Gerard doesn't spend enough time in Frank's house.

Truth be told, Gerard doesn't have a lot of time left to spend in Frank's house.

But today is Saturday.

His second to last Saturday.

Ever.

And that held a sort of weight in his chest, right where his heart was, as he looked at Frank in the mid morning light: Saturday air, little said between them, and two mugs of coffee made by Frank even though he was bad at making coffee, and his house empty, and the two of them sat in his bedroom on the windowsill that extended inwards into some sort of seat thing, with Frank at one end and Gerard at the other and ashtray between them - an ashtray only Frank used, because Gerard would never smoke, he knew that. Much like he knew that this was one of the last times.

The last times it could be like this.

And here he was, not even making the most of it, just sat there in thought, and fuck, he had so much time to think when he hardly slept.

He had slept some last night, though: a mere three hours, but it was something, and he was starting to worry that his body had become accustomed to not sleeping, and that he'd live out the last stretch of his life as an insomniac, not that it mattered, at all, in the short period of time he had left, but still, it was something else to think about other than killing himself, wasn't it?

Frank was like that too.

Just something else to think about.

Except he wasn't.

That had been evident from the very start of October.

Frank had always been more than that.

Frank had made him coffee even though he didn't really know how to make it well, and Frank had given up his Saturday to sit, and not even talk, but sit in silence with some weird guy who he'd somehow found himself acquainted with.

And Frank was of course absolutely beautiful, but not just aesthetically: fully, through and through, beautiful, a beautiful person, not just a pretty face.

He wondered what state of hell he'd find himself in next Saturday.

Saturday the 27th. His final Saturday.

Gerard's stomach began to churn as he thought about it, and the very real prospect of an ever approaching end, and then the silence and the nothingness, and the end of the world for him at least, and the end of Saturdays, the end of Sundays, the end of Mondays too. He'd always hated Mondays.

"It's Saturday," Gerard finally said with a certain stupidity in his tone, to which Frank only smiled at, taking a drag of his cigarette, because he knew, and Gerard knew he knew, but still Gerard wanted to tell him nonetheless, and wanted to express the fact that he thought it important, or the fact that he'd been thinking about it.

Frank was getting better at it now.

Understanding Gerard, that was, of course, he'd never be perfect, because no one would, and he was already doing better than Kat as he'd accepted that.

But Frank was still far, far off, because he'd by this point concluded that Gerard had nothing to do with the letters, and let Lindsey take them down to the police station, which was easily what they should have done in the first place, but didn't, because Frank... honestly, Frank didn't know. Frank didn't know why, but he felt an odd importance and connection with those letters: one he couldn't put his finger on.

"Yeah," Frank smiled a little more, "it is, isn't it?"

Gerard nodded, glancing down at his legs crossed, and his feet, and then Frank's legs pulled up to his chest and the hole in his socks. Frank inhaled another puff of nicotine, and Gerard watched as his cheeks hollowed out and then the way the light and shadow reflected perfectly upon his face, and for once in his life regretted his disinterest in portraiture, because to photograph Frank, to capture this moment, this one, and this only, would be all: a Saturday, the penultimate Saturday - a title that sounded far more foreboding than Saturday 20th of October, which was what it really was.

"You're beautiful," Gerard said rather casually, naturally perhaps, in that just Gerard manner of his, that always had Frank lost for breath and what to say.

Frank blushed a little, looking down, and tapping his ash into the ashtray, "so are you." Frank had this odd compulsion in returning compliments, and Gerard had noticed, and wondered, but never asked, because there was no point in opening doors to rooms he'd wouldn't have enough time to explore.

No point in boarding trains to destinations he'd never reach.

Not now.

"I slept a little last night," Gerard said, because he knew Frank had been worried about him, and he didn't blame him, because it was of course only natural for Frank to worry, but honestly when you were considering the best methods of suicide on a regular basis, how much sleep you were getting hardly felt significant at all.

