Gabe Saporta was alive.

Which was a start, to say the least, because this way, at least there didn't have to be another damn funeral, because Spencer had totally trashed his suit and he'd have to buy a new one if there was to be another funeral, so with Gabe staying alive, he had saved Spencer Smith a good fifty dollars, so that was good.

Gabe Saporta wasn't exactly in the best state of mind though.

Of course, that kind of went without saying, but it needed to be said, it really did.

Because Gabe had tried to be sorry and Gabe had tried to put on a suit and go to the funeral, but quite honestly, fucking drowning himself seemed far more fun.

And so Gabe rolled a dice that night, because chance itself was the only thing that hadn't destroyed him yet: even, he stays, odd, he goes.

The dice landed on a number three.

And Gabe rolled it again, best out of three or something equally cowardly like that.

The dice landed on a number one.

And Gabe rolled it again, because all or nothing, because spiritually, he was Phil Lester.

The dice landed on a number five.

And Gabe was fucked, and Gabe felt like drowning himself, like for fucking serious this time.

Perhaps he'd just lay down in his bathtub, and let the water run indefinitely. Perhaps he'd like that, perhaps he was overreacting, perhaps he was just too fucked up for his own good, but whatever it was, his bathtub smelled oddly of milk, and Gabe Saporta did not want to die smelling of milk.

So, fuck it, Gabe went; he grabbed a jacket and locked the front door behind him and didn't look back, and he most certainly didn't look as he walked past the park, because it was just 'he goes', and never, absolutely never, was it specified as to where.

Gabe could fucking walk to Mexico if he wanted, and a part of him kind of liked the adventure, and of course, impracticality of that idea, but it felt like freedom and a perfect reminder of a funeral he didn't want to go to and a crowd of people he couldn't face.

It had been alright when he'd had Bill, because there was some sort of 'love' thing there, and he didn't ever doubt that Bill would slap anyone who talked shit about his boyfriend, but of course, he didn't ever expect that Bill Beckett himself would be the one talking the shit.

Fuck, well, life was just full of fucking surprises.

And Gabe made a mental not to curse the entire world as he made his way down a street that he didn't know well enough.

He didn't know an awful lot of this town, and he didn't know an awful lot of the people, and he didn't quite know why he was confining himself to the same area and the same few people, because he could just start again, he didn't have to ever go to that funeral, or face those people again, because the world was big, and even his ego was relatively small in comparison.

He could make new friends, he could find a new boyfriend, he could have a fucking new life, but he couldn't quite see it actually happening at all.

And as Gabe Saporta found himself sitting down a top a hill on the outskirts of town, near the woods, he found himself thinking about the time when he'd dated Pete Wentz, because goddamn, that seemed like a million years ago, and it seemed very much like the Gabe Saporta who'd dated Pete Wentz was a different Gabe Saporta altogether.

He smiled to himself, because fucking in Pete's bedroom, and that one condom hidden behind that photo of Jesus, and he even dared to think if it was still there.

He wondered how things would be if Pete was still alive, and in turn, he wondered how things would be if Dallon was still alive, and of course, if he'd just treated Brendon with some goddamn respect before he fucked his whole life up.

Gabe laughed at himself, because he fucking deserved it, letting out a sigh as he did so.

He remembered being Jesus and he remembered meeting William Beckett for the first time, and how the rest of world just seemed to stop for a moment because of this one fucking boy.

And god save him, because Gabe Saporta was in love with William Beckett - present tense, not past, and god fucking kill him, because William Beckett did not feel the same.

And with such a realisation like that, Gabe reckoned he'd probably prefer drowning himself - milk or not.

But he didn't want to be the third fucked up kid, because this was turning low-key into the hunger games or something, and the thought of that made him laugh just a little more than he should have done.

"You okay?" He jumped a little as a wild Sarah Orzechowski appeared, taking a seat beside him on the grass.

"Don't you have a funeral to be at?" He asked, biting his lip and making an effort not to meet her gaze.

