Frank had always wondered why people made figurines and little ornaments from glass, especially the kind of glass that shattered easily. Perhaps it was so that when the little ornament inevitably broke, the shop could hope that the owner had been attached enough to it, to buy another and replace it.

But it wasn't like that.

People made ornaments out of glass, because despite its obvious flaws, it was indeed beautiful. 

Surely looks didn't weigh up to practicality at all, but Frank wasn't the kind of person who bought ornaments, let alone glass ones in the first place, so he brushed the thought aside the best he could, and turned his gaze away from the shop window, continuing down the high street.

But the thought haunted his head like no other, and Frank found himself considering just how much beauty was truly worth, and whether it was worth the inevitable disaster. Perhaps it linked more to impracticality and impulse: the one thing you know will fuck up in the long run, but puts a smile on your face in the moment.

Frank knew an awful lot more about the life of impulse than he'd really like to, and of course that was of no fault other than his own, and perhaps the one of the red haired boy he'd known once ten years ago.

The dead red haired boy, because that's what Gerard was now dead.

And Frank hadn't seen him for a week, and his heart was lifted from the darkest depths of his ribcage into the light in what he'd told himself was relief, but what really couldn't help but contain regretful elements.

Because Frank missed Gerard.

Of course he did; he was only human, after all.

He reckoned Gerard had been like the pretty glass ornament, and he reckoned that the fateful day in the woods when he was eighteen and had found his boyfriend dead, curled up next to a box of pills was the shattering.

But one thing Frank did indeed find comfort in within the aforementioned analogy was the knowledge that pieces of glass didn't ever fit back together again: things could never be the same with Gerard, they never would, and in a way, that put the aching drum beat inside Frank's heart at rest.

Of course, with broken glass, you had to be careful, because if he lingered too long in the mess, he'd soon find the glass shards cutting his skin as they clawed at all hope and light he had left.

And Frank reckoned that truly was a depressing, yet philosophical start to his morning.

Because believe it or not, he hadn't found himself on the high street just to gaze mournfully at little glass figurines and have a metaphorical moment in relation to his tragic backstory, but because it was Brendon's birthday in a week, and well, Brendon was a surprisingly hard person to buy for.

Okay, well, he wasn't, but Frank was in no way comfortable with buying his best friend a dildo for his birthday, or in fact any other sextoy, and anyway, surely that was Ryan's job now. And there was also the excessive amount of milk he'd asked for, which Frank had thought best to just ignore, because Brendon, was well, Brendon, and some things just did not make sense.

He'd probably just get him some records or something easy like that, because Frank was a very unoriginal person when it came to birthday presents, and it fucking sucked, but whatever, Brendon wasn't going to give much of a fuck about his shitty ass gift when he had a boyfriend and the inevitable birthday sex that Frank had gone without for ten years now.

And Frank was not thinking about his eighteenth birthday and Gerard Way as he browsed the record store, and Frank was not thinking about that striking red hair and beautiful hazel eyes as he flicked through the records absentmindedly.

Because Frank was okay, and Frank was over it, and he had soppy analogies about glass to keep him happy, and it was just a fucking fling from ten years ago, but it really wasn't, because Frank had loved Gerard and there wasn't one single question about that.

But Frank couldn't help but feel that it was less of the relationship and more of the aftermath that had affected him overall, and fuck, that was a horrible realisation, because face it, Gerard Way was really not worth the hallucinations, the anxiety, the depression, the suicide attempt- Jesus, fuck... Gerard wasn't worth it at all.

But he was.

Even now, Frank felt in his heart that he really was.

And perhaps this served as evidence of the fact that he really wasn't over it at all more so than the hallucinations ever had.

But at least they were gone now, and these feelings would be too, or at least Frank could hope, because hope was all he had left at this point.

Because Frank couldn't spend his life obsessing over the boyfriend from ten years ago that he was low-key in love with; he wasn't Pete Wentz, after all. Like seriously, he'd start writing seven billion songs about Gerard in a moment at this rate.

"You okay?"

Frank didn't frequent this record store or this part of town often, and the first impression he really didn't want to make was breaking down and crying in the shop, but he looked pretty close to doing nothing but that at this point.

