His eyes were on mine yet no words were spoken: all our feelings conveyed insufficiently via the manner of the gazes of cowards and people who were too in love with one another to ever truly leave, even when things had turned just this sour.

He'd stopped the car by now and we'd turned off into a small back road, hoping that we were out of the road enough as not to get run over or something. I was worried that we'd get found here, but Gerard had muttered something about it being dark and that they were incredibly stupid, and I'd taken his word for it, watching him in silent relent as he sat outside back to a nearby tree, smoke drawn from the stick he held between his fingers, and I reckoned I could watch him forever like that, because despite the circumstance, he looked peaceful, perhaps even happy.

Beautiful though, most definitely beautiful and this almost reminded me of when he was just some asshole in the woods that I hated and we weren't tripping other each others feet in the shit that we'd caused and simply out of curiosity too. It really seemed that curiosity did indeed kill the cat.

I should have left by now and I knew that all too well, but there was just something about him and just something about us that made me sicken enough to really want to hold onto. It was a stupid thing, and a stupid decision for sure, and of course one that could only be justified with some bullshit about love, but I reckoned that I'd never be truly able to completely erase Gerard from my life, even if I wanted to.

We're were just too involved in each other and each other's lives by now, and not just in that way, because I could never just get up and leave, ignoring Gerard for the rest of my existence, because I could never stop caring, not really. Even if not about Gerard, I’d still worry about Mikey and his mother, and with Mikey and I being somewhat friends that just made things incredibly difficult, and I wondered what Mikey would have to say at school next week after the break when I never arrived. At least school was over in a few weeks and it was nearly summertime.

I kind of liked the summer in a stupid, almost stereotypical way, mainly it was memories of my mother and how in the summer and the sunshine everything just seemed to be okay, but it never really was okay, was it? And those dreams I kept having certainly weren't helping. Furthermore, Gerard was definitely suspicious that I wasn't quite all I seemed, and perhaps he was right, but not quite he the way he thought.

I didn’t kill my parents; my dad's still alive, somewhere, drinking himself dead and denying my existence, my mother however is, and it's slowly began to strike me as weird that I never really knew why. I mean, I didn't ask, of curse, we just didn't talk about it, and I was little, but now, I came to realise that I never did find out why and how my mother died, and of course the very thought was wreaking havoc upon my already unstable mind.

"You alright, Frankie?" The redhead approached me, having finished his cigarette and made his way back to the vehicle I sat in, door open, mind elsewhere. His eyes met mine, filling with concern as I made no immediate response and most certainly none of reassurance. "I'm sorry, I..." He panted out all heavy breathing and wild eyes moving erratically.

"I'm okay, Gee. I just... I... just fuck this is all too much, and I... why the fuck did you have to do this? It was fucking stupid, you know that right? Now both of our lives are fucking messed up forever, you get that don't you, or don't you just fucking love this, huh?" I stood up, temper raising as our gazes met, Gerard scowling at me, at first playing innocently with the furrowed brows before he finally shot back his response, and innocence was most certainly long gone.

"Then fucking go." He snapped back the most obvious yet never considered response, not even flinching as he spoke. "Fucking go, Frank - leave, go on." He pushed me back against the metal of the car, showing me he was serious, and fuck, he couldn’t do that.

"No, I fucking can't, can I?" I spat back, pushing him away from me and meeting his gaze with the greatest loathing ever witnessed. "I fucking love you, you know that? Gerard, I am in love with you and yet you are the biggest fucking asshole I've ever met and I can do very little about that but hate you and still want to make out with you."

"Then make out with me." He pushed me back against the car once more, but in a different manner entirely, pinning my wrists back up above my head and flashing a smirk. "Fucking fuck me, huh? Frankie? Get that anger out, huh? Kind of like therapy."

"We're fighting and the only thing you want to do is be fucked - you're a fucking whore, you know that Gerard." I retorted, pulling his wrists from Gerard's grip with a little force.

"Mmm..." Gerard grinned, pushing himself down over me, meeting our lips: short and sweet and he still tasted like nicotine and I still wanted to fucking punch him in the face. "Your whore, Frankie. C'mon, I've been bad, huh?"

"What the fuck are you doing, Gerard?" I widened my eyes, more confused than pissed off right now, and perhaps just a little aroused. Gerard simply chose to answer my question by grinding down against me and oh fuck that really wasn't helping my concentration or damn well anything.

"Ah, fuck me, Frankie, fuck me. I'm your whore, please, fucking let me be sorry, make me be sorry, Frankie-" And that was enough for me, pushing Gerard into the car and down onto the backseat, where the redhead continued to moan and gasp at his me, continuing in the suggestive talk like it really was nothing. "Do whatever you want, Frankie, teach me a fucking lesson, please. I need... I need-"

"I'm fucking pissed, you know that, Gerard?" I asked, voice harsh, gaze questioning as he looked over my boyfriend laid out across the backseat, an expression of pure explicit pleasure across his face as he thought of things I daren't ponder into.

