Archive of Our Own

“Dude… Do you believe in ghosts?” Ray asked, voice thin and shaky.

“What? No?” Frank groaned, delirious, squinting at the red digits on his clock in the dark as he pressed his cellphone against his ear, “It’s 3 o’clock in the morning, Ray. What the fuck?” 

“I know… Listen, uh… Can you come over?” Ray asked. 

“Now?” Frank groaned. 

“Yeah. Now,” Ray pleaded. 

Frank could hear his bandmate breathing hard into the receiver. Ray wasn’t easily frightened. Call it frontman intuition, but Frank could tell something was amiss.

He fought the urge to lay back down as he weighed the consequences of going back to sleep. He could put on clothes, walk across the parking lot to Ray’s apartment, or he could pretend he wasn't awake enough to remember this phone call and apologize for it later. 

When he’d left Ray’s apartment Friday night, he had told Ray to call him if he needed anything. "Anything at all," he'd said. He’d imagined, of course, that Ray would call when he was in need of a cup of sugar or help with moving furniture around. 3AM house calls concerning ghosts weren’t on his mind when he’d extended the offer.

But Frank had said 'anything.' 

Frank pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened to Ray's breathing. 

“Frank, I know how this sounds,” Ray said, “But something seriously weird is going on here, man. I need you.” 

“Alright… I’ll be right over,” Frank caved, staring down at his blankets and fighting desperately to not pull them over his head.

“If you have any crosses or rosaries or anything like that, bring them with you,” Ray urged. 

“If this is a fucking joke I’m kicking you out of the band,” Frank warned, only half joking. 

“I’m not fucking with you, dude,” Ray whined, “Something really fucked up is going on here.”  

“Okay. I-alright. Be there in 10,” Frank promised, hanging up on Ray and letting out a loud dramatic yawn. 

The still-warm quilt went with Frank as he dragged himself out of bed and pulled his jeans on. They weren’t exactly clean but his wallet was still in the back pocket and his keys were still clipped onto one of the belt loops. He was shivering as he slid into a hoodie, a flannel, and then another hoodie. 

Frank half-considered unplugging his coffee machine and taking it with him as he toed into his vans. Ray wasn’t as dependent on caffeine as Frank was, so there was a good chance Ray’s coffee machine was still in a box in the corner of his apartment somewhere, buried underneath all the boxes of stuff Ray's mom had sent him off with.

Cursing under his breath, Frank locked his apartment and got into his car. So what if they lived in the same apartment complex? Frank wasn’t fucking walking to Ray’s place in the middle of the night, no matter what the reason was, even if it was just across the parking lot.

Getting home from tour had been a hard pill to swallow - for everyone. Ray had decided that at twenty seven he was too old to keep coming home to his parents’ basement, so he’d decided to move out. He’d ended up moving into the apartment complex Frank also lived in. Frank had been the one to suggest it. The place was shitty, but rent was good, and it wasn't too far from their practice space. And so, the week before last, Frank had been the one to help Ray move everything from his parents’ house into the apartment, since the move practically made them neighbors. 

Frank had quit his job at one of the local radio stations before they’d gone on tour, since he could no longer juggle his time there and everything that was going on with his band. But now Frank was home and jobless. It had been nice at first, but the days were starting to bleed together.

Both Frank and Ray hadn’t figured out how to fill up all their newfound free time, but they were prepared to figure that out together, as bandmates, as neighbors, and as friends. 

All this was how Frank found himself groggily driving under the buzz of the orange streetlights, smashing at the radio buttons until the damn thing finally stopped blaring music. Instead of getting angry, he tried to remind himself of how hard it had been to adjust when he’d moved out of his parents’ place for good.

If anyone else had called Frank up at three in the morning about something that ‘went bump in the night’ he’d be pissed, but this was Ray Toro. There was a softness reserved for Ray. It made sense that a guy like Ray was having a hard time adjusting to moving out of the house, even if he was well on his way to 30.

As Frank circled the line of cars, looking for a parking spot, he mulled over how he could even console his bandmate. Shining a flashlight under Ray’s bed and checking all the closets for monsters like some kind of Dad seemed almost condescending. And Frank was way too under-caffeinated for a seance. 

When he couldn’t find a parking spot, Frank parked illegally in the fire lane outside of Ray’s building. He hoped he wouldn't be there long, and prayed that the patron saint of parking patrol would spare his soul - just this once. He took the stairs up to Ray’s floor, two at a time, reasoning that the quicker he got up there, the quicker he could leave.

When Frank got to Ray’s floor and saw that the lights were off, there was a brief moment where Frank wondered if it had all been a stress dream. He was sure Ray had called him. He pulled out his phone to check the call log. Sure enough, the call was there, answered, just 8 minutes earlier. 

He knocked on the door, softly at first. He knew he had the right apartment number. He’d moved enough of Ray's parents weird heavy 80s furniture over the previous weekend to have the apartment number fucking burned into his brain for the rest of his life. 

“Frank, is that you?” Ray whimpered from the other side of the door. 

“Yeah, dude. It’s me,” Frank assured. 

The door swung open, recealing his bandmate’s timid face - illuminated by a large candle in his hands. The soft, flickering light made Ray’s wild expression even wilder. 

“Dude. Something really fucking weird is going on here,” Ray whispered, stepping back to let Frank into the apartment. 

“Uh. Yeah, I kinda figured that out,” Frank offered. 

The apartment was dark. A few large candles like the one Ray had been holding, had been placed around the room, on top of boxes or chairs, giving the place an eerie glow. 

“You’re not gonna fucking believe this,” Ray whispered. 

“Why the hell are you whispering?” Frank asked, “And what’s with all the candles? If you wanted to use me as a human sacrifice in the middle of the night you could’ve just asked. I’d probably volunteer.”

“Frank, can you just stop being you for five seconds and try to take this seriously,” Ray hissed, “All of my lightbulbs burned out at the same fucking time! And I don’t want it to hear me talking about it.” 

“Don’t want what to hear you?” Frank asked. 

“I don’t know what the fuck it is. That’s why I called you, asshole,” Ray grumbled, “Dammit, I should’ve known you’d be no help.” 

“Are you sure your power’s not out?” Frank asked, “There should be a circuit-breaker in the hall...” 

“That was my first thought… but all of my outlets work,” Ray explained, beckoning Frank towards the kitchen, “And then there’s this…” 

All the cabinets were wide open. Ray hadn’t unpacked many of his kitchen implements as of yet. The open cabinets looked like sad, empty shells in their barren state. 

“I didn’t do that, dude,” Ray whispered. “They were open like that when I came in here. How the fuck do you explain that?” 

“I don’t know, man,” Frank offered, crossing the room and shutting the cabinets one by one. Just as he suspected, Ray hadn’t set up his coffee machine yet. He yawned involuntarily.

“Maybe it’s possible there was a power surge or something?” Frank commented, verbalizing other possible justifications, “I don’t know." 

“Then how come the lights in your apartment still work? And the lights in the parking lot?” Ray asked. “Wouldn’t you have noticed if it was something like that?” 

“No, because I was sleeping,” Frank complained.

He spun around to find that Ray hadn’t entered the kitchen. His eyes were darting around the room wildly, looking for something.  

While Frank could admit that it all seemed a little strange, and no explanation seemed readily available, he wasn’t afraid. Not yet. He prided himself in not scaring easily. Especially not when it came to the paranormal. He was afraid of plenty of other things like spiders, or flying, or heartbreak. There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation.

“Well uh, let’s go back to my place,” Frank said, eyeing his skittish bandmate. 

“Why?” Ray asked. 

“Because you don’t have a coffee machine,” Frank deadpanned, “Or internet.” 

Once Frank drove them back to his side of the apartment complex, he spent about 15 minutes on his laptop researching the ins and outs of hauntings before his eyes started to droop. 

“Okay, so tomorrow we’ll burn some sage… maybe find a way to get our hands on some holy water?” he yawned. 

When Ray didn’t respond, Frank glanced over at his friend. Ray’s eyes were glued to his own laptop. His fingers were making a light pattering noise as they flew over his keyboard as he conducted research of his own.

“Don’t read too much of that stuff,” Frank suggested, lifting himself off the couch, “You might end up scaring yourself even more.” 

“I’m not sure if I could possibly be more scared than I am right now,” Ray offered neutrally, not looking up from the glow of his computer screen. 

“Alright well, if you need me-” Frank said, stopping himself to pick the second half of his sentence carefully, “I’ll uh… I’ll be in my room.” 

~ 

The following day, Frank and Ray called off band practice so that they could dedicate the afternoon to shopping for paranormal repellents. After the night he’d had, Frank wanted nothing more than to work it out on a guitar, maybe scream a little, but he let it go in hopes that focusing on solving Ray’s ghost problem would prevent any further late-night calls. 

They found an occult bookstore in the city, near the university. Frank hesitated at the entrance. Incense had a tendency to give him headaches. At least, that was the explanation he gave Ray when he insisted he couldn’t go inside. In reality, he was afraid that if he made eye contact with the sales clerk they’d be able to see it on his face - that he didn’t believe in any of it. He wasn’t superstitious in the least, but it had always felt like witches and psychics had some sort of superstition-radar. Like, paranormal gaydar or something. 

He let Ray do most of the talking to minimize eye contact with the woman behind the counter. She was covered in jewelry. Her hands were dripping with rings. Her hair had little charms dangling from the braids mixed into the tendrils of her hair. The charms clinked when she walked. Frank focused on the tattoos under her rings as she helped Ray pick out bundles of sage and protection candles.  

Ray and the girl got into an in-depth discussion about the different types of sage and their benefits. Ray had laughed a few times during their conversation but Frank couldn’t decide if he was trying to flirt with the girl or not. He wandered off to a different section of the store just in case.

He ended up in a corner of the store with little statues of gargoyles and shelves of tarot decks. Some of the statues had gems in their eyes that glowed in the dim candle-light. It felt like they were watching him, even though they had no set gaze.  

When Ray finally tapped on Frank’s shoulder, shopping bag in hand, Frank couldn’t have been happier to leave the place. He’d never admit it, but it gave him the creeps… 

They spent the afternoon ghost-proofing Ray’s apartment. Frank used a pair of takeout chopsticks and some dental floss to fashion a cross that he then affixed to the wall in Ray’s kitchen with clear tape. It fell down almost immediately. Frank hung it back up with extra tape reinforcements. 

Ray had put on what sounded like some type of Gregorian chant to soundtrack his work as he wandered between rooms with a bundle of sage burning between his fingers. The sage made Frank wheeze, so he cracked the kitchen window when Ray wasn’t looking.  

Frank helped Ray put together his nightstand, which they then arranged the protection candles on. They unpacked a few more boxes, while they were at it.

Ray had doused himself in a roll-on oil blend that the clerk at the occult store had talked him into purchasing. Frank would’ve told Ray that he thought it was just a glorified perfume, but he sort of liked the smell.

Upon completing their ghost proofing, it occurred to Ray that they had forgotten to buy extra lightbulbs and so they went out again to pick some up. Ray insisted on buying Frank pizza and beer for being so cool about everything, which made Frank feel just the smallest pang of guilt. 

By the time they got back to Ray’s they decided to play music together, and so they drank their beers and worked on a new song Frank had shown the band the last time they’d had practice. Ray said he'd read that playing music in the space could help keep hauntings at bay. Music was just energy, if you thought about it.

The apartment seemed peaceful. The crucifix was still hanging on the wall in the kitchen, despite the shitty tape Frank had used, and Ray kept a bundle of sage smoldering in the ash tray in front of him for good measure. 

To Frank it felt like the the last nail in the coffin. They could bury Ray’s apartment-dwelling ghost.

When midnight rolled around, Frank offered to crash on the couch, just to give Ray the peace of mind. Ray accepted, of course.

Frank didn’t think anything would actually happen but he’d had a few too many beers. He could stumble home in the morning once his head was clear…

The ghost-proofing lasted about two days. 

Frank actually let out a painful moan when his phone rang at three in the morning for the second time that week. 

“What?” He groaned into the receiver.  

“Dude,” Ray whimpered, “Can I come over?”

“Why?” Frank asked in a hoarse voice.

“It’s getting worse,” Ray whispered, “I think I pissed it off.” 

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” Frank yawned, “Come over.” 

“Okay. See you in a few,” Ray breathed before hanging up. 

Frank had been beyond stoked when Ray had secured the apartment across the parking lot. It was cool to have a bandmate within walking distance. But now that late night "ghosts" had been brought into the equation, Frank was starting to reconsider his previous excitement. 

Frank felt guilty for his attitude the second Ray wandered into the apartment, looking defeated and terrified. (Not that Frank could be held completely accountable for the grumpy shit he said when he was awoken by latenight phonecalls.) Toro had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was somehow wilder than it usually was. Frank had always considered Ray to be a pretty put-together dude, but the guy who stood before him looked far from it. 

A lot of what Ray told him would have to be re-processed in the morning. Frank was too tired to really get all of it. According to Ray, the thing had attacked him in his sleep. He had woken up, completely unable to move or scream, with cold, violent whispers streaming into his ears. Frank had lightly offered the possibility of sleep paralysis and an over-excited imagination, but Ray clearly didn’t want to hear it. 

Apparently, after he’d eventually managed to snap out of his nightmarish trance, his lightbulbs had all burnt out again… And he’d had the building superintendant check the circuit breaker and the fuse box earlier that day, only to have the guy tell him that nothing seemed out of the ordinary. 

Frank told his hopeless, terrified friend to crash on the couch, promising that they would figure out a more permanent solution once Frank had gotten a few more hours of shut eye.

The following day, they’d decided the best course of action was for Frank to stay the night at Ray’s. As it was, Ray had been the only one to experience anything out of the ordinary. If Frank could sleep peacefully through the night, Ray would accept that he was just having a hard time adjusting to his new situation. But if Frank witnessed the disturbances firsthand, they’d take more serious measures. Frank was all for this plan. He wanted to put a stop to the notion of ghosts once and for all. 

Frank spent the day helping Ray unpack. He made a small victory noise when he finally found Ray’s coffee maker. While he worked, unpacking strange boxes of odds and ends Ray’s mom had sent along, he made little jokes to himself about the ghost. Maybe the ghost was just mad Ray hadn’t set up his coffee maker yet? Maybe the ghost was upset about all the hair metal Ray played? Perhaps the previous tenant had had better taste in music…

So what if Frank’s heart skipped a beat when he heard a tiny noise behind him in the kitchen? He had been sorting out a box of cooking utensils he was almost sure Ray didn't know how to use when he heard a small tearing sound. He quickly turned around in search of the noise and found that his takeout cross had finally fallen off the wall. Frank rationalized it to himself by reasoning that it was just the weak dollar store tape. He picked the cross up off the cracked tiles and slapped it back on the wall, adding even more layers of tape. It looked sort of sad on the wall all by itself, buried under a wad of tape.

Frank made a mental note to get Ray some fucking posters.

They spent the late evening jamming and drinking beer again. Frank even forgot about the supposed haunting for a little while as he lost himself in the music. The perks of living just a parking lot away from his favorite bandmate resurfaced, even if the sage-smoke made him wheeze worse than if he’d chain-smoked an entire pack of cigarettes by himself in one night. He couldn't say he didn't like what the smoke did to his voice.

They agreed to call it a night when they both started yawning. Frank set down his guitar and curled up on the couch, finding that their burnt sage smell that had finally set into the couch cushions was starting to grow on him. 

Ray left a light on in the hallway. A protection candle burned brightly on the coffee table. Burning so many candles was probably a fucking fire hazard, Frank thought. Ray was in more danger of burning his place down than anything else.

Frank had just started to drift off with song lyrics still skittering around in his head when he heard glass shattering, followed by a small terrified shriek from Ray. 

“Frank!” came Ray’s desperate, muffled request. 

Frank rolled his eyes and slid off the couch, heading in search of Ray’s cries. 

Ray emerged from the bathroom with his toothbrush still in his mouth, covered in broken glass. 

“It’s all in my hair,” he whined around a mouthful of toothpaste.

Once he’d slipped back into the bathroom to spit out his toothpaste, Frank led him outside to help him get all the glass out of his hair.

The lightbulbs in the bathroom hadn’t just burned out this time, they’d exploded, Ray explained, as Frank picked shards of glass out of his voluminous locks. Frank wanted to say there was a raitonal explanation for what had happened, but he couldn’t think of anything to say that might comfort his bandmate. 

