"It's not what I expected." Gerard let a shaky and uncertain breath fall from his lips as his eyes scanned over my living room for the second time; almost as if he had utterly refused to accept what he'd just seen.

Honestly, I didn't blame him. After all, I'd spent my whole life trying my best to ignore it too, and that really hadn't been proving to be the best of methods after all, because I was still here and this wreck I lived in was still very obvious, and I was of course used to that, there was just something off about the fact my boyfriend was now stood in my living room - a witness to it all.

"Mmm..." I responded for the sake of doing so; something to fill the emptiness of the silence as my keys clattered against the table all too silently in an all too empty house.

To be honest, I didn't know as to what was the real point in bothering with keys in a neighbourhood like this; a neighbourhood where someone could easily smash down the door, or climb in through the windows, or fuck even burn the whole house down if they really wished to. I guess it was out of habit; I guess I just wanted to pretend I still lived in a world where little things like that mattered.

I wanted to live in a world where the first time Gerard walked into my house he'd be meeting my mum, and she would have made dinner, and we'd eat it and she'd ask him far too intrusive questions and I'd get all embarrassed.

I'd met his mother, but of course he could never meet mine. And that stung most of all.

Really, I should have been glad that the space I resided in was now free of the drunken bellows and the clattering of beer bottles, but now it just felt empty - it didn't feel right, and I really just couldn't accept that this was how it could be.

That option didn't seem real in my mind.

Peace wasn't real in my world - not anymore. Peace was my mum nearly getting arrested for campaigning to save the trees, and never leaving nature alone - that was peace. This world we lived in now, that was just war - every man for himself, even with Gerard and I; underneath the surface at the very least.

"You don't want me here, do you?" Gerard's voice sprung from his lips in an enormous leap to a conclusion that scared me like hell.

"No, no- no... I... it's just- Gerard, I..." I was a mess and that was clear, yet somehow Gerard really didn't seem to mind that much, and really that was nothing short of plain confusing. Gerard had always been a subject of confusion, of course, but the way he acted in general, and especially now was just weird.

For the kind of person I knew he was, he seemed to care an awful lot about me. For the kind of person I was warned he was, he seemed to be far too easy to fall in love with, and of course that really wasn't a bad thing at all.

"I understand, Frankie." He pulled me into his side as he stepped closer to me; suddenly rendering the room not quite so cold anymore. "It's not me - it's this place, and I get that. I was surprised you even invited me here in the first place."

I let out a sigh because he was fucking right, and I both hated and loved that at the same time: I didn't want someone to completely have me all sussed out, but sometimes I needed him there to finish the sentences I couldn't complete on my own. I think that's love, but I'm just a little too scared of that word entirely, so I'll call it trust and comfort.

"I... I... I thought I was braver than I am, and oh god the things you do to me, Gee... I just-" Our eyes met as a smirk slithered across his lips; a general sense of smugness clinging to his entire demeanour, and this time, considering the situation, I didn't really mind. He could be as fucking smug as he wanted, as long as I could look into those eyes of his forever.

"Slut." He chided, his face practically gleaming with excitement; that word always seemed to perk him up a little, and I'd learned not to mind that much these days.

"Your slut." I corrected him and he nodded, pulling me into a hug, leaving my pathetic frame to cling to him in a generally hopeless state for far too long. I hated this; I hated my dependence upon him, but somehow he didn't seem to mind at all.

This was all such a mess; glass shards broken and smashed on the floor, yet somehow those glass shards just seemed to fit together perfectly and that was really what fucked me up, because I couldn't understand how on earth that could possibly happen, but Gerard had really changed my perspective on things: before I'd met him, I thought my own penis was gross, let alone his.

"Gee..." My words finally broke the silence, because just like everything, the silence had to end.

"Mmm?" He responded, his lips pressed into my hair as he utterly refused to let go of me, and I really had no complaints towards that.

"Can we just talk, please? I don't want to do anything, but I don't want you to go either."

"I don't want to go, Frankie." He let me slip from his grip to make eye contact; our eyes meeting like it was the last time we'd ever catch sight of one another ever again; that was how it was every time. We made everything special enough like it was our last, because god, there were so many things that could wrong with us, and that list only increased the longer I was around Gerard; he was like poison, but fuck, he just tasted so good.

"I promise you that I'm never going to let you go, okay?" He linked our pinkie fingers with an utter disregard for just how childish we looked, causing me to blush stupidly at just how much of a dork he was.

I nodded, grinning like a fucking little girl, which amused Gerard all too much of course, causing him to let out a possibly even more girlish giggle.

"You really don't deserve this, Frankie." He changed his tone back to a more solemn one and gesturing around at our surroundings. "He's an asshole and I hate what he does to you."

"I know." I nodded in response.

"You can just live with me, you know. Anytime you want."

"I would imagine that both Mikey and your mum just might mind." I raised my eyebrows at him, still not entirely sure as to whether he was serious in his offer or not, and if it was the former, what the fuck I'd do regarding it. I wanted to accept, but that would be undoubtedly problematic to the extreme, but perhaps I didn't care at all.

