Gerard was still there, and Frank was almost surprised, because whatever this was, this was new, because Gerard wasn't the kind of guy you could be certain would be there in the morning.

Frank had insisted upon the sofa, Gerard had insisted otherwise, and Frank even began to wonder if ghosts actually needed to sleep at all. However, he didn't particularly fret over it, simply sitting up in bed and thanking the dear lord himself that it was the weekend.

He found himself a little nervous when it came to getting Gerard's attention, well touching him, but Frank exhaled loudly, and found himself gingerly extending his hand in the direction of the boy curled up on the other side of his bed.

They hadn't cuddled or fucked or anything, and they'd slept sort of apart, because although, deep down, they still sort of shared this mutual kind of affection for one another, it had still been ten years, and the constant reminder of that haunted Frank's mind in an entirely different manner to the way Gerard did.

Gerard stirred as Frank's hand was within centimetres of his back, rolling and turning in the bed to face Frank, who was sort of half sat up with the sheets twisting around his waist.

"You know what's nice about this? About being a ghost?" Gerard spoke after just a few moments of meeting Frank's gaze in a sort of unsubtle and totally mesmerised manner.

"You tell me, Gerard, I know for sure that I much preferred it when you hadn't killed yourself." Frank's tone was a little bitter, but the hour was early still, and Gerard seemed only slightly fazed as he too sat up.

"It's different to being human, you know? It feels different, and I experience things differently, especially with you, because I feel your energy, your entity, and your touch and... when you moved your hand closer, things stopped being cold inside my chest, I mean, my ribcage must get lonely without a beating heart in there-"

"Oh, fuck off, when did you become such the soppy romantic?" Frank shook his head, smiling and blushing a little as he turned to his bedside table, feeling no desire to get out of bed right now as he grabbed the packet of cigarettes and lit himself one.

"When did you become such a bottom?" Gerard retorted, pushing his hair away from his face as he watched Frank light the cigarette. "I wonder if I can actually smoke cigarettes still, I mean, I-"

"Maybe it'd work if you sat closer to me, or something... do you want to try?" Frank looked up, holding out the packet of cigarettes in Gerard's direction.

"I'd probably have to sit in your fucking lap, not going to lie." And the two laughed a little as Frank closed the packet and put it back on the table. "Is that you saying that you don't want me to sit on your lap? You know, I'm a ghost, I technically have no mass, it's not even going to-"

"Gerard, just... shut up." Frank shook his head, holding the cigarette between his two fingers. "It's been ten years, just because I've accepted that you exists doesn't mean that we're automatically boyfriends again."

Gerard nodded, sighing a little as he moved closer to Frank, laying his head on the now older man's shoulder, and letting out a slightly more content sigh. "You know, I've reckoned I've figured it out."

"What?" Frank asked, looking down at Gerard as he took a drag of his cigarette.

"I've figured you out, Frank Iero." Frank raised his eyebrows: apprehensive, but curious and eager for Gerard to continue. "You didn't get over me, you became me: you're the smoker, you're the bottom, you're the fucked up mind, you're the older one, you're the fucking hot one. I'm just waiting for the very day you're buying a fucking box of red hair dye."

"I'm not even a bottom, Gerard." Frank protested, because that was of course the only one of Gerard's claims worth protesting, "that was just, you know... a thing."

"Think about the last time you had a fuck, and tell me, just were you the bottom or were you the top?" Gerard asked, watching as Frank frowned a little too himself.

"Dear lord, it's been ages since I've done anything like that- fucking way to make me feel great about myself." Frank groaned, leaning back against the wall. "I can barely even remember."

Gerard simply chuckled to himself, before moving away from Frank for a moment, only slightly, "hey, do you think that if it was possible for us to like fuck, do you think that would be necrophilia?"

His question certainly caught Frank more than a little off guard, as the twenty eight year old's eyes widened as he continued to cough up his fucking lungs. "Jesus, Gerard." He exclaimed, finishing his cigarette, and putting it out in the ashtray beside his bed.

"What?" He responded, smirking to himself a little, and placing his hand tentatively on Frank's thigh.