They both crossed the parking lot back to Frank’s place in silence. They had silently agreed on sleeping nice and far from Ray’s creepy, power-surging apartment. Neither of them had to say it out loud. 

Ray was obviously shaken. Frank was starting to feel the tiniest glimmer of unease himself. 

To make matters worse, a thin layer of fog had settled over the neighborhood. The orange streetlights illuminated the mist, giving the parking lot an eerie glow. It didn’t help to calm either of them. 

Frank lit a cigarette and offered his pack to Ray, who accepted it graciously. Ray lit his cigarette with shaky hands. Their puffs of smoke followed behind them in the dense, humid air, like little ghosts. 

“I have to move out,” Ray admitted, exhaling smoke. 

“No you don’t," Frank countered, “We’ll figure something out, dude. I promise” 

“Do you happen to know a fucking exorcist or something, Frank?” Ray laughed, “Cause I don’t think burning all those leaves did a goddamn thing.” 

“No, I don’t,” Frank giggled, “But, Ray-“

“Wait a minute!” Ray interrupted, freezing in his tracks and grinning wildly at Frank, “That’s it.” 

“What-“ 

“Frank, do you know Mikey? Mikey Way?” Ray asked, “He’s been to a few of our shows?” 

“Uh, yeah. I think I’ve seen him around,” Frank nodded, swallowing hard. 

He knew Mikey alright. 

“He’s got this older brother, right? I met him a few times, he’s really cool,” Ray went on, “Anyways he, like, just moved back to Jersey recently. Last time I talked to Mikey he was literally telling me about how his brother is an exorcist now.” 

“No shit,” Frank offered, feeling his mouth go dry. 

“Yeah!” Ray exclaimed, “That’s exactly what we need. Oh man! I bet I could get his number from Mikey…” 

Frank watched in horror as Ray pulled his phone out of his pocket and started pressing buttons. 

“Ray, wait,” Frank pleaded, but it was too late. Ray already had the phone to his ear. 

He shot Frank a grin as he waited for Mikey to answer. 

It had to be almost one in the morning. There was no way anyone would answer a call from Ray Toro this late at night. Then again, Frank had answered late night calls from Ray twice this week… 

“Mikey?” Ray asked excitedly into his phone. “Yeah, hi! It’s Ray. Uh, Ray Toro. Y’know, from Pencey? Yeah! Hey dude, what’s up?” 

Ray spun around in a little circle as he listened to Mikey talk on the other end. 

“Cool. Cool. So uh, it’s kinda late, so I’ll keep this short,” Ray went on, “Your brother’s an exorcist right?” 

He chewed on his lip as he listened again. 

“I think I need his help,” Ray said. 

“I just moved into this place. It’s fucking whack, Mikey. Exploding lightbulbs, creepy voices, cold spots, I was attacked in my sleep,” Ray explained, “I’m not crazy either. My bandmate’s seen it too.”

That was kind of a stretch, Frank thought. True, he’d been there when it happened. He didn’t know if that meant he’d seen whateverthefuck Ray had seen. 

“Uh yeah?” Ray went on, “Our singer. Frank Iero? You know him?” 

Frank winced at that. Mikey probably remembered Frank in a vague sort of way. Though, they hadn’t talked about what Mikey remembered when Frank had run into him at shows. 

“Cool,” Ray said again. 

It wasn’t cool, Frank thought.

“Yeah. Text me his number,” Ray said. 

“Cool,” Ray repeated. 

“Alright. See you at that thing at the end of the month. Thanks again, Mikey!” Ray said, finishing up the call.

“Alright.” Ray sighed, looking up at Frank, “Mikey said his brother might be able to help us out…”

“Great,” Frank said, going for nonchalant.

Frank’s cigarette had gone out at some point while he’d been gawking at his bandmate. He flicked it into the parking lot as they started up the stairs to Frank’s unit. 

Ray was going on and on about Gerard, the exorcist, when they got to the top of the stairs. Frank had stopped listening entirely by the time he got his key into the top lock. 

Once they were inside Frank’s place, he mumbled some unmemorable excuse to Ray about needing to go to bed and made a beeline for his room. Without even bothering to turn the lights on, he collapsed onto his bed with his shoes still on.

It was great. It was fine. If Gerard could help Ray with his haunted apartment, it would be great.

The sooner he came, the sooner he could leave...

Frank hadn’t thought about Gerard in a very long time. He’d been filed away in the archives in the back of Frank’s brain with all his other ex-boyfriends. 

Gerard stood out from the rest, Frank supposed. He’d been Frank’s first love after all.

Most of high school was a blur of bullies, overprotective parents, and subsequent quiet rebellion but Frank remembered Gerard. The thing they’d had was short, messy, and passionate. At the time it hadn't felt short, but this was before Frank had realized how long life would go on for.

Gerard had been something of a bad boy back in those days. He was two years older than Frank and was always off skipping class and getting drunk with his friends.

Frank was grounded for most of their relationship, which resulted in a lot of late night phone calls, sequestered in the dark of Frank's room. Gerard had totally blown him once, too. It was possibly the most romantic blow job Frank had ever received. Frank knew how ridiculous that sounded, but Gerard had practically asked Frank for permission to make him come. He was so careful and sweet about the whole thing. He was delicate with everything about him and Frank, in spite of the state he was in.

The few times they’d gotten the opportunity to spend time completely alone together had been spent in Gerard’s basement. It was a beautiful cave of a place. The walls were overflowing with Gerard’s creepy drawings. Frank had no idea what color the carpet was, or if there had even been a carpet at all because the floor was always covered with dirty clothes and beer cans. Frank found the place pretty disgusting in retrospect, but back then it had been such a stark contrast to his own home-life that he’d always felt so comfortable and safe there.

Gerard was so busy trying to escape himself that he became something of an escape for Frank. He was so different from everything Frank had known. He was reckless and dysfunctional and sure of himself. 

Frank had loved everything about him. 

Though Frank was the one who’d walked away broken-hearted, he’d actually been the one to end things between them. It was Gerard's friends. They hated Frank and Frank hated them right back. Gerard's friends couldn't understand why Gerard wasted his time with a sheltered Catholic like Frank. And Frank thought Gerard’s friends were holding him back from his art. As soon as that information got into the wrong hands, every single one of Gerard’s friends was accusing Frank of trying to manipulate Gerard away from them.

Frank knew the sayings. He’d watched enough TV dramas with his mom. He hadn’t wanted to watch Gerard choose between a bunch of rowdy metal heads with their parties and parents with unlocked liquor cabinets, and Frank, the young, inexperienced, closet-case.

So Frank made it easy for everyone. He’d made the decision for Gerard and dumped him.

He’d actually broken up with Gerard over the phone, though it wasn’t out of cowardice. He was grounded at the time and couldn’t get to Gerard to break up with him in person. He hadn’t wanted to wait another day.

Frank had known he’d made the right decision when all Gerard had to say was, “Oh, well, I guess I’ll see you around then…” 

He didn’t ask Frank why. And he hadn’t even sounded upset. That phone call was what had hurt Frank the most.

Since they were in different grades, they almost never saw each other at school after they were broken up. Eventually Frank's parents eased up, let him out of the house on weeknights. And Frank wouldd run into Gerard at parties. But every time it happened Gerard would just nod at Frank and tip his beer bottle up to his lips. Frank would nod back and disappear into the basement to smoke weed and jam with the other stoners. He'd found his own friends with their own music.

They weren’t okay, but they were cool. They could be in the same room without starting shit and that was that.

Frank saw Gerard less and less often as the years went by, until eventually he stopped seeing him altogether. Gerard slowly faded into the back of Frank’s mind. He only came up when something oddly specific reminded Frank that there was a reason it had taken him so long to come around on the metal genre.

Frank didn’t blame Gerard for how things had gone between them, especially as he got older. Gerard was too caught up in looking for ways to bury his own pain to think anything through. His suffering, his youth, made him selfish. He probably hadn’t even meant to get mixed up with Frank in the first place. If Frank had gotten hurt, he was merely a civilian casualty caught in the crossfire of the war Gerard was waging on himself. It had been Frank’s own damn fault for not realizing it was bound to happen in the first place. 

Frank wouldn’t be surprised if Gerard didn’t remember anything about their relationship through the fog. It had been messy and passionate, but mostly it had been short.

When Gerard’s little brother, Mikey, had started showing up around the same scene parties a few years after high school, Frank hadn’t really thought anything of it. He was just another peripheral person in Frank’s scene, as non-threatening as he was inescapable. Mikey Way knew everyone and everyone knew him.

Mikey had probably been too young to understand or care what Frank and Gerard had had back in high school, and he’d never brought Gerard around to parties or shows anyways. 

Well ‘Never,’ until recently, Frank supposed. Ray said he’d met Gerard, which meant things had changed. 

Frank tried to think of shows he’d skipped out on in recent times. He tried to remember the last time he’d run into Mikey. He thought he would’ve remembered if he’d seen Gerard around somewhere. The guy had one of those faces.

It wasn’t long before Frank got sick of letting the past play on repeat in his head. He finally kicked off his shoes and decided he was just going to be cool about it. If Gerard wanted to try to get rid of Ray’s ghosts, Frank was going to try his best to not bring up any old ghosts of his own. 

~ 

The following morning Frank sipped on a cup of coffee and listened as Ray made arrangements with Gerard over the phone, casually ‘forgetting’ to tell Ray that he knew Gerard at all. After a bit of back and forth about Ray’s haunted apartment, it sounded like Gerard had asked to come over and see it all for himself. It just so happened Gerard was free that very evening, Ray explained, once he’d gotten off the phone. 

Frank was just relieved Ray had made it through the entire phone call without mentioning Frank’s name once.

The relief dissipated pretty quickly as soon as Frank realized it meant he’d be seeing Gerard soon. He wasn’t ready to see Gerard. Somehow the ten plus years hadn't been long enough.

Ray started messing around with one of Frank's guitars in the living room, and Ray soon joined him. Frank was tense by the time noon hit, so he rolled the two of them a joint. He hadn’t meant to get so high, but once he’d started smoking, the numbing fog was incredibly welcoming. It took his mind off of everything. By the time 3 or 4’o’clock hit, Frank had almost forgotten that Gerard was coming over at all. 

Frank had considered just staying at his apartment and letting Ray deal with Gerard on his own, but he’d developed a curiosity over the whole thing. Most of Frank’s curiosity stemmed from the fact that Ray had said Gerard was cool. Ray was notoriously picky about people, so if Gerard had left a good impression on Ray, Frank had some fucking questions. 

Frank tried to imagine what Gerard must’ve looked like after so many years. If he had continued with his substance abuse in all that time since high school, there was a good chance he’d aged poorly.  Even though Gerard couldn’t be any older than 28, Frank couldn’t stop himself from picturing a wrinkly, early-greying priest with a permanent scowl. He couldn’t help but smirk at the idea that a priest like that had blown him once. He wanted to let Ray in on the joke, but that would’ve necessitated explaining that the dude who was coming over later had had his tongue all over Frank at one point.  

Before they headed over to Ray’s haunted apartment, Frank slipped into his room to change into tight black jeans and an equally tight black shirt. Regardless of the kind of person Gerard had become, Frank saw no harm in making good and sure that Gerard knew exactly what he’d been missing out on for the last decade. 

The tightness of his clothes was lost under a layer of flannel and hoodie. Frank was crossing the parking lot with a cigarette burning in his hand, long before he was emotionally prepared to be dealing with the situation that awaited him. Ray had called in and ordered pizza so they had to make sure they beat the delivery guy to Ray’s apartment. 

Ray had spent a long while that afternoon babbling about the appropriate hors d'oeuvres to serve to an exorcist making a last-minute house call. Frank, not knowing the first thing about etiquette regarding hosting exorcists, had just shrugged and suggested pizza. Everyone liked pizza. Even exorcists, even ghosts, presumably.   

Though it was less eerie in the afternoon sunlight, there was definitely something off about Ray’s apartment. Frank now felt it the moment he stepped inside.

The place looked just the way they’d left it. The remaining lightbulbs were still intact. The front room felt colder than usual, though Frank thought it had more to do with the fact that the apartment had been vacant for a day or so. 

When Frank wandered into the kitchen to find plates for the coming pizza, the first thing he noticed was that all the cabinets were open again. The second thing he noticed was that his takeout cross had fallen down again. Only, it had somehow traveled to the other side of the room. There was no way it had been a result of the weak tape or the kitchen window that was still open an inch or so, as Frank had left it. It was much too far from it’s original hanging place - not even a gust from a hurricane could have moved it, not that there had been a storm of any kind. Frank shivered and left the makeshift cross where it was on the floor, forgetting all about finding plates. 

Frank jumped when there was a knock on the door. He hadn’t realized he was nervous until he heard Ray walking over to the door to answer it. To his immediate relief, it was just the pizza guy. He listened as Ray accepted the pizza and gave the guy a tip. 

It was a strange sort of nervousness that curled up in Frank’s stomach. He didn’t know where it came from or what to make of it. He wasn’t afraid he and Gerard would fight. Why would they start now? But Frank didn’t know what they were supposed to do instead. 

There was a chance, of course, Gerard didn’t remember him at all. Was he supposed to pretend he didn’t remember Gerard either? Was he supposed to shake Gerard’s hand or go in for a hug?

A moment later, Ray wandered into the kitchen with a giant pizza box in his arms. He set it on the counter and turned to look at Frank. 

“Are you okay, dude? You’re really fucking pale.” Ray commented, brow furrowing in concern. 

“Uh. Yeah. I’m fine,” Frank nodded, swallowing hard, “It’s just…” 

Frank waved a hand in the direction of the kitchen cabinets. 

“Oh,” Ray saud, eyes widening as he took in the state of the kitchen, “Hey, I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts?” 

“I don’t.” Frank agreed, “But there’s still something weird going on here…” 

Frank heard the flick of a lighter, and when he look over, he found that Ray had lit another sage bundle. He was staring deep into the embers as they ate away at the dried leaves, like staring could will the ghosts away. 

“So uh… you said you’ve met Mikey’s brother before, right?” Frank asked conversationally, “What’s he like?” 

“He’s really... chill?”  Ray mused, setting the smoldering bundle on an incense holder, “I don’t know how else to describe him. I don’t really know him that well. I just ran into him with Mikey at a show kinda recently.” 

“Huh,” Frank offered, trying to feign indifference, “What show?” 

“I don’t remember who was playing… It was just a bunch of cover bands.” Ray shrugged. 

“Cool,” Frank commented. That was probably why he hadn’t been there. 

“I think you’ll really like him. He’s cool,” Ray added earnestly.

Frank had to work very hard to keep himself from laughing at that notion. He turned and started to close the cabinets one by one. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary about the hinges. A few of them squeaked when Frank swung cabinet door back and forth. 

Frank had just finished closing all the kitchen cabinets when there was another knock at the door. He’d never admit it but he had totally uttered a small squeaking sound when the noise startled him. 

“Coming!” Ray called out. 

Frank floated over to the entrance to the kitchen and watched as Ray opened the door. 

“Ahm, Hey? Ray Toro, right?” A scratchy voice asked. 

“Yeah. Hi, come on in, Gerard,” Ray said cheerily, taking a step back. 

He still dyed his hair black. That was Frank’s first thought as he watched Gerard walk into the apartment. 

“This is my bandmate, Frank,” Ray said, gesturing back towards Frank. 

When Gerard looked up, Frank gave him a small wave, dissolving the ‘handshake vs. hug’ debate that had been going back in forth in his mind. 

“Hi Frank,” Gerard said smoothly, shooting Frank an all-too familiar lopsided grin. The grin seemed genuine, at least. 

“I really appreciate you coming on such short notice,” Ray said, ushering Gerard onto the couch. 

“Oh, anything for a friend of Mikey’s,” Gerard grinned, dropping onto the couch and setting his shoulder-bag on the floor. 

“Can I get you anything? Soda? Beer?” Ray asked, “We just ordered pizza.”  

“I’m alright,” Gerard said, pulling a notebook out of his bag. A pen appeared in his hand, he clicked the top and scribbled something at the top of a fresh page. 

“Actually, what kind of pizza?” Gerard amended. 

“Cheese or pepperoni?” Ray asked. 

“Pepperoni,” Gerard said, “If you don’t mind.” 

“Not at all, dude,” Ray nodded, “Anything for you Frank?” 

“Just a beer, thanks…” Frank mumbled, finding he’d suddenly lost his appetite. 