"I could say the same for you." She pointed out with a small smile. "It's over now anyway, people are looking for you- I was worried, you know, thought you could be in trouble, or something-"

"Why are you always so nice?" Gabe interrupted her with a particularly blunt question. "I just, I'm an asshole, everyone's a fucking asshole to you, to everyone, and you don't give a fuck, you're just nice."

"Because I've learned that there's always more to people than meets the eye, and never once have I been proved wrong." She met Gabe's gaze with an unexpected confidence. "And you're not going to prove me wrong either, I know that, so I don't think it's fair that everyone just abandons you for one mistake you made."

"I caused Dallon's death, practically-"

"No, Dallon caused his own death, come on, Gabe, just look at me." And he did, and if Sarah was honest, she wasn't particularly expecting that. "You were an asshole, but that doesn't define you: you did a stupid thing but you're not a stupid person."

"The faith you have in everyone is fucking unbelievable, Sarah, I tell you that."

"I just have this kind of faith in you." She smiled, leaning a little closer to Gabe.

"Oh, do you say that to everyone?"

"What do you think?"

And Gabe paused for a moment, leaning closer but stopping him, because for a minute there, he, a gay guy, was about to kiss Sarah Orzechowski, and nope, because fuck, he was not going to pull a Brendon Urie right now.

"I think you're too nice to admit that you do." Gabe finished pulling away.

Sarah nodded, blushing a little. "Yeah, something like that."

-

"Don't you think he's a little too young for you?" Gee Way stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the kitchen table, his feet resting on the surface of the table, and with such a blunt and direct greeting, Bert didn't even dare to ask him to move his feet.

"And Frank's not too young for you?" Bert took a seat opposite Gee, the two having the house mostly to themselves for the first time in a long while; Alicia and Bob had gone on some sort of date or something, Frank was actually at home for once, Mikey was out meeting someone, god knows who, but someone, and Bill, the newest resident of the Bert McCracken big brother house, was curled up fast asleep in Bert's bed.

"It's different with Frank." Gee let out a sigh, as he began to light another cigarette, because by this point, the twenty five year old had very little regard for his lungs whatsoever.

"How is it?" The older man was unconvinced, and well he had reason to be, because he and Gee were about the same age, and Bill and Frank were both seventeen.

"Because I love Frank and I didn't just snap him up and take advantage of him immediately- in fact, I didn't take advantage of him at all, but Frank and I have been dating for months and months now, and you and Bill... a few days, at most."

Bert shrugged Gee's accusations off, refusing to see things in the same way. "Hey, how the fuck am I taking advantage of him? Surely I'm being nice by giving him a place to stay, because otherwise, the kid is fucking homeless, you got that?"

"The kid." Gee repeated with a sigh, taking a drag of his cigarette. "That kid is your boyfriend. You think of him as a kid, not someone equal and mature to you. Frank's not some kid, Frank's my boyfriend, a person I love."

"They're both still the same age." Bert pointed out, dancing awkwardly around Gee's point with varying levels of effectiveness.

"It's maturity and attitude, not necessarily just age, Bert, now come on, weren't you the very guy who was down my throat about Frank's age when I first met him?" Gee raised an eyebrow, watching as Bert blushed a little, because fuck, yeah, Gee was right.

"Opinions change." He continued to shrug it off. "Look, he's cute, and he likes me and I like him, and he needs a place to stay, what the fuck is wrong with it?"

"You fucked him last night." Gee certainly made no effort when it came to being discreet, and it was evident. "I heard. Sometimes I reckon you don't even notice you do it, but you manipulate, you fuck with people, Bert."

"And you don't, like when you told everyone I raped you, because you didn't want little Frankie to know-"

"Bert, I was fucking drunk, and you never asked for permission, so fucking technically-"

"Then why are you still here if I'm such a villain, huh?" Bert raised his eyebrows at that. "And let's not forget the little secrets you've keeping from Frank, shall we?"

