Frank was fucked up and more than a little wasted as he slammed his fist against the front door of Pete Wentz's house: he was desperate and pathetic, and reckoned he'd probably end up sleeping with someone by the ending of the night, but really, he didn't care.

That was what he was good for anyway, wasn't it?

All he was good for, anyway.

And he repeated that fact to himself several times over as the front door finally opened and Frank's intoxicated form feel straight into Pete's questionably sober one, and well, Frank hadn't expected this kind of sobriety from the friend who was fucking renowned for getting drunk, but whatever.

"Are you dying or just drunk?" Pete asked, holding Frank's limp body kind of awkwardly, and only for the sake of ensuring that his friend didn't instantly fall to the floor and die, because that was about where Pete drew the line with friendship and emotional attachments.

"Both." Frank mumbled into Pete's shoulder, leaving the 'gang leader' to let out a mildly frustrated sigh as he locked the front door behind them and attempted to drag Frank into the living room, pushing him down onto the sofa and just praying that he didn't do a Mikey Way and puke all over his carpet, because seriously, that was a nice carpet, and it had been through more than it had ever deserved.

"Right, okay, is there any sort of explanation to this?" Pete asked, putting on his best Lindsey voice as he made his way into the kitchen, looking for some like fucking herbal tea bullshit or even just some water to calm Frank the fuck down, however, he ended up settling for an orange Capri Sun, and well, needless to say, Pete got one for himself too.

"Is that a fucking Capri Sun?" Frank groaned, having buried his face into Pete's sofa, and well, with the likelihood that he would vomit at any moment, that was not exactly something Pete was comfortable with.

"Yes. Don't be a fucking asshole about it or I'm going to just kick you the fuck out." Pete rolled his eyes, handing Frank the Capri sun, and at that moment, Frank did indeed decide that it would be probably best if he just shut the fuck up and let Pete waffle on about whatever bullshit he desired.

It wasn't like Frank's life could get any worse now, was it?

Well, technically, it could, of course, but Frank was trying his best not to fucking jinx his luck or something, because okay, he wasn't really in the mood right now at all.

"So why are you drunk and dead inside and dangerously close to puking all over my sofa?" Pete wasn't nearly as good as the whole advice and comforting bullshit as Lindsey was, but Frank was really good in bed, so yeah, he was going to try.

"Gerard." Frank groaned against the sofa, and Pete couldn't help but raise his eyebrows, because the guy was a gentle fucking flower, and most certainly not somehow capable of reducing someone like Frank Iero to tears.

"What the fuck did he do?" Pete exclaimed, tone exaggerated, but Frank didn't really seem to care or even notice for that matter.

"Left me, or something like that- fuck, I don't know anymore, I'm really kind of drunk, but like we had that argument and then Lindsey gave me advice, and I like I fucking bought him fucking flowers- I was going to be all bullshit and sappy and romantic about it for him, but he's not there when I'm back, and then some fucking guy: Bert is all up in my ass about the fact that he fucked Gerard, and I'm like fuck off, but he's like oh yeah Gerard just walked off with another guy, but like no, he wouldn't fucking do that? My head fucking hurts and I want this to be a dream, and I want to wake up right the fuck now."

"So gentle flower Gerard cheated on you?" Pete was in a state of fucking disbelief. "Gerardo? My buddy pal- ridiculous, actually are you sure you're not just excessively drunk because I'm having a serious problem believing this?"

"I really fucking hope so." Frank groaned, pulling his knees up his chest and turning his face away, neglecting his Capri Sun in a very heartless gesture that wholeheartedly mattered. "Anyway, I guess we were technically broken up when he did sleep with Bert, so, like... he didn't cheat on me, but my heart still fucking hurts."

"So you hurt this asshole the fuck down and get your boyfriend back, huh?" Pete suggested, finishing his Capri Sun, and taking a moment to control his urges for another, because seriously, he was a gang leader with a Capri Sun addiction, but whatever, he did what the fuck he wanted: he was hardcore, or something.

"Well, I would, but I have no fucking idea who the fuck this guy is: he must be someone from Gerard’s past or something, and well, he didn't really talk about that an awful lot, so we're kind of fucked right now." Frank groaned, grabbing his cellphone and checking his messages, and of course, nothing new from Gerard, because that would be too fucking easy, wouldn't it?

"Well, what about someone from your past? Someone wanting to get back at you, honestly, I guess you have a lot of enemies, don't you, Iero?" And at that, Frank's eyes grew so wide that they practically fell through their sockets.

