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Frank had realized that busying himself with things that he found interesting helped subdue his emotions and the shameful cravings from his heat. He was much more familiar with himself and how he worked due to Gerard and Violetta's extensive research on his behavior. The only thing that he'd purposely failed to bring up to Gerard were his were a very apparent side effect of his heats. He knew that Gerard was a smart man and that he probably knew more about the topic than he did. His door was never opened without it being knocked on first and just that alone made Frank cringe at himself. Gerard thinking that he did those things made him nauseous, he hated the idea of giving his own body pleasure when Gerard didn't even want to touch him. It gave him the same useless feeling that he got from not doing chores or helping the workers in the house. Gerard couldn't have found his body that revolting, he knew that he was at least averagely attractive. The fact that his emotions were off the rails due to his fragile condition didn't help his case either. Every feeling he had was multiplied by one thousand, making his craving for constant affection almost unbearable but at the same time his fear of being annoying to Gerard stopped him from acting on it.

He'd felt quite lightheaded when he woke up, the urge to touch or even better to be touched was so fresh on his mind that his legs felt weak and he didn't trust himself to be around Gerard. He was hot all over and just the slightest bit damp with sweat. He grabbed the glass from his nightstand from the night before when Gerard had tucked him in and left him with a glass full of milk and a kiss on his forehead that'd made his stomach fill with butterflies.

He'd carefully made it into his own personal bathroom, cleaning out the glass before filling it with water to cool himself down. Instead of getting back into bed he willed himself into the shower. He'd learned to take some charge and clean himself recently, deciding that Gerard didn't need the responsibility of cleaning someone who was basically an adult. He'd washed his own hair, getting shampoo in his eyes once and still he didn't call Gerard for help like he usually did.

The shower was long and relaxing, he stayed under the spray of the water just long enough to even out his temperature and wait out his erotic cravings. He washed himself using a gel smelling of honey and camomile as not to overwhelm his senses with anything too harsh smelling. Once he finished he wrapped himself in a white fuzzy towel after using it to collect the water dripping from his skin. The bathroom was humid, fogging up the mirror and leaving all of the smooth surfaces damp. He inhaled the sweet fragrance radiating from his skin and the heated air. He used his hand to wipe away some of the condensation from the mirror so that a part of it was actually usable. He pulled open the squeaky drawer that was obviously just as vintage as the rest of the house with the attractive chipping paint and intricate deign in the wood and brass handle. He grabbed his hair brush, his favorite one, which was a gift from Gerard. It was beautifully painted by the artist himself and for a period he was hesitant to use or even touch the gift until Gerard promised him that he wouldn't ruin the art by using it for its purpose. Frank allowed his towel to fall to the floor before standing in front of the mirror as he brushed his hair to avoid having it get tangled later on. As he combed through the softening strands left him meeting his own hazel eyes. He barely ever stared at himself like he found himself doing in the mirror, or at least not while noticing himself doing it.

He sat the brush down on the counter bringing his other hand up to his face to move a lock of his damp hair behind his ear. He never really had any reason to admire himself in this way, or even think about his physical attributes if it wasn't self-criticism. It wasn't his place to appreciate himself, that was a job others who found the way he looked appealing. At times he felt like a prisoner of his own skin, forced to live in a body with no worth other than to please others but he never felt like that when he was with Gerard. He felt like quite the hypocrite when he thought about it really. How troubling it must be for Gerard to have someone as useless as him that they didn't desire to have in bed. Someone who doesn't know whether they wished to be used and repaired day by day or left to feel like a disgusting leach of someone's life.

He collected his clothes from his room, wanting to put on something light and comfortable due to how warm he felt all over. His gown was a cream colored voile with small silk bows laced through the puffs of the short sleeves. The fabrics were a bit see through, making it breathable but uncomfortable to wear around help such as Magdalene. She'd criticized his underwear being visible through the sheerness once before and since then he hasn't worn it down stairs so as to not upset her.
Sitting down at his vanity he selected one of the books that he hadn't yet finished from his small stack that he'd borrowed from the library. They had pictures. He tried to ignore all of the words to the best of his ability. He'd become fascinated with different art styles and the ways that people interpreted things in the world which made pretending the words weren't there alot easier. Still, he couldn't help but wish that he could understand the pages and pages of adventure and emotion that made these stories what they were.

His stroked his fingers over the textures pages, taking in the shapes and curves of each image. He imagined what they meant and what their significance to the story was.