"That's weird, Gerard, I can feel you, but it's different, it's... like-"

"Wait, how about this..." Gerard moved himself just generally closer to Frank, still leaving his hand in the same place on his thigh. "And then if I'm further away," Gerard moved so that he was practically sat on the other end of the bed, just stretching out for Frank's thigh.

"Come back." Frank spoke without thinking, "I don't, I don't like it with you sat there... the light from the window passes through you and you don't look as real, and I start to doubt myself, and I start to think that maybe you are still just a hallucination."

"Frank, don't be such a fucking idiot." Gerard was blunt, but moved back to Frank nonetheless. "Of course I'm real." And he took his hand in Frank's to prove it, squeezing it a little, "feel that? Real. Fucking real."

And silence, silence for a good few minutes as Frank Iero sat in his bed on a Saturday morning and held the hand of his dead ex-boyfriend like it meant the absolute world to him, because even if he was insane, at this point, he most definitely would not have it any other way.

Frank piped up after five or so minutes had passed, "necrophilia, by definition, is an attraction towards specifically corpses and not generally the dead, or... ghosts."

"So, theoretically, of course, we could totally fuck?" Gerard smiled to himself, "and my mortality isn't a problem?"

"Honestly, I think who's going to bottom and who's going to top is more of a problem than whether you're technically alive or not."

-

Frank had busied himself with some paperwork that he really didn't need to do until Monday at work: coffee set beside him on the table, and one of his dogs asleep on the sofa beside him - it was normal, and Frank was most certainly relishing in the mundane nature of the activity, and the mind numbing nothingness it brought him.

Because there was absolutely no escaping the red head sat on a chair opposite him.

They sat wordlessly, a couple of hours having passed since their perhaps overly in depth conversation in bed, and now the two were content in just being in proximity of one another, well, actually, they had little choice when it come to whether they were in close proximity to one another or not, but Frank didn't have to do this paperwork, and yet he was doing it, but looking up to smile at Gerard every few seconds.

Because this paperwork was his distraction, and without this distraction, he reckoned he and Gerard would still be in bed, but things would be quite as innocent as they had been before, because there was simply no denying that there was something between the two of them, and they both knew it, but kept it quite and close to their chests as they simply watched one another in silence.

Gerard had busied himself with a pencil and some paper, sitting close enough to Frank to able to clutch the objects, but only just; it'd be much easier if he could just sit on Frank's lap or whatever, but he doubted that Frank would see it that way.

Frank was too desperate to cling to the part of him that didn't matter, and Gerard hated that, but he cared far too much about the man not to stick around regardless, but even if he could move and exist as he wished, Gerard Way would most definitely still be sat in the chair opposite him.

Frank found himself looking up from the paperwork, putting it down even, and setting his gaze firmly upon Gerard's and leaving it there until the redhead looked up to meet it.

Frank smiled, blushing a little, and Gerard copied his actions, the two continuing in an almost awkward kind of silence as they both contemplated saying something, anything, but found themselves far too comfortable and satisfied in nothing more than each other's presence, and quite honestly, it was indeed kind of pathetic, but oddly beautiful too, and there was something in that that Frank knew he never wanted to let go of.

Gerard set the pencil and paper down too, running a hand back through his hair as he gave Frank his full attention, almost like an invitation for the twenty eight year old to add something to the silence, but Frank felt no desire to do anything other stare at Gerard forever, because he'd had ten long years of not seeing him at all, and Frank reckoned he did indeed need to make up that time.

And silence continued to pass for a good few minutes, however things couldn't possible stay that peaceful and that perfect forever, barely even a few minutes at a time, because Frank's front door was slamming open, leaving him to stare wide eyed as a rather overexcited and somewhat frantic Brendon Urie stormed in, making sure Frank deeply fucking regretted giving that guy a spare key.

"Frankie, what the fuck are you doing in your house all day? Jesus Christ, it's Saturday, are you ill? Are you dying, because if you're not dying, what the fuck are you doing to me by cooping yourself up inside like this?"

