Gerard's smile faded slowly, turning even more into a frown the further away he drove. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, his face draining of color, and after an hour and a half he pulled up at a gas station, even though there was a decent amount of gas in the car.

He disappeared for twenty minutes, and I tried calling him, only to find that he'd left his phone in the car. When he returned, his eyes were bloodshot and ringed with red, and he was holding a coffee in a styrofoam cup. He climbed into the car, wiping his nose on his sleeve, and put the cup in a holder that sat between us.

"Hey," I said, placing my hand on his arm just as he was about to start the car. "are you okay?"

He nodded, refusing to look at me. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit."

"It doesn't matter, Frank." He started the car. "Not anymore."

He took a deep breath before driving, a shaky hand turning up the radio and letting it fill the car. I didn't know if it was to drown out his thoughts, but it wasn't drowning out mine, and I wanted to cry myself. Of course I couldn't - maybe I had no tears left, maybe I was too done to cry. I didn't know. I didn't care. I just wanted sleep and my boyfriend.

"Remember when we talked about running away?" He said after a while, out of the blue.

"I wanted you to take me up on that. I really wanted to run away with you."

I counted eight seconds before he replied. "I wish we'd just done it. We wouldn't be in this mess now if we had, would we?"

He reached over and took my hand as I shrugged. "Ryan might still have died. That was out of our control."

"True...but I wouldn't have taken that fucking job in New York and I wouldn't have let Bert fucking stay with us and I wouldn't have fucking started fucking drinking again and -"

"Easy on the swearing, there." I said, and the corner of his mouth rose, causing mine to rise in return.

"Fuck you." He retorted, and I rolled my eyes.

"Don't get ahead of yourself."

"Oh, I won't."

There was silence after that, until he pulled up outside a small motel and pressed a kiss to the back of my hand.

"I love you." He said, and I faked a smile.

"We'll see." I replied, before following him up to a room.

Almost the second the door was closed, his hand weaved into my hair and he brushed his lips against mine. "Can I kiss you?"

Truthfully, I really wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to pin me to the bed and fuck me. I wanted to fuck him. I wanted to lie with him beneath the sheets and touch his body and fall asleep. I wanted to hold his hand and have him squeeze it and I wanted to just lie there with him. I wanted him to be Gerard and I wanted to be Frank, and I actually wanted him to be Mr Way, art teacher, because things were so much easier like that.

"Yes, Mr Way." I whispered, and I saw the flicker of a smile before he crushed his lips to mine, making me weak at the knees and jelly-like all over again.

He picked me up, letting me wrap my legs around his waist as my back hit the wall. A low moan sounded at the back of his throat, his body pressing into mine, his hands secure on my thighs. He smelled all warm and like cigarettes and I tangled my fingers in his hair because I didn't know when I'd get to do this again. And I loved him, I really did. More than anything.

I shivered with anticipation and his tongue pushed against mine and his hand found its way between us, slipping up my shirt and pulling it from my body. The press of his fingertips was electric.

"Touch me." I whispered, in the mere seconds our mouths were apart. "I need you."

He groaned a little, taking me over to the bed and gently laying me down onto it. He trailed burning kisses down my neck, his tongue flicking over patches of skin that hickeys used to dominate. He pushed my legs apart and knelt between them, inky hair brushing pale skin as a smirk lifted his mouth.

"You're fucking gorgeous, Frankie. Gorgeous. You know that, right?"

I closed my eyes and dug my teeth into my lower lip as his hands ran up my thighs, his fingers tracing my belt buckle. My pants were uncomfortable, my arousal clear and straining against the denim. The time he took to unbuckle my belt was probably only seconds, but felt like hours.

"Gee..." I begged, my back arching as his icy fingers brushed against my hips.

"Who am I, Frank?" He said in a low voice.

"Mr Way. Mr Way, please..."

"Are we really going back to all this?" I nodded frantically, and he began to pull down my pants at an agonisingly slow pace. "Okay then, so be it."

And then I was naked and he was wrapping his lips around my cock in true Mr Way fashion - slowly and deliberately and designed to drive me crazy.

It was probably supposed to be a gentle, romantic affair - or as gentle and romantic as Gerard could get - but I wasn't having any of that. Before long, I was holding him down while I fucked his mouth, the muffled moans he was making going straight to my already leaking cock. I wanted him to remember who he belonged to. I wanted him to taste me for the next week.

I could feel the pressure growing in my gut, and I knew that I would come soon if he wasn't careful. My hands loosened in his hair, just enough for him to pull back and rub the slit with his tongue as his hand fisted the base. I loved him, I fucking loved him so much -

His name fell from my lips as I came hard into his mouth, and he took the lot before pulling off and spitting it onto the already filthy floor. Some dripped down his chin, and he wiped it off with the back of his hand. He then rid himself of his pants - which were straining against his obvious erection - before leaning down and kissing me hard.

I slipped a thigh between his legs, allowing him to rut against it as he deepened the kiss, his hands either side of my head. He didn't seem to care that he'd end up making a mess in his underwear, and judging by the noises he was making, he'd rather do it now and not later. I resisted the urge to touch him - he didn't deserve that.

"Oh - Frank - fuck -" he buried his face in the crook of my neck and reached a hand between us to squeeze himself. He shuddered, coming heavily into his underwear with a low groan. "I love you." He said quietly.

"Maybe." I replied.

~

"So where should we go?"

We ended up sat opposite each other on the bed, me leaning against the headboard wearing absolutely nothing, and him in clean underwear - mine, no doubt. And we were both smoking, despite it being against the motel policy or some shit.

"Um..." He shifted so he was crossing his legs, his thighs looking tempting in the darkened room. "England."

"What, really?" I took a drag of the cigarette, my eyes narrowing as he nodded. "Why?"

"I went there once when I was younger, and it was really cool."

"By England, do you mean London?"

"Well...kinda." He put his cigarette to his lips and spoke around it. "We did go down to the south coast. It rained a lot."

I rolled my eyes. "Right, let's go and escape the rain to go to more rain."

"You're being awfully cynical about this."

"Yeah, well." I got beneath the sheets, shivering a little. "No matter how much we talk about it, it's not gonna happen."

He looked hurt. "We can always hope."

"We had a reason to run, before. We don't have a reason now."

There was a pause, and then he sighed, putting his cigarette out on the come-blood-piss-burn-stained sheets. He got to his feet, and without another word, he went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. The shower turned on, surprisingly loud, but I could swear I heard a muffled sob just before, and if I couldn't feel any worse then, I did now.

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It's so short I'm so sorry omg but it's nearly finished it's nearly finished I'm strangely excited about this idk I just kinda want it to end so...

And unfortunately there won't be a third book, I'm sorry guys.

Thanks Pete,

-xøcharr <3