It was fucking cold.

And it was always fucking cold in Gerard's shitty ass apartment, but there was just about nothing that the twenty eight year old could do about that.

Except wear a jumper.

Gerard was too cool for jumpers.

The word 'cool' being used rather literally here.

Gerard Way was just a shivering emo mess sat against the door to his balcony, surrounded, but not quite covered, with blankets: shitty, torn up, ratty, twenty year old blankets - not nice blankets, to say the least.

But then again, in a flat like this, Gerard couldn't really expect anything to be nice, and with a life like his, he couldn't really expect anything to work out alright.

But he most certainly still didn't expect things to work out quite like they had: he didn't want the whole world to end in fists and bruises and not quite so empty threats. Gerard couldn't fucking cope with this, and it was all Frank's fault, it was all to do with fucking Frank, and quite literally so, but still, he couldn't find it within himself to blame the asshole of a twenty four year old who lived next door.

Gerard was just confused, and maybe a little scared, and more fucking alone that ever before, and maybe, just maybe, all he needed was someone to hug him and tell him that everything was okay, but the noises from next door made Frank's stance upon that kiss and its after effects very fucking clear.

He couldn't fucking compete, and he wouldn't not today, and maybe not ever: this wasn't a fucking game and maybe Frank just needed to get that into his head. Maybe, just like Gerard, he needed a good old punch to the face: black eye, and busted, bloody lip, to keep that up in his head.

Gerard pulled his knees up to his chest and tried to focus on anything other than Frank, but of course, soon found that to be much harder than he had anticipated. Frank wasn't everything, but Frank was fucking important and that kiss wasn't just anything, because just maybe, just maybe, that kiss was everything.

But it was quite evident by now that the everything was one sided, as Gerard sat in his flat: broken and bloody as he tried his best not to cry, Frank moaned out next door as any random guy fucked him into his mattress.

But that was just Frank, and Gerard was just Gerard, and maybe they were even okay like this, but they weren't, not anymore.

Feelings had fucked that all up, to say the least; feelings had torn this all to pieces, feelings had torn Gerard to pieces, and Frank wasn't even there to pick them up, to pick him up this time. And Frank had obligation to be, but Gerard still couldn't stop himself from missing something that he didn't even have.

-

The noises stopped at the very least, eventually, that was.

Eventually, everything stopped though - that was just how the world was, and eventually, Gerard would stop feeling like he could die, and he would stop feeling this way for Frank, and his head would stop spinning and maybe he'd even get back up off his feet and fucking sort his life out: one day.

One day.

But not today.

That was beyond evident as the minutes continued to tick past and Gerard's eyes only began to close as the world faded back out into silence.

Silence was exactly how it had been since that fucking kiss because not a word had been shared between the two. For Gerard, it was all punches and no explanation, and for Frank, it was all fucking and forgetting.

Gerard needed a fucking cigarette.

But he couldn't quite drag himself up off the floor to actually get his packet off the counter top, so really, Gerard was having some serious first world problems right now.

Not to mention that his head was fucking spinning, as the silence sounded an awful lot more like screaming, and Gerard hadn't painted in a week, and he couldn't fucking sell Frank whoring himself up in acrylic paint: Gerard couldn't even fucking look at Frank whoring himself up in acrylic paint.

Hell, Gerard even doubted that he could live with the knowledge that the paint was still in the corner of his bedroom, hidden away under the white drape: a simple facade and nothing more than a painful reminder as to just how much Gerard Way found himself lying to himself.

Perhaps he was no better off than Mikey at all, perhaps there wasn't even a real meaning to the word 'happy' and perhaps we were all floating in oblivion endless until we were shot out of the sky like birds.

Gerard definitely felt as if he'd been shot out of the sky, but there was no question about the fact that he'd skipped earth completely and went and fallen straight to hell.

This was what hell was: loving someone and being alone, and hearing them getting fucked by someone else every fucking day.

Gerard even considered smashing the painting just for even considering the fact that he was actually in love with Frank Iero, but really, here Gerard was again - lying to himself, and perhaps that was just fine, or perhaps, Gerard just kept on lying without even fucking thinking about what he was doing, and just how, bit by bit, Frank Iero was destroying Gerard and the whole fucking world around him.

They were drowning, together, but not really - side by side, but never touching, far too stubborn to help one another, and maybe, just maybe, they would have even survived if they'd simply held hands and tread water until the tide finally died down, but it was arrogance and first impressions that killed them in the first place.

It was too late now, and the silence was too loud, as Gerard came to accept that there wasn't a chance in hell (his current place of residence) that he was going to move from his spot by the windowsill until morning, at the very least.

And it was Frank Iero's fault - there was no question about that now, and at the very least, Gerard wasn't blaming himself, but facades, just like walls, would soon tumble, and unlocked doors would open, and one day, eventually, silence would be broken.

Because maybe first impressions weren't everything.

And maybe, just maybe, Gerard Way didn't have to drown, because maybe, he could breathe underwater.

-

Frank's favourite part of his job was most definitely the free drugs.

And if he was shallow to say that, well so be it, but then again, he was a fucking prostitute - it wasn't exactly the most charitable of jobs.