"Because where am I supposed to go? With Mikey, as well, I've got him to think about, you know?"

"Oh, I know." Bert lit himself a cigarette, meeting Gee's gaze, before continuing. "Mikey's not as bad as I thought he would be, honestly, kid's nice, he-"

"He's scared of you." Gee stopped him, narrowing his eyes a little. "He's fucking scared. Is Bill scared of you too?"

"Are you scared of me too, Gee? Am I the fucking big bad wolf?"

"I'm not scared of you, fuck off, you're just... you're just an asshole, Bert." Gee shook his head, turning away to glance at the kitchen. "I think Bob took a six pack of beer on his way out, you know?"

"It's fine with me if he doesn't come back." Bert retorted, scowling a little at the door of the alcohol cupboard: slightly ajar.

"You really hate people being here so much?" Gee raised his eyebrows, watching as Bert paused for a moment, silent, before continuing.

"Bob and Alicia are annoying as fuck, and I reckon there's absolutely no getting rid of Frank with you around- hey, where even is he today?" Bert only just came to notice Frank's absence.

"At home, his actual home with his mum, apparently she has a new boyfriend, so I assume he'll be back in a few hours ready to punch someone or something."

Bert smirked a little, chuckling to himself. "Remember when I dated his mum?"

"Dear fucking god, don't- why the fuck did you think that was a good idea?" Gee shook his head in disbelief, but then again, perhaps a middle aged mother was better than a seventeen year boy with a kind of boyfriend.

"I don't know. Good idea at the time or something." Bert shrugged it off, and Gee wouldn't be all that surprised if he'd simply been too stoned at the time to remember.

"So is that what Bill is? Another good idea at the time?" Gee asked, adamant to make some kind of point with this whole Bill Beckett mess.

"I don't know right now, I really don't. Maybe he will be, maybe he won't, he maybe me and him are the next you and Frank?"

Gee looked unconvinced. "And where does Gabe Saporta stand in all of this?"

"Gabe Saporta isn't my problem."

"He really is, because if Bill Beckett is enough of your problem to be sharing your bed and living in your house, then his not quite ex-boyfriend is more than just a little reason for concern." Gee paused, peering down the corridor and making sure that Bill was still asleep and not listening in, before continuing. "Why did they even break up?"

"He reckons it's Gabe's fault that Dallon kid you dated is dead."

"That's fucked up, that's seriously fucked up- you don't seriously agree with him, do you?" Gee retorted, his eyes widening as he looked Bert up and down.

"I have very little opinion of the situation, Bill's just cute and he needs a place to stay and I'm just the nice guy."

"The phrase 'nice guy' makes me want to punch you in the face, not going to lie." Gee took another drag of his cigarette, watching Bert's reaction with a small smile upon his lips.

"Fucking go ahead, Gee, fucking go ahead."

"You're not worth the effort, buddy." Gee shook his head to himself, moving his legs from the table and getting up, making his way to the kitchen and peering into the alcohol cupboard. "Yeah, Bob totally took the beer."

"Fuck."

-

The whole thing between Ryan and Brendon was absolutely nothing less than complicated, and there was absolutely no other word for it than 'thing', because neither Ryan nor Brendon could possibly put any kind of words to their feelings about one another and themselves right now.

Brendon had insisted upon going home, and with reluctance, but eventually, Sarah had let him, and the two boys sat upstairs in Brendon's bedroom, the silence of the empty house only amplifying the tension between the two of them.

Because perhaps holding Brendon's hand to make him feel better had been the best thing Ryan Ross had ever done, or perhaps, perhaps, it had simply been the worst, because of course, as it always was like this, it was nothing more than impossible to tell.

The two had sat in silence for at least fifteen minutes now, both boys on Brendon's bed, knees pulled up to their chests, but with Brendon with his back to the headboard, and Ryan sat at the opposite end, his gaze kind of fixated on the open window and the view of the forest from where he was, because the view from Brendon Urie's bedroom window was indeed nothing short of beautiful, but neither Brendon nor Ryan had never cared enough to note it, and surely that said a lot, but really it said nothing at all.

