Gerard hadn't said a word to Frank in regards to the burn.

Frank hadn't seemed to noticed it, or connected it all together, which led Gerard to believe that it hadn't even hurt, and perhaps if these injuries caused him no pain then they were indeed insignificant, but still, it confused him, because he was pretty fucking sure that this wasn't supposed to happen.

Of course, thinking about it, perhaps the injuries that he came into contact with in this state might have to go somewhere, but Gerard's first thought was his physical body, which he could leave to rot away with very little care, and not his still living boyfriend, who he cared about very much.

He wondered if it was something to do with their connection, and how it had strengthened recently, and that in turn led him to wonder if his connection to Frank was perhaps even stronger than his connection to his body, but still, he wasn't quite sure, and for the life of him, he couldn't quite figure out how this worked.

And he most certainly didn't want to worry Frank with something that, all in all, might amount to very little.

Especially, regarding what state Frank was in recently; he insisted that he was okay, but he seemed to have been forgetting that Gerard could feel the presence of his emotions, and that he most certainly was not.

The thing was, that dream, hadn't just been one dream, it had reoccurred three times now, every night following, and Frank had told Gerard that the dream followed very much the same structure, only growing just a little longer each night: Frank having followed the man down the stairs the second time, into the hallway the third time, and towards the front door the fourth night.

Gerard knew it was freaking Frank the fuck out, he also knew that Frank was more than excessively reluctant to discuss it in any form of detail, and as unhelpful as it was, he respected his boyfriend, and after all, dreams couldn't cause any immediate harm to him, and if it stayed just like this: following a man around a house, it seemed little but insignificant.

They both had a lot to think about, and for the past few days, the two had done very little, sitting in either their bedroom or the room with the big window, curled up together, exchanging very little in the way of conversation, and sometimes Gerard would draw, and sometimes Frank would text Brendon, but they really did very little more than think - time moving far more quickly now, and Gerard could feel it, and even though he knew Frank couldn't, he was still reluctant to give him much more to think about.

Gerard's artwork was now fuelled directly by his subconscious: wild, and unpredictable in nature, the kind of things he'd conjure up as a nineteen year old, and hey, perhaps that was just what this house did to him: the impact of memories, and the way he felt them physically and such, or perhaps the change was far more tangible, and in his head too, and not just his art.

He found himself thinking about himself physically a lot more; about who he'd been, when he was alive in particular, and about how this had all changed things. He found himself mentally making his way to the cemetery and searching for his own grave - something very few people could say they'd done, and somehow, that made it appeal to him, or perhaps he just wanted to roll his eyes at the epitaph.

Because Gerard hadn't made it to the funeral.

He hadn't made it to his own goddamn funeral, and it was down to the logistics of it all, really, unable to really control himself in that early stage, and finding himself attached more so to Frank than his body, because Frank hadn't gone to his funeral either, and Gerard didn't at all blame him.

But still now, he was curious what his family had left of him, he was curious in regards to his body too, he was curious what would happen so close to his body and so close to Frank - whether he'd get superpowers or something equally ridiculous, or maybe he'd feel again, even if just momentarily: emotions, strong, pure, and real - not just reflections of Frank's, which although certainly did the trick, never quite felt the same.

And like that, Gerard found his mind upon his mother, upon Mikey, upon how they lived out their lives now, without him, and he wondered just how those lives could have changed if he'd never fucked up so badly that one day.

And in this second chance that he most certainly did not deserve, he wondered if he perhaps owed it to them to make things right, to apologise even, whether they were ready to accept such a thing or not, but still, Gerard was hesitant, unsure, and content to sketch absently, watching the skyline: the sun rise and fall, rise and fall, forever, with the man he loved, because death, all in all, had made him so much more appreciative of life, of the world, of the simple things: of the sunrise, the sunset, the sky, the forest, the house, the garden, the rooms, the objects within them, the people he loved, and every moment he spent with them.

