It only began to dawn on Frank as to how much of a bad idea this was the very moment that they actually began to walk into the part of the city that wasn't infected with council estates and people like themselves, because it quite obvious with the dark tattered clothing they wore that they didn't belong here at all.

Gerard even had fucking paint stains all over his jeans, and Frank had similar white stains, but of course of the less artistic variety.

However, that wasn't exactly the biggest of Frank's problems as he came eye to eye with someone entirely too familiar across the street: blue eyes, long dark hair and this was exactly just where his clients lived, and Frank was an alien in their world, catching far too many familiar gazes as he found himself almost clinging to Gerard's side as the artist made his way down the road in a state of utterly oblivion to Frank's situation.

But Frank just didn't bargain for the consequences of his apparent closeness to the man beside him at all, and with stares turned nasty, paces quickened and Gerard finally caught on as he caught up with Frank's pace, and within moments they were inside a coffee shop and Frank looked just about as if he was about to have seven thousand panic attacks at once.

"Frank... I?" Gerard exclaimed with varying degrees of exasperation, grasping the twenty four year old by the hand, their gazes locked like they were caught up in themselves and the world around them meant nothing and everything at the same time. "Are you okay? You're really not okay, are you- f-fuck? Frank?"

"It sounds ridiculous but I've seen like five people that have paid me to fuck them around here, and it's just fucking different - I feel like a freak show, I feel like that whore, and I... Gerard, I c-can't..." Gerard didn't think, only threw the twenty four year old into a hug, and suddenly who they were didn't matter at all anymore: Gerard and Frank cared about each other, perhaps more than they'd like to admit, but that was it, and that was all that mattered.

"Look, Frank, do you want to go sit down somewhere - I'll get us coffee, and we can sort things out from there, okay?" Frank only nodded in response, pulling away from Gerard and attempting to pull himself together as he went and sat at a table near the back: outside of sight from the window, but from Gerard too.

And just like that, opportunity felt into idiocy and the worst ideas Frank's stupid little head could possibly concoct: the little packet of pills in his back pocket, and safely out of the artist's eye line, he swallowed a few, and his head spun like hell for a few seconds, but from then on, everything was dizzy, blurry, but the good kind - the detached, the distant kind of existing, and for the first time today, Frank Iero could say that he was truly okay.

It seemed that beautiful little pills won over both Gerard and sex itself, which was truly nothing but an intriguing discovery.

"This was a bad idea." Gerard sighed out, his voice catching Frank by surprise as he sat down beside the twenty four year old, totally oblivious to the little white pills and the reason for the stupid little grin on Frank's face. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have, I... this is clearly making you uncomfortable and Mikey's an asshole so it's just not going to get any better and I-"

"Gerard, it's fucking fine." Frank sighed out, meeting the artist's gaze with nothing short of a grin. "Can't you just ask him to meet us here and we could get coffee or whatever? He could even bring his trophy girlfriend or whatever-"

Gerard cut Frank off with a fit of ridiculously over exaggerated laughter, which due to Frank's words was probably nothing but well deserved. "Trophy girlfriend? So what does that make you then?"

"It makes you my little trophy bitch." Frank corrected him with a smirk and Gerard just rolled his eyes, pulling his coffee mug up to his lips, and burying everything in the bittersweet caffeinated remedy. "I don't do trophy boyfriends."

"Of course." Gerard sighed out, pulling out his cellphone and sending his brother a text alluding to their location and the change in plans and far too little regarding Frank's presence. "He'll be here in like ten minutes."

"Oh lovely, so do remind me just how much of an asshole your brother is. Fuck, I'm nervous, like I actually care, like it doesn't matter if he likes me or not or whatever - I'm just here for you, but it does, god, fuck, this makes me feel like I'm your fucking boyfriend and this is like a fucking double date or something."

"He's probably going to assume that you're my boyfriend and not just a prostitute who I happen to be unfortunately close with." Gerard admitted, his voice trailing off as he came to realise just how fucking boyfriend-y this all was, and yet he couldn't quite figure out if that was either the best or the worst thing to ever happen to him.

"I don't even care anymore." Frank sighed out, throwing his head back against the wall. "We're not boyfriends, per say, I mean, I don't do boyfriends, it's just... I know that you're more than a casual fuck, and that's destroying me, but I care about you enough to let it."

"That's oddly romantic." Gerard admitted and Frank only scoffed in response. "Well, in a weird, typically you kind of way. And by that I mean that you're an absolute asshole."

"And by that you really mean that you love my asshole." Frank corrected him, smirk fully intact and coffee abandoned in favour of Gerard Way and his stupid fucking smile and the one way train to ruining his life. "Because I love yours."

"I love your asshole too." Gerard laughed, because there was nothing quite as ridiculously pathetic as this, and really, there was nothing as quite as wonderful as this awkward not quite boyfriends stage when they were able to pretend that everything was okay and that Frank wasn't a whore and that Gerard wasn't a fuck up.

Pretending was hard, and Frank was wonderful at lying to everyone besides himself, but pills worked like magic in times of need, and they worked even better when they worked in secret.

