Kat was insistent upon the fact that they weren't fucking cuddling... but, Kat and Pete were laid out on Pete's bed, with Kat on their back, staring up at Pete's ceiling, and with Pete at their side, with one arm wrapped across Kat's chest.

The two laid there mostly in silence; Kat having slipped away from the stupid family traditions that usually occurred upon weekends with now only a depressed mother sat in their kitchen, comfort eating - she hadn't even acknowledged their presence as they'd made their way out at something like eleven in the morning, making their way directly to Pete's, needing to clear their head, spend some time with someone that wasn't Gerard.

Because as much as they of course loved Gerard, he was getting a little trick to handle as of recent; Kat couldn't quite pinpoint it, and instead had just opted to keep an extra close eye on their brother, which they really weren't doing now, but Gerard was at the beach, he only seemed happy at the beach, content sat before the ocean, and Kat reckoned he'd be okay, especially since fucking Frank seemed to be at their house every single fucking minute now.

Kat liked Frank, sure, but Kat didn't like the guy enough to see him in their brother's bedroom whenever they went in there, and no matter how much they liked the guy, they'd never like him enough to trust Gerard with him fully.

But of course, neither Frank nor Gerard seemed to understand that, and Kat's perfectly reasonable causes for concern, because well, fuck, Kat didn't even think Frank knew about Gerard's autism, and the kind of messes he'd been in before; Gerard wasn't exactly a very open person, after all.

"You came here to get your mind off him, but you're just laid here, worrying, about him, obviously, because he's all you ever worry about," Pete pulled Kat back to reality with a painfully accurate observation, "fuck, I think he's the only thing you ever care about; you have this whole I don't give a fuck attitude, but then there's Gerard, and I think, in a weird way, you need him, because otherwise you'd have seriously fucked your life up by now."

Kat didn't respond for a good few minutes, instead spending the silence letting their eyes flicker across Pete's wall, fixating upon band poster after band poster, and then of course, the small corner of Pete's room that was dedicated to more personal items: pictures of him and his family, pictures of his friends - people Kat didn't know nor care for, and then one picture of him and Kat, from a year or so back, from when they thought they really had something, but it had fucked up, of course, as things with the two of them always did.

And as what they had right now inevitably would, and Kat knew that, fuck, Kat thought of that in every happy moment they spent with Pete, because sure, right now, Pete Wentz seemed like the only person in the world that really understood them, but they'd thought that the last time, and the time before, and the time before that, and each time without fail, they'd been proved wrong, and well, Kat wasn't much of an optimist.

"I'm worrying about something different now, if that makes you feel better." Kat added, coming to realise they'd just left Pete hanging in silence for almost three minutes now.

Pete laughed a little, moving his arm away from Kat's chest and up to their face, brushing hair from it in a way that didn't fail to have Kat blushing within seconds, "what are you worrying about?"

"Stuff-"

"Oh don't give me that bullshit, Kat." Pete let out a sigh, "you worrying doesn't make me happy, and you know what makes it worse, not knowing what it's about," he changed his tone to something a little calmer, "I thought you said you could talk to me about things."

"I can, I just...." Kat let out a sigh, stretching a little, and totally not moving closer to Pete as they did so. "I'm worried about us, I'm thinking about you and I, and I'm thinking about us right now, and this bed, and that picture on your wall from last year, and how every time it fucks up, and how, I realise I'm just waiting, fucking waiting for this to fall apart again."

"Who says that just because something has happened a few times before that it's gonna happen again?" Pete asked, moving closer to Kat.

"Probability," Kat responded, scoffing a little, "but then again, it's not like you listen in school, is it?"

"Point." Pete laughed a little, "there, Kitty Kat, you have a point-"

"Do not fucking call me that." Kat groaned, glaring at Pete as they did so, "I'm your fucking pet."

"Yeah, you're my boyfriend- well I suppose we never, you're not really that either."