Frank didn’t care if anyone caught him staring. Gerard’s appearance left Frank with more questions than answers. He couldn’t believe the guy sitting on the couch was the same person he’d been in love with all those years ago. Gerard had aged quite well, despite what Frank’s stoned daydreams had lead him to believe. He looked much more  wise? Present? Frank didn’t know how to quantify the difference. 

If he was a priest, he certainly didn’t look like one. There was no white collar around his neck. He was actually dressed in jeans and t-shirt and Frank didn’t know what the fuck to make of that. Maybe priests who performed exorcisms didn’t wear their usual attire to disguise themselves from demons?  

Frank was snapped out of his wondering by the beer Ray slid into his hand. 

“So um, I suppose I should start by telling you a little bit about my work?” Gerard offered, accepting a plate from Ray. 

“Alright,” Ray said, dropping into one of the chairs across from the sofa, “Mikey said you were an exorcist of some kind?” 

“Ah, well, I prefer the term ‘paranormal consultant,’” Gerard explained, “Exorcisms are typically carried out by dedicated priests and I’m a little too much of a fuck-up to be a priest.” 

He let out a bright crack of laughter at that but quickly sobered when neither Ray or Frank joined him. 

Not a priest, Frank noted silently, feeling relieved. 

“Anyway,” Gerard continued, clearing his throat, “I’ve worked under a number of dedicated exorcists over the years. These days I’m something of a researcher, I suppose? Jersey’s so old. It’s sort of a hotspot for weird shit.”  

“No kidding,” Ray mumbled around a mouthful of pizza, earning an earnest smile from Gerard.  

“I’ve lived in several haunted houses over the years, myself. That was sort of where my research started. A lot of the churches I’ve worked in have reported disturbances as well,” Gerard went on, “I guess, what I’m trying to say is that I know hauntings. I haven’t seen it all, but I’ve seen a lot. Nothing either of you can say will seem silly or ridiculous to me in any way.” 

“With that in mind,” Gerard added, “Ray, I know we sort of went over this on the phone, but why don’t you tell me what you've been experiencing?” 

“Well,” Ray sighed, “It all started with the shadows. I noticed them out of the corner of my eye for the first time when I was moving in…” 

Frank watched silently from the doorway as Ray retold his experiences. There was the sleep paralysis, the voices, the cold spots, the exploding light bulbs, the cabinets. It all sounded so much more legit with a professional sitting across from Ray.

Gerard would ask Ray for clarification on the minor details. Had he ever seen a full-bodied apparition? Could he understand anything the voices said? What language were they speaking? Did the things he saw happen in the same place each time or all over the apartment?

Frank couldn’t bring himself to move an inch closer to Gerard. He sipped on his beer quietly, dutifully, as he listened from a comfortable distance. Gerard would occasionally make notes in his notebook or twirl his pen. He was overflowing with the same nervous, distracted energy Frank remembered. He had taken a few bites out of his slice of pizza, but seemed to have forgotten about it entirely since then.

“And Frank was there when that happened?” Gerard asked, looking over at Frank. 

Frank’s stomach dropped when Gerard’s eyes found his.  

“Yeah, he was there,” Ray nodded, “But Frank doesn’t believe in ghosts…” 

“Oh. Well, that’s alright,” Gerard shrugged, turning his attention back to Ray, “Plenty of people don’t believe in ghosts. But if the ghost was real to you, Ray, it was real to me…” 

A soft, unexpected betrayal. Frank felt like Ray had pulled the carpet out from under him. If only he'd explained the past to Ray, Ray wouldn't be blowing his cover now. The last thing Frank needed was for Gerard to get the impression that Frank thought he was full of shit. Frank didn’t think that at all. 

“Anyway, so I have a few questions,” Gerard said, “They are not to discount what you just told me, Ray. I just have to ask them to rule out all extraneous possibilities. Your answers are confidential, so please answer as honestly as you are comfortable doing so.”

“Uh, sure,” Ray nodded. 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Frank interrupted, crossing the room and perching on the arm of the chair Ray was sitting in, “I think something weird is going on here.”

“That seems to be the case,” Gerard agreed, clicking his pen.

“It’s not that I don’t believe in ghosts though,” Frank countered, “It’s just that I’ve always been able to explain everything weird I’ve ever seen. There’s usually scientific research to support strange occurrences, you know?” 

“There’s scientific research to support the existence of ghosts, as well,” Gerard pointed out, somewhat icily, like he'd been made to argue it before, “It depends on who’s research you’re reading into."

It would’ve been better if he hadn’t said anything at all, Frank realized. Gerard was giving him this look, daring him to argue further. Only, Frank hadn’t been trying to argue at all. He pursued his lips in silent surrender.

“Well, I’m going to get another slice of pizza,” Ray offered weakly, cutting the silence and popping up out of his chair, “Do either of you want anything?” 

“Get me a slice too,” Frank said, sliding into Ray’s seat. 

“I’m alright,” Gerard nodded, running a hand through his hair and redirecting his gaze to his notepad.  

As soon as Ray left the room, Frank pretended to be incredibly interested in picking at label on his bottle of beer and rolling the shreds into tiny little balls. 

“When did you break vegan?” Gerard asked.

“Huh?” Frank hummed.

“You’re not a vegan anymore,” Gerard reiterated, conversationally.  

Frank glanced up at Gerard to find a curious look on his face. 

Gerard remembered Frank after all, Frank realized.  

“Oh! Uh… Doctor’s orders,” Frank shrugged, “The first time I went on tour I ended up really, really sick. Turns out the gas-station vegan lifestyle was to blame. But I’m kinda surprised you remember that, I-”

Once it was out of his mouth, Frank realized how insensitive of a thing it was to say. He watched in horror as the energetic, argumentative tint drained from Gerard’s eyes.

“Fuck,” Frank sighed, “That’s not what I meant.” 

Gerard shrugged, averting his gaze back down to his pad and pulling out a sheet of paper, “It’s a fair assumption to make.”

“No, Gerard… Dude, I…” Frank sighed, setting his bottle down on the coffee table between them. 

Ray came back into the room, setting a slice of pizza on a paper plate and a second beer in front of Frank and going to sit by Gerard on the couch. Frank shifted into a more comfortable position on the chair, since Ray didn’t seem interested in stealing it back.  

“So anyways, you had some questions?” Ray prompted Gerard gently. 

“Ahm, yes,” Gerard said, “Again, these questions get sorta personal, but please, try to be as honest as possible. I'm asking them so that I can help you better.” 

Ray nodded as he bit into his pizza. 

“Alright, well first things first…” Gerard said, clearing his throat, “Do either of you have a history of mental illness in your family? Are you on any medications of any kind?”

“No medications. There’s alcoholism on my dad’s side,” Ray explained, still chewing, “But it hasn’t seemed to really affect me much.” 

“And you, Frank?” Gerard asked, as he scribbled something onto his notepad. 

“Anti-depressants,” Frank offered, “Anti-anxiety meds too. And honestly I'm not so good at remembering to take them every day.” 

“Were either of you on any drugs while experiencing any of the disturbances in this apartment?” Gerard asked, moving right along with his note-taking. 

“Uh well,” Ray sighed, “Frankie and I smoke a lot of weed. That’s about it though. We drink a little bit too. But we’ve always done those things, right Frank?” 

“Uh yeah. I mean, we’d smoked some the night those bulbs exploded,” Frank explained, “But it wasn’t very much compared to… I don’t know… I don’t think our perception was like, altered or anything.” 

“I see,” Gerard offered, “Alright well… what about death? Have either of you been close to someone who may have recently died? Anyone who may have had unfinished business?” 

“No?” Ray said, glancing over at Frank, as he pondered the question, “I had a great aunt die recently, but we weren’t very close.”

“I have quite a few dead friends,” Frank offered, “But I don’t see why they’d be bothering Ray.” 

“A fair point,” Gerard agreed casually in a bored tone as he circled something on his sheet of paper. He sounded like a doctor, well-accustomed to asking their patients the same questions over and over. 

“Do you have a lot of people in and out?” Gerard asked, “One night stands, or parties, or… that sort of thing?” 

“The rest of the band came over as a sort of, moving-in-party,” Ray said, “But that’s about it. Frank comes over a lot, I guess? It’s hard to say. I just moved in this month, so…” 

“Oh, right.” Gerard said, furrowing his brow in thought, "Well then, so far, how are the neighbors? Any domestic disputes? Cop cars out front every weekend? Obvious drug deals? Sometimes bad energy follows that stuff." 

"Frank might know better," Ray offered.

"Typical Jersey," Frank offered, "But this place is pretty tame." 

Gerard seemed to be checking boxes now, “Alright, so what about ritual magic? Have you participated in any satanic rituals? Voodoo? Anything that might be considered occult in any way? Not just in your apartment. An outside source of that kind of energy would be just as significant.”

“Nah.” Ray laughed, “I’m pretty boring, I guess? Frankie and I used a Ouija board when we were on tour last… I’m not sure if that counts?” 

“I'll write it down,” Gerard nodded, scribbling something on the margin of the page, “But in all honesty I believed you before the screening questions. You see, my reasons for being here are somewhat selfish.” 

“What do you mean?” Ray asked. 

Gerard stole a glance over at Frank and the piercing look in his eye made Frank’s blood freeze in his veins. 

“Well it’s quite fantastic really,” Gerard said, “This side of the apartment complex was added later on, sometime in the late 70's. It was built over an old mass grave. There was a cemetery where the parking lot is now, but most of the coffins were excavated and moved to the cemetery down the road when a developer bought the property. That shit wouldn’t fly today, but back then…” 

“That’s not creepy at all," Frank said, laughing nervously, exhaling a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. His blood-flow had mostly returned to normal, now that Gerard wasn’t looking at him. He was still embarrassed that he’d thought, even for a moment, that Gerard could possibly, selfishly, be there for him. He reached for his second beer and took a long swig, wishing he could drown himself with it.

“Moving grave yards like that was actually more common than you might think. A natural part of early urbanization,” Gerard offered, clicking his pen idly, “Either way, I’ve never been able to find any documentation that the portion of the cemetery containing the mass grave was ever properly relocated. My colleagues and I believe the bodies are still here, under these apartments.” 

“Just like in Poltergeist? I guess I have to move, after all,” Ray sighed, an expression of pure horror on his face. 

“Not necessarily,” Gerard countered, shooting Ray an encouraging look, “Let’s not jump to conclusions like that just yet, Ray. Statistically, it’s quite likely that anywhere you might move would be just as haunted.” 

“Great,” Ray moaned, “Frank, do you want a roommate? Shit like this never happens at your place…” 

“Like Gerard said, let’s not jump to conclusions,” Frank laughed, tipping the beer bottle up to his lips and taking another swig. 

“Don’t laugh, asshole,” Ray whined, “It’s not your side of the apartment complex that’s haunted.” 

Gerard glanced between the two of them, looking confused. 

“Oh uh, Frankie lives across the parking lot. It’s actually his fault I’m in this mess," Ray explained, “He was the one who suggested I move in here.” 

“If he doesn’t believe in ghosts, he probably didn’t mean for this to happen,” Gerard pointed out.

Frank just rolled his eyes and took another swig. He was starting to feel the beer a little. His head was getting light and he found himself less and less concerned with impressing Gerard as the minutes ticked by. 

“How long have you lived here, Frank?” Gerard asked, scribbling on his pad.

“Almost three years,” Frank offered. 

“Do you think his place is um, occupied too?” Ray asked.

“Ahm, it’s hard to say, really,” Gerard mused, “I’ve had a few calls about apartments in this building, but never from anyone across the lot… But that doesn’t mean it’s not just as haunted over there. I’d like to inspect your place, too, if that’s something you’d be alright with, Frank.”

“If it’s in the name of science, sure, whatever,” Frank agreed as casually as he could, waving a hand dismissively. 

“Cool. Um, I’m not sure if we’ll have time tonight, but let's discuss it after I've had some time to digest my findings,” Gerard offered, “For now, I’d like to do a walkthrough of your place, Ray. Do you mind?”

“A lot of my shit is still in boxes cause I just moved in, but do whatever you have to. I have nothing to hide,” Ray said, “I’m gonna go smoke a cigarette out on the balcony. Just let me know if you need anything.”  

“Alright,” Gerard nodded, setting the notebook down on the coffee table and reaching into his bag. 

Both Gerard and Frank watched as Ray slid open the glass door and closed it behind him. Frank would’ve typically gone with Ray, but his curiosity over Gerard won over his nicotine addiction. He watched as Gerard went back to rifling around in his bag. He hid a smirk behind his drink when Gerard stabbed himself with an uncapped pen at the bottom of his bag. Gerard pulled it out, swearing under his breath. He also pulled out, what looked to Frank, much like a tape recorder. In fact it was a tape recorder. Frank had no idea such a device still existed.

Gerard squinted his eyes as he fumbled with the buttons on the small silver device.  When he was satisfied with whatever he’d done to the thing, he dug around in his bag and pulled out some other handheld device.

Frank had no idea what it was, so he asked, “What the fuck is that?” 

“Oh this?” Gerard asked, turning it over in his hands, “It’s a temperature gun.” 

Gerard stood up and leaned over the coffee table to hand it to Frank. Their fingers brushed as he carefully placed it in Frank’s hand. Frank prayed the little piece of technology couldn’t detect how much his face warmed up. If it alerted Gerard in any way, he’d find some way to die and haunt the apartment himself.

Frank turned the small, smooth electronic device over in his hand, gazing at the little symbols in the corner of the screen.  

“I could show you how it works, if you want?” Gerard offered.

When Frank looked up, Gerard’s eyes were wide, and innocent, and… alert. Sober. It was strange to see him this way, Frank thought. Gerard had always had this openness about him. Frank could recall being drawn to it, though he’d always assumed it was a result of all the drugs Gerard was on. Yet here he was a decade later giving Frank the same look with his huge, pretty eyes, without any obvious influence.

And that was the worst part, Frank realized. Gerard was pretty. Prettier than he had been when they were teenagers, if that was even possible. 

“Uh, yeah, okay,” Frank nodded, darting his gaze away when he realized he’d been staring into Gerard’s eyes without saying anything. 

He handed the device back to Gerard and stood up, setting his beer down on the coffee table. He knew how a fucking temperature gun worked, sure. He’d never seen anyone use one to look for ghosts though, and the idea left him skeptical. 

“You said the lights that exploded were in the bathroom, right?” Gerard asked. 

“Yeah.” Frank nodded, following behind Gerard as he headed in the direction of the bathroom. 

Gerard fiddled with the device for a moment, holding it out in front of him after it made a few beeping noises. 

“Watch the screen… I’m going to guess Ray keeps his apartment at about 70 degrees? That’s what the gun is reading, anyway,” Gerard explained, “But once we go in here...” 

Ray hadn’t changed the lightbulbs in his bathroom so it was still dark. The temperature gun’s screen had a blue backlight. The small blue square was quickly the only thing Frank could really see as they moved into the darkness.  

“See?” Gerard whispered. 

Frank could hear the broken glass crunching under Gerard's shoes as he stepped further into the dark room. 

Frank held his breath as he watched the number quickly drop from 70 down to… 65… then 60… then 55… The thing beeped every time the reading changed. 

The room did feel colder than the living room, Frank observed.

“Do you get the sense that you’re not alone in here?” Gerard asked softly, “Can you feel it watching you? Some people can and some people can’t.” 

“Um,” Frank breathed, backing out of the cold, dark bathroom. He backed right into the wall behind him, gently thudding against it. 

Sure, the evidence was right there, but Frank couldn’t bring himself to take it. He felt unsafe and small and defenseless. If ghosts were real, then ghosts… were real. 

Crossing the parking lot to his own apartment later on was going to be much different if he was walking over graves. How many times had he done it over the years? Nothing had happened to him in that time, but something still could have. All those times he’d drunkenly wandered through the parking lot after stumbling off the bus? All those times he’d gone down to his car in the middle of the night because he’d forgotten something in the back seat...

“Are you okay?” Gerard asked softly as he emerged from the dark bathroom, light slowly pouring over his features. 

“Yeah… I just…” Frank mumbled, shaking his head, “It’s weird. I don’t know.” He felt a blush bloom high on his cheeks. Gerard had been studying his face, enough to know that Frank wasn't okay.

“If nothing else, it certainly is weird,” Gerard agreed, turning off the temperature gun and sliding it into the pocket of his sweatshirt, "It doesn't get less weird, no matter how often I engage with it." 