Because it was better soon than later, and Ryan hadn't moved his gaze for a good five minutes now, and it was much the same for Brendon, except the boy with the bigger forehead wasn't staring at the view, well, he was, he was staring at Ryan, because in his head, Ryan was the view.

But of course, he never said it aloud, and Ryan was too distracted by the world outside to notice, and things could easily stay exactly like that for another fifteen minutes, or perhaps another fifteen hours, or perhaps another fifteen years.

Because Brendon Urie didn't doubt at all that he'd be thirty two and still staring at Ryan Ross' ass, and perhaps Ryan didn't doubt the same.

Brendon didn't know what he wanted to do with his life at all, in fact, Brendon kind of didn't know what he could do with his life at all, because his whole damn world seemed to be trying not to thinking about Dallon, and promising Sarah that he was okay, and blushing when thinking about Ryan, and avoiding his family, especially his mum's boyfriend, and that would never be enough, but it was still everything.

And Brendon didn't like that.

He thought of a few months prior, before him and Ryan had ever broken up at all, when Pete had died, but Patrick was still mostly okay, and Ryan's best friend and still in this town, and when Brendon's biggest problems were the boy his boyfriend spent too much time with and the girl at the comic book store.

And it was stupid how things grew and become the things you'd never expect, but that was life: nothing without the surprises.

Fuck, Brendon was most definitely thinking too much at this point.

And then, before he knew what he was doing, he was thinking about the one thing he vowed that he never would, and he found himself wondering why, because why was he hiding in shame of everything that had built him and made him who he was?

And just like that, the silence was broken, and Brendon Urie was not just thinking about the things that he vowed not to, but talking about them too.

"You know my dad?"

Ryan's head snapped away from the window and to face Brendon within a matter of seconds, his eyes widened a little, slightly startled, and his lips parted a little as if he wanted to say something, but didn't quite know what.

Brendon continued nevertheless, "I never really told you much about my dad." He paused, meeting Ryan's gaze, before taking one quick glance out of the window, and indeed it was beautiful, and indeed it was insignificant, but that was indeed wonderful.

"You told me he killed himself." Ryan finally managed to speak up after a moment or two; the matter of Brendon's father making him even more nervous than it had made Brendon, perhaps.

"I know." Brendon let out a sigh: a little sigh, a quick little sigh that Ryan couldn't quite decipher and killed himself inside for. "I told you what he did, not who he was. That's like someone asking who Pete was, and Patrick just saying he shot himself, that's like someone asking who Dallon was, and me just saying he overdosed- they're both so, so much more than that."

"I know, of course they are." Ryan paused for a moment, unsure as to what Brendon was exactly getting at here.

"My dad really liked trains, you know? When I was little, maybe five or six, and it was the weekend, and it was too rainy for mum to insist that we went out and did something stupidly pointless as a family, he'd take me to the train station, and I had this fucking bright yellow raincoat, and it was far too big for me, and I looked ridiculous, but it didn't matter, and we went to the train station and he used to take picture of the trains, and then when we saw one we liked, we'd get a ticket, and we'd just catch it, no matter where it was going and just go explore, because it didn't matter, my dad was clever, he always knew how to get us back safe. And wherever we went, we'd go explore and he'd take pictures of me and the sights, and the trains, and god, of course we didn't tell my mum - she'd go ballistic, I was like six, and well, he put together this scrapbook of all the photos he took, but he never let alone see it, because he was always working on it, even when I was older, still working, just different pictures as things changed, and- and... he never got to finish that scrapbook."

"Oh... I'm sorry... Brendon... I..."