"Yeah, Pete, I'm not your boyfriend, because I'm not a fucking boy." Kat snapped, rolling their eyes, knowing fully well that Pete didn't do it on purpose, but still, they had very little patience as it was, let alone for people who misgendered them.

"Fuck, sorry, I just-" Pete exclaimed, biting his lip a little in panic, "I didn't mean it, you know I respect your gender, I... I mean, I don't even know what the word for boyfriend is for non-binary people."

"I know you didn't mean it, I just..." Kat shook their head - there was no point making some stupid fucking argument out of this, "I think it's like datefriend, although that sounds a bit crap, and partner sounds a bit formal-"

"Bae?" Pete offered with that memeloving grin upon his lips.

"Bae sounds fucking ridiculous." Kat shook their head in disbelief.

"So you won't be my bae?" Pete pouted, looking severely upset by the situation.

Kat laughed a little, pausing for a moment, and preparing themself fully to make a stupid decision, "I'll 'date' you if you can come up with a good word for me."

"Motherfucker." Pete cursed, his eyes widening a little as he began to comprehend exactly just what Kat had just said. "Are you serious?"

"You're not calling me motherfucker, try harder-"

"Oh, you know what I meant," Pete rolled his eyes, blushing a little, as he glanced at Kat, and struggled to comprehend exactly what had just happened. "Fuck, you're serious, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not Sirius, I'm Kat." And it was then that Pete gave Kat a seriously not PG-13 look as he cursed the English language's inability to accommodate gender neutral terms, because he seriously felt like he was being cockblocked by a dictionary and motherfucking gender roles right now.

-

Somehow today, being alone wasn't quite so comforting as Gerard was used to it being, and somehow today, the ocean was just the ocean, nothing more, nothing less, water, waves, cold, too cold around his ankles.

Kat was out, Gerard didn't quite know where, he reckoned his mother did, but he reckoned he couldn't really face her either; she'd of course changed drastically since he'd left, his father, and Gerard didn't know if it was for the worse or the better, he just knew that his father shouldn't have left like that.

And his mother shouldn't have hit Kat, and Kat shouldn't have yelled at them quite so much, and he shouldn't have gone out with Frank, and this mess all shouldn't have happened, but it did, and he felt helpless.

He'd spent hours at the beach, a last ditch effort in hope that he'd see Frank, but he'd spent those hours alone, and really Gerard had never anticipated this, but here he was, growing tired of his own company, and perhaps even considering going out of his way to solve that problem, to talk to someone, someone who mattered, find Frank perhaps, or Kat, or maybe even make conversation with his mother, but he doubted that the latter would be much of a good idea.

Gerard wasn't really all that good with ideas, living more so in fiction and theory than fact and practice, and that hadn't really shown to be all that much of a problem until he found himself like this, alone and questioning everything, because for some reason, the sea didn't seem the same miraculous blue shade it had once been, and just a blue grey: dull, faded out, like everything else.

And like that, Gerard's head was spinning as he pulled his knees up to his chest, sat alone on the beach, staring out across the ocean as if he was waiting for someone or something, someone or something that seemed as if it would never come, but desperate being lonely, Gerard wasn't exactly alone, having caught the sound of footsteps against sand the very moment they came into earshot.

They were, however, unfamiliar in nature, the person making the footsteps walking at an oddly slow pace: calm, yet thought out, precise in an odd way. It wasn't Frank or Kat - Gerard knew that for sure, after all, Kat would have already shouted his name, and Frank would have been sprinting to his side the moment he caught sight of him, not that Frank particularly minded that, of course.

After a few moments passed, Gerard finally found him curious: curious enough to turn, curious enough to lay eyes upon the person making their way across the beach, and curious, curious to discover that although this person wasn't familiar, they weren't a stranger.

"Gerard?" He asked: the person, quickening his pace as he made his way closer to the seventeen year old. "Are you alright?" He continued to ask, sitting down beside him.

