"Hold my hand, you fucking idiot." Jamia looked at Lindsey, and perhaps in that moment, the two knew everything would be okay.

And thirteen year old Lindsey Ballato smiled, as seventeen year old Lindsey Ballato took Jamia Nestor's hand, and in that moment, the school hallways didn't seem so forsaken anymore, because fuck what people said, fuck everyone who cared, because no one should, because this was just the same as Lindsey holding the hand of a boyfriend, but it wasn't - it wouldn't be that simple, and Lindsey hated that like she hated herself for ever thinking that this wasn't what she wanted.

She hated herself for lying, when lying was practically all she had ever done.

But she wasn't afraid anymore, and that was Jamia Nestor at work, in her mysterious lesbian ways, and Lindsey was back in her own mind: memory lane, when Jamia was always just there, always just telling her no, trying to get her out of trouble, because Lindsey's whole life was a great big string of mistake after mistake, and Lindsey had never once listened.

This was the payback, this was her listening and trusting her ex-best friend with everything she had.

Because the thing was that Lindsey and Jamia had ever become best friends again, and Jamia was still as much her ex-bestfriend as she'd always been, because they'd become girlfriends instead, and Lindsey was happier than she'd ever been.

It all made sense, and she couldn't care less what the world could make of it, what she could make of herself, what manner of second guessing could ruin this all, because for the first time, everything wasn't just about her, but about Jamia.

Everything in the world revolved around Jamia Nestor, and Lindsey Ballato quite honestly could not be happier.

"Wait, are you two-" All of a sudden, the fuckboy alert alarm bells were going off in their minds as a certain Brendon Urie came into view, with a certain 'oh my god lesbians exist' expression upon his face, and really Lindsey couldn't help but laugh at him, because he was the biggest fuck up in the existence of the world that she almost fell sorry for him, but from now on, she was making a point of not sympathising with fuckboys.

"Are we what?" Lindsey snapped, narrowing her eyes at him, watching as Brendon seemed to relive the events of last summer in his mind: events regarding the kick to the balls, and just how much of a dickbag he was.

"Are you..." He began once more, glancing to Jamia, who was only glaring at him with slightly less disgust, and that was only because Jamia had just a little more patience than her girlfriend, and absolutely nothing to do with Brendon Urie or any kind of hope anyone might have in him, because he was Brendon fucking Urie, and if you had hope in him, you didn't have hope in yourself.

"Are we what?" Lindsey repeated, growing only furthermore impatient and disgusted with his existence and that big fuckboy forehead. "Come on, fucking talk, say something or fuck right off!" she found herself shouting at him now, and Jamia couldn't help but giggle in disbelief, still holding on tight to her girlfriend's hand.

"Y-you... you're... you've been converted!" Brendon shrieked, turning around and looking for someone to give a fuck about him; he had struggle in doing so, much to everyone's great 'surprise'. "You're a lesbian!" He shrieked at Lindsey, clearly unable to take the fact that two girls might want to date each other as opposed to him and his far too big forehead and nowhere near big enough cock.

"No." She shook her head at him, raising her eyebrows as she did so, "not a lesbian, try again."

"You're holding hands!" He gestured to Lindsey and Jamia's hands, "why are you doing that if you're not a lesbian! It's a gay thing, why are you gay- you're not supposed to be gay! You have sex with dudes, and I was-"

"I'd rather kill myself than go near your tiny little dick, Brendon Urie." She continued to yell, gaining lesbian power as she continued to smite the fuckboy, soon she'd have enough lesbian power to pull off the move to finally defeat Brendon: the lesbian kiss.

"What turned you gay, Lindsey? I can help change your mind-"

"For fuck's sake, I'm not a lesbian-"

"So you're not dating Jamia?" Brendon looked between the two of them with that kind of fuckboy suspicion, but he evidently still hadn't quite gotten it yet.