He thought about writing his own book in the future. He thought of Gerard being the one to
illustrate his words. To bring them to life with his talent. He'd only caught glimpses of Gerard's art when snooping around his office, occasionally seeing a sketch on the side of a document or some notes. Nothing was ever finished, like once he realized what he was doing he stopped immediately, fearing his own creativity. He pictured Gerard teaching him how to create by himself, them being together indulging in something as personal as art. The thought made him smile, the closeness that they'd share.

Frank jumped at the sound of two knocks at his door.

"Yes?" He called

Gerard opened the door hesitantly. The creaking noise was painfully loud due to the eerie silence of the room.

"How do you feel?" He asked once entering. Frank noticed his colorful socks sliding across the floor and smiled.

"I'm alright." He said, deciding to keep earlier events to himself. His cheeks still bloomed with cerise when he thought of himself so desperate and uncomfortable.

Frank then noticed the home phone Gerard was holding against his chest. Gerard stepped closer to him, bringing out a hand that he could barely resist nuzzling his face into, feeling Gerard's soft caring touch against his skin made him purr. His flesh instantly cooled like the man was the cure to all things unpleasant.

"Dallon would like to speak with you over the phone." He said as his touches continued.

Frank nodded before silently reaching for the phone. Gerard seemed hesitant to hand it over at first but allowed his grip to fade as Frank took hold of the device.

Gerard did linger, though that was to be expected. He left without another word and nearly closed the door behind him, only leaving it about an inch open.

He hadn't expected a call from Dallon. Being so caught up in his own problems he had nearly forgotten the man. Still though, his heart sped up with excitement when he placed the phone against his cheek.

"Dallon," Frank said first.

"Frankie? God, I haven't talked to you in so long." He said.

Frank nodded to himself, "I know, I haven't been able to do. . . much. I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Gerard mentioned you being sick? I hope you feel better soon,"

"Yes, sick, I guess you could say that." Frank pondered. He wasn't quite sure who he could tell about his heat. It was shameful, something to be hidden.

They spoke for no longer than a minute about pointless things. Frank wasn't the most observant person though he did suspect that something was wrong.

"Are you worried about something?" Frank asked when Dallon's nervousness was too much to ignore. He'd cut the man off mid sentence.

Before Dallon could answer Frank was distracted by his door opening. He jumped from the shock before smiling up at the intruder and giving them a small wave.

Bert waved back with a sweet smile to the boy, checking behind himself before cracking the door like it was before he entered it. His hands grazed over the hairbrush and mirror layed on top of the boy's vanity.

"That Dallon on the phone?" He asked. Frank nodded in response.

Bert held out his hand to which the younger frowned at, like it was offending him with its existence.

"Don't be a brat," Bert teased ruffling the boy's slightly damp hair with his outstretched hand, "I'll bring it right back."

Frank agreed, not without a pout, handing over the phone. Bert bent down to leave a kiss to Frank's forehead and promised to be quick with his conversation. He left as swiftly as possible, as to not draw attention to himself. If one of the younger maids noticed him leaving Frank's chambers there was no doubt that they'd run to spill what they've seen just for the possibility of extra attention from their employer. The thought of the desperate workers made Bert's eyes roll near the back of his head.

Once in his own room he quickly shut the door.

"Dallon?" He asked, putting the phone to his ear. He still used a hushed tone even while knowing it was near impossible for anyone to listen in on his conversation.

Dallon confirmed that it was in fact him and asked what he was needed for.

"I think that we could help each other." He stayed plainly.

"In what way?"

"From my understanding you have some kind of weird infatuation with Frankie." Bert said, speaking over Dallons stuttering before he could disagree, "You know that i'm right — For whatever reason Gerard's trying to keep you two apart." Dallon agreed, seemingly more interested now, "Gerard's an asshole, I think we can both agree on that." Bert said.

"I think he's just a bit overprotective" He disagreed.

Bert rolled his eyes, "He's not listening to this conversation, there's no point in kissing his ass. What I mean is that we both have a problem including Gerard, mine being that i have no freedom 'cause I'm living with him."

Bert filled him in on his situation, explaining how Gerard didn't trust him to go out alone and wouldn't allow him a vehicle of his own. Dallon was easy to convince, basically begging Bert to use his car in exchange for a whole night with Frank. They'd spoken about dates and times both agreeing to be as careful as possible. The plan was perfect and Bert felt smug handing the phone back to Frank who reached for it eagerly with a bright smile. He was completely oblivious to what had just been arranged and Bert nearly felt bad as he ran his hands through the boy's dark hair.

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a/n:
hi this is v short but its been sitting in my drafts since february!! im not sure how happy i am with this fic anymore it's definitely not something i would write today but im determined to finish it using the plot i decided on in the beginning ! thank u for reading <333