"I'm fine." He shrugged it off, mumbling, and only glancing up at the guy behind the counter moments later, and well, nearly having a heart attack as he did so. "Ray?"

The guy looked up, his gaze settling upon Frank for a moment, before his eyes widened in almost the same amount of shock as Frank's. "Frank Iero... I was not expecting this-" Ray made his way across the store and practically tackled Frank into a hug as he did, thankfully, the place was empty, otherwise, they'd really be making quite the scene.

"How many years ago was it now?" Ray asked, he kind of knew the answer though, so in a sense, it was a raytorocal question, pulling away a little, and smiling at Frank as he looked him up and down.

"Ten, near enough, I'm twenty eight now." Frank groaned a little as he spoke his age aloud, because he was getting disastrously close to thirty right now, and that really wasn't something he was much of a fan of.

"It doesn't even feel like that long ago since you were eighteen and in my music class at school, god I was such a terrible teacher- I quit teaching actually: a few years after you left, still do music, but like record stores turned out to be my thing recently. God, it's so nice to see you again, do you live here now?"

"Yeah, I do, it's a bit of a way from here, but yeah." Frank nodded, smiling to himself, because goddamn, he had missed Ray Toro.

"Now you sure you're okay, Frank, because I'm not going to let you lie to me, okay?" Ray raised his eyebrows, grabbing Frank's arm and looking at the twenty eight year old like he was still a member of his senior music class.

"It's... just Gerard, you know... I... I'm fine, for the most part, I guess, but I can't help but think about him sometimes."

Ray nodded, sighing as he pulled Frank in for another hug. "He meant a lot to you, I know that: anyone could tell."

"He still does." Frank admitted, biting his lip as he did so, because fuck, where had that come from?

"You've got to move on, though."

"Yeah." Frank nodded frantically, pulling away from Ray. "Of course I have, I... just a difficult day, that's all."

"Okay, look, hey do you want to give me your number and we can go get coffee or something and catch up when I'm not on duty, how about that?"

"Sounds good, sounds great."

And Frank smiled his first genuine smile of that day.

-

"Cheer up, Iero." 

Brendon gave Frank a playful shove, before turning back to stare at his boyfriend's ass, because well, what in the world was Brendon Urie better at?

Being an ass himself, perhaps.

"I'm just... thinking."

And Frank was: hazel eyes on the window and the morning light and the world outside: the darkness of the wintertime and everything that was holding him back. Today was one of those days.

Today he just wanted to run the fuck away from everything and everyone without ever looking back, because today he wanted to be free, or at least as close to free as he could fathom being.

Today he kind of missed something, but it was something that he couldn't quite place, and today he felt like smiling even when he was sad inside: today was the best and the worst, and Frank was still ordering the same goddamn thing at Starbucks, and Brendon Urie was still laughing at him for it.

Things never changed, not really.

Perhaps Frank wanted them to, perhaps not, but whatever it was that had kept him up all night was certainly something: Frank just hadn't figured out what.

But perhaps there was even little use in doing so, when Frank was all smiles and distant thoughts: his brain filled with strings of conversation he missed, and everything not worth his time, and Frank regretted ordering the same thing at Starbucks for the first time in his life.

But he stared down at his drink and basked in the realisation that there was very little he could do about it now.

Perhaps that was kind of comforting, perhaps it wasn't.

Frank thought best to just drink his coffee before it got cold, regardless of frivolous thoughts and stupid ideas. That was all we were after all: stupid ideas, and cold coffee cups, and early mornings in coffee shops on weekends with friends we didn't choose.

Frank didn't know what he wanted, and he wondered what had come upon him this morning, because he felt exciting, he felt meaningful again, he felt like the rebellious teenager inside, and he felt like he even deserved to be wearing this leather jacket, but fuck, did that matter? No.

Did anything? No.

Frank finished his coffee in four minutes, and found his gaze upon the world outside within seconds; he wondered why they really did spend so much time in this Starbucks when there was a whole world out there. Frank wondered why he let himself be so cooped up and content, and then Frank realised.

It was adventure and extravagance that had ruined him, and that was a risk he'd taken once but never again, or at least that was what he told himself every night before he fell asleep, and perhaps it'd be like that for the rest of his life, or perhaps poor Frank Iero wouldn't live past twenty eight.