In fact, the free drugs might even be the most charitable aspect, not on Frank's end, but somewhere in there, someone was being a nice guy and now it was all just hookers and cocaine and little pills by the dozen.

Frank's life, of course, wasn't anywhere near as eccentric as that, and right now, it largely consisted of accepting the fact that he was a fucking coward as he leaned back against the wall between his and Gerard's apartments and tried his best to ignore the rather obvious sounds of Gerard sobbing.

It was fault - he knew, and he highly suspected that the guy who just fucked him and the sounds they'd made hadn't exactly made things better for Gerard.

Frank was just a fuck up, and it was only a little bag of pills, but he swallowed them nonetheless, because he couldn't face Gerard and the bruises that he, although indirectly, had caused.

'Sorry' wouldn't cover it - Frank knew that, at the very least, but he still reckoned that no matter what he said, no matter how many times he kissed him, no matter how many times he fucked him, Gerard Way would never fucking forgive him, and it fucking hurt Frank too, because a face as pretty as that didn't need to bruised and broken.

Bruising was for pretty asses, of course, not faces. Frank was fucked up, but not that fucked up, and yet, he still sat, silent in his apartment, pills on his tongue as he gathered the courage just to fucking go talk to a guy he'd had the balls to fucking kiss the other day.

He'd done an absolutely perfect job of being brave enough to fuck up his own life, yet he was absolutely useless when it came to the matter of fixing it.

He swallowed a few more pills, waiting forever and far too long for the effects to actually start, because he couldn't fucking live like this, he couldn't fucking deal with this: he needed an escape, a failsafe, and a fucking adequate apology.

But no apology could quite stretch to cover this, and Frank knew that without even trying.

Because he was clever, and not because he was a fucking coward, of course.

The pills kicked in eventually though, and soon, Gerard's sobs faded out into silence too, and just like that, Frank could just about tell himself that everything was and would be alright, even if just for a few seconds at a time - it was progress at the very least.

Progress in the wrong direction, but in a state like this, that was a fact that Frank could very easily bring himself to ignore - perhaps he could even forget about Gerard and how he'd fucked everything up once and for all.

But he didn't fucking want to.

Frank was fucking selfish and Gerard was fucking beautiful and they didn't deserve each other, but they deserved nothing less at the same time: it was a rollercoaster - the world's biggest headache and the best method of self-destruction.

Frank just couldn't quite gain the guts to fuck himself over for the final time, and all in aid of the cute boy next door and the millions of apologies Frank owed him, and yet, he still couldn't bring himself to try: he was scared and he could never quite admit it.

It was all clockwork in his brain: carefully designed to completely destroy him and everything he ever loved - a time bomb kind of thing. Very Romeo and Juliet and poetic enough to make Frank want to set the time bomb off and end it all right now.

But all it took was confidence and pills and tricking yourself into thinking that you had absolutely nothing to lose, and it took Frank twenty minutes and ten pills to master that, and although his legs shook as he got up from the floor, he had the guts to lie straight to his own face and continue to insist that he was okay.

And soon, footsteps in his own apartment became footsteps in the hallway and then nothing as his hand hovered over the door handle for entirely far too long: this could go nothing but wrong and Frank knew that more than he'd ever know himself, but still, he couldn't quite bring himself to accept the fact that he'd ruin the one thing that ever mattered.

Because this did.

Gerard mattered more than anything and he still didn't quite know as to how on earth he'd landed himself in such a fucking stupid position. Of course, it was nothing more than the fault of his own guilt, too many pills and far too much self-reflection, because maybe, maybe, it wasn't his fault, okay, it certainly was, but maybe he could lie to Gerard too, and maybe he'd forgive him and maybe everything would be fine.

Or at the very least, he could hope, he could hope and lie his way through every last stretch of reality, but still, Frank Iero, couldn't quite bring himself to open a fucking door.

Pathetic was too weak of a word for it.

But, maybe, just with this level of nothing, it was true in that, he had nothing to lose other than the one person that mattered - the one person he'd already lost, and now it was only a matter of apologising until his throat dried up and his words slurred as he prayed and prayed that maybe, just maybe, Gerard would bring himself to even begin to forgive him.

But as he did so, pushing the door open, he found himself making eye contact with Gerard, stood only a metre away from him: about to make his own route to the door.

And from then on, it was awkward gazes and a look of shock at Gerard's bruised face, and as Frank opened his lips for his first apology, he was silenced within seconds as Gerard's lips were on his, pinning the twenty four year old up against the wall.

"What the fuck-" Frank pushed the artist away, just taking a minute to try and stop his head from spinning at such a velocity that caused Frank to seriously consider the possibility of it just downright toppling off his shoulders.

"I'm kissing you because it's okay and we're okay. I'm not good with words." Gerard muttered out an apology: eyes fixated upon rotting floorboards as he counted down the seconds plagued with what he would consider deeming a never-ending silence.

"But we're not okay - there is no fucking us, Gerard, look you got fucking beat up because of me, and yet you're still fucking stupid enough to disregard the fucking warning and continue to act like fucking nothing's happened at all." Frank pulled away from the artist, stopping in his tracks as he really began to focus on the black eye for the first time.