As Brendon stumbled across the room, nearly tripping over at least two dogs on his way there, Frank's stomach did a backflip as his gaze fell upon Gerard sat opposite him, his eyes widening as he glanced at Brendon once more.

"He can't see me, or even hear me, if I don't want him to." Frank jumped a little, turning back to face Gerard, and of course, Brendon hadn't heard a thing, simply making his way to sit down beside Frank with very little else to say for himself.

"Are you doing work? You're not in work-" Brendon threw Frank's paperwork bullshit in the direction of the coffee table, placing a hand to his forehead to check for a temperature. "You're not even ill- the fuck, Iero? Like seriously what are you doing here?"

Frank let out a sigh, turning to face Gerard, who only raised his eyebrows, something like a smirk twitching at the corners of his lips as he did so. "Tell him you were getting fucked in the ass, go on, Frankie, I fucking dare you."

Frank blushed a horrible shade of red, turning back to Brendon, forever thankful that at the very least he hadn't heard that, however he was indeed quick to raise an eyebrow at Frank's cheeks, now a shade akin to the hair of the boy across the room that Brendon couldn't see.

"I'm tired." Frank mumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest and making a point to avoid Gerard's gaze.

"You're fucking- you're fucking insane, Frank, I tell you- come on, come out for coffee with me and Ryan." Brendon pleaded, grabbing Frank by the wrist in an oddly theatrically manner that Gerard couldn't help but chuckle at - it wasn't like Brendon could hear him anyway, but of course, Frank could.

"I wouldn't want to third wheel on your date." Frank sighed out, pulling his hand free and shaking his head a little.

"Then that's why you need to let me help you get a boyfriend, isn't it, Frankie, because then we can have a double date." Brendon exclaimed, and Gerard made a point of coughing from across the room, but it wasn't like Brendon heard at all.

"I'm alright, honestly." Frank smirked a little, chancing a look in Gerard's direction, the twenty two year old, raising his eyebrows a little as he glared at Brendon, loathing the fact that he'd even suggested the notion of Frank getting a boyfriend.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure." Frank got up, gesturing for Brendon to do the same. "Go on, don't be late for your fucking date, you idiot? Okay?"

"Okay." Brendon smiled, making his way back towards the door, nearly tripping over a dog this time, which would have been unfortunate.

"Okay? Okay?" Gerard exclaimed as the door slammed shut behind Brendon, and the sound of Ryan's being knocked on from across the room became vaguely audible. "This isn't the fucking fault in our stars, Frank."

"I swear to god that's a book for teenage girls, Gerard." Frank said after a moment of just looking Gerard over with something akin to disbelief, because he was beginning to think that Gerard Way was actually nothing more than a teenage girl in disguise.

"I swear to god if you keep saying that shit, I'm going to fucking die of cancer or something - yeah, Augustus dies at the end, sorry, spoilers-"

"I wasn't particularly planning on reading it-"

"Don't bother, don't even see the film, I'm totally hotter than Augustus anyway, and like I've already died so you don't need to worry about that happening again-"

"Gerard!"

"Oh come on, Frankie, I'm pretty damn sure that ghosts can't get cancer."

"I'm pretty damn sure I hate you."

"Okay, maybe I shouldn't have spoiled it."

"It's not that."

"Then what is it then?"

And silence, as Frank bit his lip, not quite meeting Gerard's gaze, "I don't know, but it's enough to ensure that my mind never shuts up."

"Helpful." Gerard added after a moment, smirking a little, and for just a second, Frank looked like it was one thirty eight in the morning all over again and he was so ready to slap the fuck out of his face, but it subdued with that smile and the look the two shared.

Because this was something, this was enough to keep Frank's heart beating in his chest.

"I know you are."

And okay, Gerard was right, ghosts technically couldn't die again, could they?

-

Ryan's flat was still only half furnished, and his stuff was only half unpacked, and that really did serve to highlight the fact that Ryan had been spending far too much time fucking Brendon, as opposed to sorting out his life, but hey, if Brendon's cock was as big as his forehead, who the fuck could blame him?

