2047 (present day), Frank: 18 years old

Frank woke up with a gasp in the back of his throat and a tingling sensation on his lips. His eyes shot wide open, burning from dryness and tiredness he had been feeling all week long. The first word that came into his mind on instinct was 'fuck'. Nothing short from the usual every morning, but today, this was different. The curse word echoed in his head not as a reflection of annoyance, but one of anger and pure sadness. A sorrow so deep that it rushed through his veins and shook him to his very core, sending waves of the emotion straight to the organ pumping in his chest. Frank felt his fingers twitch, and when he looked at his hand that rested near his head, he realized that a pale and graceful hand was no longer clasping it.

He stared up at the skylight ceiling above him with burning eyes and still tingling lips. Frank brought his fingertips to his chapped lips, touching the puckered and dried skin there. His fingers lingered there as he watched the sky above him turn a subtle purple; an indication that the sun was beginning to rise. Frank swept his tongue across his lips and closed his eyes again despite the dry pain he felt behind his lids. And, so vividly, he recalled the dream that left his lips tingling.

"I really wish I could touch you." Gerard breathed out, his breath fanning across Frank's face. Their close proximity would have been too close for comfort if it had not been Gerard standing in front of him. But no, Frank wanted him this close. Close as he could get without really touching him.

Frank took his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down on the skin. He squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled through his nose.

"You can touch me." Frank said softly. He looked into Gerard's green and brown eyes, relishing in the way the other's pale cheeks filled with color at Frank's words. "You're so smart - just try and imagine what I would feel like."
The dryness behind Frank's lids was becoming unexpectedly moist. What was happening? There was a tug at his heart, his throat contracted, and heat began to form behind his eyes.

"You won't feel me." Gerard said in a small voice. But despite that minor statement, he raised his hand up slowly, reaching for Frank's face with his palm facing inwards. Frank braced himself for the touch even if he would not feel it.

Wetness started to leak from the corners of Frank's eyes. The tightening of his throat and the heat building up behind his eyes and face told Frank that he was crying. His sorrow was too much and the tears could not be held back for long. He blinked his eyes open, his lips parting to inhale a small gasping breath.

"You look so soft, Frank." Gerard breathed out with wonder and longing painted all over his face. His palm cupped Frank's cheek, the thumb swiping across his cheekbone. Frank leaned into his hand, aching for the exchange of warmth. Gerard's pupils shrunk when he met Frank's eyes, his expression melting into one Frank had never seen before.

Frank's chest rattled and his body shook when he felt a sob wanting to escape. He tensed his stomach muscles to keep it from bubbling passed his lips. He winced from the pain in his heart, turning his face into the pillow to muffle his gasping breaths and short whimpers.

"I would imagine that you're soft too, Gerard." Frank reached forward and wrapped his hand around the other's wrist. He ran his fingers along the inside of Gerard's wrist and wished so badly that he could trace the blue veins showing through the thin layers of white translucent flesh there. Gerard stared at Frank with an intensity that Frank was not sure if it was just a friendly adoring gaze. No, Frank felt something churn in his stomach when Gerard looked at him like that.

Frank clutched his sheets with his fist and tried to control his breathing, control anything, but another wave of sorrow flashed through his boy and the sob he had been holding back could not be stopped much longer. He let it out, his body shuddering.

"I wanna . . ." Gerard squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, breathing in through his nose and pulling his eyebrows together. "I wanna kiss you, Frankie." When Gerard opened his eyes again, the clear hazel color was darkened. Frank felt his heart begin to beat erratically. His best friend, his beautiful dream, wanted to kiss him. For so long, Frank had wished to kiss Gerard, but refrained due to the lack of senses. But Frank's eyes could not help but flicker down to the gentle pink plumpness of Gerard's lips.

Frank wiped at his face to rid of the salty tears that stung his skin. He still gasped for air, hiccuped and sobbed quietly, but without his face being pressed into the pillow. He stared up at the sky again with his lips pulled down into a pained frown.

"Please." Gerard whimpered. "There has to be something there, anything." His fingers grasped Frank's shirt and he pulled the boy closer, so close that Frank had to go a little cross-eyed to look directly into Gerard's eyes again. Gerard was desperate, longingly glancing at Frank's lips while biting his own bottom one. Frank felt an ache, a need to do what Gerard wanted him to do. His brought his hand up to tangle in Gerard's hair - grasping the air it seemed like. He stood on his tiptoes so Gerard would not have to bend his head down, making the other chuckle softly. Frank smiled warmly and brushed his lips over Gerard's cheek. A tender gesture if there would be any sign that Gerard could feel it. Or Frank.