He wondered how he'd be at thirty two, still alive, still fucked up, still dissatisfied, still hell to deal with: unappreciative, a mess, and whether anything at all could cure that, because as ridiculous as it sounded, it had been death, and death alone, that had finally made him realise what it meant to be alive.

"You..." The sound of Frank's voice startled Gerard a little, bringing him back out of his head, and back into the room, back to the sofa, to the sketch before him, and Frank's arm around him, "you drew your own grave."

Gerard followed Frank's gaze down to his sketch and took it in, "yeah," he uttered, his eyes widening a little: unsure what to make of it. "I guess I did."

"Are you really not conscious of what you're drawing anymore?" Frank continued to ask, reaching for his boyfriend's hand.

"I'm not. I'm not sure how, but it's true."

"Then perhaps they are significant: from the parts of your head you're not in tune to, and I think maybe you should visit your grave." Frank suggested, sitting up a little, "I think we should stop sitting around all day, as well. I'm okay, I am, and if I wasn't, I doubt sitting around would be the best way to help me get out of my own head."

"Yeah," Gerard shrugged, putting his sketchbook down, "I mean, you're just visiting your boyfriend's grave, and I'm just tagging along."

Frank smiled a little, "you want me to buy some flowers for your grave? Roses?"

"Fucking roses are so fucking cliché, it's my grave, I want a say, and I should have the right to maintain my aesthetic, even in death."

"Tulips?" Frank raised his eyebrows, laughing a little.

"Yeah, tulips."

-

Essentially, it was a terrible idea, and what it was little more than what it was in essence, but still, it happened, as most things did.

Gerard was stubborn, and Frank listened to him eventually, and they soon grew tired of the house and the reasons Gerard suddenly found himself equipped with: reasons perhaps not to trust that things were as they seemed, even and in fact, especially, in what was well known to him.

Because a house was never just a house, and a boy was never just a boy.

A death was never just a death, and a funeral was never just a funeral, tears were never just tears, and tulips were never just tulips, and Frank's hand, shaking slightly in Gerard's followed the very same pattern.

Gerard began to wonder if he shouldn't have asked Frank to come with him, to even consider this, because it was a stupid idea, in fact, Gerard began to suspect that he was comprised entirely of stupid ideas, but still, Frank listened to every one with curiosity and care.

Gerard didn't deserve the man beside him, but it was just about now that he found himself becoming aware of the fact that without him, there was no Frank, and in turn, just what that could mean, and what even now, in the present, it did mean for them.

The graveyard wasn't a happy place by any means, especially for Gerard, and especially as he found himself realising just how many memories this place held, just how many people sat beside graves, sat beside the ghosts they couldn't quite see, and in a way that was touching, but there were people sat alone too, and bodies, everywhere; Gerard found himself hypersensitive to death now he was dead too, as might be expected, and the place made him tingle oddly, perhaps as if he'd finally returned home after an extended vacation, but Gerard knew for definite that he'd rather be anywhere but here.

But still, there was this odd pulling feeling, there was the odd sensation, that had him quickening his pace and Frank uttering a question that he didn't quite manage to hear. It was only with Frank's grip around his arm: warm, grounding, perhaps, that he managed to snap his head back in the shorter man's direction, making sense of the noise.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" Concern was evident in Frank's tone, as he met Gerard's gaze, eyes widening a little as he attempted to taken in the look in Gerard's. "Something's wrong," he found himself saying before he could think of a better what to phrase it, "you know something's wrong, don't you? Because you're like- you can see it or feel it, sense it, whatever, you just-"

"Frank, please," Gerard cut him off, holding his boyfriend's hand tight, "I'm okay, I promise you that. It's just, you know? It's a graveyard, how many ghosts do you think there are? How many memories do you think there are? It's overwhelming."