"Fuck- fuck- fuck-the guy- fucking Toro.... fuck... no, no, no. He wants me, not Gerard, anyway, so he couldn't, but- fuck- I'm going-" Frank shook his head firmly, almost going into a full blown mental breakdown at the simplest notion of Ray Toro going anywhere near Gerard Way.

"Call him- find the fuck out." Pete instructed, sitting up and actually acting like a gang leader for once, which was entirely puzzling. "I'll help you get him back, I promise, if you promise not to puke on my carpet, how about that?"

"Sure..." Frank let out a sigh, sitting up and holding his cellphone in his hand: his fingers trembling just a little. "Fuck.. fuck... I can't- he's the worst guy you'll ever know, I just- Gerard, I-"

"Fuck do it, Iero, grow the fucking balls, think about him fucking your boyfriend okay, and call him and threaten the absolute fuck out of him-"

And with that, Frank was practically slamming his fist again the call button, his hands shaking as he held the phone to his ear.

"Been a while, hasn't it, Frankie?" The voice almost cut his heart in two. "I guess you want your whore back, don't you?"

-

Brendon was fucking late for work and he'd spilt fucking coffee on his shirt, and it fucking sucked, but his shirt was black so it didn't matter that much, and well, Brendon was just kind of thanking the lords of emo there for inventing the colour black.

"Brendon-" He almost jumped at an awfully familiar voice at his heels, and he couldn't help but stop breathing for a good few seconds as the fucking butt-Ryan appeared at his side. "Hi, I... my head's a fucking mess: I can't stop thinking about the coke- I... I know... I-"

"We just forget that it ever even happened - it's literally that easy, we get on with our lives like nothing ever happened- literally that easy." Brendon rolled his eyes a little, because although this guy was hot, he wasn't exactly the brightest.

"But it's fucking bothering me, like I got like two hours of sleep last night, because like what if the police come and they look for witnesses and we don't say anything and then they realise that we were there, and then we get fucking arrested and I don't want to go to prison, I'm fucking clumsy as fuck and I don't want to drop any fucking soap-"

"Chill the fuck out." Brendon almost laughed at him, but Ryan did seem genuinely distressed, and Brendon knew that this would be a very good moment in which to gain his trust, and in turn, entry to his bedroom. "That's not going to happen, I promise you, and if it does, I'll say that you weren't even there, then only I get arrested and you don't, okay?"

"But what if you drop the soap?" Ryan's eyes widened, and really Brendon was beginning to wonder whether this guy was actually okay in the head.

"I like it up the ass, so that's fine." Brendon shrugged it off, because although, he did technically top, saying it like this had the far better reaction on Ryan's part.

"Holy fuck-" Oh Jesus Christ- if he was going to go full straight person on him then Brendon knew he would not hesitate to slap the fuck out of his pretty little face.

"What?" Brendon rolled his eyes, turning to meet Ryan's gaze. "I'm gay and you're not going to get arrested and we're going to be fine, I absolutely fucking promise you, Ryan."

"So... wait, when you have a cock up your ass-" Brendon choked a little, not really expecting the guy to be quite so blunt, but whatever, Ryan seemed to continue regardless. "Does it like hurt? Cause like what if it's a big cock, and like your ass isn't that big, is it? Do gay people have a bigger ass? Doesn't that hurt more than anything, like how does that even make you come?"

Brendon let out a sigh, and decided that he really would have preferred that Ryan had asked if when he'd 'turned' gay or, or whether he had a crush on him, or just freaked the fuck out, or whatever the fuck else straight people like to say.

"Look, you stretch your fucking asshole before the cock goes in, okay, you, or your partner fingers you asshole and you use a shit ton of lube, because otherwise your asshole is literally going to fall the fuck out, and it makes you come, because, Ryan, up your pretty little straight white boy ass, you have a prostate, and when a cock hits that, you are in fact literally going to die, you are going to come the fuck everywhere-"

"Is it really that good?" Ryan's interest in this was kind of concerning by this point, but Brendon did kind of like talking about his ass, so he found himself continuing nevertheless.

"Well, if your partner's good, then yeah." Brendon shrugged it off, wondering if he could somehow spin this into fucking Ryan in the toilets or something - it was unlikely, but Brendon literally had nothing to lose here, so he sure as hell was going to try.

"Is it better than straight sex- like... does it feel better than-"

"Depends if you're into gay things, doesn't it?" Brendon gave a casual shrug, before turning to Ryan. "You're asking an awful lot of gay questions for a straight dude, you know?"

"Well, I don't know... they don't teach you this at school, you know? Holy fuck, why don't they teach gay people how to have safe sex at school, like, what the fuck?" Ryan's eyes practically fell from their sockets at that point.

