Come something like two in the morning, and Frank was something like asleep and Gerard was something like drunk, and something like something had happened between the two of them mere hours before.

Explaining to his mother and brother just what Frank Iero was doing in his bed was a hurdle Gerard had settled upon facing in the morning, and two am Gerard knew himself well enough to know that nine am Gerard would hate him for a decision like that.

Two am Gerard was stupid, stupid enough to think that Frank was actually asleep and that he could get away like this, just stopping himself, time and time again, because Gerard had laughed at Frank for calling him 'daddy', okay, perhaps it was a joke, perhaps it wasn't, but Gerard had laughed, and Frank had lost all confidence and they'd ended up sitting there fully clothed and kissing perhaps once or twice as Star Wars played on in the background.

"Fuck..." Gerard muttered aloud, leaning back against the wall of his bedroom as he brought the can of beer to his lips, and Frank pretended to be too out of it to hear, but with Gerard so close and so beautiful, he couldn't be anything but wide fucking awake in that moment.

Gerard needed some consolation, something, anything more than shitty cheap alcohol and the mind numbing solitude of late night/early morning thoughts in a far from empty mind, and that was how his hand reached to the bedside table, and his cellphone was unplugged, and the little screen illuminated his face in a way that Frank pretended not to notice.

Gerard had forgotten, both all about the texts, and all about the promise he'd made to Mikey, because as he opened his messages app: intent on texting someone who could get him something more hard hitting than alcohol at two in the morning, he found himself letting out a sigh as his gaze fell upon Bert's contact name.

And then, like he hadn't already had enough of a heart attack, his phone vibrated in his hands: another message, and just what Gerard needed, and just enough to fuck everything up completely.

'Please be awake. I'm sorry. I love you.'

And Gerard knew better than to reply to it, but he glanced at his shaking fingertips, and then Frank's 'sleeping' form, and the Star Wars DVD case next to the TV in the corner of his room, and Gerard didn't know better at all.

And Gerard made mistakes and sinned like it was all he had ever been made to, because when Gerard fucked up, he fucked up spectacularly, and when he took Bert McCracken back, it was always late at night, without the aid of sanity.

And he was well aware of the grave he was digging himself, but he dug it with disregard and in fact enough vigour for him to be dressing himself for his own funeral in that very moment.

'Hey'.

Gerard's reply was innocent at first, and somewhat tentative, but Bert had seen it within seconds, and the nineteen year old's whole body shook in response, because he was scared, and he wasn't ready, and he was glancing across at Frank, but Frank was still 'asleep' and Frank didn't look up.

'I love you.'

Bert was drunk, and Gerard knew that he was in too deep already when he could sense the intoxication within eight fucking letters, but of course, they were eight slightly important letters, and still, despite his state, Gerard didn't once doubt that Bert might not mean them.

'It's late.'

Gerard had opted for a neutral response, glancing up at Frank once more: part of him just begging him not to get himself into this mess again, and just curl up next to boy and let things sort themselves out until morning, and then maybe they'd try again another night, and maybe they'd get to more than just kissing, and maybe, just once, just maybe, Gerard could admit to himself that this thing with Frank was more than just a fuck.

'I know. Call me or go back to sleep.'

And Gerard was something like too tired, or something like too drunk to question Bert's response, and found himself glancing back at Frank and how beautiful he looked, and the space in bed next to him, and then Bert, and his voice, and advice, and the way he could make everything okay within seconds, and suddenly Gerard was fifteen again, and so fucking scared, and so fucking naive, and it was Jepha and that party, and Gerard wasn't even sure he was in control of his fingers as he pressed the call button.

"I was kind of hoping you'd go to bed, you know? I'm tired." Bert mumbled, opting for something slightly more imaginative than a generic 'hello' kind of greeting.

"Hello to you too." Gerard let out a sigh, leaning back against the headboard, too distracted by nearly knocking the can of beer over to notice the way Frank stirred in bed and looked up as Gerard began to speak.

