"Hey Gee!" Frank yelled, stepping through the door, shuffling his equipment bags, guitar case, and backpack around so he could pull the keys out from the door behind him. "I'm home!"

He was met with silence, which was odd. Gerard wasn't exactly a quiet person, and when he was home, there was always some kind of noise being made. If it wasn't for his car being in the driveway, Frank would've thought he was out.

"Gee?" he tried again, setting his things on the floor and locking the door behind him before wandering further into their house. "Gerard sweetie, you here?"

Logically, Frank knew Gerard was probably just taking a nap after a long day at work or he was out for a walk to get some fresh air or something, but he couldn't help the slight feeling of panic that was beginning to blossom in his chest. Gerard had... issues. He knew that. He knew the man's younger years were not something he looked upon fondly, but he also knew he'd been working very hard to get better and he'd been relatively successful for a few years now. Of course he had plenty of backsliding and bad days, but Frank loved and believed in him way too much to even consider he'd done something to ruin so much progress, so he quickly moved on to other possibilities.

Another thought occurred to him. What if...? No. Now he was just being ridiculous. He and Gerard had been watching too many true crime shows on the Investigation Discovery channel. His thoughts shifted again and he supposed they'd been watching too much X-Files as well.

Frank turned the corner in the hallway and quietly tiptoed his way over to their bedroom door, which was slightly ajar, and prepared for the worst (which meant he was totally expecting to find Gerard brutally murdered or in the process of being consumed by an alien monster). When he peaked through the crack, he didn't see a mangled body with pale skin and short, black hair. Good sign. He took a couple more steps forward and slowly nudged the door open with his shoulder.

The first thing he saw was one of Gerard's paint drop cloths splashed with... Oh my God! Blood! He did get murdered! Frank let out a shriek, threw himself backwards away from the door, and- wait. He took a deep breath in through his nose. Their room didn't smell metallic and sour like blood, it smelled like acrylic paint. It was red paint, not blood. Fresh paint. Shaking his head at himself, he shouldered the door the rest of the way open and looked towards the empty bed.

"Where the hell are you, Gee?" Frank muttered under his breath. Hoping for a clue as to where his fiancé might be, he walked in a little further and went over to the nightstand on Gerard's side of the bed. Coffee cup, yeah. Art magazine, normal. Gerard's engagement ring, to be expected since he had obviously been painting not too long ago. He always took his ring off when he painted so it wouldn't get dirty. Nothing seemed unusual, except for the fact that the man he loved was nowhere in sight.

With an exasperated sigh, he turned back around and his breath caught in his throat. He felt his heart sink to the floor as soon as he saw what it was Gerard had painted.

"Oh, shit." He should have known. He should have fucking known. As soon Gerard didn't answer him when he called his name, he should have known, damn it. It was beautiful, breathtakingly so, as all of his art was, but it was also gut wrenchingly painful to look at. It made Frank's chest clench in agony and he had to look away after a few seconds to keep himself from sinking to his knees and crying.

Frank was never into art before he met Gerard. It bored him and made him feel nothing, but something about the way his artist was able to make bland colors come to life, the way he was able to put his soul on a canvas so transparently, totally changed his mind. With a shaky breath, he willed himself to look back at the painting.

This one was much different from his usual style. These always were. While Gerard primarily drew much more angular and sharp people when he painted them, these paintings had people that were fluid and realistic. While most of his normal art was vibrant, full of color and life, these were always very dark, drawn with rich, deep colors. Death was also a very prominent theme in them, whether it be violent and bloody or a haunting tribute to a lost loved one. Never, not once, had Gerard ever signed one of these paintings with his usual 'XOXO g,' it was always just a small, sharp, angry 'G.W.' in the top right corner, if he even signed them at all, that was. Sometimes he didn't if he never intended for anyone to see it but himself, and Frank in the past year or so.

This particular painting was one of Gerard's 'self-portrait, but not really' paintings, as Frank liked to call them. It didn't really look like him, and he was so talented that if he had wanted it to, it would have, but there was no doubt in Frank's mind that the person on this canvas was Gerard, or rather, a projection of himself, his mind, and his emotions. It was a face that was almost completely drowned out by gray shadows and a mixing of deep reds, browns, and purples. It was so agonizingly painful for Frank to look at, but beautiful, nonetheless.

Frank wasn't sure how long he'd been staring at the painting, but he knew it wasn't more than a couple of minutes before he heard the lock on the front door clicking quietly. He snapped himself out of whatever trance he was in and started making his way back through his and Gerard's house. Gerard slid sideways through the small opening he'd given himself and let out a quiet "goddamn it" when he saw Frank's things lying abandoned on the floor. Frank didn't pause once he rounded the final corner into the living room, he just kept walking towards Gerard, stepping effortlessly around his stuff, and slipped his arms around his lover. Without hesitation, Gerard returned the gesture, kicking the door closed behind him.

"Sorry," he said, his voice melancholy and slightly distant, "thought I'd beat you home. I needed a little breather after that."

"Why didn't you call me? You know I would've come home early."

"Which is exactly why I didn't call you. I love you, and I'm very glad you're always there when I need you, but sometimes, I just need to be by myself so I can paint like that. Sounds a little messed up, but it feels so relieving to do that. It's better for me physically, but it's still the exact same kind of relief as when I used to... you know..." he trailed off and Frank just squeezed him a little tighter in his hug as an acknowledgement that yes, he knew what he was talking about.

"Doesn't leave scars, either," Gerard mumbled into Frank's hair while discreetly pulling his sleeves over his hands behind Frank's back. Frank reached up to hold the sides of Gerard's head, sliding his fingers up into his short black hair and looking him in the eyes.

