked his head in. Frank was really fucking glad the blanket was still pulled to his chin.

“Were you sleeping?” Gerard asked. Frank shook his head. “I know you’ve been kind of stressed lately.”

“Yeah, well, we all have been, I think,” Frank replied. “I’ll be fine. Are you okay?” Gerard gave him a weary smile and shrugged his shoulders. Frank nodded. “Get some sleep, Gee.”

Gerard looked at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “You too, Frankie.”

***

Mikey dropped his head into his hands and groaned. “Frankie.”

Frank sat down beside him and snagged his coffee mug. It was cold, though, and had way too much cream and not enough sugar. Frank made a disgusted face. “I don’t know how you drink this shit. What’s up? Hangover?”

“No. Well, yeah, but it’s more than that. The family’s coming for Christmas,” he said, though his words were muffled by the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

“Wait, your family, or the Family?”

“Both,” Mikey whined. “Everybody. It’ll be noisy, and my aunt will complain that I don’t have a girlfriend, and then everyone will try to fix me up with Maria, even though she’s my fucking cousin—”

“Actually, she’s my cousin,” Frank broke in casually.

“Not her,” Mikey mumbled. “The other one. Maria Santoro.”

“Oh. Oh, but dude, she’s hot!” Frank nudged Mikey’s arm encouragingly, and Mikey nearly slid off the table. “Oh, right, cousin. Sorry.” He noticed that Mikey hadn’t said that Alicia was his girlfriend, so he assumed they were still having problems in that department.

“And there’s still this whole thing with Gerard and people trying to kill him and other people dying and Tony keeps bitching to me about Mark and they fight all the time and I really, really, really don’t want to deal with this right now. I want coffee,” he said, all without taking a breath.

“Are you still drunk?” Frank asked, his eyes wide. Mikey didn’t usually talk so much. He stood up to make a fresh pot of coffee. Mikey looked like he needed it.

“If I’m not, can I be?” Mikey lifted his head and stared blearily up at Frank. Not drunk, then, just hungover.

Frank sat down again and rubbed Mikey’s back. “You and Alicia didn’t get back together?” he asked cautiously.

“Ugh!” Mikey collapsed back onto his arms with a wail. “No! She dumped me. Again. For good.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “You’ve been hung up on her since sophomore year. She’ll take you back. Eventually.”

“She won’t listen.” Mikey’s hair flopped as he shook his head and Frank ran his fingers through it. It wasn’t as long as Gerard’s, but the kid needed a haircut. They all did; Frank’s hair was nearly to his shoulders. None of them had been taking particularly good care of themselves lately.

“Maybe it was your stupid hair,” Frank teased quietly. Alicia had been with Mikey through stupider haircuts. “When did this happen?”

“A few days ago. She pisses me off.”

That may be, but Mikey was moping. He always moped about Alicia. Frank ruffled his hair. “You love her, though.”

“Ugh,” Mikey replied. Frank took that as agreement.

***

“Yeah. Yeah, Maria, I know. Yes, I know that, but we’re not going to have enough room… Of course, yeah, you can have… No, but listen, there’s not enough room for everyone here. I can get a deal… No, sure, yeah. Of course. Well, yeah, Aunt Maria, but…”

Frank took a few steps into the office and jerked his thumb toward the door questioningly. Gerard shook his head and waved him in.

“No, I don’t,” Gerard was saying wearily. “Things are kind of crazy right now, it’s dangerous—I haven’t had a chance to meet anybody…”

Frank rolled his eyes. Gerard’s aunt asked Gerard and Mikey about their love lives during every single phone call.

“No, I don’t know what Mikey’s doing. I don’t know. He’s… out, I dunno.”

Alicia dumped him. Again, Frank mouthed. Gerard rolled his eyes and covered his face with his free hand.

“Sure, Maria, I’ll tell him. Mark’s fine, yeah. He’s… out, I don’t know, probably with Mikey. Yeah. Listen, Frankie’s here, and I’ve got another call, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Yeah, I’ll call you. Yes, I will. I will. Love you, too. Bye.” Gerard put down the handset and sighed loudly. “Fuck.”

