And as time went on, things had only seemed to worsen: the boy and his home town in the wintertime being a more than prominent subject in Frank's dreams over the course of the past week; his head focusing in open the letter and the broken home, and the boy with the dark hair that seemed to be somewhat of a living mystery.

And he'd been off his meds since, and no one beside Gerard had known, of course, but somehow this didn't feel like it was too with the lack of medication at all, because although this wasn't a cause for celebration, it wasn't necessarily a bad thing either.

It was just curious.

And Frank wanted to know everything he seemed to have forgotten, or had just evaded his notice, because surely this boy had to be someone, something, because you didn't just have this many dreams about no one, and that town, the setting, everything else was accurate, so why shouldn't this boy have been?

Of course, it didn't matter because Frank hadn't the slightest idea as to what he could do about it, because he wasn't in contact with any of the people he'd known as an eight year old, except besides his father, but they most certainly didn't speak anymore, and Frank didn't want to start again, just to ask about some boy he may or may not have known two decades ago.

It was irrelevant.

But it wasn't.

And Frank was scared.

But he wasn't.

Because the boy seemed to mean no harm at all, and Frank was just overreacting, and overthinking, and perhaps this really was just a figment of his imagination, but Frank had the odd nagging feeling in the form of recurring dreams, that it wasn't.

And the same thoughts haunted him as he laid in bed on a Sunday morning, Gerard beside him, saying something that he probably wanted him to care about, but Frank's mind was a million miles away, and he reckoned that there was honestly very little he could do about that at all.

Maybe he shouldn't have listened to Gerard, maybe that was what fucked him up in the first place, maybe that as what was causing these dreams, but it wasn't, because Frank had dreamed like this before, just not about that one specific and oddly curious thing.

He should've just explained it all to Gerard, and asked for his advice, and perhaps a blowjob or something, because that was Gerard's definite speciality, but Frank hadn't, and Frank wouldn't, and he wasn't exactly sure why; it just felt oddly personal and weirdly private, and it wasn't like Gerard would know anything a boy that may or may not have existed ten years before he'd even met Frank.

And Frank couldn't see how this was necessary or even if Gerard would listen, because he lay beside him, babbling on about something or other, and Frank couldn't care less at all - that was bad. This was all bad, and this would all be bad. And Frank would be okay with it until the very end, because this relationship with Gerard would always be sporadic at best: highs and lows, a rollercoaster of a relationship perhaps, but he reckoned that the highs most certainly made up for the times like these.

But of course, Frank was so very wrong, and so very oblivious, and Gerard was perhaps beginning to notice that not a single word he'd uttered was adhered to, and perhaps Gerard was beginning to anger a little, and perhaps it was easy to guess what could happen then.

"Frank?" He snapped, sitting up, and meeting the shorter man's gaze. "Are you even fucking listening to me, Jesus?"

Frank let out a sigh, blushing a little, "sorry... I... I just I'm tired, and there's a lot going on in my head, I'm sorry, okay?"

"Well, okay..." Gerard sighed out, leaning back down, and into Frank's side, "tell me what's this mess going on in your head then?"

"I can't-" And Frank knew that Gerard wouldn't be listening to any of that the very moment he'd began, but still, for some godforsaken reason, he'd tried.

"You can, of course you fucking can, Frank." Gerard shook his head in disbelief, "I'm trying to be patient with you, okay, but you just make it so goddamn hard sometimes..." He let out a sigh, reaching out and tucking Frank's hair behind his ears, "you're so goddamn beautiful, though." And Frank blushed like always: simple compliments like magic spells when spoken through Gerard's lips.

"You're beautiful too." Frank muttered, leaning onto his side, facing Gerard as he did so, "it's just this stupid dream thing that's confusing me and I'm kind of embarrassed about it and it's just stupid and it doesn't have anything to do with you at all."

"Okay, I just... you're clearly upset or distressed or something, and I really don't like seeing that, but... okay, I believe you, Frankie, now come on, listen to me, will you?" Gerard let out a sigh, leaving Frank genuinely surprised at how easy that had been, like seriously who was this guy and what had they done with his dead ghost boyfriend, you know, the one with the stupid red hair? Not that Frank had many dead ghost boyfriends, or even just boyfriends for that matter... or even friends actually.

"Okay, of course, babble on about nothingness right away!" Frank exclaimed, with perhaps too much enthusiasm for someone who'd just woken up, but perhaps avoiding an argument with Gerard was enough motivation to throw yourself into a pit of bubbling lava. "I met that in a nice non sarcastic way, by the way." He added, moments later, blushing a little.

"Sure." Gerard's lips turned up into a smile as he put his arm around Frank. "Well, I was just kind of talking about Brendon really - he left a voicemail on your phone, he sounded really stressed out actually, it was something about you, but I don't think it was directly linked to you, but he wants you to call him back."

