"Bert." I repeated to myself, but this time aloud, and so Gerard could hear, and with a name like that, I caught his attention almost immediately: we shared a grimace before his gaze followed mine to the cellphone lying on the backseat, and he inhaled sharply, knowing all too much and all too little, and all at once.

"How?" I continued, breaking the silence a second time, only for my boyfriend to ignore my query and slam his foot down on the acceleration, driving away from his problems, except that little problem of his, resided right in his backseat. "He's dead." I stressed, as if Gerard, of all people didn't already know.

"Yeah, I made well fucking sure of that when I shot him." Gerard rolled his eyes, almost reluctant to speak, but the urge to slap me across the face with a sarcastic remark winning overall, because that was really just Gerard's arrogance, for you, and that was something I'd had to grow almost reluctantly used to over the past months which I'd come into acquaintance with the asshole. 

"I know... I know you did, but there's still no explanation to the fact that he is calling you right now, or well he was, but you just didn't pick up..." I let out a sigh, wondering whether he should have picked up the call at all: talking to Bert, even if he was dead, was just a bad idea all around, and I was well aware of that, but well, I was curious, and it was going to be the death of me some day.

"He's not calling me." Gerard snapped, ignoring me, his eyes directed only upon the road in front of him as he shredded miles between us and home like it was nothing, and for someone who'd been trying their best to persuade him into going home for the past few days, I really had nothing to complain about, did I? "His phone is."

But that was how it always was with Gerard, there was always something to complain about, because there was always something wrong, and there was always something to worry about, something to complain about, and there was always something driving me crazy, and it was usually him, and that was always just how it would be, because things were never just simple, and really, I could never want them to be, because after all, that would just be boring, wouldn't it?

Maybe sometimes, though, boring was good, and when your boyfriend's dead ex-boyfriend was calling, and your boyfriend was refusing to comment upon the matter in anything other than a tone dripping with sarcasm, maybe then you needed boring.

"What does that even mean, Gerard?" I exhaled, putting my feet up on the dash, only for him to scowl at momentarily, rolling his eyes just a little, but generally doing no more than passing a thought of irritation, before pulling his gaze away and focusing on the absolute trouble my words had brought him.

"That means that it doesn't necessarily have to be him using it." He rolled his eyes at me, almost as if it was bringing him physical torture to endure my questioning, and I began to wonder if he seriously expected me to just shut up and let him make several thousand bad decisions until we got home, and then just watch as he screamed and shouted and eventually fucked things up with his family too.

He had a much better family than I did, and I wanted to ensure he didn't put that to waste, that he didn't put them to waste, because family are always supposed to be there for you, even if like in my case, it's not always like that.

"So what do you think's going on then?" I asked him, perhaps just a little genuinely, because really, I didn't know what the hell to think, because maybe Bert wasn't dead, but it was again very likely that he was, and even further unlikely that he was calling Gerard from the grave - that was just ridiculous, and I could even just bat off the thought, Gerard however, he just... looked... distant, almost like he knew something, and that he knew what this was, and I hated that, I hated that about him, because I knew that no matter what I said to him now, he still would never even dream of telling me, even if it was to save his own life.

"I think that maybe we should just ignore it, and maybe worry about just what the hell I'm going to say to my mum when we get home, because she really just won't be happy, and you know what? If Bert never cries again, then we never have to worry about that ever again, do we, but I'm sorry to burst your 'let's go home and live happily ever after' bubble, but my mum isn't going to be happy and that's something I'll have to deal with, and neither will Mikey, and maybe you'll have to deal with that just a little too." He almost spat his words in my direction, as if he hated the fact that I was here with him, and I wanted just to blame it on stress, and the whole thing with Bert, and this hole we'd dug ourselves one hundred feet deep into, but, I could only lie to myself for so long, and it looked like time was running out.

"I'm sorry, Gee, I really am... I just, I just... I can't help but worry about you, and him, because he's just... horrible, and I care about you too much, perhaps just enough that's it going to ruin me, but I do, and-" He didn't let me finish.

"Then don't." He spoke as if it was nothing, and my eyes almost popped out of their sockets as I peered around to catch his gaze, and even so, it was only for a mere moment. "Don't care about me - fucking forget about me, just forget I even existed and get back on with your life in peace and happiness, because all I ever seem to fucking do is ruin your life and bring you trouble, and maybe that's all I'm good for, you know."

"No, shut up." I shook my head as I spoke; I wasn't too sure of myself very often, but this time, I definitely was. "I will always care about you, and you fucking know that, Gee, so really, how about you just accept it for once?"