“Mikey said you’re inviting everybody over for Christmas. Fuck, Gerard…”

“Yeah, well… The Family needs that right now. Some kind of… celebration. A unifying thing. And it’s Christmas.” He rubbed at his temples, as if already fighting off the impending headache of having the entire Family, both blood relatives and not, in the same house during the holidays. “At least we can trust them now. I mean, enough people have fucking died… So Alicia dumped him again?”

“Yeah, he’s moping. And hungover.”

“Perfect,” Gerard groaned. “Can you, like… get Mark to take him out and get him wasted or something? Make him feel better?”

“I think that’s what he was trying to do last night,” Frank replied, dropping into the chair across from Gerard. “But now he and Tony and at each other’s throats and Vinnie’s fed up with them, and Mikey’s got too much of a headache to deal. And no way in hell am I dragging anybody else into this stupid mess. Anyone else would just kill one of ‘em.”

“Probably Alicia.”

“And then Mikey would want to kill them.”

“And then himself. They’d be like Romeo and Juliet.”

“Star-crossed lovers.”

“And that would just be a bad situation.”

“Especially with the Family coming to visit,” Frank finished, grinning. It’d been far too long since they’d had the opportunity to joke around like this, and Frank was surprised at how much he missed it.

Gerard actually laughed, and that was another thing Frank missed desperately. “Yeah, exactly. So… Okay, here’s the plan. You tell Mikey to suck it up, and then you make everybody get along by decorating the house before people start appearing at our doorstep. I can’t believe we’re having a fucking party right now.”

“My Aunt Angela and Stephanie will want to bake things,” Frank added. “Should I invite them over?”

Gerard shuddered. “Ugh, no. Tell them to make food at their own houses. And for God’s sake, don’t tell Stephanie I’m single.”

“I think all our aunts keep her informed,” Frank said sadly. “I swear to God, she sent me an email a few days ago about making you dinner or some shit like that, to cheer you up.”

“Ugh!” Gerard flapped his hands at Frank for a minute, looking like a teenage girl. “Make her go away, Frankie.” His head thunked down on the desk and he groaned. “I hate Christmas.”

Frank stood up and ruffled Gerard’s hair. “You won’t when you see my present!”

“Shit, presents,” Gerard groaned. “If you tell me you’ve already finished your Christmas shopping, I will hate you.”

Frank remained silent.

“I hate you, Frankie. When the hell did you have time to go fucking Christmas shopping?”

Frank couldn’t resist. He giggled and bent over the desk to press a kiss to the top of Gerard’s head. Then he ruffled Gerard’s hair again. “If it makes you feel better, you don’t have to get me anything.”

Gerard sat up. “No, I already have something for you,” he said quietly, looking up at Frank through a curtain of tangled hair. “It’s everyone else I still need to buy for.”

Frank skipped out of the office before Gerard could see him beaming.

***

Frank’s happy Christmas spirit didn’t even last through the rest of the day. Frank’s cousin Stephanie and his Aunt Angela, both bottle-blonde chatterboxes, insisted on helping prepare the house for the holidays and they invited themselves over that very afternoon. The house had a limited number of guest rooms, and the two women snagged the one right next door to Frank.

Gerard took to hiding in his office—which was pretty much his usual habitat, but now he actually locked the door—or his bedroom, leaving Frank to fend them off.

Stephanie’s overtly-flirtatious behavior toward Gerard had Mikey rolling his eyes constantly and Frank snapping at her every time she spoke. He couldn’t help feeling jealous, even though Gerard insisted at every turn that he didn’t ever want to pursue a relationship with her. Ever. She didn’t stop coming on to Gerard even after other people started showing up.

On only the third night of her stay, Mikey pulled him into the hall and whispered, “Maybe we could set her up with Mark. He’ll fuck anything that moves.”

“Ew!” Frank cried, covering his eyes. “She’s my cousin! I don’t want to know.”

“Better Mark than Gerard.”

This was true, Frank had to admit.

“He’s my brother,” Mikey continued. “I’d rather not think of him having sex, like, ever. With anyone.”

Frank smiled, picturing Gerard’s soft eyes and crooked smile, and how much he wanted to kiss it.

“You’re thinking of him having sex, aren’t you?” Mikey said, glaring at him. “Ew, Frank!”

Frank was actually thinking of the way Gerard chewed on his fingernails when he was thinking, but he laughed anyway, because it was obviously what Mikey expected of him. Mikey hit him on the shoulder, and he cuffed Mikey on the back of the head (lightly, of course, because it was Mikey and Mikey was a fucking lightweight) and ran off down the hall, nearly tripping over a kid in the process.