“So what do we do?” Frank asked, sliding away from the wall and making a beeline for the couch. He needed to put as much distance as possible between himself and Ray’s haunted bathroom. 

“I’ll wait for Ray to get back in to explain that part,” Gerard offered, a few steps behind Frank, “I wanted to do a little more looking around before deciding on a plan of action.” 

Frank hugged his knees and watched as Gerard rifled around the messy stacks of Ray’s CD collection. It was one of the few things Ray had bothered to unpack all the way, which Frank found very Ray-like. 

“What are you looking for?” Frank asked, mostly to cut the silence. 

“More evidence of something dwelling here,” Gerard mused, “I have a pretty good idea of what I’m dealing with at this point. So now it’s just about finding proof of that entity… flickering lights, strange odors, disembodied voices…” 

“I typically try to avoid making my work obvious to the presence I’m observing,” Gerard went on, “But I have reason to believe, from my previous research, that these things aren’t aware of themselves.” 

“What do you mean?” Frank asked. 

“There are different kinds of hauntings…” Gerard offered. “Hollywood has probably given you exposure to the concept of poltergeists, earthbound spirits… intelligent hauntings… Those are all ghosts with purpose. They’re here for a reason, and though they’re often quite scary, they’re much easier to get rid of.” 

“What’s in this apartment is different then?” Frank concluded, hugging himself tighter. He couldn’t tell if he was imagining it, but the room around him felt as though it was getting colder and colder. As he looked away from Gerard he could’ve sworn the lights flickered. 

“Yes, exactly,” Gerard said enthusiastically, completely unfazed by the flickering lights, “I believe what Ray is dealing with is a residual haunting. Or, that was my original suspicion, but now I’m not so sure.”

“A residual haunting?” Frank repeated, looking back over at Gerard. He couldn’t explain why it made him feel better to look at Gerard. Maybe it was the way Gerard just seemed so sure of all of it. He probably had some crazy ghost-paralyzing device in the shoulder-bag that sat beside Frank on the couch. 

“Yeah, it’s like… all those people in the mass grave were sort of… displaced by their situation. They were already waiting for someone to come and find them, and now nobody can,” Gerard explained, gazing back at Frank, talking animatedly with his hands, “They already moved on in their own way, almost a century ago, but something about their energy just can’t move on with them. It gets stuck in between. It’s much harder to get rid of that sort of thing because the frequencies they operate on aren’t necessarily, well, human.”

“Huh,” Frank breathed. 

When it came to the subject of ‘moving on’ Frank suddenly found himself having some doubts. He wanted to make a joke about it, but it would necessitate bringing up the past, and he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do it. 

“I’m sorry… I’m not boring you am I? I forgot you don’t believe in this stuff,” Gerard sighed. 

“Don’t write me off like that,” Frank pleaded softly, “It’s not that I don’t believe in it I just… Don’t know. I’ve never needed to believe in it.” 

“I used to be the same way," Gerard offered, “Just, stop me if I get carried away. No one ever seems to tell me to shut the fuck up.” 

Frank was about to tell Gerard that he could listen to him talk all night when he heard the balcony door slide open. The smell of lingering cigarette smoke followed Ray inside. Between the smell, and the temperature drop, and the way Gerard was looking at him, Frank found himself suddenly itching for a cigarette himself. 

“You want another beer, Frankie?” Ray asked, voice echoing out of the kitchen. 

“Please,” Frank called over his shoulder.

“Gerard, you want one?” Ray asked. 

“I don’t drink, not for awhile,” Gerard said, “Thanks though.” 

“Oh shit. I’m sorry dude,” Ray said, slamming the fridge door, making the bottles inside clink against one another, “I didn’t even think. I… We… I shouldn’t have assumed it was cool.” 

“It’s fine if you drink around me,” Gerard assured, “I’m used to it.” 

“Are you sure, man?” Ray asked, holding up the two beer bottles, “I can totally pour this shit out.” 

“It’s really not a problem. I’ve got my shit together,” Gerard nodded. “Don’t worry about me.” 

“Alright, if you’re sure,” Ray tutted, crossing the room and passing one of the beers in his hand to Frank. 

Frank graciously swallowed down a large gulp the very second the cold bottle was in his hand. 

“Uh, hey, Ray, do you play this album a lot?” Gerard asked, holding up a CD case. Frank vaguely recognized it as a Slayer album, though he couldn’t remember which one it was just by looking at the cover. 

“Uh yeah. I do," Ray offered nervously, “Is that… is that bad? Is it making the haunting worse?” 

“God no,” Gerard laughed, “No. No, no. That’s not what I meant. This is just a really good album and it’s in great condition. Not a single scratch on this disk.” 

“Oh,” Ray said, allowing himself to laugh too, “Uh, yeah. It is good.” 

“You have a lot of good shit over here," Gerard said, inspecting a few more CD cases. 

“Thanks, man,” Ray beamed. 

“Do you mind if I look in your bedroom?” Gerard asked, pointing towards the other room, “You had mentioned sleep paralysis…” 

“Go for it,” Ray said, leading Gerard in the direction of the bedroom. Frank remained on the couch, trying to decide what the fuck he was doing there. He should’ve never come over. He should’ve stayed at home and smoked weed and played guitar until he forgot about Gerard all over again.

He could still leave, he supposed. There was nothing stopping him. 

Nothing but the dark parking lot that separated him from his own apartment.

He listened as Ray explained his sleep paralysis to Gerard. Frank himself had never experienced it, but he could imagine how awful it probably was. 

Frank glanced down at the notepad Gerard had been using earlier. A sheet of paper was resting on top of the pad and Frank didn’t want to be caught looking, so he flicked his gaze over the clean, printed type of the paper. Gerard had dated the upper lefthand corner and written Ray’s name and apartment number under it. There was a series of questions, all in scientific verbiage, very similar to what Gerard had asked. He had circled certain words, and crossed out others. He’d doodled a few things on the margin of the page, too. A small burning church and some skulls rested beside an upturned beer bottle with the label peeling off… 

Frank glanced down at the bottle in his hands, finding the label peeled. The other two bottles sitting on the coffee table were in the same state. It was a nervous habit, Frank thought defensively. He’d always peeled the labels off his beer bottles for as long as he could remember. Gerard had watched him do it.

Frank had finished his beer and was itching for a fourth by the time Gerard was satisfied with whatever he’d been looking for in Ray’s room. 

“So burning sage does nothing?” Ray asked as they both walked back into the living room. 

“It’s not that it does nothing,” Gerard explained, “But your apartment was just renovated. There’s no need for energetic cleansing.” 

“What about the protection candles?” Ray asked. 

“Candle magic is the most common and practical form of witchcraft. It can't hurt,” Gerard explained, “But the effectiveness of the candle depends on a lot of variables.”

“Well at least they smelled nice,” Ray shrugged, dropping into the chair across from Frank and giving him a small smile. 

Gerard let out a crack of laughter at that as he sat beside Frank on the couch and picked up his notepad. Frank had the smallest of urges to scoot away from him, even if there was already plenty of space between them. 

“So, Ray, I’d like to set up a time to run some observations,” Gerard said, glancing over his notes, “I’ve got something going on tomorrow night. Mikey wants me to go to a show with him, but any other night this week I could come back and record the specs I would need to get rid of this thing.”

“Can you do it tonight?” Ray asked, “I don’t mean to impose but I really want this to be over with.” 

“Understandably,” Gerard nodded. He bit his lip thoughtfully for a moment. 

“I think I have everything I need in the trunk of my car, actually. I could do it tonight,” Gerard nodded, “Let me go gather my tools…”

Watching Gerard set up for his research wasn’t anything Frank had been expecting, then again, he’d never been in the presence of a paranormal consultant before. 

When Gerard had said ‘tools,’ Frank had envisioned strange, high-tech cameras and laser canons. In actuality, Gerard’s ghost-tracking tools were small enough to be contained in a shoe box.

Gerard talked into his tape recorder as he went, setting small devices on the floor. Gerard had explained why he needed to keep flipping the lights on and off, but Frank hadn’t really gotten it. Some of the devices had small LED tubes sticking out of them that shined beams across the floor. Frank could only see the small beams in the dark.

Gerard sipped on an energy drink he’d brought in with him as he started inching the devices this way and that until he was satisfied with their placement on the floor. 

Frank drank another beer to keep his mouth busy. He wanted to ask about all the different things Gerard was doing, but he didn’t want to distract the guy. Gerard had always been easily distracted, especially when it came to the things he was passionate about. That hadn’t changed over the years, Frank noted. Gerard still fucking loved explaining things. 

“So, this is gonna take a few hours,” Gerard said, after he’d finished setting up, “For the first portion of my observation I’d like it if you were present, Ray. But for the second half, I’d like to see what it’s like in here after you’ve gone to sleep. Are you comfortable with that?” 

“Sure. That’s fine,” Ray nodded. 

“Perfect,” Gerard said, pressing a button on one of the devices he’d placed on the floor, “So now, we wait.” 

Gerard dropped onto the couch beside Frank and let out a long sigh.  

“Do you want me to put on music or something?” Ray asked, handing Frank another beer even though he hadn’t asked for one. 

“Just do whatever you’d normally do,” Gerard instructed, pulling a new sheet of paper out of his bag and running his finger over a block of text, “Just not too loudly. We want to be able to hear if any of the tech beeps.” 

“What is all this stuff anyways?” Ray asked, crossing the room to rifle through his CD collection. 

“To put it simply, it is a series of objects that are designed to be constantly checking for sudden environmental changes,” Gerard explained, “They will beep if there is a temperature drop, or if either of you walk in between the two that are furthest apart.”

“How do you differentiate between the beeps?” Frank asked, startling when the Slayer album Gerard had mentioned earlier started to play. 

“They’re, um, they’re different tones,” Gerard explained, glancing over at Frank, “The beep signifying an interruption in the field created by the two furthest apart is particularly shrill. You’ll know it when you hear it.” 

“Why would you want the ghost to know you know it’s in the room?” Ray asked feverishly, sitting back down in his chair, “Isn’t the element of surprise kind of key?” 

“If the presence is capable of understanding my line of work, it’s known of my presence for awhile now,” Gerard shrugged, “But as I was saying to Frank earlier, I believe your place is occupied by a residual haunting. It’s sort of analogous to a tape recording. It does the same things over and over, like a memory that plays on tape. It means you no harm. You just happen to be in its way.”

“But you said you weren’t sure it was residual.” Frank pointed out.

“Well, typically  residual entities aren’t so violent,” Gerard mused, “Other units in the complex are haunted by confirmed residual entities, but the one in this apartment seems a bit more… restless.” 

Ray frowned at that. Frank didn’t like the idea much either, he felt like he was curling tighter and tighter in on himself as if he could make himself small enough to go unnoticed by anything wicked. 

“So then, what is it you’re trying to do with all that stuff over there?” Ray asked. 

“I’m collecting data on it’s patterns and frequencies. I can use that data to create an audio track that, if played, will force it out of this apartment. Once it’s out of the apartment, I will deal with it on my own,” Gerard explained. 

“How?” Frank asked. 

“That’s a little harder to explain,” Gerard sighed, “And I don’t want you two around for that part, anyways. I’ll need you both to stay inside.” 

“Why?” Ray asked. 

“You’re both too open, which means that you’re at an increased risk for possession. The last thing you want after all of this is an exorcism.” 

“But you’re not an exorcist?” Frank pointed out, furrowing his brow in confusion.

“No, but I would prefer if we didn’t have to call one,” Gerard said. 

“You make it sound like you have one on speed dial," Ray laughed. 

“I do,” Gerard said, and Ray abruptly stopped laughing.

“His name is James. He’s a nice guy,” Gerard said, “I’d say we should all hang out sometime but he’s sort of weird.”

“He can’t be weirder than Frank,” Ray offered, taking a sip of his beer. 

Frank shot Ray a threatening look. 

“The thing about James…” Gerard mused, failing to notice the silent exchange between Ray and Frank, “Is that what makes him such a great exorcist is that he sees things. He had glasses really early on. He’d complained of vision problems as soon as he could talk. He sees quite well, it turns out. He sees too well, really…” 

“He can see ghosts?” Frank asked. 

“Sometimes,” Gerard nodded, “It’s sort of like he can read people's energies. Mikey had this guy in his band awhile back and he just seemed like bad news to me. I brought James around when we were all hanging out once and it was like he could confirm every bad thing Mikey had ever thought. He was just using Mikey to get connections. He was all mixed up in some bad stuff and was even planning on stealing the band’s gear.” 

“Fuck, dude. That’s like my worst nightmare,” said Ray.

“James is a good resource, but it gets kinda awkward when he starts giving people psychic advice they haven’t even asked for,” Gerard laughed. 

“How did you get involved in all this stuff?” Ray asked, “It’s so cool.” 

“It’s kind of a long story. I feel like I’ve been talking too much,” Gerard sighed. 

“You haven’t,” Frank offered quickly. 

Both Gerard and Ray turned to look at him. 

“It’s um, interesting,” Frank added defensively with a small shrug, looking down at his lap to avoid their gaze. 

“It is,” Ray agreed, “If you don’t mind talking we don’t mind listening.” 

“Alright well… ah… I guess it started when I was getting clean,” Gerard said, shifting into a more comfortable position on his side of the couch. The couch cushions under Frank shifted with Gerard’s movements. 

“A friend of mine had just overdosed and it freaked me out,” Gerard explained, “I quit everything cold turkey after the funeral. But I’d been in pretty deep, I guess? I had really crazy withdrawal symptoms and I thought I was being contacted from beyond the grave. I was hearing voices, hallucinating visions of angels…”

“At some point, I don’t know how, Mikey convinced me to go into a church. I’d never really believed in God, but Mikey thought they might be able to help me through grief counseling or something like that,” Gerard went on, “I ended up in an office in the back of some Catholic church. I distinctly remember the stained glass. They had a psychic advisor for some reason - which is a bit unCatholic if you ask me. Though, I guess I owe her everything. She told me that my friend had moved on. She had some way of knowing that.”

“But if my friend had moved on, and I was still getting these strange visitations in the night while I was sweating out my addiction, they thought I might be possessed. There’s lots of other things I would’ve checked for first. Schizophrenia, for example,” Gerard said, chuckling at some private joke. 

“They tried to exercise this demon they thought was inhabiting my body. They did it right then and there in the office, using the element of surprise, as you’d mentioned, Ray,” Gerard explained, “When they found nonesuch demon they referred me to AA."

“AA was where I met James, actually. I made a lot of friends there. The dude who got me my first job at the paranormal society was just a guy in my AA group, too. For awhile I was a drug and alcohol counselor through the church. In certain circles, demonic possession is believed to be the root of many cases of alcoholism. I’m not sure if I believe in all that, but demons are very real it seems.” 

“They are?” Ray asked. 

“Certainly,” Gerard nodded. “James has seen them.” 

“So you remove ghosts from people’s homes for a living nowadays?” Ray asked, “Should I be paying you?” 

“No, not at all,” Gerard laughed, shaking his head, “I’m actually a professor over at the university.” 

“Wow. What do you teach?” Ray asked. 

“Parapsychology. What else?” Gerard answered, “We have one of the only well-funded parapsychological departments in the Midatlantic. I also do workshops through the church for priests who are interested in learning how to exorcise demons. They’re a weird bunch, but they pay well.”

“Damn, dude,” Ray gushed, “You’re really set up in all this, it sounds like.” 

“It’s a very niche-industry,” Gerard shrugged, “I’ve been lucky enough to be able to pursue something I truly love and even repent a little after wronging so many people back when I was using…” 

In the silence that followed Gerard’s statement, one of the pieces of tech on the floor beeped loudly. 

“Just a temperature shift,” Gerard noted, reaching for his notepad and scribbling something in the margin of his notes, “It could be feeding off the subject matter. It’s heavy stuff, I suppose…”

“You have a very personal connection to your work," Ray commented, stifling a yawn. 

“Yes. My work is very personal,” Gerard agreed, “But so is yours. If you want to try sleeping, I think the tech has collected enough data to conclude this portion of the observation.” 

“Uh. Yeah. Alright,” Ray sighed, getting to his feet and stretching out, "Frankie and I haven't been sleeping much." 

“When I’ve collected everything I need I can just let myself out,” Gerard offered, “I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon about our next course of action.”

“Sounds good to me… Um, is it cool if Frank crashes on the couch? He usually does… but I can drive him home if he’s in the way," Ray said, smirking at Frank, earning a death-glare in return. 