"And we looked through it when we found it a few months after he'd... he'd... and my mum saw the photos of me and him on the trains when I was little, and she didn't even care at all, even though she would have screamed at him, she was just so happy, she just-... she- people change after people die, they act different, not just in regards to that person, but altogether... and I don't think about this and I don't talk about this and that's because he's.. he's... and I can't help but wonder where we'd all be today if my dad hadn't... hadn't... you know..."

They sat in silence for a few moments, before Ryan finally spoke up, "maybe I would have gotten to meet him." 

"He would have really liked you, and I mean that, because people always say that, but I seriously mean it, Ryan, he would have really liked you."

"How do you know?"

"I just do, Ryan, I know things, remember."

-

She had gotten herself stuck amidst one of the worst situations in the world, and Sarah Orzechowski knew it like she knew anything, because she did know things, remember?

Her head was somewhat distant: focused on anything but the three other girls sat on Kitty's bedroom floor with her. Lindsey and Kitty were working on putting something together musically, as Jamia lay into Lindsey's lap, frantically texting someone, most likely Frank, as Sarah sat somewhat distant and away from the three girls, her gaze focused off elsewhere as her phone screen lit up in her hands for the third time in a minute.

She didn't really have much of a desire to reply to the three messages from Brendon, much like the fact that she didn't really have much of a desire to admit that there was more that just a close friendship between the two of them, again, and at least from her side, because of course, Brendon had Ryan, but she could swear that he looked at her like he shouldn't when he thought no one was watching.

And this couldn't happen again, not like it had been last time, and Sarah knew that- fuck, the whole damn world knew that, but still Sarah didn't know it well enough, because her mind still wandered, and Brendon still mattered, and to Sarah Orzechowski, absolutely everyone mattered, and absolutely everyone mattered far too much.

And this was exactly the way she was going to ruin herself, and she knew it, and she fucking cherished it, because there was little else to do at this point, she was in too deep, far too fucking deep - fucking deep enough to start digging her own grave, but still she just sat there: complacent and not nearly as scared as she should be.

Because Sarah was just that: too nice.

'I need to talk to you.'

The first of Brendon's texts to her was pretty self explanatory and easy to ignore with a simple dimming of the screen, but when the second text appeared mere moments later, thing got a little more tricky.

'It's important.'

And Sarah's heart rate quickened, the 'fuck boy in need' alarm sounding off somewhere in her brain as her inner mother Theresa activated, because seriously there were two many fuckboys who Sarah gave more attention than they could ever possibly deserve, and that was her first mistake.

'Very important, please.'

And giving into Brendon's multitude of desperate text messages was her second mistake, and it was a mistake that came with unlocking her phone, and typing a quick and simple, and totally harmless and probably the best thing she could have said in that situation, 'why? What's wrong?' but of course, Brendon most certainly wasn't going to stop now.

And the worst part was that a part of Sarah didn't even want him to, because there was a fucking huge part of Sarah that would let herself fall for him all over again, because that's what it was: over and over again every new conversation, and it was ridiculous and tedious but with no foreseeable end, because try as she might, Sarah just couldn't leave him alone: desperately clutching to all hopes that they could be just friends, but this was one of those fucked up situations where things could never quite be more than that.

'I'm going soft.'

And dear god, Sarah was just praying that Brendon wasn't talking about his dick there.

'I don't know what it is, it's just weird. We need to talk in person.'

And Brendon's explanation, typed only a few moments later did a good job of clearing the possible awkward dick situation up, well in the context, perhaps 'up' wasn't the best choice of words, but Sarah couldn't exactly contemplate the explanation, let alone her response, before Kitty was tapping her on the arm, and causing her to look up in alarm, her finger going to the power button of her phone within seconds.

"Come and get food from the kitchen with me, Sarah?" Kitty asked, leaving Sarah to glance at Jamia and Lindsey: Jamia had made her way into Lindsey's lap, and Sarah reckoned she'd be doing herself a favour by leaving as soon as possible, but of course, she didn't have a clue what was going through Kitty's mind and what she knew that Sarah reckoned she didn't.