"Y-yeah..." Gerard stuttered out, twitching a little, and struggling to focus properly upon his face, having recognised him from his voice already. "Yeah, I am, Mr McCracken."

"That's good," the teacher smiled, following Gerard's gaze across the ocean, leaving Gerard unsure whether he wanted him here, but certain that he needed some kind of company; he just wasn't quite sure whether his teacher was really someone he could talk to, of course, Mr McCracken himself had insisted that Gerard could talk to him, but still, it felt weird. "You can call me Bert outside of school, you know?" He continued to add.

Gerard bit his lip, nodding a lot, "okay." He turned his gaze to his feet, to the shoes upon them, to the tide, to the way things didn't quite seem to make sense anymore. "I think maybe I'm not quite so alright." He found himself admitting before he could quite stop himself.

"Oh?" Bert raised his eyebrows, meeting Gerard's gaze with that odd kind of teacherly concern.

"Yeah..." Gerard trailed off.

"How so?" Bert continued to ask, admitting only to himself that despite the fact he really did genuinely want to help, he wasn't really all so sure as to what to do in his situation.

"Just... well, my parents split up: my dad walked out like last weekend, things have been a bit messed up since then..." Gerard let out a sigh, "I don't know if I really want to talk to you about it, though."

"Oh, that's okay too." Bert exclaimed, his tone a little nervous, "I mean maybe we really shouldn't talk outside of school, honestly, I don't know."

Gerard shrugged a little, "I don't know if I want to be alone, though, I just, I don't know what's going on inside my head a lot and right now there's no one to make me feel better."

"Why not?" Bert found himself asking before he could stop himself.

"I don't know where Frank or Kat is - that's my best friend and my sibling. I haven't really known Frank all that long but I think he's the best person I've ever met." Gerard blushed a little as he spoke, "he really tries, always tries his best with me, and seems to treat me like a human being... a lot of people don't do that-"

"Why on Earth would they not?"

"Well, don't you know about my... I mean you're a teacher, that's on file, isn't it?" Gerard asked, stumbling over his words as he spoke.

"What? Gerard, I don't know what you're talking about-"

"I'm autistic, I think I'm depressed too, well, I mean I'm probably depressed, but what does that even mean? What does any of this mean or matter? Nothing's going to matter soon."

"Why not?"

"Everything is temporary, it's all going to end soon. Life is short, you know?"

"You matter though, Gerard, you matter. Not what's going on in your head-"

"But I am, what's going on in my head, Mr McCracken, aren't I? I am my brain, and my brain is what's going on in my head. You don't understand, no one really does."

"You have to let them, Gerard-"

"What if I don't want to?" Gerard exclaimed, getting to his feet, and running back to his house, blocking out what Bert could possibly yell after him - it was all a mistake, all of it was a mistake; he should have never opened up to him.

He then decided that he should never open up to anyone, because no one could ever quite fathom understanding.

-

Lindsey probably had entirely too much patience for Frank, especially as he found himself interrupting her well deserved Saturday off sobbing over various band members on the internet, with every little concern known to man.

She probably deserved like some sort of friendship award for this, or maybe just the knowledge that she was a nice fucking person and actually gave a shit that one of her best friends had something fucking scary on his mind.

Something scared that involved the boy called Gerard who she'd of course heard far too much about.

Lindsey and Frank were sat on her windowsill, Lindsey not wearing very much in the way of clothes - just an oversized shirt, but Frank was gay as hell, and wasn't' a fuckboy so it was fine.

"I think I love him." Frank had pretty much said out of nowhere, and Lindsey was perhaps overly thankful for the invention of glass, or even just that she'd closed the window because if not she was about ninety percent sure she would have fallen out of it at that point.

"You gotta fucking tell him." Lindsey managed to utter in response once she'd recovered from the initial shock of it all.

