Late nights and troubled minds would always be better shared with Gerard, even it was exactly him who'd put Frank into the position of agonising insomnia, because Frank knew his own insecurities will enough to know that he'd most certainly have it no other way.

There was something about him that just put Frank's whole head at ease, and perhaps it was just a case of familiarity and comfort, or perhaps there really was something there when they met one another's gaze and the whole universe seemed to fit together a little better.

Or perhaps Frank was just good at lying to himself, or perhaps Gerard was simply exercising his already well-practised talent of lying to the whole damn world, but somehow, for some godforsaken reason, Frank had the idiocy to convince himself that things would be different this time, and maybe, for the first time in his life, well... death, now, technically, Gerard Way could tell someone he loved them and truly mean it.

It was a phenomenon unbeknownst and unfamiliar to Frank, though, and it plagued both his mind and heart, as the night dragged on without him, because he should really know by now that the world didn't just stop for anyone, but still, he seemed to go on like it did, and like he could just waste away hours in silence, staring at Gerard, and keeping everything up inside his head, like that would ever do any good.

Frank was both a waste of time and a waste of space, and he reckoned that a perfectly concocted combination of the two was quite the achievement, so he had that to his name, at the very least; that, and this boyfriend of his, and perhaps most importantly, the only thing that had come from the events of the past few days, and the meetings with Brendon and Ryan was of course that Gerard was indeed real, and now there was no denying that.

Because Frank just didn't know whether it could possibly be for the worse or the better, because, realistically, his head was still trapped inside the hospital, and the ward, and the room of his therapist's office, and the words that seemed to bounce of the wall, bearing little meaning to Frank at all, and the pills he took everyday, as if to lull himself into nothingness: back then, Gerard had insisted he stopped taking the pills, and eventually Frank did, and eventually Frank found himself ready to kill himself too, and now, just a few hours ago, when Frank had taken them for the day, Gerard had also suggested to him that he didn't need them, and Frank had of course fucking considered it, as if he lived in utter oblivion to the mess that had come of it last time around.

But Frank's one true vice was the one beside him: silent with his hand in Frank's, and his gaze fixated elsewhere, most likely deep in thought, and Frank both yearned and dreaded to know just what went on inside Gerard Way's mind, or whatever there was left of it now.

There always was, and always would be just something off about Gerard, and Frank reckoned he'd just have to grow to live with that, because the possibility of him simply living without Gerard, just didn't seem to sit right in his mind.

And perhaps conversation, and questions, and answers, were the answer, but perhaps Frank found himself turning back to the man beside him, and feeling his whole body shake, because he was scared, so fucking scared, too fucking scared, and forever like that, because he shouldn't be, but he was, because Gerard was too bold, and too careless, and too beautiful, and too fucking dead, like seriously, Frank was dating a ghost, but that seemed pretty irrelevant in the scheme of things and the moment and the thudding of Frank's heartbeat.

"What's wrong?" Gerard eventually asked, perhaps even speaking for Frank, which made the 'older' man just a little uneasy, but in truth, just as, or if not more, grateful, "I know something's wrong, Frank, I can feel it... it's a thing, you know?"

"A dead thing?" Frank let out a sigh, raising his eyebrows a little.

Gerard stifled a laugh, "yeah, something like that, a ghost thing? I don't know... but, that's irrelevant, tell me what's wrong, will you?" Frank remained silent. "It's getting really late, as well; we should get to bed, I want to go to bed, but I don't want to leave you here- in fact, I can't leave you here... I forget that sometimes... I really do."

"Me too." Frank admitted, exhaling loudly, "about the forgetting thing, and the going to bed thing. I'm just thinking, I'm okay, I guess, it's... I don't know, I'm thinking about things I shouldn't, you know, bad things? Things from when I was in hospital."

Gerard nodded, moving closer to Frank, "try not to, but if you can't, please tell me what's bothering you? I want to try and make things better; I don't like the idea of you being upset, you know?"

"Mmm..." Frank let out a sigh, "I know. It's... if I'm honest, it's the whole pills thing, from earlier, and you said I didn't need them, and that's really fucking with my head, because it feels like they're the only thing that's keeping me stable, and I-... I don't know anymore, Gerard, I mean, I really don't know anymore, because all I can think about is the hospital and the pills in there: they were stronger, but you told me not to take them too."

"You don't need pills, Frankie, you never have," Gerard met his boyfriend's eyes, and the sincerity in the younger man's made everything just all the more troublesome, "just because they're paid to do this, doesn't mean they're right about everything."

"And you are?" Frank scoffed, leaving Gerard looking more than just a little unimpressed.

"Well, I do know you better than anyone, Frank, I know you better than you know yourself, for sure, and look, come on, you were in there because you kept seeing me, and the doctors could only diagnose you as schizophrenic because they didn't know what we know, so that would make sense in their heads, but you don't need those pills, because they're for a condition, you don't have. Of course, you don't have to stop taking them, but I'm just saying you don't have to take them either."