"I miss you, Gee, come back, and let me fuck you, and take me back, or something, and... we work, you know we do." And Bert had a point, and it was two am and Gerard was alone, and Frank was very much awake in bed beside him.

"I miss you too, Bert." Gerard sighed out, his chest practically burning up as the words left his lips, almost like his body knew what kind of mess he was getting himself into here, and was even trying to prevent it, but of course, it wasn't quite trying hard enough, or perhaps Gerard was just defiant enough.

"I love you, Gee." Bert continued, yawning a little as he spoke from the other side of the phone.

And silence, suspended breathing, as every nerve in Gerard's body began to scream out in an odd, painless kind of pain. "I... fuck, Bert... I'm... it's late... I'm kind of drunk... I..."

"Who's in the bed next to you?" Bert's question was direct, because there was no questioning the fact that they knew each other well enough by now.

"No one-"

"Who?" Bert grew impatient, as he didn't exactly appreciate being lied to, but of course, who did?

"Frank." Gerard finally pushed the response out, and the body stirred in the sheets at the sound of his name, turning so he met Gerard's gaze; the two engaged in eye contact as Gerard trembled a little.

"Get rid of him and come back to me." And Gerard wondered whether the definitely not asleep Frank could hear what Bert was saying, because if he'd heard any more of their conversation, the thought did truly terrify him.

And Gerard reckoned that he was just as terrified of Bert having even the slightest notion as to the contents of his and Frank's conversations, especially the ones yesterday, before he quite had the chance to fuck things up.

"I'm sorry." Gerard spoke aloud, his gaze burning into Frank's; he, himself, unsure as to exactly who his words were directed at, as he hung up, and placed the phone back on his bedside table, and lay down beside Frank.

"Were you apologising to me or him?" The two had laid in silence for a good few minutes, until Frank broke it with the question that even Gerard didn't quite know the answer to.

"I don't know." And Gerard answered with little but honesty, because it was two in the morning, and his head knew little better than his heart.

"Well that's fucking great, isn't it?" Frank snapped, turning over and away from Gerard.

"Frank-"

"Fuck off."

And Gerard didn't even try to fix things, because it was too late, and this was his second, perhaps third fuck up, and it was little but his own fault, and it was exactly that that kept the nineteen year old lying still yet without sleep until something like four in the morning.

-

On the other side of town, two different people woke up in bed together, however their night had ended more so with cocaine and awkward hand holding, as opposed to lying and broken promises, and stupid decisions, but in reality, the situation wasn't all that much better.

Because Jamia didn't have a fucking clue what she was doing in Lindsey's bed, letting herself get this close, and this attached, and in fact, in the morning light, perhaps the sole thing she did know was that Lindsey was unfairly beautiful, even with fucked up hair, no make up, and tired eyes.

And Jamia reckoned that she most definitely would have rather fallen off a cliff than fallen for Lindsey Ballato, and it wasn't like such a statement wasn't within reason.

"Fuck, I can't remember last night at all, you know?" Lindsey groaned, stretching and sitting up in bed, and kicking Jamia's leg a little, incidentally, of course, altogether Jamia would really much rather that Lindsey broke her leg than her heart.

"Mmm..." Jamia could remember everything, and of course, that was down to the amount of coke Lindsey had done, and the amount she'd drank afterwards, and not that she was at all embarrassed or feeling the awkward social pressures the slightly homosexual connotations of her prior actions, of course.

"Fuck, I look like shit." Lindsey grumbled, stumbling out of bed to assess her appearance in the mirror, and leaving Jamia to shoot herself and frantically disagree with her.

"You don't." Jamia's was sort of monotone like she didn't really mean it, but of course, in reality, she most certainly could not mean it more, and that was a truth that haunted her in every waking moment.

"I think I texted Mikey last night, at like one in the morning..." Lindsey mumbled aloud, just deciding to casually change in front of her bedroom mirror, as Jamia threw her head back against the pillow and forced herself to look away, because fuck, fuck this, absolutely just fuck it.