"Oh yeah, baby. I want you to be pissed, I want you to hate me, I don't want you to care, I just want you to fuck me, because it's going to be good, so fucking good, ah." I pushed down against his hips, pretty much straddling them, as I looked the twenty three year old over with perhaps a look of consideration. "Take out your anger on me, fuck me hard, Frankie."

It seemed Gerard did even account for the fact that I may well indeed have said no, unzipping his tight black skinny jeans and grabbing my hand, shoving it down his boxers and arching up into my touch, and fuck, the look on his face all jaw dropped and eyes closed like nothing else mattered in the world: that was more than enough to get me hard just thinking about him and all we could do, and suddenly saying no was no more than a lost fantasy to me as well.

I curled my hand around him, watching him writhe underneath my presence and grinning a little, stroking him up and down and soon removing my hand and then his shirt, like nothing else mattered and the best thing in the world was seeing that exposed pale chest of his: fucking white like pure snow, and soon infected with kisses I pushed down against his cheeks, climbing up to his neck and ensuring I made quite the mark, or two.

"Ahh..." Came one of the many moans released from those lips of his, parted in perfection and an epitome of explicit beauty.

I giggled, sitting back upon to his lips and removing my own shirt. "You really don't need those pants, Gerard. We can totally lose them."

"Totally." He uttered back, voice all breathy and syllables punctuated with little pants and gasps for breath as I pulled the all too tight jeans down for him, letting my fingers linger entirely far too long in all the wrong places.

And I could only watch with a smirk as he removed his own underwear, almost obediently and all for me, leaving himself utterly exposed as his hand curled around himself.

"Don't fucking touch yourself, Gee." I pulled his hand right away, most likely hurting him in the process, but it was apparent that he either hadn't felt it or didn't seem to mind, allowing me to pin his hands up behind his head and rid myself of the remainder of my clothing onto the floor of the car: only part of the reason that would ensure the backseat of this car was never ever used ever again.

"I've got lube in the side pocket, over there." He gestured briefly with one hand before returning it to the position I'd placed it behind his head, his cheeks flushing a colour to match his hair as I raised my eyebrows in response.

"Fucking slut carries lube with him everywhere. This was fucking planned, wasn't it, whore?" I snapped, reaching for the little bottle he'd directed at previously, holding it the palm of my hand as a smirk fell upon my lips. "Do you really reckon you deserve it, huh?"

He nodded eagerly, mouth buttoned shut as his eyes widened, still hard, knees up and legs half spread for me, and oh dear god he was such a sight like that. "Please, Frankie, please."

"Oh so you're going to beg for it, huh?" I rolled my eyes, laughter catching in my throat as I pushed his legs apart in one smooth movement, pulling them up over onto my shoulders, let him gasp as he struggled to adjust comfortably, still hard and aching.

"Please, Frank, fuck, please-"

"I give you far more than you deserve. You know that, don't you?" I reminded him, letting him watch as I spent entirely far too much time in the matter of lubing the first of my fingers, ready to stretch him for me.

"Don't fucking bother with that, please, just let me take you, aghh..." He moaned out pushing himself up against me and writhing at how hard he was. "Please, fuck, I need this."

"Fine." I scoffed, lubing my dick instead, wondering if he was going to regret this or not, but letting him making a stupid decision none the less, just because he was Gerard, and perhaps for all the stupid ones he'd forced upon me, perhaps he even deserve it. "Fucking take it, bitch." And that was all the warning he got before I pushed a little in.

"Fuck, oh god." He let out a scream at first, simply adjusting, before he even pushed himself onto me, and I really couldn't take it, because dear god he was so tight and there wasn't a question about the fact that I was going to come before he did.

I moaned out as I slammed myself down into him, perhaps going deeper than he had intended but it was evident with the moans and gasps that Gerard made no complaint, and so I made no deal of it either, let out heavy pants with him pushed up against me, fucking stretched for me, writhing and begging for me, and oh dear god, I couldn't hate him like this, not at all.

"Again, fuck." He screamed out and I made no opposition to his request, slamming down into him as he arched against my touch, and I seemed to lose myself there for a few minutes in a mess of hips against him and how close I was and how good, how fucking good everything felt, and how I'd just lost myself in this, well, in him, because right now mattered except us and the backseat of the car that neither of us owned.

"Fuck." I came first, into him and without a care, surely, it was a terrible mess which no one would want to clear up but that sure as fuck did not matter right now, and then it wasn't long before he was coming too and the whole world seemed to fall apart right there and right them in a mess of orgasms and us and an illegally owned backseat.

