"Fuck." Gerard choked out, pulling Frank into his arms, the two just standing there, holding one another tighter than was entirely necessary for what felt like years, but was still never long enough, because Frank reckoned that things would never be okay again, or at least not like they were before.

He moved his head from Gerard's chest, just taking one more glance at his mother, lying there in the dirt, and regretting it instantly as more tears began to stream down his face; he could barely process this at all, because all his life his father had told him that his mother had died of cancer, and she had had cancer, but it was becoming increasingly evident that it wasn't the cancer that had killed her, and he bit his lip as he remembered his father telling him he was too young to go to the funeral or visit her grave, every time, every year that he asked him until Frank just eventually stopped asking.

In a way, the forest had become the place in which he came think about her, his mind always full of the memories from when he was little kid and she'd taken him out there; he'd always felt safe there, like someone was protecting him, like the forest itself was perhaps, and really all this fucking time he'd been walking on top the very ground his mother was buried in.

He choked out a sob, "I..." He struggled to say something, anything, fuck, he just wanted, just needed Gerard to talk at him, to say anything he could believe, bullshit like this would all be okay, but it wouldn't, there was no fucking way anything would be the same anymore.

And it was in that moment that Frank came to realise that he hated his father for being dead so he could go and kill the guy himself, because it was evident the bastard had more to do with this and he would like people to know about, and then there was of course the constant lying and stream of bullshit, and fuck, it had been like he didn't even care at all: no remorse, no nothing, just alcohol and selfishness, because he couldn't fucking deal with the fact that his wife had gotten cancer; he'd blamed her, and once she was gone, he'd blamed Frank, and once Frank was gone, once Frank was finally gone, Mr Iero had begun to blame himself.

And Frank wanted to say that the guy deserved this, but as his mind flashed through images of his father hanging from the ceiling fan, of his father ready to end his fucking life, he couldn't stomach it, he couldn't stomach it at all.

He gripped Gerard tighter, his fingers digging into the point that they would hurt, but Frank couldn't let go of Gerard at all, because realisation hit him in the form of the fact that Gerard was the only person he really had left, and still, Gerard had killed himself, his father had killed himself, and his father had killed his mother.

And everyone had lied to him about it, lied to him about everything, and it wasn't cushioning the blow, or even prolonging it, it was just ensuring it hurt ten times worse when the truth inevitably came out.

Frank continued to cry into Gerard's chest for a good ten minutes, not a single word transferred between the two, because fuck, Gerard didn't know what to say at all, and Frank reckoned he really could not stop crying.

Until things began to click together in Gerard's mind, that was, "Frank," he began, running his fingers through his boyfriend's hair, "there's something you probably should know."

Frank bit his lip, pulling away just enough so he could see Gerard's face, "tell me." He demanded, certain of it, certain of the fact that he wasn't letting anyone lie to him anymore; he wanted the truth, he wanted all of it, because he couldn't believe he'd spent all his fucking life believing his mother had died of cancer, that the bastard he'd called a father had been innocent in all of this.

"The spirit," he began, wondering how Frank could possibly react, "the one you spoke to, she's not here anymore, but, she was the same spirit that spoke to me outside your house, the one I didn't listen to, and that spirit, she was your mother."

And Frank's jaw actually dropped, his eyes widening, glancing around, desperate, wondering just where the fuck she could have gone, because he needed to speak to her now, more than he had ever done. "Where the fuck is she?" Frank yelled, glancing back down at the grave, "she was fucking here all this time, and she never fucking did or said anything and she just let me live with him, with what he'd done to her, having killed her, even if not directly, but it was fucking his fault."

"Frank, please, calm down, baby, please," Gerard let out a sigh, pressing a kiss to Frank's forehead, "Frankie, please, don't be angry at her, I don't think any sixteen year old kid wants to hear from the ghost of their mother detailing the atrocities their father had committed."

"But she never fucking... she never... said anything... did anything at all..." Frank choked out, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Frankie, maybe she couldn't reach out to you, I couldn't for a long time either." He paused, looking up at the forest around them, "and she did something, of course she did, I think I've figured it out now, this forest, she's connected more to this place than an actual person. You said you always felt safe here, I think she's the reason why, and in a way, she did indeed watch you grow up and watch over you. And the forest always still like this: golden leaves, like a state of perpetual autumn, that must be her."

"She used to bring me here as a kid in the autumn and-" Frank choked out, starting to cry again. "Fuck, it makes sense now. Can she see us and hear us now?"

"I don't know, I mean sometimes we can tune ourselves out of reality, but I reckon she'd wanted to be here for you right now." Gerard glanced around one more time, spotting a figure, just momentarily, stood at the tree line, before she disappeared once more.

Frank pulled away a little, wiping his eyes, and biting his lip as he found himself daring to glance at the grave once more, "what do we do with her? I don't want to just leave her here in the fucking grave he dug for her!"