"No, I stopped you... well... I didn't, but you didn't have any signal, and I deleted the message before it could send." Jamia explained, as she glanced around the side of Lindsey's bedroom that she wasn't naked in, and considered if she could manage to off herself easily within the next few minutes or so, because that would most definitely be easier than listening to Lindsey drone on about Mikey fucking Way for one fucking moment more.

"You're such a good friend, Jamia, you're my best pal, for real, you and me... we're gal pals."

"I thought Frank was your best friend." Jamia sat up, having already died internally, and finding herself more disappointed than she should have been at the fact that Lindsey was fully clothed.

"Fuck off, Frank's my gay friend, where as you-"

"Don't fucking- no... gay friend.... no, Lindsey... that's fucking... no... don't, just don't. He's your friend, not your gay friend." And there was of course, also the fact that if Lindsey had to have one designated gay friend, Jamia had totally gotten in there before Frank had, so he could totally just fuck off with that one.

"Well... he's gay and he's my friend...?" Lindsey raised her eyebrows, turning back to face Jamia, looking perhaps even hotter than she had five minutes ago, and in turn, Jamia wanted to stab herself even more than she had five minutes ago.

"Is the fact that he's gay really the most important thing about him? Because that's what 'gay friend' connotes, because you don't have 'straight friends'... they're just friends..."

"I don't have straight dude friends, Jamia, I have people I've fucked, and I have you, and you're my best pal, and I have Frank, and 'just friend' sounds a bit lacking, if you know what I mean?" Lindsey continued to argue her 'point', and Jamia kind of considered slapping her across the face, but of course, she couldn't quite ever bring herself to do so.

"Then how about short friend, or guy friend, or friend who I haven't fucked-"

"But the reason I haven't fucked him is because he's gay-"

"Fuck, Lindsey, you're so fucking shallow, you know?" Jamia got up, practically yelling at Lindsey at this point.

"Oh do go on, talk to me about shallow, why don't you, Jamia Nestor?" Lindsey snapped, glaring at her 'gal pal' as she pulled some more clothes on, before making her way towards the door and a rather theatrical exit, only turning back to utter one final question

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"All you ever care about is yourself, and you don't need to lie here, because we both know it."

Jamia shook her head, somewhat defeated at this point, "no, Lindsey, all I ever care about is you."

And with that, and continued silence on Lindsey's part, she made her exit.

-

And Pete was cute, but not that cute, or at least Mikey wouldn't admit that to himself, as he sat there, making a pathetically tragic effort when it came to not staring at him, because he totally fucking was, and Pete could talk for what seemed like years when he was interested, and it was killing Mikey, because he smiled through every word and made stupid jokes, and fuck, Mikey's continued attempts of a 'no homo' nature were falling flat as of recent.

He'd gotten up at nine in the morning on a weekend just to hang out with Pete, and perhaps just avoid Lindsey Ballato who said she was going over to see Gerard today, and Mikey was just genuinely terrified that she'd try 'flirting' with him again, because he was anything but interested, and he really would much rather waste away his life staring at some cute emo wreck as he continued to deny all attraction towards him.

Pete had started this conversation about some obscure metal band at least twenty minutes ago, and Mikey was beginning to wonder if Pete actually needed to breathe at all, because it was beginning to concern him now, but watching Pete smile at practically nothing was quit easily the best thing that Mikey Way had ever seen.

Not that he'd admit that to anyone, and especially not Gerard, despite how Gerard was totally in the same situation with Frank, however, of course, in reality, Mikey hadn't a clue regarding the nature of Gerard's situation with Frank as of two this morning, as he'd managed to leave the house before even his mother had woken up, let alone Gerard.

Mikey was just relieved in his belief that Gerard was done with Bert now, and when inevitability struck, and he did indeed find out, it would surely break him.

"Mikeyway..." The seventeen year old jumped a little as Pete laid his head back into his lap, grinning up at him like an idiot.

"Yeah?" Mikey responded, groaning internally as he could feel his cheeks flushing a horrible shade of scarlet.

"Can I ask you something?" And Pete was all wide puppy dog eyes and racoon rings of eyeliner as he met Mikey's gaze, his lips slightly parted.