"Because homophobes don't give a shit if we get AIDs or whatever, because it's our own fault for being such filthy fucking faggots, of course." Brendon rolled his eyes, watching as Ryan continued to stare in disbelief.

"So how did you find out what to do?"

"Porn, asking my partners, just general googling, if it's your first time and like your boyfriend's done this before, then he is going to tell you what you're supposed to be doing- if he isn't a fucking asshole that is, and if he is, you really shouldn't let him fuck you in the first place. Anyway, why are you even asking?"

"I'm just curious." Ryan mumbled, blushing a little: his gaze falling to the floor, and Brendon couldn't help but admit that he was more than just a little disappointed with the lack of homosexual subtext in his response.

"Well, okay, I'm here if you get curious again." And with that, Brendon made sure to walk very fucking quickly away from Ryan, and to practically bury his head on his desk, and kill himself with whatever the fuck he was actually being paid to do here, and just- holy fuck, pray to the fucking lord that they'd finally fixed the water fountain, because no, Brendon reckoned that he most absolutely could not deal with talking to Ryan Ross for a second time that day.

-

"You're good." Ray's voice lacked any real sense of meaning: he just spoke, and Gerard just nodded and put pen to paper once again. 

"Really good." He added, a few moments later, and perhaps in response to Gerard's faltering smile - no that it mattered, of course.

"T-thank you." Gerard stuttered out: at a loss for what else to say.

"You're beautiful, seriously." Ray spoke again after a moment, pulling Gerard's gaze away from his sketch in a far more permanent manner; he was an insecure little bitch at heart, and there was nothing a smile compliment like that couldn't accomplish with Gerard - perhaps it would always be his one true weakness, perhaps not - there was no telling.

"Y-" Gerard couldn't even really figure out what he was going to respond with, before Ray took Gerard's hand in his, and kissed him: again, a simple gesture - on the lips, not quick, but not long, not apathetic, but in no way meaningful.

It was just enough, and Ray knew it.

Gerard didn't.

Ray wondered if he ever would.

"Shall we go somewhere?" Ray asked, although there was little point in it being posed as a question, as both of them knew exactly what the answer already was, and exactly whose hands it lay in.

"Where?" Gerard found himself asking as Ray moved his sketch to the side; Gerard forced himself to forget about it, because if Ray didn't think it mattered, then surely it didn't? Ray knew more than him anyway: Ray certainly knew more about Frank than he did, and that was proved in the utter lack of texts and calls.

"A friend's house." And that was all the detail Gerard knew he was going to get as Ray got to his feet and grabbed a jacket from the hanger. "I'm going for a smoke: you'll be ready when I'm finished, won't you? Dress up pretty, Gerard, because you are."

And he blushed again, before making his way towards the bedroom and looking down at his sweatpants and oversized shirt- well, they were Ray's, but it didn't matter, did it?

With the privacy of a closed door, Gerard faced his reflection in the mirror and gave himself a shrug, before ridding himself of his clothes, and facing himself once again: he was nothing special, he knew that, and he even wondered if Ray was lying to him when he called him pretty.

But if he knew anything, it was that Ray called him beautiful much more than Frank ever had, and that was a thought that stayed with him as he put on a pair of jeans and a tight fitting shirt.

He couldn't look himself in the mirror and describe himself as pretty, no matter how hard he tried, no matter what clothes he wore- he just couldn't do it, he... he needed Ray to tell him that: he needed someone.

Gerard wondered what that said about him as he grabbed his cellphone from the side, pocketing it without even checking the screen, because by now, he just knew that Frank hadn't called.

As he made his way outside of the apartment, Ray finished a phone call and stubbed his cigarette out. "Beautiful." He added in response to Gerard’s outfit, and the artist blushed again, just like Ray knew he would.

Not another word was shared throughout the duration of the car ride: Ray focused upon driving, or something, and Gerard occupied with the city around him whirring past far too quickly: he thought about the world around him - he thought about his life, he thought about his apartment, he thought about Mikey.

"I miss my brother." Gerard finally found the courage to speak as Ray pulled into the driveway of a big house in a neighbourhood he didn't recognise.

"The coke addict?" Ray raised his eyebrows at that, only meeting Gerard's gaze in the front mirror. Gerard nodded. "You're too good for him." Ray smiled, and it was a smile Gerard returned, albeit with reluctance. "You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah." Gerard let out a sigh, and Ray opened the car door.

"Come on."

And with that, all thoughts of Mikey were forgotten in favour of an extravagant house and people Gerard didn't know and had a feeling he really wouldn’t like.

-

Bert McCracken was just a little stoned, just a little drunk, and very much out of it, but even in a state like that, he knew that this was just about the worst 'party' he'd ever been to.