"Fuck." Frank exclaimed, shaking his head, "I really don't want to deal with stressed out Brendon at this time in the morning."

"It's like eleven." Gerard added, raising his eyebrows.

"Fuck off, I slept in: I'm tired." He groaned, rolling over, and burying his face in the pillow. "I just want to spend a million years in bed."

"I can give you plenty of excuses to spend more time in bed with me." Gerard smirked, his words pressed into Frank's neck with the kind of kisses Frank could most certainly not handle right now. "If you know what I mean."

-

"And you're alright, are you, Frank?"

And her voice always had and always would be patronising, because Frank had never been better of course, until the very moment he walked inside his therapist's office.

Because he didn't' need these visits anymore, even if infrequent, because if he was fine without the pills then he was fine without her - all he needed was Gerard, of course, and that was so clear in Frank's head then.

And Frank would chance the fall out of this all, no matter how bad it may be, because he was just insanely desperate to be right.

And he knew it was stupid; he knew he was stupid, but he knew Gerard stood with raised eyebrows behind him, on-looking, listening to every word that would be said, and perhaps such an invasion of privacy should have made Frank just a little uncomfortable, but in all reality, it made him feel just that little bit more safe and comfortable in this room, and even in his own skin.

Because Gerard was always there, and Gerard would always be there, and perhaps he needed something like that to count on now, even if he was insistent that it wasn't like that, because it was, and it would be, and it would stay that way.

Things would stay this way, no matter what the therapist said, no matter what anyone said, because Frank was happy with himself now, or at least he thought so, and Gerard said that was what mattered the most, and Gerard had a habit of being right about the most unlikely of matters.

Ad of course Frank still wasn't quite used to it, but with time, with years, he would be, because things would be okay some day, and he was sure of that like he was sure of the uselessness of the pills and his own head, and this very room, and the words uttered inside it, because he wanted the drive out here to be non-existent in his head with time, perhaps little more than a distant memory.

Something like the bedroom he had as a teenager, something like the woods out in Jersey, something like the boy he'd met in them would never be.

Because Frank reckoned the whole world could burn to ashes around him, and still, Gerard would remain, just a few metres away, slightly bemused by the situation, perhaps with one eyebrow raised, on-looking the world, on-looking reality, on-looking the harshness of it all, and the inevitable.

Gerard always seemed to look like he knew far more than he'd ever let on, and perhaps that was always true, and perhaps that was just the default expression on his face, but really Frank reckoned it was a mixture of both, because Gerard always seemed distant, and like his whole existence was a mystery, even to himself, and Frank was only just beginning to accept that as a reality and not something he could change.

Because he wasn't a lovestruck teenager anymore, who wanted a pathetic happily ever after with the wrong person, he just wanted Gerard by his side, and they didn't have to know everything about each other, and questions didn't have to come with answers, and problems didn't have to come with solutions, and perhaps it had just taken Frank twenty eight years of his life to learn that.

"Are you listening to me, Frank?" She began again; her voice just a little more forceful this time.

Frank seemed to snap back into reality, as he pulled his gaze away from the man in the corner she couldn't see in the corner, and forced a smile at her, because she needed it, and he needed whatever she scribbled down in response.

"Yeah, I'm just...." His words trailed off, fading into nothingness, as he faded out into nothingness, like the edge of a reef, safety and sunlight and suddenly the darkness and nothing and the sinking feeling in his stomach as he began to use entirely too much oxygen at once, and it wasn't like trying not to breathe as much would help either - it was inevitable, and the world crawled at him with inky black hands that left a mark behind them, over his vision, over the world, and Frank reckoned he was about to pass out right there and then until-

"Frankie?" It was Gerard's voice: instantly recognisable and would perhaps always be just at the back of Frank's mind, and within a second, he found himself glancing behind him, glancing at the invisible ghost of a dead boyfriend, and the concerned expression on his face. "Something's wrong..." He uttered, his words shaking a little, "we have to go home... tell her you feel sick or something, please, Frankie, you felt that too, didn't you?"

Frank paused for a moment, as he turned back to his therapist, wondering just whether Gerard had found his head in the same place as Frank had when everything fell black and the world seemed to claw at him with a vengeance.

"What do you keep looking at?" She spoke up, concern and confidence coming hand in hand in her tone. Frank's eyes widened a little in shock as he found himself stumped at what to tell her, because the truth was quite obviously not an option. "Over there," she gestured to the wall where Gerard stood with her pen. In response, Gerard moved so he was stood behind her, and met Frank's gaze with urgency, gesturing to the door as he did so. "What is it, come on, tell me, Frank. You can trust me."

"It's nothing... I'm just looking at the door, because... I... look, I don't want to sound rude but I really don't want to be here, and I'm starting to feel kind of sick, like physically sick... and I was wondering if we could maybe continue this... like another day... I... I'm sorry." He blushed a little, catching Gerard's gaze in the silence that followed.