"You need to sleep more," Frank told him, like he was more of his mother than his friend, and Gerard didn't say much in response until a good four minutes had passed.

At some point in those four minutes he'd come to conclude that very little could come of him and well of anything in the twelve or so days he had remaining alive, and in such a revelation, he found himself giving honesty a shot, and looking Frank straight in the eyes, because Frank had beautiful eyes, and Frank was just generally beautiful, and Gerard wished he had longer than twelve days to spend with him, but he knew that this was just how it had to be now.

"I'm very sad," Gerard said with a slow exhale: his eyes forever fixated upon Frank's, watching as his brow furrowed a little and his gaze softened to give way to sadness and a hint of confusions - questions he'd didn't dare ask, because Frank tread more carefully around him now, more than he used to, and he knew it was to do with Kat, and he hated it. "Don't do that."

"What?" Frank asked.

"Not say what's on your mind, because you think it will hurt me. It doesn't matter, ask your questions, I'm not a fucking piece of glass, I'm not fragile." Truth be told, Gerard was quite fragile, but honestly if his piece of glass self got shattered in what was to come, he couldn't care less.

"I know." Frank paused, lighting another cigarette before continuing, "I know you're not fragile and I know you're sad. I can feel it. The sad thing. And I don't like it. I want to help, but I don't know what I can do to help, I just know, sleep tends to make things better, and talking to people, but I'm obviously not an expert, I mean, I'm not the best at talking about my feelings either, even to you, so call me a hypocrite, or whatever."

Gerard sat in consideration and silence for a moment, before looking up and asking, "why don't you talk to me about your feelings?" He bit his lip, "what feelings are these? What do you mean?"

Frank shrugged: regretting telling Gerard and letting him spin it all on him, not that he blamed Gerard, of course. "I thought we were here to talk about you, not me." He laughed a little.

"We can both talk." Gerard shrugged, "I just want to know things about you, Frank."

"As do I you. You're not one for letting people in, though."

"I'm not." Gerard nodded. Frank knew he wasn't going to change that, and if anyone could, that he certainly wasn't the one.

"Can I ask why not?" Frank said after a moment, his gaze travelling off outside, to the town and the shoreline, the whole world outside, and how even the beauty of the ocean didn't compare to Gerard, and how Gerard knew that on the level that Frank told him so regularly, but how Gerard didn't have the slightest fucking clue as to how much truth it really held.

Gerard seemed distant when it came to the matter of response, as part of him really didn't know why, but another knew only that he didn't want to tell Frank, but another felt on fire, even alive with the ever-growing closeness of November 1st, and reveled in the realisation that nothing much held any weight anymore.

"You can." Gerard said after a moment: it was a fucking bullshit, arsey response and he knew that well, but still, he knew Frank didn't quite dare to get angry with him, much like he knew that Frank just didn't want to.

"Can you answer?" Frank asked, a small smile upon his lips.

"I can." Gerard met his gaze, laughing a little then.

"Will you answer?" Frank stressed, sharing a smile with Gerard.

Gerard bit his lip, pulling his gaze away, because above everything else there was just an overwhelming sense that he just didn't know. "I don't know." Frank let out a sigh, leaning back against the wall.

"I don't know." Gerard repeated, meeting his gaze this time, "I don't know why I'm like this... I just am, and I... I don't know... it's just a thing I can't control, a part of me... the fucked up bit of my head."

"The fucked up part of your head." Frank repeated to himself, "you never told me what it was that was 'fucking up your head'."

"I never did." Gerard nodded, trailing off, "I think I'm depressed, well, that I haven't been diagnosed with, but considering the stuff that goes through my head regularly it's pretty safe to say I am. And then there is what I'm diagnosed with, which is autism."

"Oh..." Frank didn't know what to expect, but he hadn't been expecting that. Honestly, he hadn't been expecting Gerard to answer at all. "I wouldn't have guessed."