Frank scrubbed at his wet cheeks with the bottom of his T-shirt. The skin felt raw from the roughness of his shirt and the salted tears burned. He winced. But the tears kept flowing, hurting his skin. He gave up and turned onto his side, letting the tears drip onto his pillow.

"Jamia is nothing compared to you. I want you." Frank breathed out. Gerard gasped softly, cupping the boy's cheek in his hand while the other found his hand and clasped onto it tightly.

"I- I . . ." Gerard did not finish his sentence. He couldn't because at the same time, both boys leaned in, and their lips pressed together in what would have been a feverish kiss if they could feel it. Frank felt his stomach and heart drop, but what else had he expected? His lips touched everything and nothing at all. But he imagined that Gerard's lips would have been incredibly soft, pink and plump as they were.

But then, for a split second, Frank felt something. A bit of warmth, a tingle, the feeling of skin pressing on his. His lips were taken over by the warmth, his hand that cupped Gerard's cheek no longer felt like it was actually holding something. The feeling was smooth, and what was underneath Frank's lips was silken and moist. Could it have been . . .

Frank's eyes shot open the second Gerard's did. He felt the gust of air as Gerard gasped and he felt Gerard's lips part against his own-

That was just the time Frank woke up. And it was just one second later that he had broken down crying with tingles on his lips where he had finally felt Gerard. He could still feel the ghostly presence of silky lips pressing to his, the skin underneath the palm of his hand. Frank's heart ached from the emptiness he felt when Gerard was not there. He missed the feeling of the beautiful boy's, his kind and caring nature that always cured any case of sadness Frank had.

Gerard was the sweetest person ever. Once, in a dream of course, Frank had scraped his knee. It was a rather nasty accident of tripping over his own feet and his knee crash landing into a sharp pebble laying on the ground. It ripped through his jeans and left a jagged mark on his knee, the blood slowly flowing from the cut. Frank only winced and tried to wave it off, but sweet and gentle Gerard had cleaned the wound with fresh stream water and a streamer of cloth ripped off from his own shirt. And Gerard was fond of that shirt, Frank remembered him saying so. Gerard even quickly kissed the cut and turned red as a tomato afterwards.

And, fuck, it was all tearing Frank apart. Every dream, every night, he saw Gerard, he grew closer to him, and his emotions became harder to withstand. But Gerard was just a dream. Frank was definitely supposed to be different than he was now - he was supposed to be in love with Jamia, his soulmate for crying out loud, he was supposed to be happy with his life, and most of all, he was not supposed to be loving his escape from reality more than reality itself.

Frank fell desperately in love with the person haunting his dream, falling so deeply that it consumed him. He wondered often if death would give him the same peaceful place he saw in his dreams, if he could stay there eternally if he so much as pulled the trigger of his father's gun once it was pressed to his temple. If so, Frank would pull that trigger without a blink of an eye just so he could escape reality with Gerard, the one he loved. Gerard was the only thing that kept Frank sane and away from deep depression. Frank was already depressed, he felt it seeping into his bones every morning he woke up from one of his beautiful dreams. Frank hated his plastic life and how sickeningly perfect it was.

Jamia seemed to be in love with Frank, she acted the part even when their parents were not around. Frank did not ask her in fear that she would figure out he never fell in love with her like he said he would. Time did no justice to him - he felt the same way for the girl as he did when he was younger. Frank's attraction laid with Gerard.

But it was impossible. How could you fall in love with a dream? How could you have the same dream with the same person every single night? And more importantly, how could you remember each dream vividly as if it were a memory?

A rapid knocking on Frank's door startled him out of his thoughts. His body jolted and his eyes snapped open.

"Frank, are you decent?" He heard his mother from the other side of the door.

"Shit." Frank mumbled under his breath. He quickly wiped the tears from his eyes, grabbing a shirt and whipping it over his head as quickly as he could. When he looked in the mirror, his eyes were puffy and red, but he could pass it off as a restless night easily.

"Uh, yeah, come in." Frank consented in a raspy voice. His throat was still layered and unworked from sleep.

The door opened and in stepped Frank's mother wearing a yellow sundress and her dark hair pulled back into a perfect ponytail. She smiled at Frank warmly and stepped further inside the room.