“It’s fine by me,” Gerard said, adding more scribbles to the margins of his notes, “If Frank is usually over then I suppose it would only make sense for him to be here during the recording process, just to get the environmental variables consistent.” 

“Whatever the hell that means,” Ray laughed, “Frank, do you need any extra blankets or anything? It's cold as hell in here.”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks,” Frank said sleepily, fishing out his pack of cigarettes, “Wanna join me for a smoke?”

“I think I’m gonna pass, dude,” Ray said. 

“Suit yourself.” Frank mumbled, shoving a cigarette between his lips, lifting himself off the couch and heading for Ray’s balcony. 

“So Ray, if you find yourself unable to fall asleep, let me know so I can-“ Gerard’s voice was cut off as Frank shut the sliding glass door behind him. 

He lit the end of his cigarette and inhaled slowly, lazily drawing in the familiar toxins. 

As the nicotine cleared his head, Frank decided he maybe hated Gerard. It sucked to know he’d turned his life around and developed an interesting career. He'd gone from talking about dropping out to becoming a full-on academic. It sucked that he was polite and sweet and funny. It didn’t help that he’d aged like a fucking fine wine. Frank felt like a selfish, boring asshole in comparison. All Frank had accomplished was a minor record deal that paid him enough to get him out of his parent’s attic and into his own place. 

Frank didn’t want to hear another word about Gerard, he realized. He inhaled bitterly on his cigarette as he decided on walking back to his own apartment as soon as he was done smoking. 

There weren’t any clouds in the night sky, and even so the moon had found a place to curl up and hide. All Frank could see was the dark expanse of trees that outlined the apartment complex limits. Frank squinted in the dark, looking for evidence of the ghosts that wandered the property. He thought he saw something at the tree line where the branches overlapped each other. The dark branches hung over each other wildly, forming what looked like the outline of a person facing away from him. 

But as soon as a gust of light breeze came, the figure dissipated. 

Frank startled when the screen door slid open. The hissing noise of the door on it’s tracks cut his quiet moment. 

“I knew you’d change your mind,” Frank commented, exhaling smoke. 

“Ahm…” Gerard mumbled. 

“Oh, it’s you,” Frank offered neutrally, exhaling a puff of smoke. He kept his gaze at the tree-line, not turning to greet Gerard.

“If you want to be alone,” Gerard said, “I can-“ 

“No, it’s fine,” Frank interrupted, “Really. I just thought you were Ray. Bedtime smoke is kind of a ritual of ours…”

“I see,” Gerard sighed, leaning against the railing beside Frank and lighting a cigarette of his own. Frank could see his face for just a moment in the faint glow of the small flame before it was buried under a layer of ash.

“Last time we were on tour we kept bumping into each other in the middle of the night. Kinda like this, actually. Turns out we both have really bad insomnia,” Frank went on, mostly to keep the silence at bay, “So after a while we made a habit of smoking the last cigarette of the day together.” 

“I remember you talking about touring a lot,” Gerard offered, “It's nice to hear you’ve gotten the chance to do it.” 

Frank glanced over at Gerard’s silhouette. The burning end of his cigarette was all Frank could really make out. He wanted to scowl at Gerard for being so nice, but he knew Gerard wouldn’t see it. 

“I can't do this with you, Gerard,” Frank said instead, "I hate it."  

Gerard let out a sharp, sincere laugh, choking on his cigarette smoke. 

“Hate? Wow, really?” He wheezed. 

“Yeah,” Frank grinned, finding confidence in the dark, “Ever since Ray brought you up, I've been wondering what you're like now. It's weird to see you like this. I was kinda hoping you’d still be a mess, or at the very least that you wouldn't be so damn nice."  

"I see you still say what's actually on your mind," Gerard commented, "I always liked that about you." 

"Don't start," Frank countered.

"Sorry," Gerard amended, "Is there some way I can make this easier?"

“I dunno…” Frank mused.

"What did you think I'd be like?" Gerard asked. 

“I guess I've always told myself I’m doing better than you are," said Frank.

“You seem like you have everything you wanted,” Gerard said, “Which is more than I can say.” 

“Are you being sarcastic?” Frank asked, “I can’t tell.” 

“Frank,” Gerard sighed, “When we were kids you wanted nothing more than to be in a band that was going somewhere. Don’t you have that now?”  

“But you help people,” Frank pointed out. “I don’t do shit for anyone.” 

“You help people in your own way, Frank,” Gerard countered, “Mikey says you guys have a huge following. Everyone knows Pencey. There’s no way you haven’t helped someone along the way.” 

“You think so?” Frank asked. 

“I do,” Gerard insisted. 

A lull in the conversation hit then. Frank wanted to say something awful to Gerard so that the guy would stop being so fucking nice, but he couldn’t think of a single bad thing to say. Gerard was great. If Frank hadn’t already gotten with Gerard, he’d probably be looking for some way to get with him now. 

Frank kept his focus on the treeline and let the silence consume them, praying Gerard would say something that Frank could dislike about him. 

Eventually, Frank did find something to pick on. “How come you never came out to one of our shows, if you knew about Pencey?” Frank asked.

“I didn’t know if you’d want me there,” Gerard answered. 

“I’m not like that,” Frank argued. 

“I didn't think you would be,” Gerard insisted, “And Mikey said you’ve always been nice to him. Thanks for that. But what if I had gone to one of your shows, Frank? What would I say if I ran into you? ‘Hey remember me? That loser from high school?' Mikey said he wasn’t even sure you’d remember me. How long did we even hang out for? A summer?” 

“More like a school year,” Frank pointed out. He immediately regretted bothering to correct Gerard as soon as it was past his lips. So much for keeping cool about all of this.

“I trust your memory better than mine," Gerard offered, recalling Frank's earlier comment.

“All I’m saying is you could’ve come out to see my band,” Frank countered, looking for a subject change. 

“Next time you play Jersey, I’ll come,” Gerard promised. 

“Deal,” Frank grinned. 

There was another lull between them, then. Frank had smoked his cigarette down past the point he usually let it burn to. The tar taste was just past tolerable. He flicked the still-smoking end off into the night, trying not to think about the distance between him and Gerard, or about how much more there was to compare about Gerard's memory against his own.

“…Gerard?” Frank asked softly.

“Yeah?” Gerard asked. 

“Thanks for being so cool about everything,” Frank said, "I think?"

“You too,” Gerard offered warmly, "I think. You know, taking responsibility is a big part of recovery. It sounds like you're still holding on to the way I used to be. That's probably my fault. I'm sorry, Frank, if I wronged you."

It was too nice, too open-ended. Frank wasn't sure if Gerard knew what he was sorry for. He wasn't sure it was the apology he'd been looking for. 

"I'm glad we were able to cross paths again," Gerard added.

"I didn't tell Ray," Frank said, trying to control the subject once more, "He doesn't know I used to know you."

"Are you guys..." Gerard faltered, "A thing?"

"Nah. He's just my best friend," Frank answered, "And on that note, I really hope you can help him, since I finally found something I can't help him with."

With that, Frank turned and headed back inside, leaving Gerard out on the balcony. He grabbed the blanket Ray had set out for him and curled up on the couch, deciding he’d be staying the night after all. He felt lighter. 

Ray had left the light in the hall on again. A new protection candle burned brightly on the coffee table, in the place where Frank’s empty beer bottles had been resting. Frank threw the blanket over his head and listened to the sounds of the apartment. 

It was quiet. He thought he might have even been able to hear Ray already snoring in the other room. The tech Gerard had splayed out across the floor made tiny beeping noises, but Frank didn’t dare to move to blanket to investigate further. 

Eventually Gerard came back in through the balcony door. Frank could hear the door slide open and click shut again, followed by Gerard’s footsteps. He sat down in one of the chairs across from the couch and heaved a tired sigh. 

The tech beeped a few more times and that was it before Frank drifted off to sleep. The beer in his system lazily pushed him along. 

When Frank awoke, Gerard was still sitting across from him. Frank had pulled the blanket off of his face in his sleep, giving him a plain view of Gerard without having to move. 

Gerard had a small reading light clipped to the top of the notepad resting on his knee. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he scribbled away at the page. 

Frank took advantage of the moment to thoroughly look Gerard over. His face was angular where it had once been rounded with youth and drinking. His hair was still a dark mess, though it was more contained somehow. He was just as pale, though it was less concerning than it had been back then. His lips were soft and pink instead of faded and cracked. He chewed on his lip as he stared down at the page. The hand that wasn’t holding his pen was idly tapping away on the arm rest. 

Gerard sighed and glanced up from his page, locking eyes with Frank. He looked surprised to find Frank staring back. Frank blushed and darted his gaze away. 

“I didn’t realize you were awake,” Gerard said softly. 

“I just woke up,” Frank lied hoarsely, “Anything from Ray?” 

“He seems to be sleeping just fine. The tech has been acting up a bit though,” Gerard said softly, “I’m almost ready to call it a night, I think.” 

“Cool,” Frank said, nuzzling against the familiar sage-burnt smell of the couch cushions.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Gerard asked. 

“No. I’m not sure why I’m awake,” Frank admitted, “What time is it?” 

“Almost 3:30,” Gerard said. 

Frank let out a long slow yawn as he stretched his limbs and adjusted his position on the couch to stare up at the blank, white ceiling. 

“What are you working on?” Frank whispered. 

“Oh, um. I’m developing a scientific method for this overnight observation work I’ve been doing,” Gerard whispered back, “My field isn’t always the most credible, you know? I have to take extra measures to get anyone to believe that what I’m doing is actually scientific research.” 

“Your methods seem very… um, methodical to me,” Frank giggled sleepily, “…Sorry, that was redundant. I’m like half awake.” 

“It’s fine,” Gerard said, “But, um, thank you for saying so.” 

“You’re welcome,” Frank breathed. 

Frank froze up as he heard the tech beep again. Gerard was quiet too. 

Frank wasn’t sure how long he laid there, holding his breath and staring at the ceiling as he listened for signs of the presence. There were no shadows in the corners of the room. No disembodied voices. It was cold, but it wasn’t getting any colder.  

“I still can’t believe you’re not a vegan anymore,” Gerard mused softly, “You used to give everyone so much shit for eating animal products. Bert McCracken thought you were so weird because you told him his glass of milk was full of puss and blood.”

“I don’t remember that at all,” Frank grinned, “But it sounds like something I would do.” 

“I don’t know if you’ll remember this, but there was this one time you and I went to Bert’s. We all smoked a ton of weed. And then everyone got the munchies so we got this tub of vanilla ice cream we’d found in his parent’s fridge. I’ll never forget the look on your face as we ate it. You were so conflicted. You looked like you wanted some, but you still hated us for eating it…. I can’t imagine what you must’ve been like the first time you ate ice cream again.” 

“You can watch me eat it whenever you want. I can’t imagine it’s particularly interesting," Frank laughed. “How is Bert anyways?” 

“He’s dead," Gerard said evenly, humor evaporating from his voice. 

“Oh. Shit. I had no idea,” Frank said softly, “I’m so sorry. You guys were…” 

“Close.” Gerard finished,“I miss him. He’s actually the reason I ended up studying this stuff. It was his funeral that I went to… He was the one who overdosed.” 

“Oh,” Frank breathed, “Fuck, Gerard. I’m so sorry.” 

Gerard shook his head, “It felt like no amount of love could stop him.”

The silence that enveloped them was different than the other silences. It was thick with all the things Frank wanted to say to Gerard. It was a knee-jerk reaction to want to console him. Frank had lost friends to drugs too. Some of those wounds were still fresh. It still hurt to think about the finality of death. The unfairness of it… 

Bert had been Gerard’s best friend. Even if he’d never liked Frank, Gerard had loved the guy to pieces. The idea that he was gone was sad to Frank, mostly because of what it must’ve meant for Gerard. 

“But death is part of life,” Gerard offered. 

A shrill, high-pitched whine came from the tech in the corner of the room. He could feel the temperature in the room start to drop, accompanied by another beep from the tech. 

“What’s happening?” Frank asked when Gerard didn’t comment on it. 

“What do you think?” Gerard asked in return. 

“It’s… in the room with us, isn’t it?” Frank guessed, feeling a shiver travel down his spine. 

“Sort of. It’s been in the room with us all night, really,” Gerard said, “But it seems to want to feed off of the negative subject matter in our conversations. That’s not a good sign.” 

“Why?” Frank asked. 

“Well, that’s probably how it’s getting to Ray in his sleep. The presence induces bad dreams and feeds off of the negative energy Ray emits as a result,” Gerard explained softly, “You sleep here often, right? Have you had any trouble sleeping when you sleep here?” 

“Ray just moved in, so I wouldn’t say I’ve slept over that much,” Frank said, “But I’m probably the wrong person to ask, anyway. I don’t usually remember my dreams.” 

“You don’t?” Gerard asked. 

“No.” Frank said, sitting up slowly and adjusting his position on the couch, hugging his knees to his chest. 

The idea that a nightmare-eating spirit was floating around did little to inspire thoughts of returning to sleep. Frank suddenly felt very awake. He pulled his thin, borrowed blanket around his shoulders and shivered in the cold. He was about to ask Gerard how he wasn’t freezing when he noticed that Gerard was wearing a coat. 

“Is it bad that I don’t remember my dreams?” Frank asked, meeting Gerard’s gaze.

“No,” Gerard said, looking thoughtful, “I mean, I can’t imagine what my art would be like without my dreams but actually… in my line of work, dreamlessness could come in handy.” 

“Do you still draw?” Frank asked.

“When I have the time,” Gerard shrugged, blinking curiously at Frank.  

Another shrill beep sounded from the tech. Frank understood what Gerard meant by the differences in the noises the tech made. The one that alerted them of the temperature drops was lower in pitch. Frank wasn’t sure what the other sound represented, but the fact that Gerard hadn’t bothered to explain it seemed sort of ominous.  

“Why would it be desirable to um, not dream?” Frank asked, keeping the conversation going. It had gotten so cold he swore he could see his breath. Gerard's eyes kept shifting to the corner of the room and back, making Frank incredibly uneasy. But when Gerard's eyes met Frank's, there was genuine interest in them.

“The same reason Ray is having trouble now,” Gerard explained softly, “Most of my colleagues have been attacked in their sleep. If we weren’t open to them in that way, if they couldn't follow us home… I can’t even begin to quantify the possibilities.”

Frank opened his mouth to comment when there was another shrill sound coming from the tech. It was followed by another sound, which reminded Frank of an alarm, more than anything else.  

“There are ways of inhibiting dreams,” Gerard concluded, “Though most methods would involve things I no longer partake in.” 

From the soft frown on Gerard’s face, Frank decided it wasn’t a subject he liked to discuss. But in his sleep-logged state, Frank couldn’t come up with a subject change. So as they stared at one another, the tech continued making it’s unpleasant, shrill noises. Frank found himself increasingly unnerved as the sounds happened with increasing frequency until it was almost rhythmic. Gerard seemed incredibly calm about the whole thing, which was the only reason Frank hadn’t run out of the apartment already. 

As Gerard stared at him, Frank wondered what Gerard thought about him now. He’d been wondering about it all night, if he was perfectly honest. In the back of his mind he could still hear Gerard's voice on the other end of the line, talking about what the pills were like, talking about what moving to New York after high school would be like... Did Gerard still think Frank was special or had the illusion worn off? 

“What’s happening?” Frank whispered. 

“Don’t draw attention to it,” Gerard warned, flicking his gaze over towards the corner of the room, “The data I’m collecting right now is- I can’t even put it in layman’s terms, really. It’s amazing.”  

“This feeling in my chest,” Frank explained, "I think it's fear." 

“Don’t be afraid,” Gerard insisted under his breath, “That’s exactly what it wants.” 

Frank started to turn his head to look over his shoulder at whatever Gerard was seeing, but stopped when Gerard fiercely shook his head. 

“Don’t look,” He said.

“Why not?” Frank asked, obediently keeping his eyes trained in front of him. He sat as still as he could, feeling a shiver shoot up his spine. His eyes were fixed on Gerard’s puffs of breath, dancing around the glow from his reading light. 

“Just don’t,” Gerard said sharply. 

The beeping noises had grown incredibly erratic. They were accompanied by a low, menacing buzzing noise. Like radio static wired through two distortion pedals and a bit crusher. Frank had no fucking clue how Ray was sleeping through it -

Which made sense when suddenly Ray wasn’t sleeping through it anymore. Frank startled when he heard a familiar, distinct cry of fear come from Ray’s room. 