"It's stupid though, Frank. It's fucking stupid - this is all fucking stupid. We're fucking stupid and there's not a chance in hell that I really deserve you and no amount of pity sex can prove anything, Frankie." He rolled his eyes as he spoke, barely meeting my gaze even once, and by now, I had simply stopped getting offended by it.

"You're going to hate that I think this, Gee, but you should just take your fucking medication and see how things are after that, because you might feel better afterwards, it might all just make sense afterwards, because that's what it's supposed to do - it's supposed to help." I promised him, knowing all too well just how reluctant he was to believe anything a doctor told him.

"So, yeah, I get home, get screamed at, possibly disowned by my own mother and then taking some fucking pills and try my best to think happy thoughts, and then what? What do I do then? Report my emotions and draw a picture of a flower from four different angles?"

"Then we do what we want." I told him, exhaling as I wondered just why I'd chosen the twenty five year old boyfriend that essentially just a stroppy eight year old with an almost scarily developed sense of sarcasm. "Maybe I could change your mind about pity sex."

He chuckled at that, meeting my gaze momentarily, before drawing his eyes back to the road and exhaling audibly, not even caring that I stared at him as he did so, desperately trying to figure out just what on earth was going on in that mind of his. "You're ridiculous, Frankie, but I really like that, you know."

"I do know. Why wouldn't you, after all?" I giggled just a little, as he nodded along, letting out a like 'mhmm' sound, because of course, who wouldn't agree - I was, in fact, fabulous, and very, very gay.

"Does it have to be pity sex, though?" He asked, grinning a little as he clumsily nearly lost control of the wheel, and really I was scared for my safety, but he was doing rather well for someone that had never driven before today. "I'd rather it was like kinky or something."

"Shut up." I rolled my eyes, blushing just a little as I removed my feet from the dash and just smiled at my asshole of a boyfriend, and maybe I did love him, but maybe I really did hate him too, and really, I was just far too okay with that.

-

"Perhaps we should have warned them." I voiced my concerns as we turned onto his street, soon approaching his house and soon to turn the car into the driveway, and even sooner to get out and walk up to the front door, and then ring the doorbell, and finally facing just whoever answered the door.

"Perhaps, but really, it's too late now, don't you think, Frankie?" He exhaled, throwing his head in his seat as he turned the car engine off and focused his eyes upon his front door and let his mind ponder the concept of knocking on it and seeing his mother again, because that was something that really did scare him, and not a lot scared Gerard Way at all.

"I guess, but I'm shit scared, and I can’t even bare to imagine how you're feeling right now." I exhaled, my hand reaching to push open the car door, but not quite managing it, my gaze catching Gee's once more.

"You don't." He promised me, before pushing open his car door in one motion all too smooth and all too sudden, enough to make me jump, and then brush it off, simply opening my own and biting down on my lip in a display of anxiety as I followed the red head to his front door, and wondered what would become of him: what would become of us, and just what would await us on the other side of that door.

I felt like it should have been one of those awkwardly tense moments in movies when the doorbell is rung after far too much anticipation and then you wait for hours as dramatic music plays and the suspense is drawn out just far too long as it seems to be a good few hours before anyone even comes to the door, but this is not a movie, and this just isn't like that.

Mikey answered in less than ten seconds flat, and I couldn't blame him, because maybe it had been like that with every over-anticipated ring of the doorbell since we'd left, because maybe, as much as he did hate him, Mikey Way just wanted his big brother back, and I could really see where he was coming from, because not only was Gerard very easy to hate, he was also very easy to love too, and there was just no telling as to which one would be the death of you.

"Gerard!" He seemed to scream out, eyes widening as he couldn't quite believe how awkwardly his brother stood on his front porch outside of the door, and it didn't take all that long for Mrs Way to hear him, and perk up in turn, running to the door and catching her eldest son's almost ashamed gaze as she considered just how illegal it would be if she slapped her twenty five year old son right across the face.

"You're fucking kidding me." Was what she went for instead, causing Mikey to jump a little as his mother slipped 'the f bomb' into her words like it was nothing, and Gerard couldn’t help but let an awkward smile pass across his lips at that, stepping inside, and I wasn't all that too far behind him; Mrs Way only shook her head at the two of us as we stepped inside and I took a position almost cheesily leant back against a wall as Gerard was forced into a hug by his mother, Mikey standing back, his face laden with a scowl, and that was when I noticed how his left leg was bandaged, and how he limped just a little as he walked.

"Oh so he comes back and he's all everybody's favourite once again, huh?" Mikey snapped, of course, things falling back into their usual routines just the very second Gerard walked inside.