And Mikey was dying, because that was the kind of question that would ruin the entire world, but still he nodded, because if Mikey had difficulty when it came to anything, it was Pete Wentz and saying 'no' to him.

"Why do you always wear that same hoodie?" And the trivial nature of Pete's question almost had Mikey dying right then and right there, because from the sincerity in Pete's gaze, Mikey was expecting something more along the lines of 'will you marry me?', and of course, because no homo, Mikey could make absolutely no opinionated statement regarding Pete asking for his hand in marriage.

"Because it's comfy... and it's the darkest black, like you know how some blacks fade? This doesn't, and it keeps my emo game high, and it matches my passive aggressive, world hating, misunderstood, goth stoner aesthetic perfectly."

"You're cute." Pete giggled, burying his head against Mikey's hoodie, and leaving the taller boy's cheeks burning like fireworks... like the fourth of July.

"You're... you're..." Mikey shook his head, biting his lip, because fuck, no homo, goddamn.

"Amazing?" Pete sat up, grin already plastered onto his face, "yeah, I know."

And Mikey saw no point in arguing at all. 

"I like that hoodie, though, it's fine that you wear it all the time; it's so you, and I like it, and I like you, and you're the best friend I've ever had, and..." And Pete really needed to pick up on his homo game right now, but he just couldn't quite bring himself to let the truth slip out, because Mikey was so much cooler than him, and he couldn't help but feel like a dandelion beside a rose.

"You know Frank?" Mikey changed the subject in the silence, perhaps just to avoid further embarrassment, or perhaps they'd just never know why Mikey Way was just so romantically incompetent, which was a real damn shame, wasn't it?

"Yeah, Frank Frozen, if we're using his cool name, you remember? What was yours, I can't remember?" And it was exactly then that Mikey thoroughly regretted changing the subject to something Pete felt at all comfortable with.

"Nope." Mikey shook his head, reaching into his pocket and lighting himself a cigarette, because he needed one at this point.

"You can be Mikey Meme-"

"Not Mikey Mouse?" Mikey raised his eyebrows, because he certainly heard that a million times before... when he was about seven, but Pete was special and a part of him kind of liked that.

"No, Mikey Meme: I'm original." And Pete was entirely too proud of himself.

"And you're Pete Pepe, then?" Mikey raised his eyebrows, continuing to reference totally serious meme culture that wasn't trashy at all, because as everyone knew, Pepe the frog was the most exquisite of memes; it never died, only aged like a fine wine.

"Yes, and we can be memelords together!" Pete exclaimed, sitting up with entirely too much vigour. "Mikey Way will you be my memelord?"

"What does that even mean?"

"What does that even meme..." Pete's face fell into a grin, "meme, hey? Meme, like as in, you know, meme? Anyway, you don't know what a memelord is? Why are we friends, Mikeyway?"

"I quite honestly don't know." Mikey continued, taking a drag of his cigarette as Pete continued to grin at him like an idiot.

"Because you're amazing, perhaps even as amazing as me." Pete continued, pausing for a moment, and pushing Mikey's fringe back into his face.

"What?" Mikey was left in confusion as to why Pete had appointed himself his personal hairdresser now, and well, who wouldn't be?

"Your emo game was getting weak, Mikey Meme." Pete moved so he was sat beside Mikey and pulled his cellphone out. "Now, we can take a selfie-"

"Pete, I-"

"Pete Pepe." Pete corrected with an unnervingly sincere look in his eyes.

"Pete Pepe..." Mikey trailed off, shaking his head, because what the fuck had he gotten himself into here? "Why are we taking a selfie?"

"Because, Mikey Way, let me tell you a secret, your face is my aesthetic, and this would absolutely make my instagram theme."

-

hey guys fun fact all of this chapter is a result of the fact that i couldnt be bothered to write smut lmao oops. but like tragic memes pals come on here i am the tragic meme queen and you're all so great i love you all please vote and comment and i will be a very happy tragic meme queen:) <3