“Anthony, what the—” Frank spluttered as he regained his balance by using Anthony’s head. “Hey listen, if Uncle Mikey comes after me, trip him, okay?”

Anthony was an annoying brat, and he grinned evilly at the chance to cause mayhem. Frank sometimes thought the kid was possessed or something.

“Great.” Frank took off down the hall again and tried the door to Gerard’s office, finding it unlocked. He went in.

Gerard was on the phone, and he didn’t even look up when Frank entered. He was hunched over his desk, and his knuckles were white, he was gripping the handset so tightly. Frank frowned.

“You don’t want to fucking see me angry,” Gerard hissed. His teeth were clenched tight and Frank could see the vein pulsing in the side of his neck. “You will fucking regret it, I swear to God. If I hear one more piece of bullshit out of you, if I even hear a fucking rumor about you talking shit and fucking lying to my face, I swear, I swear, I will fucking end you. Understand? Do you fucking understand me, you fucking piece of shit?”

Frank was frozen in the middle of the room. Apparently he wasn’t the only one running low on Christmas cheer. Frank had almost forgotten Gerard’s situation in light of the holiday frenzy.

Gerard was quiet as he listened to the person on the phone, but then he exploded. “Fuck you,” he shouted, and slammed the phone down on his desk.

“Gerard—”

“Shut up, Frank,” Gerard snapped, not even glancing at him.

“Um…” Frank clenched his fists and stuffed them into his pockets.

“Get out of here.”

Frank narrowed his eyes at Gerard and lifted a hand tentatively. “Gee—”

“Get the fuck out, Frank.”

Frank nodded and left without another word, taking the stairs two at a time and shutting himself in his bedroom. He wasn’t sure what he’d just witnessed, and he didn’t know why it pissed Gerard off so much, but… Something wasn’t right, even by recent standards, and it was giving Frank a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He stood, leaning against the door, for several minutes, panting as if he’d run a mile, then in a flurry of movement, he snatched his coat off the top of his dresser and headed for the front door. He needed to get the fuck out, just like Gerard had said.

Gerard was out in the hallway when Frank passed, but Frank ignored him. Gerard didn’t say anything.

Frank yanked the coat over his arms and stepped over Anthony again—what the fuck was the stupid kid doing sitting in the middle of the fucking hallway, anyway?—and left without a word. He walked a few blocks north, and when it started snowing, he stopped to light a cigarette.

The first drag felt like fire in his throat and he coughed; the winter air was playing hell on his lungs. Frank sighed, exhaling a cloud of smoke and breath-mist. He sank down into a crouch and rested his elbows on his knees. He was being immature, he knew that. He was being a fucking idiot, leaving the house. Just because Gerard had snapped at him didn’t mean… It didn’t mean anything, really. Gerard was allowed to snap at whomever he fucking wanted to snap at.

Who was he to walk out on Gerard like that? He had no fucking right. No matter what their personal relationship was, Gerard was his boss, and he was allowed to treat Frank however the fuck he fucking wanted to. Frank’s stupid feelings for Gerard were making him irrational.

He pulled the smoke into his lungs and held his breath until he felt dizzy. His phone rang. It was Gerard. Of course. Frank answered it but didn’t say anything.

“Frank, come home.”

Half of Frank’s brain, the sane half, wanted to scream I’m sorry!, but the other half was keeping his lips clamped shut around his cigarette and seething with misplaced anger.

“Frankie—”

Frank hung up on him. He regretted it instantly, but not enough to call Gerard back. He leaned back, resting his weight on his heels, and smoked. He knew he was sulking. He was being an idiot. But he couldn’t make himself move.

He was halfway through his third cigarette when he heard footsteps approaching, crunching through the thin layer of snow that coated the sidewalk. Frank turned his head and found Gerard walking confidently towards him, shoulders hunched and hands stuffed in his pockets. The collar of his coat was turned up, and there were snowflakes peppering his black hair. Gerard’s nose and cheeks were flushed red. He looked really fucking pretty, even though he wasn’t smiling.

“What the fuck are you doing out here alone?” Frank asked, rising smoothly to his feet in an instant. He flicked the ash off the end of his cig.

“I’m not alone,” Gerard replied pointedly. “I’m sorry, Frankie.”