They slammed the door behind them, Sarah following Kitty as she made her way down the stairs, not a word between them until they reached the kitchen and Kitty stopped dead in her tracks, facing Sarah with widened eyes.

"What?" She asked, blushing a little under Kitty's gaze, because fuck, she could be pretty intimidating when she wanted to be, and Sarah couldn't think for the life of her as to just how she'd fucked up.

"You're nowhere near as discreet as you think you are." Kitty let out a sigh, watching as Sarah leaned back against the door awkwardly. "What the fuck's going on with you and Brendon? I'm not letting you go through this shit again, you hear me?"

"It's nothing-"

"Sarah, fucking look me in the motherfucking eyes and tell me that Brendon Urie didn't fuck up your life, and tell me that he isn't continuing to do so, because he is, and I fucking know, because I'm not stupid, and you're obvious, and it's going to be the same fucking love triangle situation all over again, and I'm not going to sit back and watch this time- I will not hesitate to kick the shit out of that fuckboy, you hear me?"

"We're just friends." Sarah let out a sigh, avoiding kitty's gaze, because by now, she even knew that she was lying to herself here.

"Brendon Urie doesn't have friends: he has enemies and people he's fucking - that's it, fuck at the very least he doesn't discriminate when it comes to gender, but he's a fucking asshole about everything else-"

"We're not fucking." Sarah promised Kitty, and perhaps this one she could mean, at least for the time being anyway.

"But you have fucked, and you're not enemies, and friends is just a fucking code word, and it's Brendon fucking Urie, come on, you don't need him in your life. He's got Ryan Ross to fuck over again now, and you don't need to let him fuck you over too: you're better than that."

"I'm nothing special." Sarah shrugged it off, blushing a little as she continued to slip by with making as little of a comment upon the situation with her and Brendon as possible.

"Fuck off, you're amazing, of course you're special, you're beautiful, Sarah, seriously, you can do so much better than Brendon fucking Urie, don't be stupid."

But when it came to being stupid, there was absolutely nothing that Sarah Orzechowski could possibly be better at.

-

"It's red?" Mikey widened his eyes a little, struggling to find much of an interest or even something to say about his brother's hair, other than the rather blatant, scarlet red nature of it.

The two were sat, cross legged on the half done patio in the back garden of their house, well, in all honestly, it was more of a shitty path next to the house than any kind of patio, but Bert was very insistent upon speaking well of his crudely constructed garden fixtures, and Gee hadn't had the motivation nor interest to question him.

"Well, yeah, I did indeed for it to be like that." Gee shook his head, laughing a little as he held a cigarette almost too loosely between his fingers. "But what do you think?" He continued, running his spare hand back through his hair and shaking the scarlet locks a little, because yes, in Gee Way's head, he did indeed like to pretend that he was America's next top model and that life was his catwalk, and that Frank Iero was his amazingly hot boyfriend- oh wait...

"It's red-" Mikey repeated, staring at his brother with wide eyes, and well, it was safe to say that he wasn't really making all that much of an effort, but at the very least, he was actually responding, which was certainly good news at least.

"Just tell him that you like it and that it looks nice." Frank butted in, overlooking the two brother's conversation from the dining room. "He's an arrogant little sod." He continued in an oddly affectionate tone, closing the backdoor behind him, and taking a seat beside his boyfriend, leaving Mikey to let out a badly disguised sigh, because fuck, he was not sticking around if they were going to start making out right in front of him.

"I am not!" Gee protested, blushing a little as he put his cigarette to his lips, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he watched Mikey raise his eyebrows in something like disbelief. "I just care an awful lot about how I look."

"Okay then, vain. Is that better?" Frank asked, highly suspecting that it wouldn't be, but he wasn't really that fussed about his boyfriend being a fussy little shit.

"Fuck off." Gee sighed out, groaning a little as he turned to Mikey, "seriously, tell me, does it look shit or not?"