He considered the possibility like he never had before, because he could be hit by a car any day, have a heart attack any minute, and in reality, what had he died for? Nothing. What had he died with? Nothing. What was he? Nothing.

Insignificance was truly a crushing feeling, but at least he was alone.

He hadn't hallucinated in well over a week now, and the solitude was the best thing he'd ever had, and he missed Gerard, but he missed the real Gerard and not the one his mind had concocted.

Sometimes he thought about going back to Jersey: going back to it all - Gerard's house and those living room walls painted that horrible sickly shade of yellow, that high school that had beaten him down everyday of his life, that forest that had meant so much to Frank, his mother, and to Gerard too.

He missed it an awful lot, and he missed it like he missed Gerard: in awkward spurts, but what was to be expected? With Frank Iero there was no normal: sporadic was practically his middle name, and it most certainly put 'Anthony' to shame.

Maybe Frank just missed the summertime and the feeling of being young, and being in love and never having to worry about anything.

And right there, in Frank's head, he was seventeen again, awaiting adulthood and stupid birthday fucks, and Gerard's promises when he'd kept them, and kissing in the forest, and blushes and secrets, harmless secrets, and not the ones that had become of them in the end.

Frank wondered just how many not quite so harmless secrets Gerard had taken right to the grave; Frank reckoned it'd be better if he didn't ever find out.

Sometimes this didn't feel real, sometimes Frank himself didn't even feel real, but he tasted coffee on his lips, even if it was the same everyday, and even if sometimes the taste seemed to come more from memory than from reality, but he felt heartache and friendship, and the world around him, and this was the realest thing Frank Iero had ever known.

"Frank, are you still alive there?" Ryan gave his arm a tug, jolting Frank upright and awake, and releasing a rather overdone fit of laughter from the lips of his two friends.

"I'm just tired." Frank shrugged it off, turning to face the two of them; Brendon didn't seem convinced, but he was Brendon and he was never ever satisfied with anything, and that was a truth that Frank had just come to accept.

"You're always tired, aren't you?" Brendon raised his eyebrows, taking a sip of his coffee. "Get more sleep, Iero, you wreck."

"I'm not the one who insists on coming to Starbucks at eight in the morning on the weekend!" Frank protested, sending some form of half-hearted death glare in Brendon's direction.

"It's emptier, and we can always get the window seat, so you'll have something to stare out of instead of joining in our conversation like a normal human being." Brendon rolled his eyes at Frank, who flipped him off, before glancing back at the window and the slowly lightening skies.

"It's so dark in the wintertime."

"It's the way the planet's angled at the sun, Frank, there's very little we can do about it." Ryan pointed out, laughing a little.

"I know, it's just... it makes me think, that's all." Frank stretched his arms out above his head and turned back to face the two of them. "I'm just tired, that's all."

"You look like you've got a lot to think about." Brendon noted, checking his cellphone absentmindedly.

"Not really, I just think about this one thing a lot."

"Care to enlighten us as to what's so magical about this one thing that ensures it consumes all your time?" Ryan raised his eyebrows, not really expecting a response, but trying nonetheless.

"Nah," Frank shook his head, "I don't think you'd understand."

And neither Ryan nor Brendon could even fathom empathising with the feelings in Frank's head right now, but they were meant to be Frank's alone, perhaps only having a slight hope of being understood by the man with scarlet hair that sat out of view of the three, but remained listening intently.

-

Frank reckoned he seemed to be spending his whole goddamn life in the Starbucks down the road where Brendon Urie worked, and was more that pleasantly surprised to find that Ray had insisted upon taking him out for coffee in an utterly different part of town.

This place was small, and had the same vibe about it that the coffee place in Belleville did - the one Gerard had taken him to, of course, but that wasn't what Frank was thinking about as he made his way inside, and this time he wasn't even lying to himself about it.

"I'll order if you want - I'm paying anyway: don't even try to talk me out of that one. What do you want?" Ray pulled his wallet out of his coat pocket and turned to Frank, who found himself just a little flustered under the pressure of a question so important as 'what coffee do you want?'

"I don't know..." Frank trailed off, his gaze falling to the floor. "How about you surprise me?"