And nothing else in the world mattered at all.

-

"This is stupid, Gerard." I told him; the two of us having cleaned up the backseat and were now sat there, leant back against opposite car doors with blankets wrapped around us.

He shrugged in response, seeming not to give all that much of a fuck, simply taking another drag of the cigarette he held between his fingers; he was smoking more recently, and I guessed it was down to stress, but the way he was quite literally burning his way through packets, kind of concerned me, just a little.

"You know that we can't live like this forever." I continued, meeting his gaze, only for him to pull his eyes away and off out the window where he didn’t have to trouble himself with the harsh, brutal nature of reality, almost pretending that it didn't exist; that only we existed, and I could do that earlier, but I most certainly couldn't now - it was just stupid, this whole fucking running away thing was stupid and I reckoned Gerard would realise that the very moment he ran out of cigarettes.

"And with what I've done we can't live like we used to anymore, can we, either? So, come on, Frank, look at this realistically at the very least-"

"Realistically?" I scoffed, rolling my eyes at even the notion. "You're being anything but realistic here, Gerard, and I think you know that, because there's no way we can just spend the rest of our lives in this fucking car surviving off coffee, fast food, and cigarettes, because there's no way I would want that to happen, either. Look at things realistically if you're going to tell me I'm not, okay, I accept that you've fucked up both of our lives. Well done. Do you want a gold star or something, but come on, there's no way this is going to work, there's no way we-"

Silence.

Our eyes met in entirely the worst manner as I came to terms with the fact that I didn't need to continue for Gerard to just know what I was going to say, and dear holy fuck, nothing had ever quite been worse than this silence, but I didn't think I meant it, not really.

"So is that what you really think, huh? Frankie?" Gerard tossed his cigarette butt out the car window, closing it back up after he did so, his eyes, burning wild as fire, coming to meet mine in a kind of hatred words could quite express. "You could have at least fucking told me before I did so much for you, you know. Only reason I didn't let Bert shoot me and give me what I deserved was because I love you, and I couldn't let you have to... I couldn't for you... I mean, I don't matter, I just exist, and that's a thing, and you're, you're..." He choked up, unable to continue, and really, I didn't quite need him to.

"I love you, Gerard, but there are just things about you that I can't love, and those are things that you shouldn't expect me to." I paused, wondering if he'd gotten entirely the wrong impression of what I was trying to convey here, or if we were at least vaguely on the same page here. "You need to take your medication - it's there for a reason, and I hate that you don't seem to get that. You didn't need to kill Bert, that's just fucked up, and.... how you treat Mikey, I just-"

"You hate that I was a fucking whore, don't you, fucking don't you, Frankie? And I even said that I knew you would and that was why I was so shit scared of telling you, but no that doesn't fucking seem to matter to you, does it, huh?" Yeah, of course, it was entirely the wrong impression, and it felt like that far too often with Gerard.

"No, Gerard I don't care... I don't care about that. It wasn't your fault, and a mistake you made in the past, whereas these are current issues that we need to fix-"

"Oh, yeah, Frankie, because it's always about me - I'm the fucked up one, aren't I?" He shook his head, pulling his features into a distrusting smirk. "You’re just the perfect little angel that's never even slightly messed up at all, of course. So, Frank, tell me, how did your mother die, huh?"

And the air seemed to grow cold as the question was asked, I looking at his boyfriend blankly, almost as if this was all some kind of sick joke and that I really wasn't expected to answer, or at least that was what I hoped, but things weren't like that at all - God simply just couldn't be quite that nice.

"Now you're all so silent." He rolled his eyes, lighting another cigarette, and I really wanted to tell him to stop, but I couldn't: in fact, right now, I couldn't say anything. "Cat got your fucking tongue, Frankie. Come on, you have to tell me everything about your past and personal life, because, of course, I will still look at you the same, no matter what it is."

"I still look at you the same, Gee." I piped up, not sure for what reason, but I felt it necessary to prove at least one point to him.

"I don't care what you think, Frank, I only care about what happened to you. I care about trying to understand, so come on, Frankie, dear, open up." He was practically spitting his words at me by this point and I felt stupid saying it, but I was actually just a little scared of him, and that felt wrong, but I wondered what anything really felt like anymore; I was just so numb ever since I'd let Gerard go upstairs to his room and incidentally made the worst mistake of my life.

"How did poor Mrs Iero die?"

And then I met his eyes, choking out an answer: the only answer I knew, and for who's sake, I didn't know at all. "I don't know."

-

Hey guys:) I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you did, I'd really appreciate it if you could leave a comment and/or a vote, and of course remember that I love you all<3