"It's a bit harder than that." Frank let out a sigh, "I think there's something going on with him, but I don't know what - he doesn't talk about things, not even to his sibling, and they're really close. I just... I feel like there's this connection with us, and it sounds like I'm overworrying but I think there's a chance that the letters I've been finding could be connected to him-"

"Frank, they're just as likely to be connected to him as they are to be connected to anybody." Lindsey reminded him with a comforting kind of 'I know shit' smile. "You never really told me what those letters said," she went on to say, leaving Frank to shudder a little, "what are they about?"

"They're about the kind of shit that makes me wanna sell half my fucking organs to be sure he didn't write them." Frank bit his lip, that blue pen and that fucking handwriting forever haunting his mind.

"Talk to him. About this, about your feelings." Lindsey said what was of course the most obvious option.

"I just... you don't know him, Lindsey, it's..." Frank let out a sigh, "I don't know exactly what it is, but like he's, as he put it 'fucked up in the head', and it's not like he's 'dangerous' or 'insane' or something like that, I just get that he's a little bit different - he's not comfortable talking about things, and then the other night he only spoke to me in French because he couldn't quite bare for me to understand what he was saying. I don't understand him, I really don't, but I care about him more than I care for things to be easy."

"Maybe it's something like anxiety?" Lindsey offered after a moment, "I mean, maybe you should ask his... sibling? Or just him, honestly."

"You don't get it, you don't get him, you just-" Frank let out a sigh, biting his fingernails, "I'm not even making excuses here, it's just Gerard, and I really don't want to make him uncomfortable, and those letters, I just, that's some fucking sensitive stuff. You'd understand if you met him, if you read the letters."

"Then let me understand, because come on, Frank, let's be fucking real here, I'm far more rational thinking than you are, and you really do seem like you need my help, and I'm not here to judge your not quite boyfriend, either, I just give a shit." And Lindsey did, because Lindsey was a fucking nice person, and Lindsey did quite honestly want to see just what all the fuss with this Gerard really was.

Frank shrugged, blushing a little, "I don't think he's very comfortable around new people."

"If he trusts you and you tell him that I'm trustworthy then surely that might help?" Lindsey asked, "and meet him somewhere where he feels safe, look, I think he can manage one of your friends if he goes to school on a regular basis."

"I guess." Frank nodded, now chewing nervously upon his bottom lip, "maybe I should ask Kat, I don't know, I mean, I don't think Kat even likes me - Kat's their sibling, by the way. Kat gets weirdly fucking protective over Gerard."

"More than you do?" Lindsey asked, eyebrows raised a little in disbelief.

"Yeah," Frank nodded, laughing at himself a little, "more than I do."

"I want to meet him." Lindsey continued, not even just to assess whether he loves you or not or 'understand' him, "I just, I want to meet him because you never fucking shut up about him and I quite honestly want to see what all the fuss is about!"

"Don't you fucking dare 'steal' him." Frank retorted, a blush hugging his cheeks.

"I wouldn't dare: I think you'd try to kill me or something," Lindsey laughed a little, watching as Frank's face turned a lovely, fucking flattering shade of red. "So, those letters?"

"I have them saved on my phone, both as photos and typed up notes, not that I'm weird, I just... I don't even know if it's him, but whoever it is, I just..." Frank let out a sigh, not knowing quite what to say, "it's just... it's horrible..."

"What kind of letters are they?" Lindsey asked as she reached for Frank's phone, feeling his hand shake a little as she took it from him.

Frank swallowed, hard, knowing fully well that Lindsey was going to find out regardless, "su-..suicide letters, notes, I just... fuck..."

"Fuck," Lindsey reiterated, her eyes widening a little as she began to read over the first letter, "you know there's no proving it's him right now, it could easily be someone else, Frank, couldn't it?"

"Yeah," Frank nodded, leaning back against the wall, "I just, I don't know how to approach this subject, I just don't know what to do at all. I just can't lose him, and in the same way I feel like he can't lose me."

-

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