"I love you so much, Gerard. It literally kills me knowing I can't do more." Gerard smiled sadly and leaned down to kiss Frank in a soft, slow kiss that conveyed his love more than any words would ever be able to. He pulled away a few seconds later so he could look back at Frank, who still had his eyes closed. Three years and he never got tired of looking at Frank after kissing him. Three years and Frank was still left breathless, breathing unevenly from such a short, gentle kiss. Three years with this beautiful, caring, loving man, and a whole lifetime to go. He could totally do this. It's not that he was regretting his 'yes' or anything, DEFINITELY not, but his troublesome self-loathing tendencies had begun to make him doubt his abilities to keep someone so full of life and energy like Frank happy when he couldn't even do that for himself. He figured Frank was doing a pretty good job of that on his own though, keeping both of them happy, that was.

"You do more than you think you do, Frankie," Gerard said as a reply to Frank's last statement. It seemed like Frank had forgotten what Gerard was responding to though, because he opened his eyes and looked at Gerard with a hint of confusion before realization seemingly dawned on him. He took a breath to say something, but Gerard kept talking. "I promise you are. You make my good days better and my bad days less often, and, I know it doesn't seem like it sometimes, but trust me when I say that I've never been happier in my entire life than when I'm with you."

While Gerard spoke, Frank had slid his hands down the sides of Gerard's neck so they landed splayed on his chest. Gerard finally unlocked his arms from around Frank so he could move them higher to place them on either side of Frank's face. Some sort of silent communication between them led them both to close their eyes and lean in so their foreheads were resting on each other's. This time, Frank tilted his head up so they were kissing. Once again though, Gerard was the one to pull away after only a few seconds, staying close enough that their lips may as well have still been touching, but causing Frank to make a very small whining sound in the back of his throat at the loss of Gerard's mouth.

"Gee..." Frank complained in a whisper, his warm breath fanning over Gerard's mouth, "let me kiss you." He left his lips parted just a little so warm air continued to flow across Gerard as he breathed, and he gently brushed his nose against his lover's in a clear attempt to entice Gerard to agree. Gerard wouldn't though, not yet. He still had a few things he needed to say.

The sudden thought occurred to him that, while they'd definitely had conversations about this topic over the course of their three-year (and counting) relationship, they'd never had one so up-close and intimate. He decided he much preferred this to the depressing, teary ones, the 'I'm not actually mad at you, but I'm upset and frustrated so I'm lashing out in anger' ones, and especially the emotionless, numb ones. Those scared him. But this... this was almost pleasant, in a weird way. He felt so much more comfortable talking about this now than he ever had been before. He really would like to give in and just let Frank kiss him like he asked, but he had a point he needed to drive home before he allowed Frank to completely overrun his mind and cloud his senses.

"I will, but I really need you to understand this." He took a shuddery breath that consisted mostly of Frank's used air, which caused the tiniest of smiles to twitch at the corners of his mouth. "You do everything you can, Frankie. I'm going to have bad days. They're going to be there, and there's nothing either of us can do about that, no matter how hard we try. I know you wish you could take them away completely, but that's not going to happen. You do everything you possibly can to help me through them and you make everything else in between so much brighter for me. That's really all I can ask for. If I thought someone else could make me happier than you, I wouldn't be wearing this-" He abruptly cut himself off. Frank fully pulled his face away from Gerard and grinned because he knew exactly why.

"Damn it, kinda takes the fire away from that statement when I left my ring on my nightstand, huh?" He sighed, but halfway through, it turned into a groan. "Fuuuuck, I've got a mess to clean up, too, and I didn't even wash my brushes before I left, so they're probably all ruined." He began untangling himself from Frank with the knowledge that he'd have to put extra effort into washing his brushes to see if they were any good anymore.

"How long have they been out?" Frank asked as he took his hands off of Gerard and stepped back a little. Gerard usually took such careful care of his brushes, he was sure it couldn't have been very long. The way he bit his lip and looked at the clock on the wall behind Frank told him otherwise.

"About half an hour. I probably didn't finish very long before you came home, I just had to get the hell out of there."

"I don't blame you," Frank sympathized as he ran his hands down Gerard's sleeved arms to grab ahold of his hands. "It's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen, but I damn near started sobbing when I saw it because I knew what it meant and that hurt like hell."

They were quiet for few seconds, both of them just basking in all the raw emotions they felt for the man in front of them, before Gerard sighed and reluctantly took his hands back.

"I really do need to clean our room, Frank, and I got paint all over myself, too." He held his hands out and flipped them over to show Frank, who honestly hadn't even noticed the wild patches of dark colors until Gerard pointed it out to him.

"Alright, I'll put my stuff away," Frank motioned to the various bags and cases scattered at their feet, "then I'll help you. When that's done, I seriously don't feel like cooking tonight, so what do you think about Chinese take out and A New Hope?"

"Dinner I don't have to put any effort into and Star Wars? I think that sounds like a wonderful plan for a Friday night, Frankie. Thank you." Frank decided to forgo the argument about thanking him for things like this or for helping him feel better, and instead chose to take back any space they had put between themselves by stepping forward, wrapping his arms around a now relaxed and content Gerard and kissing him with full force. After a minute or two, Frank was the one to break the contact, happy that Gerard finally let him kiss him properly.

"I love you so fucking much," he said, staring directly into Gerard's eyes.

Gerard gave him a quick peck on the lips and smiled a genuinely happy smile before turning towards the hall that lead to their bedroom and, because they both knew watching one Star Wars movie would no doubt turn into a marathon, he channeled his inner Han Solo, threw a playfulsmirk over his shoulder, and answered Frank with a simple "I know."