Gerard's pale white skin was plagued with dark purples, deep reds and the kind of blues that had veins growing entirely too close to the surface: it was horror movie make up but so fucking real, and Frank knew that even if it wasn't his doing, there was no way around the fact that it was indeed his fault.

"Your face is fucking ruined, Gerard, fuck-" And Frank seemed to turn a complete one hundred and eighty degrees in the other direction, reaching out and laying his fingertips against the bruised area upon the artist's face: grimacing as Gerard winced at his touch. "Fuck, my head's such a mess, fuck, we're such a mess."

"I thought you said there was no us." Gerard reminded him, eyebrows raised a little, as he looked the twenty four year old down a little: still entirely unsure as to what the hell he was supposed to think. Sure, Frank was so fucking important, and arguably the best thing that had ever happened to him, yet, also just as arguably the worst.

"I just-" Frank choked out, turning away again. "No, fuck, I'm being selfish, I- you're going to get so fucking hurt like this, Gerard, and I can't have that, I just can't have you hurt, fuck, I'm an asshole, Gerard, and you're just too good for a place like this: you should be in some fucking pretentious art gallery in France somewhere and not stuck in this shithole, and I fucking hate that you are."

"And yet, despite this sudden adamancy regarding the fact that I should never get hurt, you were always fucking happy to hit me and hurt me as long as it got you hard. Think about what you say for a minute, Iero. I nearly gave you a second chance, but you're just fucking highlighted just how excellently you fucked everything up. You're a fucking asshole, Frank."

"I know." Frank choked out, biting his lip too fucking hard in an over exaggerated and almost theatrical struggle to keep his mouth shut.

"Fucking stop it." Gerard snapped out, pulling himself away from the twenty four year old in an awful hurry: emotions and hormones buzzing about the hair and tugging at pieces of his conscious in an attempt to drag the artist deep down into the depths of insanity.

"Stop what?" Frank looked up at that: all bright eyes and 'o' shaped lips, and Gerard had to forcefully eradicate every thought from his mind, because he was supposed to be pissed, he was supposed to fucking hate the guy, but he just couldn't: he was a mess, and it was entirely Frank Iero's fault, and yet, he wanted nothing more than to fucking kiss him again, maybe just because he could.

"Stop messing with my head. I want to kiss you and punch you at the same time and I can't fucking cope: we're a mess." Gerard threw his head back against the wall, closing his eyes, and before he knew what was happening, Frank's hands were at his hips and he was all over his lips.

And like that, it was kisses and all too much tongue and croaky little back of throat noises as common sense was put to rest and the pills Frank had taken really started to take effect.

His head was spinning like fucking hell itself, but the twenty four year old had it pinned down to the artist he had pinned against the wall and not the signs that everything was really about to go to shit, and not the 'punch your boyfriend in the face' kind of shit, but 'too many pills and all too late' kind of shit, as Frank pushed himself away from Gerard, vomit rising in his throat.

"Frank?" The artist managed to choke out after just the few seconds that it took before his brain caught up to just what was happening and just how they'd gone from yelling to kissing and then to that look on Frank's face, which quite honestly scared him. "Frank, are you okay?"

And then before either of them knew anything, Frank was leaving over Gerard's toilet, practically throwing up all of his organs, as Gerard to continued to beg for some kind of explanation as he was left speechless.

And in that moment: vomit that never seemed to stop and the scarily pale colour in Frank's cheeks, Gerard really thought that the guy was going to die, and that he was just going to stand there fucking helpless and watch.

The vomiting stopped eventually after entirely too long, but still Gerard was beyond relieved, rushing down to sit beside Frank and comfort him like nothing had even happened between them at all, grabbing him a glass of water and being all too affectionate in a stupid attempt to comfort someone who was moments away from punching him in the face just a few minutes ago.

Frank, utterly calm, just looked across at Gerard with a lazy grin, shaking his head and muttering like this was nothing more than a fucking regular occurrence and not, in Gerard's mind, a near death experience.

"Bad fucking pills. Fucking shitty, fuck- fucking laced." He shook his head once more, as Gerard continued to watch wide-eyed. "Guy gave me these for a fuck today - seems that just maybe they're out to get me too, huh? Fuck, this isn’t good. I should probably keep away from you if I don't want to end up dead."

"Yeah." Gerard added, sighing out, but smiling just a little, because maybe rationality was the only thing that could save them now. "Half the time it feels like you're killing me, Iero."

"Nah, like this, I'm just killing myself."

"Huh-"

And before Gerard could even focus upon what was happening, everything logical was disregarded for the sake of Frank's lips upon Gerard's.

And metaphorically, that was Frank saying that he would die for Gerard, but this wasn’t fucking Shakespeare – this was a shitty ass apartment block in a shitty ass town and this was just the effects of pills and cute boys acting together to ensure that their lives were just about ruined.

After all, around here, Frank knew much better than just to ignore a warning.

-

hey guys:) I don't even know what I'm doing here, I started writing this with the intentions of smut and now we have this and oh dear:') anyway, votes and comments are always lovely and I fucking love you all<3