Frank got up, shaking his head, "stop fucking with my head, Gerard, let's just go to bed, I'm tired, aren't you?"

"I'm dead, Frankie, I don't get tired."

"Yeah, thanks for the reminder." Frank rolled his eyes, and stormed off down the hallway, leaving Gerard, barely visible, barely there, flickering in the lowlight.

-

And just like that, Frank was five years younger, and far too little had changed, because although Frank from five years prior was fucked up and dosed up and diagnosed with conditions that he may or may not have had.

Because in Frank's mind, five years ago, Gerard was still beside him, and his head still ached, but he was there and not at home, and the walls were perhaps a more cleanly shade of white, and perhaps everything was okay now, but perhaps there was little difference, and Frank just didn't know what to think when he opened his eyes to a hospital room, and words that meant very little whizzing around his head.

This all felt too vivid, too real, to be a dream, or at least to be an ordinary dream, because Frank felt even more alive than ever, and nothing scared him quite like that did.

Frank was a ship out a sea, and this was nothing short of the storm that would sink him, and he lay there in revelation of that fact: the red headed figure beside him in this room appearing far less real, but Frank didn't expect it to, especially with this room not being real at all, and it wasn't like Frank hadn't ever had nightmares about this place before - in fact, they were far more frequent than he'd prefer, but something about this felt different.

And that feeling unnerved Frank to the core, as he finally gathered the strength to move, to make his way to his feet, to make his way to the bedroom floor, to gaze at his surroundings, and to what means, he was clueless and he couldn't help but welcome the faked innocence naivety brought him.

Frank wanted to be sixteen again, he wanted to turn right away from all of this mess; he wanted to save his life while he still had a chance, but it was too late now - too late to do anything at all, and Frank stood his ground as the figure turned in the bed that felt nothing like his own.

He exhaled loudly as he came to face the man he felt he knew, but in this version of 'reality' it seemed as if the two had very little in common at all, the man before him clearly sleep deprived and angry with circles under his eyes, and skin so pale it seemed to fade in with the whites of the wall.

"Go back to sleep, Frank." The figure instructed, his voice raspy and foreign, nothing like the man Frank knew, and that simply lay in the nature of the dream, the illusion, but Frank reckoned there'd come a point where he struggled to tell himself so.

"I am asleep." Frank protested, stumbling over his words a little as he did so, "this is just a dream, so you're interrupting me from sleeping, if anything."

The figure raised a white bony finger, perhaps even skeletal in nature, gesturing to the bed, before continuing, "go to bed, Frank."

"Why?"

"Because I'm telling you to, and you do everything I tell you because I am in charge here." The figure repeated, stepping towards Frank as he continued to point towards the bed.

"You're not in charge, Gerard." Frank snapped with a sudden burst of vigour that neither of them had been particularly expecting.

"I'd prefer it if we weren't on a first name basis, Frank." The figure's voice shifted a little at that point, becoming clearer and more human, but still blatantly unfamiliar, with a sense of privilege and authority behind the tone.

"Go fuck yourself."

And before Frank knew what was happening, he was opening his eyes in New Jersey, his bedroom throughout his late teenage years; he reckoned it instantly, and it came along with the sinking feeling in his stomach, originating directly from the noise downstairs, because it had been years, but it could be centuries and Frank would still never forget.

And Frank found himself stumbling out of his bedroom door, his feet perhaps controlling themselves, or something equally as horrific, but a behaviour known far too well by the younger version of himself.

"You know what?" The voice sliced through him almost instantly, Frank's heart thudding in his chest as he rushed to the top of the staircase, his eyes widening as they laid sight upon the man making his way up towards him. "I'm fucking over with you!" The man, Frank's father, continued to scream, leaving Frank biting down onto his lip in fear, because this wasn't real, and Frank couldn't escape the constant reminders, but it wasn't fake enough.

"Get out!" His words were slurred, like drunken, and the younger Frank wasn't surprised, in fact, the older one wasn't either, just not used to this, not anymore. He hadn't seen his father in years, and it was an odd kind of bliss, but even though this wasn't real, Frank's heart was still shattering inside his chest, as his lungs struggled to take in breath.

And then before Frank can even remember properly what just did occur, his father grabbed him by the shoulders, giving him an unsteady push towards the stairs, and Frank can't hurt in the state his head is in, and he knew that, but it was like he could imagine the pain - either that or this dream was quickly becoming far too real for his liking.

He stood there frozen for a moment, stumbling to his feet at the bottom of the stairs, heart pounding in his chest, and his head seeming to roll off his shoulders, as he found himself with little to do but glance back up at the man who was supposed to love him.

It was a mistake: of course, it was a mistake - Frank hadn't expected anything more, he just hadn't been thinking, in fact, Frank wasn't even sure if he was breathing-

"Out of my fucking house!"

"Breathe!"