“Frank, listen closely,” Gerard said sternly, “I want you to go get Ray and I want you to get the hell out of here. Take Ray back to your place.” 

“What are you gonna do?” Frank asked.

“I’m going to subdue it,” Gerard said, rising out of his chair and fishing in his coat pocket, “And then I’ll find you guys… somehow.” 

“Apartment 13. Building C.” Frank said. He kept the blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he stood up. 

“That’s my unit,” Frank clarified when Gerard just blinked.

“Yeah. I got that,” Gerard grinned, teeth shining by the light of his reading light, “It’s just fitting for you.” 

“Uh. Yeah?” Frank said, not sure how Gerard could smile when they were in the same room as a nightmare-eating ghost. 

Frank kept his eyes on the ground as he tiptoed past Gerard, towards Ray’s room. The light in the hallway was flickering like crazy. Frank gave it a quick glance, but immediately covered his eyes. If the thing exploded, the last thing he wanted was to get the broken glass in his eyes. 

If Ray was awake now, he was weirdly quiet.

“Uh, Ray?” Frank called out, tapping on Ray’s door, “Are you okay, dude?” 

“Frankie?” Ray asked groggily, “What’s going on?” 

“I need to get you out of here. We’re going back to my place,” Frank explained, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. He gently pushed Ray’s door open and let himself into the dark room, feeling around for the light switch on the wall. Ray beat him to it by flicking his lighter on. By the light of the small flame, Ray looked absolutely terrified.

“Gerard says we have to go,” Frank clarified, “I’ll explain as soon as we’re back at my place.” 

Ray groaned as he let go of the release on the lighter, shrouding them both into the darkness again. Frank waited by the door as Ray wrestled his way out of the bed. 

“Don’t worry about grabbing anything. We’ll come back when it’s daylight,” Frank promised. 

“Just looking for my pants,” Ray explained, letting out a breath of a laugh, “Fuck, it’s cold in here.” 

“Yeah. No shit,” Frank snorted. He was still trying to listen to what Gerard was doing back in the living room. The tech had stopped making it’s unsettling beeping sounds and the buzzing had dissipated, but that somehow just made Frank more afraid. He couldn’t hear anything coming from the other room. The coins in the back pocket of Ray’s jeans jingled as he slid them on, blocking out what little of the shuffling sounds Frank thought he could hear.

“Quickly and quietly,” Frank whispered, once Ray was at his side, “And whatever you do, don’t look at it.” 

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Ray whispered back, linking arms with Frank.  

Frank kept his eyes on the carpet as he lead Ray towards the door. As they passed the entrance to the living room, he could hear Gerard mumbling to himself. It was thoughtless and rhythmic, like a prayer, and it didn’t sound like English.

Before he knew it, Frank was shouldering his way out the front door and out into the night. Even though it was still early spring, the outside air felt a thousand times warmer than the air in Ray’s apartment. 

Ray shivered against Frank’s side for a moment before Frank wrapped an arm around Ray’s shoulders to give him half of the thin blanket. 

“Do you want my hoodie?” Frank asked softly. 

Ray shook his head and yawned. 

“I have to move out,” Ray said hoarsely, jumping right onto the problem at hand. 

“You don’t have to move. Gerard’s going to fix this,” Frank promised, though he didn’t know why he sounded so sure of himself. 

“I need a cigarette,” Ray sighed. 

“You still got that lighter?” Frank asked, letting go of his side of the blanket to pull his pack of smokes out. He handed one to Ray and pursed the other between his lips. 

Frank felt a little better once his cigarette was lit. As they made their way through the parking lot, Frank realized he was still shivering. His mind was still racing. He couldn’t keep himself from imagining the former graveyard below them, under six inches of concrete, even if the graves had been moved decades before. 

Ray was shaking too, though Frank couldn’t decide what the cause was.

It felt like they broke some kind of record with how quickly they were stepping off the asphalt and onto the stairs up to the second floor of building C. 

“So what happened?” Ray asked as they stood outside of Frank’s front door, finishing up their smoke. 

“I don’t know,” Frank answered, “Gerard and I were talking and then all that equipment started going off. It was making all kinds of awful noises. And then it got really fucking cold. Gerard wouldn’t tell me what it meant, just that it was in the room with us…” 

“What’s Gerard doing?” Ray asked. 

“I don’t know. Some weird mad scientist shit, I’m sure,” Frank scoffed, crushing his cigarette under his sneaker and fishing in his pocket for his keys, “I told him I’d wait up for him.”  

“Does he know where you live? I think I forgot my phone,” Ray said, patting down his pockets.

“I told him,” Frank nodded, shouldering into his apartment. 

Frank stole a glance over at Ray once they were inside, and what he saw broke his heart. His bandmate looked like absolute shit. He had impressive dark circles under his eyes. His lips were curled into a firm, unhappy frown. The way he was looking at Frank made it seem like he was about to cry and the thin blanket wrapped around his shoulders only served to make him look sadder somehow.

“Um, Ray…” Frank started, “If you wanna crash out in my bed… I can take the couch.” 

“Nice of you to offer,” Ray mumbled, lips twitching in a sad smile, “But I don’t-“ 

“You look like you haven’t slept in days, dude,” Frank insisted, “I’ll wait up for Gerard and tell you what he said in the morning, alright?” 

“Okay dude. If you’re sure,” his bandmate yawned, scratching the back of his head and starting to head towards Frank’s room. 

“It’s not like we’ll be able to do anything about this tonight,” Frank said, “Best if we just get some sleep.” 

“You’re right,” Ray mumbled. 

“If you need me I’ll be in here,” Frank said, watching after his friend as he disappeared into the bedroom. 

Frank pulled out another cigarette and reached into the pocket of a coat hanging by the door in hopes he’d find a lighter. After digging around in both the outer pockets, he finally found a book of matches in the inner pocket. He stepped out onto the walkway outside his apartment door, deciding it wasn’t cold enough to necessitate the coat. His fingers had finally thawed out enough to properly use the matches. 

As he smoked his cigarette, he squinted in the dark, looking for any signs of Gerard. Frank typically enjoyed the quiet emptiness of the parking lot. He liked how desolate it was when he went out for a cigarette in the middle of the night. Now he just wished there was one other person. Anyone. A drunk frat boy. A fighting couple. Someone walking their dog. Anyone to cut the emptiness. The emptiness made Frank uncomfortable. 

It was an entire cigarette later that he saw a dark blob emerge from Ray’s building in the distance. The dark blob made it’s way across the lot in slow a zig-zag pattern until it looked vaguely Gerard-shaped under the industrial orange lighting. Frank realized he’d told Gerard which building he lived in, but he hadn’t exactly given Gerard any directions towards it. As Gerard got closer, Frank could see he had his shoebox of tools tucked under one arm. It sort of blew his mind that Gerard had taken the time to pack up all that shit in the presence of the thing in Ray’s apartment. If it had been Frank, he would’ve been out of that apartment, expensive technology be damned… 

Eventually Gerard must’ve spotted Frank because he waved and quickened his pace. Frank just rolled his eyes. The guy had a fucking smile on his face. In spite of everything, Gerard was still in a good mood. 

Frank watched him take the stairs up to the second floor, flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette as Gerard got closer. 

“Frank…” Gerard called out, once he was in earshot, “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” Frank shrugged. 

“Are you sure?” Gerard asked, reaching out his hand to touch Frank as soon as he was close enough. He jerked his hand back as soon as he realized he was doing it and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear.

“What about Ray?” Gerard pressed, “Where is he? Is he okay?”

“Yeah. He already went back to sleep. We’re both okay but… what the fuck, Gerard? What was that?” Frank asked, feeling anger and confusion start to bubble up inside him now that the fear and wonder had subsided.  

“I don’t know. I’ll have to run some tests on the data…” Gerard said. 

“If you knew it was dangerous why did you let us stay there?” Frank asked icily, flicking his still-smoking cigarette off the railings, “I don’t give a fuck about myself, obviously, but Ray could’ve gotten hurt.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts.” Gerard said, fighting a smirk. 

“I don’t.” Frank countered, “But Ray does. And that doesn’t matter anyways. Ghosts or no ghosts. I don’t care about your research. If Ray gets hurt in any way because of this shit, I will fuck you up. That’s a promise.” 

“Frank, hey. No need for physical threats.” Gerard cooed, setting down his box of tech. It made a clunking sound as the pieces of equipment inside bumped against one another. 

“Sorry I just…” Frank sighed, “What happened back there was…” 

He couldn’t finish his sentence. There was too much weird shit Frank couldn’t explain going on and it was making his head spin. Not to mention his totally annoying, totally sweet, totally beautiful high school fling was standing in front of him looking concerned. He wanted to punch Gerard, and then kiss Gerard, and then punch himself. 

“I know.” Gerard said softly, “But listen to me, Frank. I won’t ever… I mean, I will never… I mean, I would never, ever, put you or Ray or anyone else in harms way… I promise.” 

“I hate you.” Frank sighed. 

“I know.” Gerard nodded, “I get it.” 

Another flash of anger went through Frank. He hated that Gerard was cool with Frank hating him. He hated that Gerard could be so blasé about everything from ghosts to ex-boyfriends. 

“Don’t agree with me.” Frank commanded, crossing his arms and frowning at Gerard.

“Okay, I um…” Gerard faltered, shoving his hands in his pockets, “I hate you, too?” 

“Good.” Frank nodded. 

“You can’t agree with me either though.” Gerard pointed out, “That’s just hypocritical.” 

“I…” Frank paused, “You know what? Fuck you.” 

“Um, yeah. Okay.” Gerard sighed, “Look, Frank, I’m going to go over the data as soon as I get home. Tell Ray I’ll call him in the morning. And have him call me if anything else weird happens.” 

“If anything else weird happens I’m calling a professional.” Frank snapped. 

“Ouch.” Gerard breathed, “Well, uh, alright. I get why you’re upset with me. I’m gonna go. So, ahm, good night… I guess?” 

And just like that Gerard picked up his shoebox of tools, turned his back on Frank and headed for the stairs. 

“Gerard, wait.” Frank commanded.

Gerard paused and turned to look at Frank curiously.  

“When, um, when this is over…” Frank mumbled, staring down at his shoes, “Do you wanna maybe, I don’t know, get a drink or something? Just to like, catch up or whatever…” 

It had been a simple ‘yes or no’ question, but that didn’t stop Gerard from taking his sweet time in answering. Every second that Gerard didn’t speak felt like an eternity.

The suggestion itself had been an impulse derived from his temper. Frank supposed he could explain that it was a poor suggestion, that his temper made him impulsive. But explaining it would do nothing to help him deny it. The worst Gerard could do was say ‘no,’ which would only make Frank feel justified in hating him. Finally. 

Even though it was dark out, Frank could feel the way his cheeks were burning. He didn’t want to risk Gerard seeing that. He kept his eyes on the ground, noting that he was probably going to have to tie his right sneaker pretty soon because the lace was coming loose.  

“Frank, I…. I don’t drink…” Gerard said slowly, finally. 

“Fuck, of course…” Frank breathed, feeling his heart drop, “I’m sorry, I-”

“But there’s somewhere I want to take you…” Gerard interrupted, “If you still don’t believe in ghosts, I mean…”

Frank’s head shot up. He met Gerard’s gaze sheepishly. 

Frank fucking believed in ghosts. After what he had been witness to in the past hour, there was no denying their existence. But Frank could play along and keep pretending he didn’t believe if it meant Gerard would take him somewhere they could be alone.

“Uh. Yeah. Cool.” Frank said slowly, biting back a smile as he stared into Gerard’s eyes. 

“I have to go to a show with Mikey tomorrow night but uh, I’d be free after the show. Or um, maybe the night after that?” Gerard offered. 

“I’m down for whatever.” Frank shrugged. 

Frank could feel the chill expression he’d been wearing completely collapse as Gerard laughed at him. 

“What?” Frank pressed nervously, feeling himself blush all over again.  

“First you tell me you hate me, then you tell me to fuck off…” Gerard grinned, staring off into the parking lot behind Frank, “And now you wanna go out for a drink and you’re down for whatever… Nothing changes around here. You’re still a piece of work, you know that?” 

“Well, when you put it that way.” Frank huffed, failing miserably at the ‘not smiling’ thing. 

“It’s not a judgement call. Just an observation…” Gerard shrugged, “Um, get my number from Ray?” 

“‘Kay.” Frank said. 

“Uh, good night… Again.” Gerard said, smiling at Frank. 

“Yeah. Try not to trip on any ghosts on the way to your car.” Frank called after Gerard, taking a step towards his door. 

“Fuck you.” Gerard chuckled.   

Frank was so caught up in the incredibly awkward, strange moment he’d had with Gerard that he’d forgotten Ray was in his bed. He was grinning like an idiot until he got to his room and saw Ray curled up on one side of the bed, fast asleep with the lights still on. 

He tiptoed across the room and laid down on the other side of the bed. He’d slept in the same bed as Ray plenty of times on tour. They’d gotten past the weirdness of it long ago. Ray was actually Frank’s favorite friend to sleep next to. He never stole the blankets, never kicked or punched, or talked in his sleep, and he always stayed on his side of the bed. Some day he was gonna make some girl very happy with all of that, Frank thought to himself. Some girl didn’t even know how lucky she was. Frank had slept next to plenty of guys who weren’t as nice to sleep beside as Ray Toro was. 

But it didn’t take long for Frank’s thoughts to slip back to Gerard. 

What the fuck did he think he was doing asking his ex out for a drink? 

It was too late to back out… Well, no, it wasn’t actually.  He could just never call Gerard, never set something up. 

But something in Frank’s gut was telling him that he didn’t want to back out. Gerard had his life together in a way Frank never would have expected. And just as unexpectedly, he wanted to take Frank out somewhere, even if that somewhere was bound to be haunted and terrifying. Frank would be a fool not to see where it went. Gerard was too sweet, too successful, too pretty to pass up.

He almost wished he’d asked Gerard to stay the night, to keep them safe from whatever was lurking out in the parking lot. Frank had never been afraid of the dark before, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up and turn the light off. He told himself it was better if he left it on, that way if Ray woke up he wouldn’t be afraid. In the back of his mind, he knew he’d feel better if Gerard had been there. 

He drifted off to sleep with his mind reeling a constant loop of a faded memory of Gerard’s lips. If Gerard knew so much about getting rid of ghosts, Frank wondered if he had the means to get rid of memories too. He had a few that he needed help removing. 

~ 

Frank woke up to smell of coffee. Ray wasn’t beside him in the bed anymore. As he sat up in bed and glanced out the window, he realized the sun was already high in the sky. He rolled out of bed and peeled off yesterday’s tight, black clothes, switching into clean jeans and a clean-passing t-shirt. 

He wandered after the scent of coffee until found Ray sprawled out on the living room couch with his cell phone pressed to his ear. 

Frank grinned sleepily at his bandmate and made his way into the kitchen to make himself a cup of caffeine. He definitely hadn’t slept enough hours, and the hours he’d slept hadn’t been restful enough. It was nothing the coffee couldn’t fix. 

It was embarrassing how quickly Frank found himself thinking about Gerard all over again. Frank blamed it on the mug of coffee in his hand. Gerard liked coffee. 

It wasn’t like Frank remembered everything about his long-lost ex, he defended to himself. He wasn’t that sentimental. There were details that stuck out though. He knew Gerard liked metal because all of his awful friends had liked metal. He couldn’t list any of the bands Gerard liked, he just remembered the way Gerard and his friends would all get up and air guitar at each other when they were drunk. He knew Gerard liked old horror films only because one had been playing on the TV the first time they’d kissed. 

Frank was certain he remembered Gerard needing coffee, though he couldn’t attach any particular memories to it. 

Frank didn’t feel weird for remembering things about Gerard. Gerard clearly remembered things about Frank that he didn’t seem to remember about himself… like the incident with the ice cream Gerard had mentioned the night before, or Frank’s constant talk of wanting to be in a band. He’d always loved music, but he hadn’t remembered being passionately vocal about it.  

To that end, Frank didn’t know what to make of Gerard remembering him so well. Maybe Gerard just had a really good memory? Maybe he remembered all kinds of things that Frank couldn’t? Maybe that was one of the many perks of sobriety? That was easier to believe than the idea that Gerard remembered Frank because he cared. He didn’t care. He hadn’t cared when they were teenagers. Why should it be different now that they were adults? 

But Gerard had agreed to see Frank again, away from Ray’s haunted apartment… that had to count for something, didn’t it? 