"Frank, what else are we supposed to do, we can't just carry your mother's dead body across town, anyway, I think she belongs here in the forest, I don't even know if she'd be able to appear as a spirit if she was elsewhere." Gerard glanced at Frank, "I think she wouldn't mind talking to you, but another day, I think this is way too much for one day, okay?"

Frank nodded, turning away and trying his best not to cry as Gerard did his best to cover her body back up with the dirt.

-

Frank was rather quiet for the rest of that day and the next, sitting down in the downstairs room of the house with the massive window, and simply staring at the world outside, letting the rest of the world live on as he continued to dwell in his own head, simply stumbling around in circles as he did all he could to attempt to make sense of things.

Part of him still couldn't quite believe that this was all real - that she'd been here all the time, that she'd been watching over him all that fucking time, dear god, this meant she'd seen Gerard, bitchy red haired Gerard who had been a massive dick to him, fuck, she'd seen him and Gerard... Frank came to realise that his mother had actually seen everything he'd done with Gerard Way in that forest.

And at that point he really began to question his sanity, and how his mother could really still love him, because well, him and Gerard hadn't just spoken to one another in that forest - they'd done a hell of a lot more than that, in fact.

And as much as the thought truly horrified Frank, it also seemed to vaguely amusing, because in a way, this was all heartbreaking, but still there was a good side to everything and he reckoned he was only learning that now: he found his mother's body, but now he can speak to her again, his father hung himself, but he'll never have to deal with him again, Gerard killed himself, but none of this would have ever happened if he hadn't done so.

Frank wondered what would have happened if Gerard had kept living on from that day; he reckoned they would have just stayed in Jersey and the biggest concerns in Frank's life would have been Bert McCracken and a vaguely fucked up boyfriend - it would have been much simpler, but Frank would honestly have never traded it for the world.

Or he reckoned so at least, as he continued to stare out at the world, at the forest, at New Jersey in the wintertime, and how this was easily the best January of his life, the only one to ever hold any significance, of course, and it was odd how significance had come in the form of Frank reckoning he was going mad, and getting nightmares and going back home to find his father dead and his mother's body. But still, Frank was in the best place now he'd been ever.

And that place was with Gerard, this Gerard, who seemed to genuinely care, the Gerard who'd learned from his mistakes, because this was the Gerard who'd finally fucked up in a way he couldn't undo, and all he'd ever been was bright hair and ego, all about himself and without a care in the world - it was different now; he was aging, if not physically then mentally.

"You alright?" Gerard asked, making his way into the room and sitting beside Frank, the shorter man coming to notice the sketchpad in Gerard's hands as he'd sat down beside him.

"Mmm..." Frank nodded, his gaze fixated upon the sketchpad and the drawing upon the page it was opened to. "Is this old stuff or were you drawing?" He continued to ask, gesturing as he spoke.

Gerard followed his gaze back to sketchpad and moved it so it was in front of the both of them, "this is new, I just had this uncontrollable urge to draw this scene, it's weird, but I guess inspiration doesn't exactly come in the most orthodox forms. I think it turned it pretty good as well, don't you think?"

"Gerard, of course it's amazing, you drew it." Frank exclaimed in what was easily the corniest tone known to man as he leaned forward and began to examine his boyfriend's work.

The piece was drawn entirely in pencil, but even with pencil lines and minimal amounts of shade you could make out the scene depicted: a view from a window, to a tree line, and a garden perhaps, covered with so many flowers.

"Didn't think you were one for flowers." Frank commented, a small smile upon his face.

Gerard shrugged a little, "don't know where this came from, I told you that, but they're the daffodils in the spring, I think this is like April, and it's kind of warm but it's raining, and, I don't know, it's just so beautiful and vivid in my head."

"Maybe you should paint this? Do it full colour?" Frank suggested, leaning back a little, "we could buy some paint," he offered, smiling.

"Nah," Gerard shrugged it off, "not that important, just some flowers, come on, Frank, they're flowers, not everything's fucking significant."

"I'm not saying they're significant, I'm saying that they're pretty and I think they'd look beautiful if you painted them. I'm not saying you have to, of course I'm not saying that." Frank put his arm around Gerard, pulling him in closer, "I just like your artwork, you ass, am I not allowed to do that?"

"Of course not." Gerard retorted, laughing a little, tearing the page from his sketch book and pinning it to the wall of the house, beside the window, beside the shit they'd written in the dust upon it: still there, as if it may stay there forever. "See, this looks pretty too. Art doesn't have to be fucking oil paintings, Frank, this is just as beautiful in its own right."

"Yeah, okay, you can stop being a pretentious motherfucker now." Frank let out a laugh as he got to his feet, making his way over to the window and setting his gaze on the world outside, "I can't believe she was watching over me all this time."

"Of course she was: she's your mother, Frank, she loves you." Gerard pressed a kiss to the back of Frank's neck as he slid his arms around his boyfriend's waist. "As was I, because I love you too. You know, people just can't get away from you, Frankie."

"Yeah," he let out a sigh, "fucking hope my dad isn't watching over me, you know?"

