"Frank, fuck..." The words trailed from his lips like intoxication in purest most explicit form as his back arched up from mattress: skin sheening in sweat, and hair pushed back in an explosion of the most vibrant red as everything seemed to fall apart at the same time, and I let out a string of moans at such a high pitch I really dare not recall, perhaps just for the arrogant sake of my dignity.

"Oh my god, Gee, I-" The words fell from my lips only to be cut off as he lips connected with mine and our bodies shifted, causing his hips to jerk as I accidentally slammed at just the right spot, but I held him up against my lips, taking control as my boyfriend seem to be overwhelmed in exhaustion and the need to just fucking come everywhere, and really, I had absolutely no problem regarding his desires, as I'd be a liar if I didn't say that we shared them.

"Fuck, Frankie, please, I'm so fucking close, just so, ah, fuck, I..." I only smirked as he fell back against the bed in a heap - a mess of overstimulation and pure lust. Fucking beautiful. "Please, Frankie, I just, I need, I need you. Fuck me harder, please, Frank."

"You don't even have to ask, looking like that." I moaned, slamming down into him, let him writhe as his hips bucked against his mattress. "You're so fucking beautiful, so fucking perfect, and all for me, oh my, Gerard, it'd be an ask to get me not to fuck you like this." And with that I thrusted into his already overstimulated body for what was rendered the last time as he threw his head back against the pillow as he came all over his chest, leaving me to come in succession, just from the sight of him, and just how tight he still felt around me.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Gerard." I exclaimed as I pulled myself out of him and threw the condom into the trash can, watching as my boyfriend amused himself with the ceiling and the lamp on the other side of the room: he was always a little dopey, like he was almost unnaturally peaceful after he'd just came, and really, when he looked as beautiful as he did, I really had no right to complain. "You're fucking perfect, you know, fucking beautiful, and fucking mine."

He chuckled a little in response, not bothering to sit up in recognition of our conversation: I knew him well enough to know he was listening anyway. "Yours, huh? Fancy that." He mused, eyes all wide as his brain still was only half functioning.

"Yeah," I added, pulling my boxers, and a pair of jeans that looked like they were Gerard's, on. "Mine." I repeated, grinning to myself as Gerard chose now that I was pulling tight jeans over my ass to sit up and stare.

"Don't put a shirt on, please." He moaned out, still somehow horny as ever, despite the fact that minutes ago, I was fucking him right through that shitty little mattress of his. "You should always just be shirtless, you're so fucking, ughh..."

"How old are you? Fifteen? You literally just came, and you've barely even recovered from that yet, fuck off." I rolled my eyes, yet obliged to his wishes, leaving myself shirtless and joining him on the bed.

"I liked you better when you were naked, to be honest, and when you didn't care that I want you to fuck me." Gerard commented, eyes wide and glassy as he simply tried to postpone the inevitability of just what would come of him and of us when he really did have to think about and possibly even accept what he'd done.

"Gerard..." I shook my head as he continued, his phone vibrating against the pillow where he'd left it, and much to his anger, I made a grab for it first - we both knew who it was anyway, and we were both fucking right. "Why don't you just fucking block the number?"

"Maybe I want to find out what the fuck's going on? Ever thought of that, Frank? Or do you have to paint me as the villain every time, huh?" Gerard snapped back, his tone changing within an instant, and I couldn't help but fall into the trap of rolling my eyes at just how defensive he'd gotten within mere seconds.

"Gerard, please, I'm sorry... I... I just don't want to get involved in this shit - we don't know who even has the phone now, I mean it could be his gang or whatever and you don't want to let them trace your call and find out where you are or whatever, or it could even be the police after your mum left them to deal with the body-"

"Yeah, Frank..." Gerard exhaled, looking up and grabbing my attention in such a manner that instantly alerted me to the fact that something was wrong.

"Yeah, Gerard?" I asked, voice quavering as I spoke and attempted to guess the nature of the bombshell he was just about to drop on me.

"That... that uhh never happened. I, I uhh disposed of the body myself, only Mikey knows that I actually even hurt him, my mum, she doesn't know, and I can't tell her - she can't know, she just fucking can't know, Frank I-"

"Gerard!" Fuck, oh fuck, fuck, fuck, I just couldn’t believe this - he had to be fucking kidding me, I mean, this was Gerard, he was an absolute pain the ass kind of idiot, but oh dear lord, I really just could not deal with this amount of shit. Not right now, not at all, and yet I still loved him, and really that was nothing but bad news for everybody involved, god I was so fucking screwed, god, we were so fucking screwed.

"What?" He let out a nervous chuckle, almost as if this was nothing, and I wouldn't be all that surprised if this was just nothing to him.

"Gerard, you, you have to fucking tell her, oh my god. It's like your whole life is just one big string of bad decisions - one after the other, and I'm the one running after you with the elusive hope of somehow picking up the pieces of the massive fucking mess you've made." Perhaps I'd been too harsh, and perhaps he didn't deserve it, but that didn't seem to matter all that much as he stood up beside me, stretching taller than me, and attempting to intimidate his own boyfriend, like the fucking asshole he was.