Ray smiled at him. "Yeah okay," and with that, Frank was left alone to take the window seat, because Frank was always such a fucking sucker for window seats.

This cafe definitely seemed to have a better view than the one he found himself living in, but neither of them were exactly postcard worthy, but then again, Frank had never been expecting anything near that calibre.

He took off his coat, hanging it on the back of the chair, and setting his gaze upon the blue grey afternoon skies as he waited for Ray to return. He didn't bother himself with watching his old music teacher from across the room with a desperate gaze, because the chances of Ray being abducted in the two minutes it took him to order coffee was unlikely, and that was a risk Frank was just willing to take, and out of common sense, not apathy.

This place was most certainly far too similar to that place back home, and suddenly Frank was back there and he was meeting Gerard in need of answers, and Bert McCracken was making himself known for the first time, and everything was starting to go wrong, but back then, Frank didn't quite know it yet.

Perhaps it was better when he'd been so blissfully naive, perhaps it wasn't, but what did it matter?

And soon enough, Frank was forcefully removed from his train of thought as Ray took the seat opposite him, placing their cups of coffee on the table. "I got you a peppermint mocha, because seasonal drinks are a vital part of my life as a responsible, sensible adult."

"It's weird that you're not my teacher anymore." Frank noted, taking a sip of his drink, before placing it back down, and forcing his gaze away from the world outside and onto Ray and the conversation they were supposed to be having.

"It is. I haven't taught you in so long, though." Ray rolled up his sleeves before continuing. "You doing alright now?"

"Yeah, I'm good." Frank nodded, smiling perhaps a little too enthusiastically, but Ray felt inclined to believe him, because well, he didn't want anything to be wrong, and if he could continue blindly in that belief, then dear god, he would. "How about you? How are you? How's your life?"

"I'm good: I have a house out of town, and I own the record store- god, Frank, I even have a wife: her name's Christa, she's lovely and you should meet her, you know?" Ray's face practically melted at the mention of his wife, and Frank couldn't deny that it was adorable, and he was just so very glad that at least one of them had made something worthwhile out of their life.

"I'd love to." Frank found himself smiling back at Ray, before taking another sip of his coffee. "I'm not doing quite so well on the love life front though, unfortunately."

"You're only, what? Twenty seven, though, you haven't hit thirty yet - you don't need to worry. I'm thirty five, it'd be tragic if I was still alone at this point." Ray reassured him with a grin, and well, any reminder that Frank was at all close to thirty was really anything but reassuring.

"I'm twenty eight." Frank corrected him with a shrug. "And I still can't get over my first boyfriend, and that's pathetic, Ray, come on, don't even try lying to me."

"You'll met the right guy soon enough, I promise you." Ray paused for a moment, following Frank's gaze outside. "Maybe you're just not putting yourself out there, you know?"

"Maybe it's kind of hard to do that when I'm still thinking about G- him all the time." Frank shook his head, biting his lip as he made significant effort to avoid Ray's gaze.

"You don't say his name?" Ray raised his eyebrows at that, not wanting to make a comment upon it, and mostly for fear of upsetting Frank, but he would be lying to say that there weren't half a dozen things he would have screamed at the guy if he could.

Frank shook his head. "No I don't. I'm trying just to forget about him completely, but it's just not working, I mean, I was fine, but I'm really not anymore."

"Come on, Frank, that's not realistic: you're never going to forget about him completely. He's important and you have to understand that, but he's also never coming back, and you have to understand that too."

"You still talk like a teacher." Frank chuckled, leaving Ray somewhat taken aback.

"I do not!" He exclaimed, only half offended.

"No, it's just... it's like... it's good advice, you know what you're saying - maybe it's not a 'teacher voice' maybe that's just you, I don't know... I haven't seen you in ten years- god, ten years. It's just like a blur, you know? These past years don't even feel real half the time."

"I know how you feel." Ray chuckled, stretching a little. "Time just flies past when you're having 'fun'."

Frank remained silent in response to Ray's laughter, but the red haired figure hidden away from view cracked a smile, as he leaned back in his seat.

-

 hey guys lmao. i said i wouldn't bring ray back ok, but i also said i wouldn't write a sequel but look where we're at now. votes and comments would be rad and would make me a very happy potato !!! :) i love you all lots <3