And Frank stood paralysed by the two voices, before his vision faded before him, the world fading to black, his chest heaving, as he opened his eyes once more, this time, his surroundings familiar, but in a much more reliving manner; his bedroom, his house, and Gerard: his eyes widening with worry, as Frank coughed and spluttered for breath, not quite able to process what was happening before his boyfriend pulled him close to his chest.

"Fuck." Gerard let out a sigh, shaking his head in disbelief. "I was so fucking scared, Frankie... I... what happened?"

"I... I... I don't know." Frank only began to catch up with his surroundings, soon certain that this was reality, because Gerard felt so close, so real, perhaps as real as he could ever be, but in Frank's mind, real enough. "A dream, fuck, a really bad dream..."

"I'm sorry." Gerard let out a sigh, moving so the two were laying shoulder to shoulder. "Wanna tell me what it was about?"

"I'm not even sure myself, I was... I was... I was... back there, in the hospital, and there was a bed and you, but not quite you... you were like some sort of distorted, really pale, ghost figure-"

"I am a ghost." Gerard corrected, in perhaps not the most helpful manner.

"I know, but, like a typical horror movie kind of thing, and you were telling me to go to bed and to go to sleep, and I kept telling you that I was already dreaming, but you wouldn't listen, and I told you to go fuck yourself and then I was back at home, in Jersey, and I think I was seventeen again, my memories a bit hazy, I mean, I tried to forget this, but it seemed pretty real, but my dad was screaming at me, and he pushed me down the stairs and he told me to get out of his house, and then I.. then I heard you telling me to breathe, and I think then I woke up."

"I'm so fucking sorry." Gerard let out a sigh, putting an arm around Frank as he did so. "I think I remember you telling me about that, actually. You left the house afterwards, and then I found you, and you still hated me at that point but-"

"And I reckon you're still not going to explain what the hell was going through your head when we first met, so I'm not even going to bother asking." Frank forced his lips into a smile, doing his best to act like he didn't mind at all, but he minded, and he would always mind, so much.

"I'm a narcissist, Frank, I-"

"Yeah, like I couldn't figure that one out." Frank rolled his eyes, the words leaving his lips before he was even really aware of what was happening.

"I would argue with you, but you're upset and I don't want to upset you and I'm sorry for how I was ten years ago... I wish we could just forget that, because that was me ten years ago: that was a different me and a different you. Let's just forget about it?"

"I can't forget about you killing yourself, Gee, I... everything is a constant reminder of that, I don't fucking think I could ever forget." Frank exclaimed, his breathing heavy, and close to tears.

"I'm not asking you to, I just-... you called me Gee, again. You don't do that often, you know, Frankie?" Gerard's lips turned up into a smile, because perhaps Frank really did just matter that much to him, and perhaps there was no chance of that changing anytime soon.

"I honestly don't think about it that much... Gee... okay, I did then, but... Gee, I just... god, your name sounds weird now, but... fuck, what time is it? I need more sleep." Frank groaned, and leaving Gerard to glance across at the alarm clock.

"It's four twenty." Gerard chuckled a little, "blaze it, Frankie."

"I don't care, I'm going to sleep." Frank rolled into Gerard's chest, laying his head back down and closing his eyes. "Night, night, Gee..."

"Night, Frankie." Gerard smile, holding Frank just a little closer as he did so.

"Gee?" Frank added, his voice barely audible, but loud enough for Gerard to hear.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you, I'm sorry, I just yell at you all the time, but things are hard for you too, aren't they? And I never say thank you, but you're there for me all the time..." Frank let out a sigh, before continuing, "maybe without you, I never would have woken up, I never would have started breathing again. Thank you."

"Maybe I'm here for a reason then, to protect you." Gerard grinned, pressing a kiss to Frank's forehead. "I'm always going to protect you, Frankie, I promise, look, you're safe, and your dreams aren't real, and it's all going to be okay."

"Is it really, though?" Frank asked, opening his eyes this time.

"Yeah, I promise." Gerard added, smiling as he did so.

"Alright then, I'm holding you to that, and when the whole world goes to shit soon you owe me one, Gerard, I fucking promise." Frank grinned, closing his eyes again.

"What do I owe you?" Gerard brushed Frank's hair behind his ears as he spoke.

"I don't know..." Frank's response was muffled and sleepy, and all kinds of cute.

"Maybe a blowjob or something, but I'd give you a blowjob any day, so-"

"Gee, if something goes wrong tomorrow, will you give me a rimjob?" Frank muffled, again in the aforementioned sleepy tone.

"Didn't know you were one for having your ass eaten, but yeah, anything you want, and I mean it - I'd give you multiple rimjobs if you want, I'd eat your ass for hours-"

"Shut up, I don't want a boner now: I'm trying to sleep." Frank groaned, burying his head in Gerard's chest as he let the world fade out around him, but this time with the knowledge, with a promise, that everything would be okay.

-

hey lmao how are you all? i hope you're all okay. i love you all lots super mega lots you know? and votes and comments would be cool if you want to leave them !!! :) <3