It was entirely too posh for his style, and Jeph had only dragged him here because the guy knew a good dealer would be here, and Jeph was like an over excited, 'edgy' eighth grader who genuinely thought drugs were cool.

Bert was content with a little pot, and sitting in the corner staring at some guy's ass until that guy eventually noticed and slept with him or something. Although, with being Bert McCracken, it would suggest that he was a fan of cocaine, he really far more suited Bert McWeeden, as stupid as that sounded.

However, he soon noticed a familiar face across the room, and an uncomfortable expression upon it.

Bert didn't exactly know whose party, let alone, whose house this was, but he had suspicions that it was that guy with the blonde hair and the beard and the badly fitted suit. Bert even felt personally offended by that guy's suit, he might even Bert McSmacken, but that required getting up, and Bert was very, very stoned and in no state to get up for anyone-

Except perhaps one person.

The one guy that Bert knew all too well: the one guy that a certain curly haired dude was holding all too close to his side: the one guy who was looking around far too nervously to be okay.

And Bert wasn't exactly Mother Theresa, but Gerard Way had both a cute butt and a cute face, and there was no chance that the curly haired little shit by his side was stealing that from him- hey, where even was Frank?

Bert stopped for a moment, remembering his conversation with Frank from a few days ago, and glancing back to the curly haired asshole, and finally connecting the pieces.

He wondered if Frank would let them have a threesome or something if he got him his boyfriend back.

Hey, it was worth a shot, wasn't it?

And with that logic, Bert McCracken got up from his seat in the corner of the room, and forgot all about Jeph and his stupid heroin addiction in favour of a cute boy and the possibility of a threesome.

Gerard seemed to notice Bert as he approached, and really, Bert had no idea just what Gerard thought of him, but in comparison to a guy holding him like that, he easily looked like a fucking angel.

"...so Ray, I should really show you my new swimming pool, like for real, that shit's shaped like a cock." The blonde hair dude in the ridiculous suit's conversation came into earshot as Bert casually approached them, and at this point, Gerard was staring at him.

"Are you okay?" Bert mouthed at Gerard, and really, he could see the tears in his eyes and just how tightly 'Ray' was holding him, and found no need to answer that question.

"I would, but... Gee, hey-" Ray spun around to face Bert, and he almost thought he was going to get punched right then and there, but, no. "Can you watch my boyfriend for a moment? He's knew to this kind of thing, I don't want him to get taken advantage of, I'm just I’ll be one minute."

And Bert was nodding furiously, and grabbing Gerard tightly like he might fade away before Ray was even into the next room. "What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?"

"I-" Gerard just broke out sobbing before he could stop himself, and Bert looked up, shaking his head, and noticing Jeph finally return from some corner of the house.

"Doesn't matter, we're getting you out of here. You can explain in the car, if you want. Jeph!" Bert yelled for the guy, who rolled his eyes, making his way over to the two of them.

"W-what?" The guy slurred, raising his eyebrows at Gerard.

"We're going now, I'll drive, because, well, can you even walk?"

"I-I'm not leaving." Jeph grinned; making no secret of the fact that he was checking Gerard out.

"Just give me your fucking car keys, because some asshole is going to come back in like one minute and probably beat the shit out of Gerard here, okay?"

"Consensual beating?" Jeph raised one eyebrow, and Bert firmly shook his head, grabbing the car keys, and then Gerard's hands, before practically running out of the place with Gerard in tow.

The two didn't stop running until the car doors were locked, and they were off down the road.

"Is Frank really such a bad guy?" Gerard found himself asking, as Bert sped down the fucking road: not really going anywhere, just away. "Ray said he's horrible and manipulative, and I feel like he has been, like he hasn't even texted me once since I went missing - he doesn't care."

"If he didn't care then why did he break down in front of me and scream at me asking where you were the other day, when he finally got home." Bert let out a sigh, and wondering how someone like Gerard had ever gotten involved with these kind of people in the first place. "He's sorry, and he really does love you, Gerard. He bought you flowers: Frank doesn't do flowers."

"What kind of flowers?"

"Roses. Fucking red motherfucking roses from Frank Iero: you've gotten Frank Iero to fall for you, Gerard Way, let me tell you something, you've practically broken the motherfucking universe, and you are, in fact, worth so much more than guys like Ray, guys like me, guys like Frank, even. But I think he's going to kill me if he ever finds out that I told you that, so tell him that you love him back, alright?"

- 

hey guys:) look new cover, look actual plot, look bert not being an asshole cliche for once, lmaooo you're getting so much this chapter be grateful!!! and show that gratitude with votes and comments p l s i love you all lots<3