-

When Mikey Way dragged his rather pissed off girlfriend into a coffee shop on a Saturday morning, he found himself more than a little pissed off, and more than a little shell-shocked to see his brother sat with a boy at his side.

And like that, everything fell into place, but not quite where Mikey wanted it, and perhaps that was just something that he was going to deal with as he went and sat down, his girlfriend following him: engrossed in a text message conversation and seemingly oblivious to the world around her.

"Gerard, hey." Mikey greeted, making far too much of an effort to smile as Gerard considered punching himself in the face and Frank only watched through narrowed eyes as the two brothers interacted in nothing but menial small talk for a while, his gaze however, soon finding it's way to the girl beside Mikey and her immediate disinterest.

Which of course brought nothing but interest for Frank.

"This is my girlfriend, Alicia." Mikey broke the ice of small talk and the girl lifted her head and forced a black lipstick coated smile, and from that moment on, Frank decided that he liked her. Gerard only nodded in her direction: far more preoccupied with his brother and they way he gestured towards Frank, almost as if in request of a similar introduction.

"This is Frank..." He began to stumble over syllables and eventually silence as he met the twenty four year old's eyes with a panicked abundance at just how to introduce him.

"I'm his boyfriend." Frank sighed out, pulling his gaze away from Gerard's and to Mikey's, who seemed to have to physically force a spiteful comment down his throat, which just about made the fact that he was destroying himself for some shitty artist with a cute butt all the more worthwhile.

It wasn't supposed to mean anything - it was just a lie, and it was just to ensure that Mikey shut the hell up, but whenever Frank approached Gerard with the intention of something not meaning anything, things always seemed to backfire, and they always seemed to backfire in the worst possible way.

Because this didn't just mean something, it meant everything.

"Oh, okay, that's nice." And at Mikey's utterly pathetic attempt at not being homophobic, Alicia could do nothing more than snort, finally looking up from his phone and glancing between Gerard and Frank. "Alicia-"

"For fuck's sake, Mikey. He's being an idiot, I'm sorry. He is an idiot, again, I'm sorry. I'm Alicia, as you've been told, I work with him and basically I'm his boss." She giggled a little at that, leaving Mikey to blush as the whole 'professional' facade melted away into nothingness. "We work in general business bullshit, not that any of you'd be all that interested, but whatever."

"I'm an artist." Gerard added, and Frank couldn't help but grin as he smirked like the pretentious asshole he really was.

"Oh that's really cool, are you good-" Frank cut off Alicia's response, not giving Gerard one moment in which to deny his talent.

"He's fucking amazing, like seriously, there are no words for it, I just... he's amazing." Frank sighed out, blushing more than he'd care to admit as he did so.

"Are you sure you're still talking about painting there?" Alicia raised her eyebrows, leaving Mikey to watch almost uncomfortably as Frank continued to blush like hell.

Mikey couldn't deny that Frank made his brother happy though - it was obvious, he just kind of hated how his brother was everything he shouldn't be and yet he was still so much better off than Mikey would ever be. Mikey just wasn't happy - sure he had a wonderful girlfriend and a lot of money, but in comparison to Gerard and that smile, he was nothing.

Mikey never fucking smiled, and there were far too many reasons as to why, and still not a single one that he could really ever even fathom admitting to himself. Mikey was the worst kind of coward: too scared to even admit it to himself.

"So, Frank..." Mikey trailed off, bringing himself back into the conversation in entirely the worst way possible. "What do you do for a living?"

And Gerard had to swallow the legions of fucking laughter that such an innocent question bought, because really, it was the answer to destroy all answers and everything they'd ever known. Of course, Frank didn't find it nearly as amusing, and only flashed Gerard an 'I fucking hate you' glance.

"I'm uhh... unemployed, currently, it's-"

"Yeah, job market and that - ridiculous." Mikey bursted into a topic he actually knew something about, leaving Frank's prostitution far behind them. "I mean, not that, painting's an actual job, is it, Gerard?"

"I'm making money and I like my job and I don't hate myself, so really, I reckon I'm doing better than you ever will, how about that, Mikey?" Gerard snapped, catching Frank's gaze as the twenty four year old sighed out as the artist gestured to the door. "This is just an excuse to show off your girlfriend and establish the fact that you're better than me, isn't it?"

"Gerard, for god's sake, don't be like this for once in your life - how about that?" Mikey sighed out, watching as Gerard flipped him off and got up in an attempt to leave, only for Frank to grab his arm and catch his gaze: something about whether he thought this was a good idea.

But the kind of ideas that Gerard specialised in were majorly heart-wrenchingly bad.

"We're fucking going, okay, Frank?" He snapped, leaving Frank to exhale loudly, glancing in Alicia's direction and muttering some form of apology as he rushed off after Gerard, his head still spinning like hell as he hadn't exactly planned for chasing after some bitchy, pissed off twenty eight year old, but then again, something new everyday, and of all that.

"Gerard! Please!" He sighed out, grabbing the artist by the arm and meeting his gaze.