Frank had made himself sick with circular thoughts. He’d also gone and chugged two cups of coffee on an empty stomach without even stopping to think about it, so it was hard to pinpoint the source of the overwhelming nausea in the pit of his stomach. He opened his fridge and stared at the shelves in search of something to calm the dizziness. That was when Ray came bounding into the kitchen. 

“I just got off the phone with Gerard.” Ray said, handing Frank a piece of torn-off notebook paper, “He says you should call him, when you can…” 

“Oh. Uh. Okay.” Frank said sleepily, accepting the page. 

“He, uh, he seems… cool?” Ray offered. He gave Frank a look as he said it. 

The two of them didn’t talk about dating much. Ray knew that Frank was gay. Frank knew that Ray was straight. They left it at that. Frank had never been much of a touchy-feely, ‘let’s talk about our feelings’ kind of guy anyways. 

Frank couldn’t help but smile at his friend’s attempt at support, or approval, or… whateverthefuck it was that Ray was trying to convey.  

“He just went into a lecture though, so you should wait a little while to call him. I think he’s teaching for the next couple of hours.” Ray went on. 

“Cool.” Frank said, staring at the numbers on the page, “What did he say about… your place?” 

“It’s worse than he thought.” Ray sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “He’s going to bring in an exorcist tonight or maybe tomorrow night, depending on the guy’s availability.” 

“Bummer.” Frank said, folding up the paper and shoving it in his back pocket. He moved towards the sink to rinse out his coffee cup. 

“Um, Frank, man, listen… is it cool if I crash here until this is all-“

Frank shushed him as he put his cup on the dish rack. 

“Ray, you’re always welcome here, no matter what. You don’t  have to ask. It’s cool with me.” Frank promised. 

“Oh uh, okay. Thanks, Frank.” Ray nodded solemnly. 

“I know you’d do the same for me.” Frank said, waving a dismissive hand in Ray’s direction. 

“Well, cool.” Ray said, running a hand over his hair. The gesture was useless. The tufts just bounced back into place, towering over his head. 

“Anyways dude,” Ray went on, “I have to get to work… but uh, I’ll be off around 9. You wanna go to a show or something?” 

“Sure,” Frank nodded, “Is anything cool going on?” 

“I dunno. This guy I know is playing and like, we could just go check it out? Leave if it sucks? Get beer or something?” Ray shrugged. 

“Sounds like a plan.” Frank said. 

“Alright, I’ll call you when I’m off.” Ray said, disappearing into the hallway to put his coat on. 

Frank headed back to his room to find his coat, hoping his pack of cigarettes were still tucked in the pocket. 

He heard Ray call out a goodbye from across the apartment and then, just like that, he was alone. 

Ray was one of the only remaining members of their band that kept a regular day job and it was mostly just a formality anyways. The band made enough money playing shows to support themselves, sort of. Frank himself had quit his day job at the local radio station a few months ago to focus on his own music. 

Only today he couldn’t focus on his own music at all. When he wasn’t staring out the window, looking for signs of evil in between the parked cars outside, he was looking for signs of evil inside his own apartment. When he’d exhausted himself with matters of ghouls and graveyards, he found himself anxious about calling Gerard. 

Smoking weed all day probably hadn’t helped matters much. Frank couldn’t get his mind off of Gerard, no matter how much weed he smoked. And when it finally came time to call Gerard, he was on the verge of too stoned to even punch Gerard’s number into his phone correctly. It was just his luck that by the time he got up the courage to hit the ‘call’ button, Gerard didn’t even pick up. 

Frank had a fraction of a moment to decide if he was going to bother with leaving a message, quickly deciding it was better to leave one. Gerard’s voicemail greeting was short, professional, and forgettable. Frank couldn’t make fun of it too much though. Gerard was probably required to have something relatively normal, given his line of work. 

“Uh, Gerard.” Frank mumbled into the phone, “It’s me- Frank, I mean. Call me or… don’t? No. Do. I mean, I want you to.” 

Frank quickly hung up, groaning in dissatisfaction with the message he’d left. It was awkward. He’d probably sounded stoned. Gerard probably wouldn’t call him back. Or he’d only call back out of pity and politeness since they’d have to be seeing each other until Ray’s apartment was cleared. 

As soon as the ghosts were gone, Gerard was bound to disappear too. Frank didn’t even blame him for it. 

Frank was itching to get out of the house by the time Ray finally called him and picked him up to drive them to the venue. He needed a drink before they even found a parking spot. He didn’t want to be drunk, he just wanted to take his mind off of things and beer was great for that. It would provide a distraction from Gerard, or at least get him out of Frank’s head long enough for Frank to chill out about Gerard. 

After Ray bought them a round of beers, they ran into a friend of Ray’s. Frank didn’t like the guy much, but he didn’t really have the capacity to complain when he finally had a beer in his hand. Ray’s friend looked familiar somehow, but he looked familiar in the same way everyone else in the room did. Frank had probably met him once before, or seen him at a show somewhere. When the guy started babbling on and on to Ray about guitars, Frank got the feeling he’d seen the guy’s band before. He couldn’t place Ray’s friend and he didn’t know why it bothered him. 

By his second beer, Frank had successfully sort of stopped thinking about Gerard. 

Or, stopped thinking about Gerard until he checked his phone and found that Gerard still hadn’t called him back. 

It hadn’t been long enough for Frank to declare that Gerard was never going to call him, but it still left a sinking feeling in his chest. 

The more time that passed, the more worried Frank grew that Gerard still saw him as an angsty, inexperienced church mouse with strict parents and a lack of respect for all institutions. Half of it was still true, but Frank liked to think he’d grown out of the ‘inexperienced church mouse’ title with grace. He hated how much he cared what Gerard thought. He hated how he felt like he had to prove something to Gerard. 

After shoving his phone in his pocket for the tenth time and swearing he wouldn’t look at it again, Frank saw a mop of messy, over-styled light-brown hair floating through the crowd. There was only one dude in all of Jersey with hair fashioned so meticulously and that one dude was Mikey Way. 

Frank went from excited to incredibly fucking unexcited as he remembered that Gerard had said he was supposed to go out to a show with Mikey. 

Curse Jersey and it’s tight-knit music scene… Frank was at the same fucking show. 

So much for forgetting about Gerard. 

Frank ducked behind Ray, but quickly realized it was a bad plan of action. Ray had the second most-noticeable hair in the room, after Mikey. Frank quickly glanced around at the groups of people standing around and reasoned that changing locations was safe when he didn’t spot any familiar, gorgeous exorcists. Frank squeezed Ray’s shoulder and excused himself, mumbling under his breath about needing a smoke. 

Alone outside the venue, Frank could hear himself think a little better. He lit a cigarette and let the calming nicotine fill his lungs as he tried to piece together an escape plan. 

He could just leave. 

He could catch the bus home. He could find a bar around the corner and hang out until Ray was done with his business at the venue. There were lots of ways out, if he could just pick one. 

It sucked to realize he would’ve ended up at the same venue as Gerard, regardless of whether Ray’s apartment was haunted or not. It was a small enough town. The odds weren’t that… odd. 

Frank hated himself so much for caring. It wasn’t like him to get so worked up. He blamed the weed he’d smoked earlier. Weed and Gerard’s stupid pretty face. 

“Frank?” a scratchy voice asked, derailing his self-loathing, panicky mind track. 

And oh no. No way. Or, yes, Way. 

This wasn’t happening. Frank’s luck couldn’t be that bad.  

He looked up and, sure enough, he found himself face to face with Gerard. 

Gerard was dressed up in a white button down and a black sweater, appearing much more formal than he had the night before. His black tangle of hair even seemed more managed somehow. If Frank had to guess, he’d say the guy had come straight from work. 

“Uh, hi.” Frank offered. 

“What’re you doing out here?” Gerard asked, giving Frank one of his dazzling, polite smiles. It wasn’t the kind of smile someone would give to a person they’d intentionally avoided calling all day, which only served to confuse Frank more. 

“Ray invited me out. He knows a guy in one of the bands that’s playing.” Frank explained quickly, puffing on his cigarette nervously, “I can leave if you want.” 

“Why would I want that?” Gerard asked, cocking his head. 

“I don’t know?” Frank answered honestly, abandoning any hope of pretending everything wasn’t completely weird and confusing and awful. 

“Oh wait…” Gerard said, scrunching up his nose, “Oh shit. I fucking forgot to call you back and made everything weird, didn’t I?” 

“I got the impression you forgot on purpose.” Frank shrugged. “Which is totally cool. I get it. It’s-”

“No.” Gerard countered quickly, “Jesus… No. I… I uncovered a demon’s nest disguised as a convent when I was out in the field with James earlier. It ruined my whole afternoon. I was supposed to fucking grade papers and the time just slipped away from me…” 

“Oh, well… then…” Frank faltered, “Well then… you must be a busy guy?”

The conversation was going so awkwardly, Frank was going to need another drink as soon as it was over. 

“I am, but… I should’ve called you back. I meant to. I wanted to.” Gerard explained, taking a step closer to Frank. 

“Well, you’re here now?” Frank said, “You don’t need to call me. We can just… make plans now if you want.”

“Yeah okay.” Gerard nodded. 

“So last night you said something about being free after the show tonight?” Frank suggested. 

“Oh, I’m uh, I’m sort of here with someone.” Gerard said. 

Frank raised a curious eyebrow, trying to conceal the immediate jealousy that curled in his stomach. 

“Just a friend.” Gerard amended quickly, “James, actually, the exorcist I told you about last night. He’s inside with Mikey. Doesn’t like cigarettes much.” 

“Oh…” Frank mumbled, “Yeah… uh.” 

“I sort of promised him a ride home.” Gerard explained, “He can’t drive.” 

“Cool well uh, I guess… we could plan for tomorrow?” Frank offered hopefully, “But uh, you should just call me to confirm, in case like, I don’t know… you uncover more demon’s nests or whateverthefuck you just said.” 

“Okay.” Gerard laughed. “Thanks for um… being so understanding.”

“Hey, what’re exes for, right?” Frank said with a cheerful smile, regretting it as soon as he saw Gerard’s face fall. 

“Um yeah.” Gerard nodded, trying to laugh it off. 

Frank wanted to ask why what he’d said seemed to hit a nerve. He wanted to ask about the demon nest Gerard had uncovered earlier in the day because that didn’t sound like a normal workday at all. He also wanted to know why Gerard was outside the venue, instead of inside with his friend. But Frank didn’t ask any of those things. Instead he just grinned hopelessly around his cigarette, willing Gerard to go away so he could replay their awful conversation in his head five million times and hate himself for it. 

“Well, I’ll see you inside.” Gerard said, giving Frank a small wave. 

“Yeah, see you.” Frank nodded, dropping his gaze to the dirty, gum-spattered pavement.

He didn’t watch Gerard walk away. Frank already wanted to punch himself in the face enough as it was. 

Frank purposefully took too much time finishing his cigarette as he planned his escape.The idea of finding a bar around the corner and waiting the show out seemed only more appealing after he was sure Gerard has gone back inside. After taking an experimental step away, he found himself spinning around and wandering back inside, keeping his eyes low. 

Weaving through the small groups of people spread out across the room, he found Ray and his friend. They had been joined by a few more guys that Frank was sure he’d seen around before. Ray told Frank their names, but he immediately forgot them. He had never been very good with names. It was just another thing he could thank weed for. Thanks, Weed. 

Ray’s friend bought the group a round of beers. Ray slid his drink over to Frank because he had to drive later on. 

Frank felt weird about bringing the bottle up to his lips. It felt wrong to drink in the same room as Gerard, even though he’d literally done it the night before with Gerard’s blessing. As he knocked back the first gulp, Frank wondered what it felt like for Gerard to be sober at a bar. Frank certainly didn’t have that kind of self control. He had no idea how Gerard could have fun at a bar without drinking. 

He guzzled down the rest of his beer as quickly as he could in hopes that it would help to chill him the fuck out. If he was going to be in the same room as Gerard for any length of time, he was going to need more alcohol… 

When it looked like the music was about to start Frank floated away from Ray and his friends and maneuvered his way towards the stage, squeezing into a spot in the crowd. People were moving around on stage, plugging in their instruments and tinkering with the sound equipment. 

Frank was desperate for the music by the time the first guitar licks came crunching out of the PA system. He didn’t know the band and he didn’t need to. The beer had hit, giving him the push he needed. He let the music do the rest. 

As the space filled with sound, everything around Frank dulled. His brain shut down as he let the music flow through him. He let his body get tossed around with the motion of the crowd, operating entirely on the notions of the people surrounding him. It was there that he found the release he’d been chasing all day. Standing in the middle of the crowd, Frank could forget himself for five minutes and just dance. He’d gone out to have a good time, after all. Not to talk to Gerard, not to pretend he cared about fancy guitars with Ray’s friends. 

An uncomfortable feeling settled in Frank’s stomach as the first song ended and the band’s singer started talking into the mic. Frank felt like he was being watched. He knew he was being watched, in a peripheral sort of way, by the people around him. There must’ve been at least 50 people standing behind him. Any of them could have their eyes fixed on the back of his head. 

This unsettling feeling was different, though. Frank tried to ignore it through a few more songs, but the feeling only seemed to grow. 

He tried his hardest not to look for Gerard in the crowd. He didn’t see any tragic mops of black hair, not that he was searching for one or anything. Towards the end of the set, Frank shoved forward to the front row, squeezing himself up against the stage. If he forced himself to look forward, all he’d be able to see was the band playing, which was how he wanted it. How he needed it. 

When the first band’s set was over, Frank was a sweaty, disgusting mess. As the crowd loosened up and Frank caught sight of the line for the men’s room, he drifted over to the bar to grab another beer to drink while he waited in line. In the absence of the band, the bar had formed quite the crowd around it. It took him a minute to slide in between the patrons to order himself a drink. 

The dude sitting on the barstool beside where Frank was standing was wearing sunglasses. Classic black RayBans, to be specific. It was way too dark inside the venue to necessitate sunglasses of any kind. Frank was having a hard enough time seeing as it was. Frank’s curiosity was piqued. He turned his head to covertly look the guy over and realized the guy’s head was turned in Frank’s direction.

“You must be Frank.” the guy said, sliding his sunglasses down his nose to look at Frank. 

“Uh yeah, I am.” Frank said slowly, “I’m sorry, do I know you?” 

“James.” the guy said evenly, leaning back to let some guy reach between them and grab his drink off the counter. 

“Gerard’s friend.” Frank said. 

“That’s right.” He nodded. 

He was wearing the same outfit as Gerard more or less, now that Frank was paying attention. White button down shirt with a stiff collar, black sweater. His mousey brown hair was slicked back. A single tuft of hair had pulled away from the rest and hung down over his face.

“Nice to finally meet you.” Frank said, sticking his hand out for a handshake, “Uh, where’s Gerard?” 

James eyed Frank’s extended hand for a moment before reaching out to take it and shake it firmly. His hand was incredibly cold and damp, Frank noticed. It was a welcome shock to his senses, given how miserably hot Frank felt at that moment. 

“Gerard’s in line for the bathroom, I think.” James said. 

It was then that Frank noticed the color of James’ eyes. His irises appeared to be a deep, inhuman shade of violet. Frank thought it was just the lighting, but when he glanced around, nobody else had violet in their eyes. As soon as James noticed Frank comparing him to a sloshy bro behind him, he slid his sunglasses back into place. 

The sunglasses suddenly made a lot of sense. 

The bartender slid a bottle of beer across the counter towards Frank. 

“Can I buy you a drink or something?” Frank asked, immediately deciding he wanted to be on good terms with Gerard’s paranormal friend. He slapped a couple bills down on the bar, smiling thankfully at the bartender. 

“I don’t like to drink around Gerard.” James said, “But thanks for offering.” 

“No problem.” Frank said, “Honestly… I feel weird about drinking around him, too. It’s just been, uh, a weird couple of days. I need to be… not sober.” 

“Completely understandable.” James said, “He doesn’t mind it, usually… It’s just that I knew him before he got clean. Seeing me with a bottle in my hand bothers him.” 

“Oh.” Frank mumbled.

Frank awkwardly took a sip of his beer, stealing a glance at the people around him in search of Ray’s fro. As ridiculous as it may have sounded, he’d feel less weird about sitting with a unfamiliar, violet-eyed psychic if Ray was around. 

“What did you think of the band?” Frank asked conversationally, hoping to bring some normalcy to the situation. 