Gerard shrugged, "I'm not severely so or anything, but, I'd say it's there. I mean, I'm not normal, whatever normal means, but... you, you knew there was something."

"People are all a little odd." Frank added, with a small smile.

"I think I'm more than a little odd," Gerard let out a sigh, "I'm really fucked up in the head," he laughed a little, "and you sense that, but you don't know the extent of it, but you shouldn't know the extent of it, because I'm gonna be okay, and I mean that. It's all gonna be okay."

Frank paused for a moment, "I don't know if I ever told you, I mean, I don't know, I think I didn't, because I think I would remember it, I think it would hold some weight, but with you, I mean talking to you about things, it's different to other people and I'm not sure how or why, but it is."

Gerard nodded, pulling his knees up to his chest, "I know what you mean."

And then silence, for a good few moments, as Frank finished his cigarette and lit another: events in quick succession of one another. "I'm gay," he said before he could really think about it. He exhaled and glanced up at Gerard, who seemed to have no reaction at all. "I just, well, I guess you feel like you're weird and fucked up so, I thought I'd..."

"It's not weird or fucked up." Gerard let out a sigh. Wanting to kill yourself was weird and fucked up. What was even weirder, even more fucked up, was this weird state of romanticised self-destruction that Gerard found himself trapped in. But he couldn't deny himself the 'beauty' he saw in it all.

"I know, I'm just... I know what it feels like to feel weird and fucked up." Frank bit his lip, "Lindsey knows, I mean she practically had to extract it out of me, and she's supportive, and it's okay, but it's just... and I mean I'm not actively lying to my other friends by not telling them, I'm just... avoiding the truth. I'm good at that. Avoiding the truth, especially when I had a crush on a boy and was still insistent that I was straight." Frank laughed a little.

Gerard came to conclude that perhaps he wasn't straight either then, but came to remind himself that it also didn't matter at all because Frank would never, could never know, because it was all too late now. "I don't avoid the truth, I just don't tell people."

"Maybe you should. Talk to people, maybe me, maybe not me. Whoever." Frank took a drag of his cigarette, "talking to people is good for you."

"Maybe I don't want what's good for me." Gerard said before he could stop himself; he caught Frank's gaze and instantly regretted it. "Because more than anything I'm in love with this feeling I get when everything goes to shit and I stand there, motionless, nothing at all, just watching it all: chaos around me - letting go, carelessness."

Frank was silent at that. "You can't live like that."

"I know." Gerard exclaimed, forcing back the urge to laugh, because goddamn he knew that more than anything, god fucking damn his whole life revolved around the knowledge that he couldn't live with himself.

"And you don't care." Frank let out a sigh, "you're so lovely, but not lovely to yourself. You care about everyone else. Everything is because you wouldn't dare hurt me or Kat or anyone else you love or care about, and everything is to spite yourself."

"Yeah," Gerard nodded, brushing his hair away from his face, because he sat here with a boy he wanted to kiss, a boy he'd fallen for, but he sat here still, with nothing much to say for himself, because mourning was bad enough without heartbreak.

"I think maybe, you should do one thing, just one, for yourself, to make yourself that little bit happy or whatever, and not care so much about who it hurts, even if it hurts me." Frank suggested.

"I think maybe you should stop tempting me, because all the things I want to do, but don't are because they are the worst ideas in the world." Gerard pulled his gaze away from Frank and focused upon the days he had left: all twelve of them, and how little time and how little meaning they held to him, but how much they would hold to everyone who out lived him, to Kat, to perhaps Frank in particular.

He wondered how he'd add up conversations, little hints and glimpses into what was really going in his head, like this one, come November 2nd. Because then he'd have made sense of it all, and Frank would know most of all, what state he'd been in. And come November 2nd, Frank would be the embodiment of regret and sorrow.

And Gerard knew that there, right there was the one thing he was doing, just for himself, that would hurt everybody else.