"He's not." Gerard promised him, "I could tell if he was, and if he fucking dared, I don't even know what ghosts can do to each other, but he would not have a happy afterlife, I tell you that."

Frank smiled a little, watching the sun shine through the trees, watching the world tick on by, finding his mind back in New York temporarily, back in his old life, thinking of Brendon and Ryan and the mess he must have made for them as he'd left. "I think I should call Brendon again."

Gerard nodded, "yeah, you should, you need to keep in contact with them. They're you're friends and when you go back to New York, it's gonna be a bit awkward if you haven't spoke to them in ages."

"I don't think we will go back to New York." Frank admitted, grabbing his cellphone and texting Brendon a 'hey'.

"I don't know if I can, honestly, you know, I've been thinking, the way everything seemed to just feel better, as we came here, how I became stronger, I've been thinking about the reverse, because there's two sides to everything, and I don't know what's going to happen if I try and go back. It's a lot harder for me to stay with you when I'm there, and you know I'm not used to it anymore."

"Did you just consider me going back without you?" Frank exclaimed, absolutely horrified with the notion, "are you fucking stupid? Why would I do that? Can you even leave my side anyway?"

"Well, I've been thinking again, I mean you know I've got to do something when you're sleeping so don't blame me if I come up with some shit, but the whole connected to you thing is the matter of staying strong and visible, I mean I still exist without you, I just only exist for myself, if you get what I mean? I reckon I could stay connected to my body, be a typical graveyard ghost if you ever wanted to go back to New York for a bit. I'd be there when you came back, of course, and I could 'connect' to you again, or at least I should be able to, it makes sense like that, because your mother for instance, she's connected to her body, however I think that's down to the fact that she doesn't have a person with a strong enough bond to to connect to."

"Gerard, I don't wanna risk loosing you again, okay, you got that? A phone call is fucking fine, and if Brendon's not happy with that then he can come here and visit us his damn self. At least then you're not gonna have to hold my fucking hand the whole time." Frank laughed a little, shaking his head in disbelief at the memories, "god, how did we ever manage that?"

"I really don't mind holding your hand for excessive amounts of time, you know." Gerard admitted, "the whole body heat thing, for a start, you're warm and I'm stuck being so cold, and when we're really close, I start to feel a little warm, a little as if I'm alive again."

"God, that sounds so fucking corny!" Frank exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. "But yeah, it's sweet, but man, you're a pretentious piece of shit."

"You know, doesn't have to be your hand I hold, could have been your dick, could have spent that whole time groping you. Bet you would have liked that better, come on, admit it." Gerard smirked, causing Frank to roll his eyes as he walked across the room as he called Brendon. "Oh wow, fucking ignore me, Frankie," Gerard pouted, sitting down in the chair beside the chest of drawers in the corner of the room as he watched Frank speak to Brendon.

"Hey," Frank smiled, feeling better as soon as he heard Brendon's voice, because yeah, he did miss New York, but he could never miss New York as much as he would miss Gerard, and that went without saying.

"How are things without me, you asshole?" Brendon asked, laughing a little as he did so, and dear god, he must have just had sex with Ryan to be in such a fucking good mood, however Frank really didn't want to ask for fear that he'd go into detail, because Brendon was one of those fucking people.

"Alright, Gerard's being lovely as always, it's really beautiful here, cold though, fucking cold." Frank laughed a little, reckoning it was better to leave out all the shit about how his father had hung himself and how he'd buried his mother in the forest, oh and how she was a ghost so Frank would be able to talk to her pretty soon, so everything was alright anyway. Fuck, Frank reckoned Brendon wouldn't even believe him.

"Me and Ryan are doing great without you, hey you'll never guess what, we had to buy a new bathtub last week. Ryan broke it somehow, he won't tell me how, but yeah, the thing broke- oh yeah, me and Ryan live together now, we're doing really good, I really like him you know, thanks for introducing us."

"Your bathtub?" Frank exclaimed, trying to even imagine how that could have possibly gone down, but to no avail.

"Yeah, man, Ryan goes red whenever you mention it, so like I doubt I'll be getting any answers any time soon."

"That sucks." Frank continued, catching Gerard's gaze from across the room: the guy was making a blowjob gesture, because he was actually a five year old.

"You know what else sucks?" Brendon couldn't even stop himself from laughing, "Ryan."

"A blowjob joke, the both of you, seriously!" Frank exclaimed to both Brendon and Gerard.

"Tell Gerard he has a great sense of humour." Brendon added, sounding far too smug entirely.

"Frankie, honey, I'm not joking, I'm making a blowjob gesture because I want to give you one." Gerard smirked, getting to feet and making his way across the room.

"Uh yeah, Brendon, sorry I have to go-" Frank stammered out, ending the call before Brendon could even respond: a gesture that had absolutely nothing to do with his asshole of a boyfriend and how he was getting to his knees right then and there.

Absolutely nothing at all.

-

hey pals !!! lmao !!!! I'm such trash for this but u know that don't u??? vote and comment if u enjoyed !!! :) :) lov u guys :))))