"And she's not going to find out." He snapped, breaking the tension in our gaze all at once as he stormed over to the other side of the room, pulling his jeans and a random shirt on, before grabbing a cigarette from the packet on the windowsill and lighting it in seconds, like the initiation of his own intoxicating demise was his only talent.

"So what? You're going to fucking threaten me now, are you? I can't fucking cope with all this shit, Gerard, and you fucking know that, and if you fucking expect me to, then really you are an asshole to the highest degree, like Mikey would look like a fucking saint next to you."

"Oh go on, be like everybody else, because you're not special, Frank, no, you don't care about me, not at all, you're just like everybody fucking else." He shook his head as he walked across the room until there were barely inches between us and I was unsure from the look in his eyes as to whether he was going to kiss me or punch me in the face. "It's always just, take your fucking pills, Gerard, behave yourself, Gerard, you’re out of order, Gerard, be nice to your fucking special snowflake of a brother, Gerard, be good or we'll lock you up where you can't fucking hurt yourself again, Gerard, we all hate you - everyone hates you and there's no point in your existence but don't you dare kill yourself, Gerard."

He shook cigarette ash onto my skin, and I let it burn with only a brief slip of a profanity. "You're just a fucking hypocrite, just like the rest of them, 'Frankie', aren't you going to say anything? Aren't you going to tell me I'm wrong again? Aren't you going to tell me what a fuck up I am for the thousandth time or do I not even deserve that? Huh, I don't do I? Huh? Fucking speak to me, Frank!" 

And with my continued state of absolutely stunned, scared silence, came the slap across my cheek, and then the punch and the black eye that would soon form, and as I fell down against the bed in the impact of his fist, the door swung open and everybody was shouting but the whole world had gone fuzzy, and I couldn't quite decipher a single thing.

"Frank!" Everything seemed to come back to me with the mention of my name though, almost like the turn of a volume dial on a stereo - mute to full volume, and all at once, all too fast, and the impact just left for me to deal with. "What the hell have you done, Gerard?" It was Mrs Way's voice - I could tell that by now, and her face was slowly beginning to come into focus.

"Me? Oh come on, it's always fucking my fault, isn't it just? Never did you once even think that I'd have feelings and that they could be hurt too, huh?" Gerard screamed at his mother, causing a slam of a door somewhere in the house and footsteps pounding down the hall, as the younger of the two brothers joined the mess we'd created.

"What the fuck's going on?" Mikey asked, eyes growing wide at my state, still having not moved from the bed, and perhaps I should have sat up, at least just to look less dead.

"Oh fuck off, Mikey." Gerard rolled his eyes, turning away and taking a drag longer enough to kill him from his cigarette like it was nobody's business.

"Language- oh fuck." It seemed Mrs Way just gave up half way through her sentence, her request of manners drowning amongst a sea of concern and worry for what had just happened. "Gerard, did you take your medication?"

"Oh here we fucking go again." Gerard rolled his eyes, meeting my gaze, yet only briefly. "Fucking always my fucking medication, like maybe have you thought that there's more to me than the pills I take? Or are we all too shallow here to even consider that?"

"Gerard!" She screeched, her face growing red with anger, as Mikey sort of just stood awkwardly in the corner, feeling uncomfortable being actually involved in the conversation, but he knew this was something far too important to allow himself to miss out upon. Anyway, with the noise this shouting match was creating, it wasn't like he was actually going to be able to ignore it at all, even from his bedroom. "Did you take your medication?"

"He did." I interrupted, blushing a little as all eyes flew to me. "Leave him alone, please, he did, I saw him. Look, he didn't really hurt me, it's fine, he's just kind of wound up right now and that's- that's my fault, can you just leave us alone for like fifteen minutes, please?" I begged, wondering why I was standing up for the guy who'd just punched me in the face, and then as soon as I came to realise that it was because I loved him, I wondered why the fuck it had to be him, yet somehow, it never could really be anyone else.

Mrs Way exhaled, perhaps as if the request was too much to ask, but still she didn't want to fuck things up between us, knowing all too well that I was just about the only thing that kept Gerard vaguely sane, and really though it sounded like a wonderful boost to my ego, it was really far more trouble than it was worth. "Fine. Come on, Mikey." She ushered her younger son out the door, before turning back to the two of us. "Try to keep the noise down, though. I'm talking about when you weren't punching each other in the face as well."

And then I was pretty sure I turned an absolutely brilliant shade of scarlet, and of course, Gerard only chuckled, walking over to me as the door clicked behind us, grabbing the box of pills off the bedside table.

"You already took them, Gerard, you- what are you doing?" I asked, jumping up from the bed, ready to take the box from his hands.

"I didn't, Frankie, I... I... fucking lied to you again, I just fucking faked it, I... I can't fucking, I- I'm sorry, I'll take them now, properly."