Frank offered Gerard the cigarette, glancing suspiciously at him. Gerard wasn’t known for making apologies.

“I was angry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.” Gerard took a drag and handed it back to Frank. He looked over at Gerard, expecting to see the nervous ticks he’d picked up recently: darting eyes, lip-biting. But Gerard was just watching him calmly; he didn’t seem paranoid about being outside at all.

“I’m an idiot,” Frank muttered. “I’m sorry I ran out. That was stupid.”

“It’s not your fault,” Gerard said warmly. “Come home?”

Frank sighed.

“Please? Frankie, your cousin’s going to pin mistletoe to her breasts and start lurking around corners. Please come home.”

Gerard held out his hand, and Frank took it. He flicked the cigarette away and reached up to pluck a clump of snow out of Gerard’s hair. It melted when he touched it, but he held his wet fingers up for Gerard to see anyway, as if they would explain what he’d just done.

Gerard smiled and tugged at his hand. “C’mon, it’s cold out here.”

Frank kept his eyes peeled for any sign of danger on the way back. He didn’t have his gun, they didn’t have any back-up—they were just two small-ish guys walking down the sidewalk holding hands. Frank considered them lucky for not getting shot. He only relaxed once Gerard was safely inside the door.

***

Gerard didn’t explain the phone conversation Frank had walked in on, and Frank didn’t ask. They survived the next few days with their cousins by making themselves as scarce as possible, and Frank stuck to Gerard like glue. Gerard didn’t seem to mind, though, and to Frank’s knowledge, there hadn’t been any more angry phone calls. Everyone seemed pretty convinced that the danger had passed, or at least lessened during the Christmas holidays.

Most of the guests started arriving a week before Christmas, beginning with Gerard’s aunt. As expected, she complained about all of the boys’ long, messy hair, and clicked her tongue disapprovingly at how exhausted they all looked. Then she started in on them—particularly Gerard—about their lack of girlfriends, and at that point, Stephanie interjected herself and her cleavage into the conversation, much to Gerard’s alarm. Mikey mumbled Alicia’s name as an excuse and disappeared, along with Tony.

Maria and most of the women of the Family barricaded themselves in the kitchen and gossiped, and it was almost exactly how Frank remembered Christmas as a child, except now there was slightly less Italian thrown into the bilingual conversations.

Besides sneaking a few freshly-baked cookies for himself and Gerard, Frank avoided the kitchen. Mark, on the other hand, never left the kitchen, so Frank started avoiding him, too.

The large house had enough rooms to hold a lot of their blood relatives, and Gerard had insisted on making reservations at a ritzy hotel for everyone who couldn’t stay with him. As it was, Frank was sharing his room with Anthony and Nicholas, who were both somewhere around ten years old. Frank didn’t really know for sure.

Mikey was bunking with Mark and Tony, and their other cousin Joe, but Mark slept in Mikey’s room almost every night anyway, so that wasn’t anything too unusual.

Frank had to deal with kids. Who the fuck made that happen?

The good part of the deal was that the boys thought Gerard’s crazy murals were the coolest things in the world, much like Frank’s feelings about them, and they also had a nine o’clock bedtime, a good four hours before Frank usually went to bed, if he went to bed at all.

***

Christmas Eve, during the huge traditional dinner, Frank finally figured out what was wrong. His father wasn’t there.

Gerard sat at the head of the main table, Mikey on his right side and Vinnie on his left, and Frank was several places down from him, so he couldn’t lean over and whisper in Gerard’s ear. He frowned down at his plate, pasta and salad without the meat sauce and the salami and cheese appetizer.

The volume of dinner-chatter continued to rise as more and more alcohol was consumed, but Frank didn’t really participate. He kept glancing over at Gerard, who seemed to be avoiding meeting Frank’s gaze.

When Gerard excused himself to go to the bathroom, Frank was right on his heels.

“Gerard, what the fuck is going on?” he asked, following Gerard right into the bathroom. He locked the door behind them.

“Frank, not now,” Gerard said sternly. “I will tell you, I will tell you everything, but not now.”

Frank pushed Gerard against the wall. He didn’t hold him there, though, because he did still have a little bit of common sense left. “No, you tell me now, Gerard. What the fuck is going on?”

Gerard’s eyes flashed with anger, and Frank shrank away from him. “Don’t you fucking do that, Frank.”