Frank had only come over in the first place, because Ryan had texted him to ask if he could borrow some milk, which Frank had reluctantly brought over and mostly just to ensure that Ryan didn't decide to boycott their friendship or something like that, however, ten minutes, the milk was left on the table, somewhat ignored by a tipsy Brendon, a giggly Ryan, and a slightly confused Frank.

But Ryan had offered to make him coffee for his troubles, and Ryan could actually make coffee, unlike Brendon, who was paid to make coffee, because yes, that made sense. But then again, Frank was in no place to question that if he was going to continue not really questioning the fact that his boyfriend from ten years ago was somehow now magically part of his life again.

Sure, Gerard had provided him with some sort of an explanation, but it absolutely did not make nearly as much sense as Frank would have liked it to, but regardless, he much preferred living in the kind of peaceful calm where he didn't have to worry himself with the ever looming threat of insanity and schizophrenia.

Because to Frank Iero, yes, the ghost of his dead boyfriend was normal, because to Frank Iero, everything 'normal' was forced and new to him, whereas the deepest depths of insanity felt like a comfortable home.

And yes, he was fucked up, but he was still breathing, and surely that counted for something, anyway, Ryan Ross was going to make him coffee, and Ryan Ross was good at making coffee and Frank really did have to look at the positives here.

Gerard had promised to stay in Frank's apartment until he came back, but Frank seriously doubted that that was a promise the twenty two year old was going to keep, because Frank knew Gerard, and he knew him all too well, all too well enough to know that Gerard was the world's best liar and the world's worst promise keeper.

He did genuinely seem as if he changed a little in the past ten years, which was perhaps to be expected, because ten years was a lot, even if you were dead, and technically did have all eternity, which was really quite a weird thought for Frank to think about.

And so, he didn't, just wishing that things could really be that simple, because they really never were.

Frank had sat there, oddly distant for entirely too long now, and even Brendon was starting to notice, which was definitely a sign that Frank was being overly obvious about the fact that he was deeply troubled and that his dead boyfriend was now sort of living with him again, but thankfully, Brendon Urie had nowhere near the mental capacity to make it as a mind reader, and came out with some bullshit instead.

"You're pissed off that Ryan's take advantage of you by guilt tripping you into lending him milk." Brendon's claim could most be pinned on the copious amounts of alcohol that no one had thought to remove from his vicinity before it was too late and they were left to deal with these kinds of consequences.

"Yes, Brendon, that's exactly right." Frank rolled his eyes, leaving Ryan to look between the two of them and let out a frustrated kind of 'why do I put up with these idiots?' sigh.

"Frank... seriously, are you okay?" Ryan continued, putting his arm around Brendon in an attempt to comfort the mess that was his boyfriend. "Like, you don't look okay, you know?"

"I'm okay, I promise, trust me." Frank let his gaze move away from Ryan's and found himself regretting it instantly, catching sight of Gerard in the corner of his eye.

The red haired, ethereal kind of figure stepped forward a little, the corners of his lips twitching up into an awkward smile as Gerard faced Frank. "I'm sorry... I... it's complicated, and even harder to explain when you can't say anything back to me, okay?" Gerard let out a sigh, gesturing towards Brendon and Ryan, who sat in utter oblivion to the ghost in the corner of the room.

Because yes, of course, everything just had to be complicated with Gerard Way, didn't it? But still, Frank still cared too much about him, and Frank was nowhere near the amount of sanity he needed to give up before everything fell apart.

"Frank?" The twenty eight year old jumped a little as Ryan's hand appeared, waving in front of his face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah..." Frank blushed a little, turning back to face the two on the sofa. "I'm... I'm... tired... yeah..."

"Tired?" Needless to say, even a drunken Brendon wasn't convinced.

"Yeah, I haven't been getting a lot of sleep lately."

And then laughter from the corner of the room that only Frank could hear, "yeah, oops, my bad."

Some days, Frank Iero seriously considered murdering Gerard Way; today was one of those days.

-

hey guys look this is probably like the most nice fun frerard i've ever written in a chapter without major emotional pain ever like seriously wtf is this. but you should totally vote and comment to show your gratitude if you want or whatever, or because you're all amazing people and i love you.