"Fucking shut up - I can't do this shit, you fucking know, I- fuck, I hate you, you know that? Fucking hate you - I am just your trophy whore, and I fucking-"

Frank cut Gerard off with a connection of their lips and within seconds everything faded out into nothing and then back into everything again, but the good kind of everything: the kind of everything that Gerard could believe in.

-

Things always seemed to work so much better in theory than in practice, and Frank's current situation did nothing but consolidate that belief.

Such as having no feelings for Gerard.

Supporting Gerard when he went to see his brother.

Not kissing Gerard Way.

And it was nothing but to be expected that all of the things that had led Frank into such a situation revolved around none other than Gerard fucking Way.

The artist brought nothing but trouble for Frank and there was just no way around that, but Frank was already in far too deep to even consider going back now.

All he had left was cigarette smoke to clear his head as he sat on a wall at the back of the parking lot and just watched as people made their way about their lives: shopping, driving, living, breathing, some even smoking, some even smiling - fewer.

Happiness was a needle in a haystack in a city like this, and it had really torn Frank's head apart as he came to realise how the wealthy weren't really at all better off than he was in his shitty little flat, getting fucked by men unhappy in their marriages to keep himself alive.

But if anyone in this city was good at anything, it was lying: to anyone, to themselves, to the whole fucking world, or just the person they loved the most.

Frank found himself lying to all four, and simultaneously too.

And that kiss: that fucking kiss, was just a flash of the truth that he could never deal with again, and locking himself up in a bundle of grey skies and cigarette smoke was enough to wish the whole world away, but his clothes still smelled like paint and his heart still sang about Gerard, and he wasn't smoking nearly enough to shut his fucking head up, and he was down to his last cigarette.

Frank Iero was down to the last cigarette, and really, he was down to his last hope as the day drew in as the sun fell behind the corrugated metal roof of a supermarket which only the inhabitants of this part of town frequented, and for the first time in his life, Frank Iero really felt like nothing.

And it didn't matter, not really.

Everything was just grey skies and cigarette smoke anyway: perhaps Gerard was just all he needed to make this okay.

But it had gotten to the point where Frank Iero couldn't quite figure out if he was lying to himself or not anymore.

And as he lit his last cigarette, the comfortable bubble of his own thoughts broke in two with a presence beside him and one entirely too familiar - bad kind of familiar: pull your knees up to your chest and don't breathe for a good few seconds familiar.

At first it was just eye contact, and that was enough - more than enough, too fucking much, and his heart hurt and his cigarette fell limp in his fingers, as everything faded out in a mist of irrelevancy and the world fell far too much into silence, so much that Frank's ears began to ring and the man beside him grimaced.

"So, Iero." He broke the silence first, and this conversation wasn't at informal: clients didn't approach him in public, especially not without a good reason, and especially not with an angry glare across their face. "Explain to me exactly what I've heard about you and this 'boyfriend' of yours."

And this wasn't just any old client of Frank's, this was a guy with a whole business empire and yet felt the need to frequent the shitholes downtown in search of 'his little whore', this guy was fucked up, but he paid like hell, and in the business Frank was in, saying no to money like that was just not an option.

"I don't have a boyfriend." Frank sighed out, biting down on his bottom lip and hating that he knew that somehow this guy had seen him and Gerard earlier, and somehow, he'd made assumptions as to just what a kiss like that meant.

"That wasn't a sex thing, that was an 'I love you' thing - that was a boyfriends thing. I fucking saw it, Iero, be more careful when you take your little boyfriend on dates into town, huh?" He snapped, leaving Frank to throw his last cigarette to the floor in shock. "I don't want to see the guy I love to fuck getting cosy with some random motherfucker."

"Look, I'm sorry - we're not even together, it was just an one time thing, I just- he was upset and wouldn't listen to him and I needed to calm him down and I- I wasn't thinking straight-" Frank's speech was sporadic: tone changing and leaping from syllable to syllable in a messy panic.

"No point apologising, Iero. That little boyfriend of yours got a good old beating up in honour of you forgetting just what you are - a fucking whore. You're worth nothing more than a good fuck - fucking remember that, will you?"

Frank's eyes widened as images of Gerard: beaten, bruised, and bloody flashed through his mind, and there was just nothing he could do to stop it or stop his head from spinning like hell itself.

"You don't fucking own me." Frank snapped right back, standing up: a random flash of courage and all in aid of Gerard Way, but things involving the artist usually seemed to fire right back on Frank Iero.

"Oh but the dollars say different. So think about how you're going to get by without just about half of what you usually make before you get comfortable in the belief that you deserve someone like that."

And with that, the guy stood up and left, leaving Frank Iero with nothing but an empty packet of cigarettes and a mind racing with thoughts as he darted back and forth between the urge to just find something to inject himself with and ride this all out, or run back to Gerard's apartment as fast as he could to say sorry a million times for something he could never control.

-

Hey guys:) Look, here's some plot wow:') If you enjoyed, comments and votes are always appreciated and I love you all<3