“M’sorry,” Frank whispered. And yeah, fuck, it was dangerous to try and threaten Gerard.

Gerard put his hand on Frank’s shoulder, his grip surprisingly gentle. “We’re going to go back out there and have a pleasant evening, do you understand me?”

Frank nodded. Gerard didn’t usually use that phrase on him, ‘Do you understand me?’, and it sounded strange passing his lips. The tone of Gerard’s voice made Frank believe that Gerard would fuck him up if Frank disobeyed.

“Yeah, got it,” Frank murmured.

Gerard exhaled sharply. He slid his hand down Frank’s arm and rubbed him for a few seconds, almost like he was petting him, before turning around and leaving Frank alone in the bathroom.

***

While Gerard and Mikey and the rest of the men of the family sat around the lounge drinking and talking in low tones, Frank escaped upstairs to read the kids The Night Before Christmas. Anthony was a brat, as usual, but Nicholas and his little sister, Angelica, were captivated by the story. Frank even read certain parts in stupid voices for them.

All three of them fell asleep, even Anthony, curled up on the floor with their blankets and pillows. Frank lay back on the bed and closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Gerard’s paintings, and he was almost drifting off to sleep himself when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Come with me,” Gerard whispered, tugging a bit at Frank’s t-shirt.

Frank yawned and followed Gerard to Gerard’s bedroom. Sometimes it was still weird, going in there. He remembered when Gerard’s grandparents had lived in this room. Frank wondered if Gerard ever thought about that. Knowing him, he probably did, and often.

Gerard sat down at the head of the bed, leaning back against the elaborate wood headboard. Frank didn’t join him on the bed.

“What’s going on?” he asked quietly.

“It was your dad. On the phone, I mean. That time.”

Frank knew exactly what time Gerard was talking about, and he clenched his fists. “What did he say?” he hissed.

Gerard extended a hand to Frank and beckoned him closer, but Frank didn’t move. “Frankie, come here, please,” Gerard said quietly.

Frank shook his head.

“Are you still with me?” Gerard asked, raising his eyebrows. “Don’t lie to me.”

He was nodding yes before he could stop himself. He was Gerard’s man through and through, and nothing would change that. He crawled up onto Gerard’s bed and sat cross-legged at his feet.

“Remember I told you there might be people in the Family who didn’t respect me like they should?” Frank nodded. He saw Gerard swallow and look away for a second. “Your dad’s one of them,” he said finally.

“That can’t—” Frank began, though he knew it very well could be true.

“Frank, he said he was. He told me. That’s what the phone call was about.”

“But he—”

“He’s not the only one who’s not here tonight,” Gerard continued, talking over Frank’s objections. “Five guys, important guys, didn’t show up, your father included.”

Frank frowned, suddenly angry. “Was this some kind of test?”

“No, no, it wasn’t meant to be,” Gerard said quickly. “It just turned out that way, I guess. I wish it hadn’t; believe me, I wish this could be a normal Christmas, but… Frank, things are bad, okay? Really fuckin’ bad, and it looks like it’s only going to get worse.” He paused to take a breath. “I need you with me, Frank.”

Frank swallowed. It was no longer Gerard against some unknown enemy; it was Gerard against his father. His own family.

Gerard stared at him. “I need you with me, Frank,” he said again. His eyes were earnest and hopeful and unsure.

Frank nodded, his decision made. “I’m yours. Always.”

***

Frank hid all of his Christmas presents under his bed until most of the guests had gone. Knowing this Family, someone would steal even the hideous Christmas tree sweater his aunt had given him. On second thought, maybe he would just leave that out in the lounge. Hopefully someone would steal it.

The tangible gifts were mostly for the kids, though: Anthony and Nicholas were already dueling with their flashlight lightsabers, tearing around the house at full speed and full volume.

Frank remembered when he and Mark had been like that. Tony had always hung out with Gerard instead, and even as kids, the two of them had been relatively mature and aloof. Compared to Frank and Mark, at least. Frank grudgingly admitted that he’d probably been even more of a brat than Anthony. Mikey, as a teenager, had floated somewhere between the two pairs, more distant. He’d never wanted part of this life, really.

As people made their way out, there was a procession of hugs and kisses and handshakes and well-wishes. Frank tolerated it as long as he could, and then went to stand behind Gerard, smiling at the adults and scowling at the kids, because they would take it as a joke and he could get away with it.