"Yes, I'm dating Jamia." Lindsey continued, glancing at Jamia for some sort of help here.

"Brendon," Jamia began, having preferred slapping herself to conversing with the king of the fuckboys, but she did a lot for Lindsey Ballato, that was already obvious. "What's it called when someone likes boys and girls? Two genders? The thing with the prefix that means two?"

"Oh my god! You're a bisector!"

"No, Brendon, that's that thing from maths, with the angles." Jamia tried to explain, but no, it had already gone to Brendon Urie's massive fucking forehead.

"Lindsey Ballato is a bisector!" He turned around, yelling into the corridor, and leaving everyone confused more than intrigued.

"Do you mean bisexual?" Someone shouted back, and the corridor fell into silence, because oh my god, no homo.

"No, I said bisector, that's what I mean, are you stupid?" Brendon yelled back, and Jesus Christ, Lindsey couldn't stop herself, before she landed a fucking kick to that guy's balls, still holding onto Jamia's hand as she did so.

And in that moment, it was last summer again, just a whole load more gay. It wasn't the gayest summer in existence, of course, like this wasn't 2005 and they weren't on Warped Tour, but it was getting pretty close.

"So Lindsey," Jamia began as people rushed to see Brendon Urie curled up on the floor, crying his fuckboy tears onto the floor, "are you a bisector?"

"Are you, Jamia Nestor? Or should I say Jamia Bisector?" Lindsey giggled a little.

"Don't be stupid, I'm a logarithm."

-

He found himself perplexed entirely by the message and just what those simple three words could possibly mean, they were, of course, what they were at face value, but this was so much more, with Bert, it had always been so much more.

But not anymore it seemed: reduced to three words in a text message, the first text message in months, and the only text messages in months that really had Gerard stopping and thinking, just holding his cellphone in his hands, and staring at the message on his screen, as if it might disappear the very moment he did so much as look away, although Gerard wasn't entirely sure as to why he didn't encourage the disappearance of it, because he wanted to forget all about Bert McCracken.

But this was different.

The three words were different.

And Gerard looked over them at least a thousand times as he stood in his bedroom, letting the world tick by around him, because in that moment, he'd allowed Bert McCracken to be the center of his universe, to matter the most, and he hated that, he hated it with all he had, because he wasn't sixteen anymore; he wasn't scared anymore, he wasn't the kid who was discovering a whole new world, and he didn't need to hold some asshole's hand to guide him through life.

He reckoned he could do alright on his own, but still, the three words remained, and still Gerard remained fixated: sympathetic, bordering empathetic, understanding, words he'd never dream of associating with Bert McCracken, but he stood there, feeling everything Mikey would hate him too, because perhaps suppression of feelings, good or bad, was the worst thing he could do.

This meant something, and there was no way around that; this meant something and it would always mean something, it was perhaps even the most important moment Bert and Gerard would ever share, and it all lay within three words written over text message.

And in the silence, towns away, impatient fingers typed out another: 'Gerard?'

The younger man let out a sigh, because they both knew he'd seen it: both messages, totally to four words now, and a not entirely necessary piece of punctuation, but Gerard wasn't exactly one to complain about a lack or an abundance of grammar, it was just everything he could possibly do to stop thinking about the first message and how he was supposed to respond, what he was supposed to think, and whether he was even supposed to believe him or not.

Because did Bert ever mean what he said? Did he ever mean anything? Did anything ever matter when it came from him? To Gerard's sixteen year old self, it certainly had, to a younger, more naive, more trusting version of himself, it had, but to the man who stood and struggled to believe anything, those three words, were just that: three words.

Three fucking words and it didn't matter if Gerard believed them or not.

And then, a third text: 'you don't believe me, do you?'.

And Gerard thought for a moment, because he was still unsure, and Bert seemed relatively uninvasively, like he'd said the words for the matter of saying them, and for nothing else, to gain nothing else, and Gerard stood there, thinking for a moment, unable to comprehend what this could possibly all mean.