"I don't care, Frankie. I don't fucking care." He whispered, entwining our fingers and surveying the trashed room once more. "This is not okay."

I shivered a little as his eyes slowly drifted over his surroundings, blanketing the scattered, cigarettes, matches, bottles, beer cans, and week old remnants of food which littered the floor, furniture and in the case of spilt beer - the walls, too, in a state of knowing.

"Fuck, Frank, how is this okay- this is not okay- how, how... why?" He met my eyes with a saddened glance; almost disappointed in me by now. "Why haven't you done anything about this before?" He choked out, biting back what I assumed to be tears in a manner that snapped my heart right in two.

"Because who the fuck wants to be stuck in some shitty foster home, and live with some old creep who isn't even their real family?" I snapped at Gerard all of a sudden; thankfully my words seemed to have very little effect.

Gerard let out a sigh, running his fingers through his hair, and glancing to his pockets in a manner that was very obviously suggestive of the matter that he was craving a smoke - I didn't blame him - this situation was stressful enough for me even.

"Smoke, if you want, it's already wrecked enough." I gestured around at the surroundings once more, not that I had ever caring regarding the pollution his smoking caused; despite the fact I really should, the way I craved the taste of nicotine and him overruled my desire to hold onto the world around us for my mother's sake.

"No, I don't want to - because he does and I don't want to make any connection between the two of us at all." Gerard said far too firmly, overthinking the situation far too much; I had already learned to differentiate the smoking habits of my father and my boyfriend long before now.

"Gerard, as if you're going to stop smoking because of me- actually don't- don't do that."

"You're more addicting to my smoking habits than I am." He spoke for me, smirking like the devil - he certainly had the hair for it already. "Why is that?"

I shrugged, my eyes drifting downwards as I racked my brains for an answer and still returning with nothing. "I honestly don't fucking know."

He chuckled; the situation clearly amusing him more than I had intended it too, "Frank Iero, you are weird."

"Weird enough for you to want to sleep with me." I pointed out, my face laden with a smirk this time.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He pondered, eyebrows raised like they worked on some kind of mechanism that by it's efficiency; it looked like he'd constructed it himself.

"Who knows?"

"God." He smirked; gesturing upwards and towards what he'd call the heavens.

"I don't believe in God." I admitted, doubting that Gerard would either, especially considering just how little of a fuck he gave towards just about anything.

"Naughty little sinner." He smirked, enjoying this far, far too much, "I'll play the preacher punishing you." He winked at me and a little part of me kind of hoped he wasn't joking.

"The bedroom is upstairs." I winked at him in returning, gesturing upwards and still not entirely sure as to whether I was joking or not.

"You actually have a bedroom-"

"Gerard- shut up." I met his gaze - he'd gone too far now.

"I would have thought you wouldn't have by the amount you were insisting upon using mine." He fixed his fall either intentionally in an effort to patch up the jab he'd taken too deep or just out of innocence, but honestly, I didn't care.

"I think it was you insisting, Gee." I insisted.

He shook his head. "Nah, Frankie - you." He smirked once more, running his tongue around his lips in a way that made me uncomfortable in completely the best way.

"Oh shut up, let's just go upstairs." I rolled my eyes and dragged him by the arm into what would undoubtedly end up as another bad decision, but right now, I just couldn't care, and perhaps for Gerard's sake, that was for the best, but mine? That was a different matter entirely, and one that I was of course entirely clueless about.

-

"The Misfits poster is fucking awesome." Gerard noted, laid on my bed with his head laid back against the headboard, sprawled across my bed like he fucking owned it and like I fucking wanted him to.

"It has a massive rip in it." I pointed to the obvious tear right across the eyes of the skull design that covered the majority of the poster, except from the word 'Misfits' displayed at the top in turquoise lettering.

"That's what makes it look awesome though - all fucking punk and shit." Gerard smirked, acting entirely like a pretentious asshole, but somehow in a marginally different way to usual. "Your room's quite cool. It's sort of rugged in an artistic way, you know." 

I raised my eyebrows as I reminded myself of the piles of clutter and generally unwashed shit that covered my tiny bedroom, leaving me to wonder just how the fuck anyone, even Gerard, could find this in anyway appealing.

"Artistic, huh?" He nodded in response. "Well if this is artistic, the dumpster outside is the fucking Mona Lisa."

"The Mona Lisa's a shitty painting in my opinion." He drivelled on about fine art despite having called my messy room artistic moments ago. "Overrated." He added as if he knew what he was talking about, which I largely suspected he didn't.

"Since when did you know anything about art?" I queried, eyebrows raised, and a smirk badly bitten back.

"You don't know art. It's not a thing you learn - it's not a skill... it's just art. Everything is art in it's own way."

"Yeah?" My expression retained its skepticality as the words continued to leave my lips in some sort of verbal relay.

"Yeah." He confirmed. "Like the way you fucking smile is art, Frankie."