"Why are you asking me?" Mikey asked, because well, he was hardly the expert on hair and beauty, and Gee was even pretty sure that his brother had had the same hairstyle for at least four years now.

"Because Frank's gonna give me that 'you always look beautiful, you're my boyfriend, I love you lots' crap, and I want an actual opinion, and yeah, I don't think Bert has even washed his hair in the last month." Gee paused, cracking something like a smile, "but don't tell him I said that, because you know, I'd rather not be homeless, you know?"

"Your hair looks fine, Gee." Mikey said after a moment, driven more by pressure and influence than genuine opinion but it seemed to restore Gee's ego sufficiently, and of course, that was really the only thing that mattered here, because as well all know, Gee Way's hair is the goddamn most important thing in the world.

"You know, Frankie, I think you'd look really fucking hot with like bleach blonde-"

"Yeah, okay I'm out." Mikey announced, cutting his brother off as he got to his feet and walked past the two of them, making his way inside and safely behind a locked bedroom door, ready to slam his head into a wall non-stop for a good ten minutes or something.

Frank raised his eyebrows as the backdoor slammed behind Mikey, turning back to Gee to see nothing but ridiculous fucking laughter. "You scared your brother off, you little shit."

"Hmm..." Gee took another drag of his cigarette, "tell me why I should care when now I have time alone with you and your pretty little ass- I mean face... no I don't."

"You're literally the biggest the fucking idiot in the whole world." And Frank fucking meant it, but like in an 'I love you' way, because maybe Frank even outranked that title for willingly dating the biggest fucking idiot for so long, but of course, this was all a matter of debate and opinion.

"Yeah, whatever, but I'm hot as fuck." And well, Gee wasn't wrong, was he? "Now come on, tell me how hot I am with red hair, come on, maybe I'll give you a blowjob in return."

"And it'll be like when we first met, huh?" Frank raised his eyebrows, glancing between Gee and the garden, and smiling to himself like the fucking idiot he really was.

"Huh...?" Gee trailed off, making it evident that he'd forgotten, but of course, he was all kinds of crazy drunk that night many months ago, but that didn't change the fact that it was a night that mattered.

"That party when we first met, we went back out into the garden to be alone, and it was awkward and you called me homophobic at first, but then it wasn't like that, and we were like flirting and then there were blowjobs in this fucking backyard out in public, and dear god, that feels like forever ago." Frank sighed out, leaning his head back against the wall, watching as Gee remained silent for a moment, before smiling to himself as the memories returned to him.

"You were so cute and innocent back then." He added, leaning back against the wall, and half into Frank's side. "You were like a little baby, you're so different now, and it sounds stupid, like I'm some cringey aunt you barely know, but you've changed so much, and I'm proud of you, Frankie, and I love you a lot."

"And so you dated the 'little baby'?" Frank raised his eyebrows, only half offended.

"Like I wasn't an arrogant little baby then too. I think perhaps I still am, but I can take care of myself a little better now- well... I guess I just think I'll always have the mind of a teenager, you know what I mean? I can't imagine myself as an adult, being responsible, with a job, with a house, god-"

"You are an adult, Gee." Frank reminded him, smirking a little.

"Not really. Bert's like my fucking mum, come on - this is his house, I'm like the overgrown emo baby child who just won't leave."

"How does Bert even afford this house? I swear he never does anything either..."

"I don't want to know, so I don't ask, and I reckon that's the best way to get through life until I actually have to take responsibility for myself."

"You're such a great influence on me, Gee."

"Oh yeah, baby, I know."

-

hey guys this fic is nearly 500 pages in word that was a fun reminder that i have no life today but this fic is my life why do i need a life like seriously this fic absorbs all my life energy and ideas i love it so much i think i rely on this as part of my life now i dont know this is less of a fic and more of a strangely therapeutic homosexual universe that lives inside of and takes up the majorly of my head and life. so that's lovely, probably. vote and comment on the universe that lives inside my head pls. i love you lots<3