'I believe you, but I'm confused.' He responded, Bert seeing his message instantly, and beginning to type out a response just as fast.

'Confused? I mean it.'

'Why?' And Gerard didn't know how Bert was at all supposed to answer that one, fuck, he didn't even know what he wanted to hear, he just wanted this to be all okay.

'I took advantage of you. I'm so sorry.'

And the second time, those three words seemed to mean all that much more, and Gerard began to consider forgiveness, began to consider the three words that constituted Bert's apology, and perhaps the only apology Bert would ever make in his life that held any meaning.

'It's okay. I'm with Frank now, though.' Gerard found himself brushing over the matter of whether it was really okay or not, because he had plenty of nights to keep himself awake and think of that, whereas now, now was about acceptance and moving on, because maybe this was necessary, because maybe Mikey Way wasn't always right.

'I know. I just want you to be happy. You deserve that.' And that was probably the first time Bert McCracken had put a genuine, sober smile on Gerard Way's face, and he wasn't even there in person to do it, although that was probably helping matters, truth be told.

'Thank you.' And with that, Gerard put his cellphone down, locking it and placing it back on his bedside table, because that was that, and he reckoned he was okay now, really okay, because that was that, and it would always just be that; Bert was a matter of the past, and Gerard needed to start living in the present, because recently, it hadn't felt like he was living at all.

Frank mattered a lot, Frank mattered so much, and the boy was slowly becoming the center of Gerard's universe, and the nineteen year old had very few complaints in regards to that, because Frank Iero was fucking amazing and fucking beautiful, and just as fucking in love with him as he was. They worked, and that was that, and he just hoped that three years down the line, Frank wouldn't be apologising in the same way Bert had, he doubted such a situation possible even in his dreams, though, Frank was a good guy, and even Mikey thought so, and Gerard reckoned that it was Mikey's true mission in life to despise everyone Gerard fell in love with.

Gerard wasn't entirely sure what love felt like though, but Frank had this awful habit of being the first thing he thought of when he woke up, and the last thing on his mind when he went to sleep, and Gerard wasn't quite sure what to make of that at all.

-

Frank had this awfully habit of disregarding his boyfriend's personal space, or remembering what Mikey Way did and most certainly didn't want to see Frank doing to his older brother, and it was with that habit that Frank found himself sat between Gerard's legs and leaning back into his chest, Gerard even kissing the back of his neck on occasion, as Mikey wondered just how long he could take it before being horrifically sick everywhere.

"You two need to fucking learn about personal space." Mikey groaned, just trying to sit at the other side of the living room and watch some bullshit on TV, and have a nice time, without having to witness whatever the fuck his brother and his best friend were doing.

"I'm not the one still in school, Mikey." Gerard piped up, shooting his brother an 'I hate you' glance from across the room.

"That doesn't fucking mean anything." Mikey let out a sigh, "I'm fucking going." He announced, getting to his feet, and glaring at the both of them.

"To go and ignore Pete's personal space?" Frank asked, smirking a little, and Mikey was seriously reconsidering his friendship with that asshole.

"Something like that." He mumbled, letting out a sigh, before slamming the door behind him.

"He's being a total hypocrite." Gerard giggled a little, leaning back into the sofa, and leaving Frank to move so he was leaning into his side instead. "You do seem to act like we're magnetically attached, though, just say-"

"It's not like you don't love it though, come on, you can't get your hands off me, can you?" Frank smirked, getting up and meeting Gerard with a more than suggestive gaze.

"I haven't left you, I can still hear you!" Mikey yelled out from the next room, leaving the two in a fit of laughter.

"It's not like you don't love it though." Gerard mimicked Frank's earlier words, still laughing his fucking head off as he did so.

"You're fucking gross!" Mikey yelled out, slamming the front door behind him, and beginning his angsty homosexual walk to Pete Wentz's house for some intense asexual cuddling, or well, perhaps a little more than that.