"The way you smoke is art, Gee."

"The way you fucking want me is the prettiest art of them all." He continued, making me blush within an instant.

"Then take me, Gee." I perked up, abusing the opportunity like I was of course meant to.

"Oh you little slut- it's hard not to but I promise you I have something far too special planned for your birthday that I can't possibly let this ruin."

"Ruin this. Ruin me, fuck." I breathed out, grasping his hands in fucking desperation.

"You want this so bad, you little fucking whore." He bit down into his bottom lip, moving closer to me in a way that made my heart stop entirely, and as his breath lingered against my ear; it was moments before words tumbled out. "I'm going to ruin you so bad on your birthday- oh honey, I'm going to fuck you. You will scream, you won't be able to walk for days, and fuck you'll be my little slut, because with that little taster you'll be hungrier for more."

"Fuck..." I breathed out, laying down on my back and causing the bed to shudder a little under my sudden shift in weight.

"You're beautiful, you know?" He whispered out of nowhere.

"Mmm..." I let out a sigh in response. "I love you, you know?"

"I know." He continued, still not able to say it back, but maybe that was okay, despite what my gut was screaming at me, that was okay.

"Why did you start smoking?" I asked out of nowhere, the question springing to my lips with a disregard for both reason and warning.

"Why not?" He chuckled in response, sitting up and pulling his knees up to his chest.

"No, really." I pushed this forward with little reason. "Why did you start? I mean with people telling you it's bad and shit and you still do...?"

"Why do you inhale my nicotine when you know that's bad for you?" He counteracted me with a wink, leaving me to come to the assumption that he was generally just avoiding the question.

"Because people tell me you're bad for me and that didn't seem to stop me either." He chuckled at that, seemingly satisfied with that answer.

"I was fourteen-"

"Gerard you're twenty three... that's, that's, nine years...."

He shrugged it off like it really was nothing, but in my mind that was just fucking mental, "old habits die hard."

"What kind of fucking fourteen year old were you? When I was fourteen I hadn't even started jacking off... Jesus..."

"I was a fourteen year old with really fucking bad friends, okay?" I nodded, continuing to accept all he gave me and for what reason I hadn't a clue. Perhaps I was stupid; I just didn't know these days. "I was one of those kids that hung out with the older people because they thought it made them cooler."

"The tables have turned." I waggled my eyebrows, gesturing between us and he simply rolled his eyes in response.

"They were sixteen, and they liked punk music and no one in my year did, so we kind of were friends, and they bought me smokes and we smoked and shit, and I thought I was the fucking shit, man, but then things just went shitty from there... and the thing is that they still honestly refuse to leave me the fuck alone."

"Fuck, Gee, fuck...." Suddenly, something clicked in my head, causing my eyes to bulge right out of their sockets. "Is this to do with the thing?"

"Kind of yeah, but it is really my fault, they uhh, just kind of brought me down that path of life where I was put in that kind of situation..."

"Don't blame yourself, Gee." I met his gaze with sincerity.

"Frankie, there's no one else to blame." He admitted, words solemn and laden with far too much sincerity,

"Blame me, please whatever, just don't put shit on yourself okay?" I met his gaze.

"I do not deserve you." He seemed to insist to himself. 

"Kiss me?" I asked, blushing a little, edging closer yet still just a little too nervous to initiate the ordeal.

He didn't even wait to respond before crashing his lips against mine with such force that I fell backwards onto the bed underneath him, and fuck, maybe things were going in my favour now, but really I just couldn't fucking tell anymore.

He latched onto my upper lip, running his tongue just about everywhere it could reach and fuck, I was not complaining, until his lips pulled away from mine.

"Gee...?" I glanced at him with eyes open glassy and wide.

"You're mine, Frankie."

"I know."

"I want to prove it." And before I could possibly comprehend as to what the fuck he could mean by that, his lips latched around my neck in an effort to create a mark that would be undoubtedly visible for days, and of course, I was rendered nothing short of a moaning, squirming mess by the pressure of everything his mouth had to offer up against the tender skin of my neck.

"Fuck..." I breathed out, arching up into his touch and whining as he pulled away, almost admiring his work.

"Perfect, you little slut-"

"Ah!" I moaned out as he began another masterpiece a few inches away from the first.

"Oh, honey, I’m not going to stop - I want everyone to know."

"Please, oh my god..." I panted against his touch, breathing heavier than heavy, because fuck, I could not take this anymore. "Touch me, please."

"Patience, Frankie, patience." He chided, his overall and exaggerated enjoyment of the moment was clearly shown by the enormous smirk that simply refused upon leaving his lips.

"There we go. Three." He pulled away, smirking to himself. "You want more?" He raised his eyebrows, running a finger down the already painfully sore marks he'd made.

"Fuck, I just want you to touch me-"

"Your wish is my command."

"Fucking finally."

And as pathetic as it sounds, that was really all it took.

Hey guys:) I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you did, you know I appreciate your comments and votes hehe;) Love you all<3