"We can go back, I-"

"No," Gerard stressed, turning back to face the graveyard, "we have to go in now," he uttered with an odd sense of urgency in his voice, one that, he himself perhaps couldn't quite source. "I can't... I need to be near my body, I... I can't explain, Frankie, I'm sorry but it's important."

"You're thinking again, about things, aren't you?" Frank asked as the two began to walk down the path, Frank following Gerard, who seemed to know exactly where he was going, but then again, that kind of made sense.

"I'm always thinking," Gerard laughed a little, "as are you: we're humans, we think, that's what we do."

"You know what I mean," Frank let out a sigh, understanding that Gerard was perhaps a little tense right now and letting that one slip.

"Yeah, I do." Gerard nodded, turning behind him, gaze fixated upon a particularly strong figure, sat beside a grave alone, flickering in the sunlight. "I know I think a lot, but I think I'm right about what I think about, you know?"

The figure looked up, meeting Gerard's gaze with intrigue, glancing between Gerard and then Frank, hand in hand.

"Well, you would think you're right-" Frank stopped as he noticed that Gerard had stopped, eyes fixated upon seemingly nothing, "okay, so what is it?" He asked, letting out a sigh, perhaps getting tired of ghosts more than anything, because a whole world that your boyfriend could see but you couldn't did kind of suck.

"Just..." Gerard paused, stepping closer, unable to quite pinpoint just what was so special about this figure, "just a ghost... there's something... I... I can't place..."

The figure stood up; Gerard was still mostly unable to make out its features, but he could figure that it was female, and quite a bit older than him, but perhaps not as long dead as him.

"Are they... I don't know, threatening or-"

"No," Gerard turned away, forcing himself to shake it off, despite how much he felt drawn to the figure, "I don't know them, I think I just thought there was something special there, it's nothing." He let out a sigh, taking Frank's hand in his as the two made their way past more graves, past more memories Gerard did all he could to block out: a whole that appeared so peaceful and lonely to Frank, but was nothing short of a mess in his own.

"I don't like that there are things you can see that I can't... I don't mean that in offense, I just... we're not on the same page a lot of the time, and I don't like that, like somethings, I feel like I just won't understand." Frank continued, his voice a little wary.

"Yeah," Gerard nodded, "I get that too. I want you to understand, but perhaps I don't, because I tell you that there are indeed somethings you don't want to see, things you can't unsee."

"Like my mother, dying. My father chasing her," Frank let out a sigh, biting his bottom lip, "I think it's better than I didn't see that, but in the same way, I'd give everything to, just to see what kind of monster he really was, just to see it, the truth, something that can't be taken away from me."

"You already know he's a horrible person, do you not?" Gerard raised his eyebrows at that one.

"Yeah, but only in my mind, it's different." Frank shrugged, "I can't really verbalise it, it's just feelings... uncertainty, a distrust in my own head, and those dreams aren't helping."

"You had another last night?" Gerard asked, his eyes widening in concern, "I assumed, since you didn't mention anything, that-"

"I thought I was boring you with this bullshit, because it seems pretty ridiculous, doesn't it? They're just dreams, but they're not." Frank exhaled loudly, turning away from Gerard momentarily. "Still don't make any fucking sense, just a figure in a hallway, a house I don't really know, and they say everything in your dreams you've seen before in real life, don't they? But I don't know if that's true anymore... or maybe, maybe they're not dreams, you know? Maybe it's something fucking weird, something else, Gee, I don't know, and I'm overthinking it now, aren't I?"

And in the silence that followed, Frank realised just how still his boyfriend had gone: practically frozen beside him - silent, unblinking, more dead than he'd seemed ever before.

"Gee?" He continued, placing his hand on Gerard's shoulder, tapping him a little in attempt to grab his attention. "Gerard? Are you-... I...?" It was then that Frank found himself following Gerard's gaze, to a grave, or perhaps more than that in his eyes - that remained unknown to Frank.