"He's jealous because you're so hot." Gerard continued, pulling Frank down into his lap, "so fucking hot," he continued, pressing his lips against Frank's, "you should be illegal, I swear to God-"

"Well, I am technically a minor, therefore sex with me is technically illegal. Therefore, I am illegal. technically. Not that it makes much sense, considering the fact that you're like two years older than me, but whatever." Frank totally killed the mood there, leaving Gerard laughing at him like a fucking idiot, but neither of them really cared, because for the first time in Gerard's life since Bert, this was more than sex, this was everything becoming okay again.

"So you're saying we shouldn't fuck? Because I was thinking about that right now, you know, with an empty house, and you looking at me like that, but-"

"Don't you fucking dare." Frank gasped, kissing Gerard just a little violently, and making a mess out of it for real, "are you serious, for real?"

"Why would I be joking about fucking you, Frankie?" Gerard let out a laugh, "I'm not fucking stupid."

"You're not fucking me either." Frank narrowed his eyes, "I want to fuck you."

"We'll see about that." Gerard laughed once more, "come on, get your lips off mine for about five seconds and we can go upstairs, unless you want to have sex on a sofa- actually, Mikey is going to sit here at some point and the face he would make when I tell him what the stains are-"

"Gerard." Frank let out a sigh of disbelief, "stop being such an ass to Mikey," He got up, gesturing for Gerard to follow him, "come on, let's go upstairs."

"You wanna know how many people I've fucked in that bed?" Gerard asked, in the most Gerard like manner ever as they made their way upstairs.

"Gerard, talking about your exes when we're about to have sex-"

"Me and Lindsey fucked in that bed, you know? God, don't you think Lindsey's hot? Think you're hotter, though. How would you feel about a threesome-"

"Gerard!" Frank exclaimed, closing the door behind them, and just pushing Gerard down onto the bed, "shut the fuck up," he let out a sigh, pressing his lips against his boyfriend's.

"Shut me the fuck up." Gerard let out a giggle, looking up at Frank with a grin, "imagine a threesome, though, Frankie, like me fucking you, and Lindsey fucking herself on your dick-"

"Gerard, you know, Lindsey's dating Jamia now?" Frank looked at his boyfriend in a state of perpetual disbelief.

"Oh, she can join in too if she wants. I've never had a foursome, before though-"

"Gerard, I think I'm going to have to shove my cock down your throat to shut you the fuck up." Frank admitted, unzipping his jeans.

"I think we'd have to be naked first, come on, Frankie, give me a show." He giggled a little, leaning back against the bed, before pulling his own shirt and jeans off. "So fucking hot, you know?"

"It's like you never shut up about it, you know?" Frank pulled his shirt off as he spoke.

"Mmm, yeah, you don't want me to ever shut up, though, do you?" He giggled, sitting up and leaning forward, "you want me to tell you how hot you are forever, don't you? You totally get off on it, come on, look at you, all flushed," Gerard smirked, "really wanna suck your cock, really want you to choke me on it-"

"You need to stop." Frank pushed Gerard back down onto the bed, "you're such a fucking slut."

"Yeah, that's right." Gerard smirked, pulling his boxers off, and grabbing his cock. "I'm a fucking slut."

And it was in that moment, that Frank found himself dying, as he stared at Gerard Way's cock, but at the very least he could die happy, as he finally found himself to be a member of the elite club of people who've seen Gerard Way naked.

But speaking of members... Frank really needed to get his cock inside Gerard, like now, and for the first time, it wasn't like there was anything stopping him.

-

hey pals !!! it's the end lmao i hope u enjoyed the fic and i hope u enjoy my new fic he's an amewiccan beauty !!! votes and comments would be cool !!! love u guys !!!

also just wanna say that this fic is now completed at 69k words. my aesthetic. 69k. 69k. 69. 69. 69.