"I'm a little worried about you, Frank, if I'm honest." She let out a sigh, "you've been diagnosed with schizophrenia and you keep looking at parts of the room as things were there... things that aren't there. You can understand my concern, I'm sure. Now, look, you're not feeling well, I can see that too, you do look awfully pale, but promise me that everything's okay, Frank, that you're not seeing things again, and that you're taking your meds again."

"Of course I'm taking them." And Frank couldn't quite bring himself to lie straight to her face, so he lied straight to Gerard's, his gaze fixated at the figure behind her, because that was one thing he had a hell of a lot of practice with. "And, no," he forced a smile at Gerard, "I don't see anything else in this room, or anywhere for that matter... the only upset is with my stomach, and I'm certain of that."

"Thank you, Frank, shall I call you about rearranging the appointment then?" She asked, but barely received a nod out of Frank, before he made his way out of the door.

"Now don't tell me you really need to puke, because I don't want to see that-" Gerard groaned as they made their way down the corridor and out of the front door, and perhaps the outside world had promised itself as some sort of refuse and comfort from the confines of that room, but perhaps it seemed little more dangerous in reality.

"No, I'm fine..." Frank trailed off, because sure he didn't need to puke, but he certainly wasn't fine, and they both knew that. "Well... I'm... I don't know... you felt that too right?"

"Yeah... it was in your head though, just strong enough to seep into mine-"

"What do you mean?" Frank retorted, his eyes widening in shock. "You can see what's in my head-"

"Technically I can, but I don't make a habit of looking, but some things are so strong, like really passionate or fearsome thoughts, powerful thoughts that sort of breakdown the material barrier between us... I guess it'd just make you feel weird if you felt as if I could tell what you're thinking, but I can't, not really." Gerard forced a smile, although it came off far more like a grimace, "anyway, I just saw you go really pale, and that sudden darkness and I don't even breathe, but I felt like I was choking, and I- fuck, it was weird, Frank, so fucking weird."

"Suddenly I just didn't know what to say... it was like I'd tripped and lost my footing, like the world was disappearing beneath me... and in my head I saw the edge of a reef, and the darkness of an ocean, and drowning in it, and everything fading out around me, and I couldn't stop it... I thought for a good moment there that I could never break out of it, but... I-"

"You did." Gerard finished for him, confusion evident in his gaze. "How?"

"You said my name, I guess... that's cheesy as fuck, forget I ever even said that... god..." Frank groaned, blushing a little as Gerard reached for his hand. "Fucking tell me if people can see you right now, okay?"

"Yeah, they can, but I'm nothing special, we just look normal, Frank, you forget that a lot, don't you? Now come on, we need to get in the car and get home, because-"

"Because what, Gerard?" Frank snapped, holding on tighter to his hand, "because you seem to just know an awful lot that I don't right now, like, that... that thing what the fuck is going on, because you're scared, and you're scared like you know what's coming, and you have to tell me or I'm not getting in that car-"

"Frank, don't be such a fucking idiot." Gerard narrowed his eyes, groaning a little as he did so. "Let me explain whilst we're driving, okay?"

"No-"

"Fuck, let me just summarise it, and then, look, ghosts, we're attached to people yes? I'm attached to you, but don't be so naive to think that you're the only fucking ghost attached to someone in the whole damn world here- you can't see them, I can't even see them, but you can sort of feel them, like... I could feel it then with that energy, and that kind of energy, that's a bad fucking ghost, okay? Of course, it couldn't hurt either of us directly, but... it could use the world, and... I have this horrible feeling it's attached to your therapist... look, you can't go back, we can't go back, we need to go home, and I need to think-"

"Gerard, if you're making this shit up I swear to fucking God-"

"Get in the fucking car, Frank."

And this time, Frank listened: perhaps it was just the distant, unnerved look in Gerard's eyes that really caught him off guard, and he daren't ask about it until they were driving back into town, and closer to home, and whatever comfort a shitty New York apartment could possibly bring.

"It doesn't have to be love that traps people together... it can be any kind of emotion, it has to just be that strong and in the right way... it's usually love, I reckon... I think that there was guilt." Gerard paused, "I'm sorry, I don't really know exactly what I'm talking about, I'm no fucking expert, you know... I've just been like this a decade, some people have been like this for hundreds of decades, you know?"

"So I'm going to grow old without you?"

"I'm always going to be here."

"Even when I'm all wrinkly-"

"Shut the fuck up, Frank, you know I don't have a choice, don't make me hate this, don't make me hate you."

-

hey buds lmao what is going on oh my god !!! exciting drama !!! lets pretend i didnt pull this out of my ass lmao !!! i do have a plot for this fic, well the ending at least, and that's like 420/10, but we're not quite there yet lmao !!! pls love me im trash votes and comments would be v nice and cool !!!