And that he shouldn't make it worse.

"Maybe you should just say fuck it, and do what you want." Frank met his gaze with a smile.

But part of him honestly wanted to, and he wanted that more than anything.

Because there was just something about the power he held here: some form of control for the first time in his life.

"You're lovely though, Frank. I don't want to hurt you." Gerard blushed a little, looking down. "I mean, it wouldn't hurt you immediately, or directly, but it will and when it does, it's.. it's gonna hurt a lot. And I mean, it already is, what I want to do is just adding to the blow, and I don't want to hurt you more than I have to. I don't even want to tell you more than I have to because that would hurt you too, and you'd end up hating yourself, but... I don't know... I don't know, Frank, you make me very confused about the things I had set out solidly in my mind for months and months."

"Do you think maybe you could explain a little?" Frank asked, a small smile upon his face. "You don't have to, of course you don't, but I think I'd like to understand."

Gerard only let out a sigh at that, "you think you do."

"Okay..." Frank trailed off, a little disheartened, "if you can't tell me, then maybe tell me what you want to do but think will hurt me. And I could help you decide whether you should do it."

"You could." Gerard let out a sigh, "you'll only want me to do it, but you won't understand that it's a bad thing and it's going to fuck things up much more than they need to be."

"And how can you be sure of all of that?" Frank found himself asking, perhaps a little tentatively.

"Because you get a lot of thinking done when you don't sleep but just sit on your floor and drive yourself crazy at night." Gerard admitted, perhaps all too casually.

"You shouldn't do that, Gerard," he told him, "you really shouldn't."

"I know." Gerard let out a sharp gasp of air. "All the things in my head shouldn't be there, but they are, and what should I do about that? Do about what I want to do? What should I do when I want to ruin everything? I'm fucking things up, and then you're fucking things up more, it's like the two of us together are like some form of hurricane in my life, but I don't... I don't want to... I want to spend time with you."

"Tell me what you want to do, Gerard," Frank suggested, "focus on that instead of why you shouldn't. Maybe focus on why you should."

"I should because maybe for this once I should be selfish, and it won't matter to me soon, and it won't matter to you now." Gerard paused, "but there's-... there's just... I want to kiss you." And like that, the words were out his mouth before he could stop them.

And Frank was kind of having a low-key heart attack.

"And you want to kiss me too, because you like me like that, and I've known that for a little while now, and I've known I like you too, but it's not going to work and I don't want to make a mess. But I think you're lovely."

"So, fuck, Gerard you knew I have feelings for you and you never fucking thought to mention it to me-"

"I did, I just- I thought-"

Frank didn't wait for Gerard to finish, only leaned forward and kissed him.

Well tried to.

Gerard stumbled to his feet, pushing Frank away, and leaving him panicking and cursing the fact that he knew he should have asked first.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"I'm not mad at you." Gerard said after a moment, stood about a meter away from Frank, "I just... I'd feel guilty, doing this to you."

"Doing what?" Frank exclaimed.

"I can't tell you. I'm really sorry but I just can't."

"You know what, Gerard? Fuck it, I don't even care, I don't fucking care how you're going to ruin my life or whatever, I just know, that more than anything else, I want to kiss you. Please let me kiss you."

"You might regret it-"

"I don't care!" Frank exclaimed, getting to his feet, "fuck, I don't think you understand how beautiful you are, and how hard it is not just kiss you all the time but I couldn't fuck things up because I didn't think you wanted that, but you do, and I just... I don't understand, and I'm not going to understand, am I?"

Gerard shook his head. "Not yet."

"Then let me be hurt later instead of now."

Gerard remained silent for a moment, before he muttered a quick, barely audible, "okay."

-

tfw 65k words into a frerard fic they finally kiss and its still kinda traumatic lmao get rekt

vote and comment if u enjoyed having ur soul destroyed today

lov u guys !!