I only shook my head, looking up at him in utter disgust. "For fuck's sake, Gerard."

"What?" He exclaimed, taking two pills out from the packet. "Look, taking them now." He rolled his eyes as he downed the two pills, properly this time, or at least I hoped so.

"What else have you lied about?" I exhaled, sitting back down upon the bed as I began to wonder if really there was any hope left for us at all, because right now, it was simply far too easy to just blame all of this mess on Gerard and his lies and irrational thought patterns, but I couldn't do that to him and I couldn't do that to us.

Maybe he could though.

"Nothing." He let out what I didn't even begin to doubt was another lie, and I shook my head in recognition of that fact as I felt the mattress dip, signifying that my boyfriend had sat down beside me.

"Is that so?" I bit down on my bottom lip, awaiting his response, and still unsure as to whether I wished he'd just simply get better at lying when continued to deny everything, because then maybe I could at least have the slightest hope of retaining some form of naivety and believing him, or if I wanted the truth, and to let more secrets out of the closets they'd been locked away in, because that's all we were - skeletons locked away in closets: the door only opened for one another by accident or perhaps mistake.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm telling the truth." He repeated, his voice quavering in a manner that I just couldn't quite bring myself to lie to myself about, let alone actually trust. And to think that all this time, I thought that Gerard was a fantastic liar, it just seemed that he really wasn't, not when he needed to be, not when I needed to him to be, because for Gerard, everything was always about him or me and never just about us.

"You're not." I shook my head, getting up and making my way over to the windowsill and picking up a weird little black string bracelet that never in a million years would I imagine that he'd wear. "This yours, huh?" I pulled it up for him to see, almost tentatively, yet very much in control when it came to my decision regarding ignoring the subject of his lies and the almost brewing tensions between us, because I wanted to make this work like hell, but right now it seemed like we were just a jigsaw - broken pieces, and no matter how hard we tried, we just never seemed to quite fit together, and maybe we were just the wrong pieces entirely.

He chuckled a little at the sight of it, or perhaps simply the relief in the knowledge that I'd changed the subject and diverted attention away from his lies, "present from an ex." He shrugged it off, getting up and joining me, and I let him take the bracelet from my hand. "I don't think it suits me. He didn't really suit me either - he was all art and metaphors and the kind of guy who asked people to punch him in the face if they felt at peace with the whole, stoned all the time, bit of a cunt, but he was really good in bed, you know I-"

"Yeah, I'd rather not hear about how great your ex-boyfriend is at fucking you, if I'm honest." I rolled my eyes at him, watching as he held the bracelet up by one finger, and then pulled out his lighter with one hand and set fire to it. "What are you doing?"

"Letting go. Letting it burn, letting what we had burn, because that doesn't matter anymore." He exhaled with a smirk as the fibres that held the bracelet together began to unwind under the wrath of a bright orange lighter flame, and what was once important and special was reduced to nothing but ashes, and I didn't even stop him.

"Are we going to burn too? Is that how we're going to end up, because I hate to say this, Gee, but nothing about us seems to actually work anymore and I really hate that- not you, I don't hate you, just what's become of us." I exhaled; shaking my head to push open the window and let the small amount of smoke the singed bracelet was producing out.

"We just have to make it work." He chucked the bracelet out the window too, pocketing the lighter before turning to me and almost forcing his lips up into a smile, perhaps just to make the smallest amount of effort and I could do nothing but appreciate that, even at a mediocre value.

"And how's that going to work, because of course, that's in no way easier said than done, of course." I rolled my eyes, pulling a chuckle from his lips, which were soon pressed against mine, letting everything fade away for just a few seconds, when for once I felt like flying, not falling.

"By trying, Frankie, look I'll try to be less of an asshole, and you'll try to be less cynical and, and then maybe we'll be fine - I mean, you're eighteen now, technically, there's nothing that can fuck this up but us."

"Somehow, I don't think that’s quite as reassuring as you're making it out to be." I raised my eyebrows, moderately amused, nonetheless. "Hey, are you calling me cynical? I'm not cynical-"

"Isn't that exactly just something a cynical person would say?" He added, eyebrows raised high, and that stupid fucking smirk positioned almost artistically upon his lips.

"Isn't that just something an asshole would say?"

"Shut up." He rolled his eyes, leaning in for another quick kiss - over before I'd even taken it all too far into account.  "I'm sorry I punched you, and slapped you."

"I'm sorry that we just don't seem to work no matter how hard we try-"

"We're just not trying hard enough then." And never before had I taken Gerard to be a naive kind of optimist, but with that look on his face, I was more than happy to accept anything he said as gospel.

-

Hey guys:) And here we go with yet another chapter and I'm coming to realise that this fic isn't going to end for quite a few more, it's quite honestly like this fic is somehow sentient and refuses to die. Anyway, thank you all for reading, and as always, I appreciate your votes and comments very much, and I love you all<3