Gerard visibly deflated when the door finally closed behind the last guest. Mikey feigned a swoon and collapsed to his knees, kissing the ground and murmuring about how glad he was of the quiet, almost-empty house. It made them all laugh only because of how true it was. Frank didn’t think he’d be welcoming back the depressing normality of fear and anger and paranoia, but he was.

“Presents!” Mark cried, then.

Mikey went first: Frank and Gerard had gone in together several weeks ago and bought him a new stereo, complete with a truly kick-ass speaker system (Mikey’s old stereo had been hit with a baseball bat a few years ago, and it hadn’t been playing very well ever since; Frank insisted it wasn’t his fault, because hey, Gerard told him to do it).

Each of them gave Mark a different porn magazine, to which he replied, “Seriously, this is awesome. Seriously.”

Frank’s present for Gerard was in a simple box held together with a belt instead of ribbon. The belt was part of the gift, and it had been Mikey’s idea; Gerard grinned. Inside the box was what Frank liked to call a pimp-coat, long and tight-fitting with faux fur around the hood and sleeves. He’d found it two months ago while doing a job on the other side of town. Gerard stroked it lovingly.

“Oh my God, Frankie!”

“Jacket slut,” Mikey said fondly, under his breath. Frank threw a pillow at him.

“I want to give you yours later, okay?” Gerard said, giving Frank a somewhat apologetic look. “Come to my room tonight?”

“Oh sure, yeah,” Frank replied, beaming at Gerard’s reaction to his gift.

They had drinks, and then coffee, and then a few more drinks, and when Mikey passed out on the floor, Tony decided it was time for bed.

As they trudged up the stairs in single file, Frank’s mind wandered and he thought of what Gerard’s present might be. He’d asked Frank to come to his bedroom, and his present was secret, and so what if Frank didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of actually hooking up with Gerard, he could still dream.

At the top of the stairs, Gerard cocked his head toward his own door, and Frank followed his lead. Gerard seemed excited, even underneath the giddiness brought on by alcohol. He was wearing his new coat, and Frank had to admit it was a perfect jacket for Gerard. Just the right combination of badass and complete dork, and it was tight enough across the shoulders to look fucking sexy. Gerard clambered onto the bed with him and leaned over, reaching into the drawer of his nightstand.

He pulled out a thick paper envelope with a bright pink bow taped to the top, ‘FRANKIE’ written in all caps underneath.

The seal popped open easily under Frank’s eager fingers, and he turned the envelope upside down to shake out the contents. Inside was a fucking handmade comic book.

On the cover was Frank, it was obviously Frank, and Gerard, Mikey, Mark, and Tony were standing behind him, at either shoulder. They were all wearing superhero masks. In giant block lettering, it said, The (Almost) True Adventures of Frank Iero, Badass Extraordinaire, as told by Gerard Way.

“Oh my God,” Frank breathed. He flipped through the pages reverently. Each one was hand-drawn and colored. Gerard had made him a comic book.

“Don’t tell Mikey, he’ll get jealous,” Gerard whispered, smiling.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe this, Gerard!” Frank turned the comic book—A fucking comic book! With him and Gerard as superheroes!—over in his hands. “This is so fucking amazing, Gee, I’m serious.”

Gerard blushed and ran a hand through his hair. “I hoped you’d appreciate it. I’ve been drawing it the past few months or so… keeping myself sane, y’know? Do you really like it?”

Frank grabbed Gerard by the back of the neck and kissed his cheek, a real, firm kiss that made a smacking sound when he pulled away. “I fucking love it,” he corrected. “Holy shit!”

It took all of Frank’s will power not to stay up all night and read The (Almost) True Adventures Gerard had drawn. He flipped through the first few pages, but he was too tipsy to really appreciate the subtleties of the art, Gerard’s cleverly ironic, black humor, and it was nearly four in the morning anyway. Frank put the book on his bedside table and stared at it for a few minutes before turning off the light.

With the darkness sheltering him, Frank entertained thoughts of jerking off, to take the edge off his excitement, but he fell asleep before he could even get his hand beneath the waistband of his boxers. He dreamed, though, of Gerard’s bashful, blushing smile and his crazy black mop of hair hanging over his face.

***

[part 5a]