"Ah, Frankie, you're up." She placed her hands on her hips. "I hope you haven't forgotten our plans for today."
Frank frowned, his mind going blank. He looked up at his mother with confusion crossing his features.

"W-what were we doing today?" He asked.

His mother's eyes widened, her lips parting with something close to horror. She gasped, placing her hand over her heart, and Frank knew she was only joking with her reaction.

"Dinner tonight with the Nestor's! You're proposing to Jamia tonight, don't you remember?" She raised her dark colored eyebrows.

"Oh." Frank felt his stomach flip at the reminder. Right. He was supposed to ask Jamia to marry him this evening when she came over for dinner. Her parents would be there as well - it was all planned very nicely. Frank only wished he could really want to spend the rest of his life with Jamia. He did not mean to sound cruel, but he saw a future of misery ahead of him. Not because Jamia was a burden or anything, she was still a special person to Frank, but he knew he would never love Jamia.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so happy for you!" Linda exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her son and hugging him to her chest. "My little Frankie is marrying the love of his life."

"Yeah, I am. . ." Frank couldn't say more. His throat was closing up as the thought of Gerard came to his mind and he felt his lips beginning to tingle again from that split second he had finally been able to feel Gerard. Jamia did not compare to him - simply for the fact that she was not Gerard at all.

Somehow, Frank had fallen in love with a dream. And it was having quite the affect on his mind.

——

"So, um, I-I wanted to ask you something important, Jam." Frank bit his lip and tried not to dwell on the thought that this was his future, but also his impending doom.

"What it is?" Jamia asked and sipped her water without making eye contact. All eyes went to Frank - his mother nearly bursting with excitement, his father and Jamia's parents simply looked up from their dinner plates with curiosity.

This was it - the night that Frank had to propose to Jamia. The ring felt like a brick inside his pocket, threatening to rip through the material of his dress pants. Or burn right through it, marking Frank's skin and setting his entire body on fire. He wanted to take the ring and toss it as far as he could throw, drop it into a body of water so it could sink to the floor and he would never have to see it again.

He just had to do it. He needed to show everyone that he was normal, that he loved Jamia even if it was all a lie. Frank was only trying to seem normal or else hell would rain down on him and his parents. Frank knew something was terribly wrong if he did not love Jamia, his soulmate, but a person in his dream, a boy he had created with his subconscious mind. No - marrying Jamia was the key to normalcy. He was practically required to do this at some point in his life if he liked it or not.

"Um," Frank cleared his throat. "I've know you for a majority of my life. You've been my b-best friend, and of course, more than that. We're, um, soulmates, and I. . . I love you." The words burned Frank's throat.

You liar.

I'm so sorry, Gerard.

"You're the one who's meant to be with me for the rest of my life, and I know we're still young, but, um. . ." Frank bit the inside of his lip to keep from screaming with frustration as he pushed his chair back and slid out of it, kneeling on one knee next to Jamia and taking out the cursed velvet box from his pocket. Jamia stared at him with wide eyes and parted lips. She jerked her seat back, her hand over her chest as Frank opened the box to reveal a diamond ring with a 'J' for Jamia on the underside of the silver band.

Frank's mother was squealing and Jamia's mother was gasping while the two men at the table were grinning like mad men. Frank felt like he was going to pass out, and though every part of him felt like he was jumping right into a black hole of impeding doom, he put on his biggest smile for the show and tried not to cry.

"Jamia, will you marry me?"

It hurt Frank's heart more to see what he saw in Jamia's eyes. Her expression was one of shock and adoration, but her eyes, the wide brown irises Frank knew so well, were dull. They did not shine, in fact, they looked saddened. Frank had somehow known all along that Jamia never fell in love with Frank, just the way Frank felt. The two had never grown strong feelings for each other despite the closeness and the kisses they shared. The guilt lining Frank's chest caused it to hollowly ache and tug.

Even if Jamia did not love Frank, and even if he did not love her, one word slipped out from her mouth that sealed both of their fates. All for society, none for the poor young adults that could never have a chance at being truly happy.

"Yes." Jamia whispered.

Frank felt numb as he slid the ring onto Jamia's finger - her hands were cold, like she felt numb as well. They understood each other when their eyes met, just like they did when they were younger. They could see how the other felt, what this meant for them. Forever together, married and bound, but never by love. By society and technology.

What hurt the most was that Gerard's face flashed before Frank's eyes when he kissed Jamia, and all he could see for the rest of the night was the beautiful boy's smile and the feeling of his kiss ghosting across his lips.