"Mikey-" Mrs Way began, only to be cut off almost instantly.

"Well I'm sorry that your few days of glory didn't last forever as the favourite and only son, because really, the only way you're ever going to be anyone's favourite is by being the only one."

"What? In the same way that you're Frank's favourite boyfriend?"

Gerard glared down at the cast on Mikey's legs, exhaling far too loudly as he made a comment that was really just out of line. "Fucking wished I'd been a better shot, you know?" And with that, and the silence and shock that it caused, Gerard stormed upstairs to his room, to be alone.

But this time, I followed: I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

-

"Gerard?" I didn't bother knocking, only pushed his door open the very moment I reached it. It swung open with a horrible creek, revealing the twenty five year sat down in the middle of his bed: fiery red hair tucked behind his ears and an exasperated sigh upon his lips. "Look, Mikey's just pissed off..." I didn't even quite know why I was questioning why on earth Mikey would ever be upset - his brother fucking shot his leg, I'm sure he had just a little reason to feel as he did.

"Doesn't matter..." Gerard shook his head, biting down on his lips, almost as if he was made nervous by my presence in the room alone: that was when I followed his gaze down, towards his hands and the phone that they held in them - his.

"Have you?" I exhaled loudly, preparing myself for the worst as I sat down on the edge of the bed, and Gerard pulled the phone to his chest, almost as if he was hiding something. "You've called him, haven't you?"

"No, I... I texted him... I just told whoever was fucking with me with this number to just go fuck themselves, but I got a reply and I'm just... Frankie, I'm just so scared that somehow Bert isn't dead, and I don't like being scared, but I am - so scared-" I didn't let him finish, moving to pull him close to my chest and almost suffocating him in an overly friendly hug.

"I don't want you to be scared, Gee. Just ignore it, and then nothing can happen, look I know I sound even hypocritical now, but can we deal with the issue that Bert might not be dead when we do actually see a dead man walking, huh?" I smiled at him, forcing it just a little, because this really wasn't something we could just ignore and quite honestly, I felt as if I'd end up investigating it myself at this rate.

"Gerard?" We both jumped as the door was pushed open and the awkward looking Mrs Way walked in, no words exchanged further as she simply placed a little box on the bed and left; Gerard couldn't grab it before my eyes turned astray and read the name off it - medication, his.

"You are going to take that, aren't you?" I was the first to speak: breaking the silence and tension that Gerard's mother had left in her wake, and really perhaps I didn't blame her for not wanting to speak to her son all that much - what really was there to say. Sure, there was a withheld explanation but that was on Gerard's part, and really, it would take just about the whole world to get someone as arrogant as him to tell you what they were really thinking and feeling: most of the time I could even only hazard an educated guess.

"You want me to." Gerard supplied as his response, before dry swallowing two pills, and pulling his gaze away from mine, the phone now lying on the bed beside us, and it wasn't long before it let out a complacent little ping - signifying nothing other than a text tone, and I could just about make an educated guess as to who or at least what caller I.D. would have been the one to send it. "You don't want me to look at it or answer it."

"Stop talking about what I want like it's some sort of dictatorial command." I snapped, wondering just how much my words would fuck things up, but not caring quite enough to actually think before I spoke next time.

"Why is it that we always seem to argue these days? And don't say it's that I'm not taking my medication, because I'm not just a box of pills with stupidly bright red hair." He met my eyes as he spoke, and from that gesture alone, I could already tell that he was serious.

"Maybe it's because there are too many secrets and maybe it's because neither of us are very good at handling shit like that, I mean you-"

"I know what I did, Frank." His voice was stern, not letting me finish, and just this once I didn't push it, content in the fact that he hadn't shooed me out of his bedroom yet. "The only time you don't seem to hate me is when your dick is inside me."

"I don't hate you." I told him, almost like a reflex. "Not always." Came the afterthought, brought upon by how he raised his eyes, and yet he only chuckled a little in response.

"I feel like we work perfectly on the basic level of relationship stuff, but when you factor in the fact that we both have lives and problems and families and generally just messed up shit, then everything just falls into pieces, and I wish it wasn't like that, but Frankie, I just think that's how it is." He exhaled, putting his phone back on the nightstand and leaning back against the bed. "And it takes a fuck to forget that."

I grinned at him. "Then let's forget that."

-

Hey guys:) Well thank you all very much because this hit 300k reads recently and I kind of died oops:') Anyways, I hope you liked this chapter and if you did I'd appreciate it if you could leave a vote and/or a comment and of course, remember that I love you all<3