"It's that one," he finally formed some type of response, lifting his hand and pointing vaguely at the grave he was fixated upon. "That's mine," he continued, swallowing hard and turning to Frank, shaking a little all over.

"Oh...." Frank's eyes widened, finding himself unsure quite what to make of this all, "fuck... I don't know what to say, I... I guess you're not okay, and I guess I'm not either..."

Gerard nodded, "yeah..." His tone was somewhat exasperated in nature, "This is weird, my head hurts, and I... there's... it's my funeral... you know, I never went to my own funeral, so I think... I think it might see what it was like, fuck, please, hold my hand, though?" Gerard turned to Frank, tears in his eyes, "I hate to say it, but I'm scared, I'm not sure why, but I'm scared."

Frank nodded, dropping the flowers at Gerard's grave, and reaching for his boyfriend's hand, the two sitting down before it. "I love you," Frank uttered, his gaze fixated upon the grave before him: it all really set in stone, because nothing had been quite like this before, and it hurt.

"I love you too." Gerard muttered without hesitation, leaning into Frank's side as he focused upon the memory suddenly very clear before him, and Frank was left in reality, Gerard fading a little beside him.

However, Frank didn't quite notice, tears in his eyes, unable to tear his gaze away from the headstone, and from the name upon it: 'Gerard Arthur Way', from the dates upon it, from the day he was born, the day he died, and the bullshit epitaph below it, that somehow found itself heartbreakingly beautiful in context.

Gerard however, saw more than a headstone before him, he saw people gathered around it, around him, around Frank, but missing them entirely, and a coffin, a coffin beside the headstone: his own. A vicar before him, and people at the back of his mind around him: his mother, his brother, Pete, Bert, people he pretended to care about, but not Frank, and he knew why, because Frank wasn't like them, Frank was with him, Frank was sat beside him unaware, because Frank had always been by his side, stared at with him, not the one staring at him.

And then, Gerard found himself fixated upon one figure in particular: a man, stood a few feet away from his mother, a man he didn't quite recognise. A man, who stepped closer to Mikey, putting a hand on his shoulder, a man who Mikey looked up at nervously, and then suddenly a man he knew. A man he knew to be his father.

And then in his head, his mother's voice, half there, echoing, a phone call to a man she didn't speak to anymore, but the man who'd fathered a child, a child who'd killed himself the week before. Gerard hated the notion of such a phone call, Gerard hated the caller and the one of the other line, and he felt sorry, sorry for them for the first time in his life: compassion seemed different in death, and his heart ached with the way Mikey looked unsure around him: a man he didn't know, but knew to be his father - an odd situation, all in all.

And Pete stood close to Mikey too, protective, eyeing his father every few seconds, suspicious almost, but caring, and Gerard was sorry, sorry as Mikey began to cry, his mother already with tears in her eyes, and his father regretful of the son he'd never really known.

Then a speech his mother had tried to make but couldn't quite muster, one his father had opted to continue for her, and one Mikey had looked at him oddly throughout, and Gerard knew why, because it felt wrong - those weren't his words, they held false meaning, they held hell, they held care but not love, but he was trying, in that moment, his father was trying, but it had been too late. It wasn't his fault, of course, he just wasn't relevant, and that was clear.

That was clear as Bert began to speak: a speech from an ex-boyfriend, and a dick of one at that, meaning more than one from his own father, because those were words that meant something, and this was all too much, all too many tears for a man who was dead, but not quite as dead as they would think.

Because in that moment, Gerard felt guilty: guilt intertwined with tears on his cheeks, and the world fading out around him, suddenly feeling far more dead than he ever had before, barely visible like he was in New York as Frank sat beside him.

And then the one word that had him attempting to pull himself back to reality: "Frank?"

But the thing was, the word hadn't come from his lips.

-

lmao so get rekt. vote and comment who u think said franks name lmao I'm interested genuinely also u should know i lov u !!!!