“I liked the band.” James said, “I don’t really like bars, though. Too many… voices.” 

“I guess that makes sense” Frank offered. He wondered if James was responsible for that weird feeling he’d had when he was in the pit. He was about to ask when James spoke up. 

“He likes you, you know?” James said, abruptly changing the subject.

“Who?” Frank mumbled, glancing around again to make sure Gerard hadn’t heard. 

“Don’t worry. He’s still in line for the bathroom.” James laughed. 

“How did you-?” Frank asked, brow furrowing as he looked back to James. 

James just shrugged. 

Frank took a less awkward gulp of his drink, abandoning any notions of polite formality. If James wanted to pull psychic shit on Frank, Frank was just going to enjoy his beer, guilt-free. 

“He’s hiding behind his work.” James said, “He has a tendency to do that when he likes someone.” 

“Maybe he just prefers the company of demons.” Frank said, “You don’t have to make it about me.”   

“I told him you’d be here tonight and he tried to bail.” James countered, flashing Frank a sly smile. 

“Wouldn’t that be a pretty good indication he doesn’t like me?” Frank pointed out. 

“He thought about you all day.” James smirked, “I could fucking hear it. Sitting in traffic on the way back from the convent was…. Well…” 

“Did he say anything about me?” Frank asked sarcastically, picking at the label on his bottle. 

“No, he didn’t. That’s how I could tell…” James answered, “Before he comes back over here, can I make a suggestion?” 

“Sure.” Frank nodded. 

“Give me your keys. Tell Ray you’ll be home later tonight… Then tell Gerard you want him to take you to the cemetery. That bullshit about giving me a ride home was just an excuse.” James explained, “I can get a ride home from Ray. He wants to take you there, he just… doesn’t know how to ask you. He thinks you’ll say ‘no.’”

“Uh, wow.” Frank breathed, “Are you sure? I mean-“

“You shouldn’t have told him you hate him…” James laughed, “He’s confused.” 

“I meant it, though.” Frank offered pathetically. 

“Some things are better left unsaid, Frank.” James sighed, “Anyways, ask him about the demons nest. He wants to tell you about it, he just doesn’t want you to think he’s fucking crazy…” 

Frank didn’t know how wise it was to take advice from a psychic stranger.  If James could see into his head, Frank didn’t want him to see the skepticism that rested there. Though, in reality, James was probably used to people responding to his powers that way. 

“Do you want to sit down?” James asked

“No it’s fine. I’m sorry,” Frank said, running a hand over his bangs to brush them out of his face, “This is all just so…”

“Unexpected.” James finished, “Let’s go find a table.” 

“But,” Frank started, “Gerard-“

“He’ll find us.” James promised, sliding off the bar stool and beckoning for Frank to follow. 

They found an empty booth at the back of the room, away from the bar and away from the stage. It was a dark, quiet corner. Frank couldn’t believe it was open given how busy the venue was. He slid in across from James, setting his beer on a coaster. 

He tried to make eye contact with James, but he couldn’t tell where James was looking through his lenses and quickly gave up. 

“Can I ask you something?” Frank asked. He felt silly asking if he could ask. James probably already knew the question he had in mind.

“Sure. Go ahead.” James nodded anyway. 

“Why bother telling me? Why do you care what goes on between me and Gerard?” 

“Well,” James mused, “As I’m sure you know… Gerard has a tendency to keep to himself. If I hadn’t said something to you by now, who knows if he’d say something to you on his own?” 

“That part I get.” Frank said with a small laugh, “But what’s it to you?” 

“He’s a dear friend. I just want to see him happy.” James shrugged. 

“I don’t see how I….” Frank started, but he stopped himself. He didn’t want to know. James had slipped. He’d said too much. It might’ve even been on purpose. 

It was in that moment that Frank realized James knew a lot more than he’d let on. He couldn’t just read what was going on in someone’s head, he could actually tap into other things about them. He could see their futures. 

The label on Frank’s beer had been torn to shreds and he hadn’t even been aware he was doing it.  The little white flecks of paper littered the surface of the table. He quickly swept them off the table and onto his lap, sliding his hands under the table to brush the remaining flecks off of his lap and onto the floor. 

“Does he know?” Frank asked quietly, “How I feel, I mean?” 

“He doesn’t.” James saidd, furrowing his brow, “He hasn’t wanted to ask about you. He doesn’t want to know yet. He thinks he won’t like what I have to say… Again, you really shouldn’t have told him you hate him.” 

“You could’ve just told him I don’t though, right? If you could’ve, why didn’t you?” Frank asked. 

“I needed to see it for myself.” James said, tilting his head. “You got it bad, my friend.” 

James frowned sympathetically at Frank, as if he could possibly understand the torturous burning pain of Frank’s hopeless crush on Gerard. 

“Why are you cool with me knowing that you can, like… well, you know? You probably don’t go around telling everyone. Isn’t it supposed to be a secret or something?” Frank asked with a blush, grasping for a subject change. 

“Not in my line of work.” James laughed, “And besides, who are you going to tell? Who’s going to believe you?” 

“I guess… that’s a good point.” Frank faltered. 

“You’re more open minded than you give yourself credit for, Frank.” James said, “Now, about your keys…”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Frank asked, feeling around in his coat pocket and pulling out his keys, “I mean, if Gerard doesn’t want to-” 

“He wants to.” James promised. 

Frank felt the tips of his fingers brush the cold metal inside his pocket. He pulled them out and dropped them onto the table. Handing his keys over to James felt something like making a deal with the devil. It didn’t help that James lowered his sunglasses and fucking winked at Frank as the slid the keys towards himself. 

“What’s… at the cemetery?” Frank asked. 

“She won’t hurt you.” James offered cryptically. 

Of course the guy with supernatural mind-reading powers would be a complete asshole about it. Frank wasn’t sure why he was even surprised. 

“…And no, these aren’t our uniforms.” James added. 

“Huh?” Frank asked, squinting at James in confusion. 

“James.” a familiar, scratchy voice intoned. 

Frank turned his head to find Gerard walking up to their table. 

“Hi Frank.” Gerard said warmly. He shot James a threatening look which Frank smugly pretended not to notice. 

“Frank here was just asking about our matching clothes, and I was about to explain that we only wear these when making rounds to the convents.” James said, “Sit down, won’t you?” 

Frank tried not to read into it too much when Gerard sat across from him instead of next to him.  

“Did you find Mikey?” James asked. 

“Yeah. He’s backstage. He’s gonna be filling in for some other band’s bass player in the next set because the guy pulled a no-show.” Gerard explained, resting his hands on top of the table. 

“Talented fucker…” James sighed. 

“So you guys… fought demons today?” Frank asked, looking between James’ pair of shades, and Gerard’s big, painfully beautiful eyes. 

There was a stiffness to Gerard’s posture. He didn’t want Frank to think he was crazy, James had said. Now that it had been pointed out to Frank, he could see it in Gerard’s clenched jaw. 

“Today was just investigative.” James explained, “But I’m the one who fights demons. Gerard just does the paperwork.” 

Gerard rolled his eyes. James smirked. 

“So you’re going to fight them tomorrow then?” Frank asked.

“No. We’re sort of like… hell’s case workers.” James explained, still grinning, “We make once-a-month visits to check up on things. We only fight them if they get out of line. If a bunch of demons want to play house inside a nun factory, I say let them.”  

“And you actually file paperwork on this?” Frank asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, no.” Gerard laughed, “James just doesn’t appreciate my work. I actually write case studies for the university.” 

“Oh… Cool.” Frank said conversationally. 

“I dunno if ‘cool’ is the right word…” James chuckled. 

“I don’t need any help coming across as a washed up nerd, James.” Gerard said. 

“I don’t think you’re washed up.” Frank offered. 

“Thanks, Frank.” Gerard grinned weakly. 

Frank felt a little sorry for James then because he suddenly found himself staring into Gerard’s eyes, rendering their violet-eyed friend a complete and total third wheel. 

Knowing Gerard liked him and being able to actually see it on Gerard’s face were two completely different ghosts entirely. The idea alone left Frank giddy and confused, but the look Gerard was giving him left an intense, overwhelming  warm sensation in his chest. It was too real when it was right in front of him. Frank wanted to hide from that feeling. He knew it was cowardly, but he wanted to be far away from Gerard suddenly. He wasn’t emotionally prepared to have someone looking at him like that. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t pull his gaze away from Gerard’s. 

Gerard hadn’t said anything about it, but Frank wondered if maybe Gerard had some type of supernatural power himself. He could see ghosts. He was hanging out with a fucking mind-reader. He had this way of holding Frank’s gaze. 

It would make sense if there was something different about him, too, wouldn’t it? 

“There you are!” came Ray’s voice, snapping Frank out of his trance, “I’ve been looking all over for you.” 

Frank scooted over as Ray slid into the booth beside him, both disappointed and relieved to find himself at a further proximity from Gerard. 

“Hi, Ray!” Gerard said. 

“Why didn’t you tell me Gerard was coming?” Ray asked, turning to Frank. 

“I didn’t know.” Frank shrugged, feeling his face heat up at the notion that Ray considered him responsible for knowing such things. 

“It was sort of a last minute decision.” Gerard offered, clearing his throat. 

James shot Frank a tiny twitch of a private smirk. 

“This is James, by the way.” Gerard said, waving his hand in James’ direction. 

“Oh! Are you the guy Gerard was gonna have come by and look at my place?” Ray asked. 

“That would be me.” James nodded. 

“I like your shades.” Ray said. 

“Thanks.” James grinned.

Frank was pushed further towards the corner as another person slid in beside Ray. Frank didn’t realize it was Ray’s friends that had joined them until two of them tried to slide in on James and Gerard’s side of the booth, squeezing Gerard and his strange friend closer together. 

It all happened so fast. There were suddenly a lot more drinks on the table beside Frank’s lone empty bottle.  James frowned at Ray’s friends for a moment before hiding it behind a polite smile. 

Frank decided he really liked James. 

“Oh, hey Jeph.” Gerard said, nodding at the guy on the other side of Ray. 

“I was about to introduce you,” Ray said, “But I guess you guys already know each other?” 

“‘Course I know these guys.” Gerard said, “They were in Bert’s band.” 

“R.I.P.” one of the guys beside Gerard said, resting his head on Gerard’s shoulder. 

The guy at the end of the table slowly did the sign of the cross over himself.

Father, Son, Holy Ghost. 

“Also we all went to high school together.” the guy resting on Gerard’s shoulder explained, taking a gulp of beer. 

And of course that was why they all looked so fucking familiar. They were all Gerard’s fucking awful metal-head friends from high school. They’d all cut their hair and covered themselves in tattoos, but now that Frank was paying attention, they were definitely the same assholes. Frank couldn’t believe none of them had said anything when Ray had introduced them earlier in the evening. He wished James had the power to make Frank disappear completely or had at least taken the time to warn Frank that this moment was coming. Then again, maybe James’ powers didn’t work that way…

James shot Frank a guilty, sympathetic smile immediately. Motherfucker. His powers totally worked that way. He could’ve easily warned Frank. Frank suddenly wasn’t so sure he liked James so much anymore. 

“You guys remember Frank?” Gerard said, pulling James and Frank out of their silent staring contest, waving a hand in Frank’s direction. 

“Wait… Frank Iero!?” The guy resting his head on Gerard’s shoulder exclaimed, lifting his head up and grinning at Frank, “Why didn’t you say anything, man? I totally didn’t even recognize you.”

“You know them, too?” Ray asked, turning to Frank. 

“We all… went to high school together…” Frank confirmed, trying not to sound too mortified. 

“But wait, Frank, you and Gerard… went to the same high school?” Ray asked, “How did you not already know each other then?” 

“I’m a bit older than Frank, we were in different grades.” Gerard offered quickly. 

It wasn’t a lie, it was just a modified version of the truth. If Frank had had the courage to look at Gerard in that moment, he would’ve shot him a thankful look. Instead Frank looked to the others, incredibly grateful they didn’t have anything to add to the painfully awkward exchange aside from a small cough. They were all looking at each other, silently exchanging their own judgements. Ray just looked confused. 

It was so unfair that James probably knew what everyone at the table was thinking, Frank thought. 

It wasn’t completely out of the norm for things to completely blow up in Frank’s face the way they had. He just wished it had been any other night. He wasn’t in the mood. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t go to high school with them either.” James chimed in. “But hey, I think the next band’s about to start… we should go get another round before the music starts.” 

Frank instantly decided he liked James again. 

“Good call…” the dude sitting at the end of the table nodded, standing up slowly. The other two followed suit, rising up and drifting towards the bar. Ray followed after them, as did Gerard. Frank just stared down at the table, slowly turning the empty bottle in his hand. 

He was just going to wait until everyone had their backs turned and then he was going to slip out the exit and maybe find a bar around the corner where he could drown his misery, like he’d been planning all evening. He was so done with the corpse of high school drama rising from the dead and following after him with a taste for blood. He was going to put it back in it’s coffin by drowning it in liquor. Or try to, at the very least. That went against everything Frank knew about zombies and high school, but he was desperate enough to give it try.

Frank looked up when he heard someone slide onto the seat across from him. 

“Hey.” Gerard said softly. 

“Hey.” Frank echoed, trying his best to sound cheerful. 

“James sent me back over to watch the table.” Gerard explained, “I guess he likes this spot.” 

“Oh.” Frank mumbled, returning his gaze down to the table. Of course Gerard hadn’t come back because he wanted to be around Frank. The universe couldn’t possibly allow something like that. 

“I thought I’d get the chance to introduce you to James myself.” Gerard went on, “I hope he wasn’t… weird.” 

“He’s definitely fucking weird.” Frank said, smiling in spite of himself, “I think I like him though.” 

“Good.” Gerard grinned, “He has the tendency to rub people the wrong way.”

“I could see that.” Frank nodded. 

“You have no idea how many nights I’ve spent fixing his mistakes.” Gerard laughed, “He never knows when to shut the fuck up. I guess I’d probably struggle with it too if I knew… what he knows.” 

“Me too.” Frank agreed. 

“He didn’t um, say anything to you… did he?” Gerard asked slowly. 

“I mean, we talked?” Frank said. 

“Right.” Gerard said, letting out a breathy laugh. “Sorry, I’m being weird… I keep forgetting you don’t even believe in all this stuff.” 

“I keep trying to tell you, it’s not that I don’t believe in it.” Frank said, looking up at Gerard, “I’ve just never needed to. And even if I don’t believe in it, I’m not gonna… I don’t know, judge you for it or anything. Jesus. I’m not like that. You can’t seriously think I’m like that, Gerard.” 

“Alright.” Gerard muttered, chewing on his lip.

“And don’t worry about being weird around me anyways.” Frank added, “Because I get it. It’s like you said with James. It’s probably hard to talk about normal stuff when you spend all day dealing with things that… aren’t necessarily normal.”

Gerard gave Frank the sweetest lopsided grin then. It was almost enough to make Frank forget about his run-in with the reanimated corpse of their high school past. Almost. 

“I hope I didn’t say the wrong thing… to Ray, I mean.” Gerard said, running a hand through his hair. “About um… you and me.” 

“Oh uh. No!” Frank said, shaking his head fiercely and blushing, “Actually, thanks… I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t said something.” 

“That was so fucking awkward.” Gerard sighed, “Those guys have been so… intense ever since we lost Bert.” 

“They still don’t like me…” Frank commented. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? They always liked you.” Gerard countered. 

“Gerard-“ Frank shot back, working to suppress a bitter laugh. He stopped himself as soon as he realized what he was about to say. 

It was an argument he had no intention of engaging in. It wasn’t the time or place. Besides, he wanted to move on, not relive it. 

“It’s my fault it was so awkward.” Frank recovered, “I should’ve just told Ray I knew you…” 

“Why didn’t you?” Gerard asked curiously. 

“I haven’t seen you since high school, dude.” Frank said, raising his voice over the music as the band started playing over on the stage, “And Ray’s already stressed out about his apartment. Telling him that I wasn’t sure if I’d fight with his exorcist because he used to be my druggie boyfriend for 5 minutes didn’t seem like a necessary detail. Ray’s fragile. I didn’t know how things would be between us. I didn’t know what to tell him.”

“First of all, I’m not an exorcist.” Gerard frowned, leaning in so that he wouldn’t have to talk as loud, “And second of all, can you name a single fucking time you and I ever fought? Why would I fight with you now, Frank? Not to spit these words back in your face but… but you can’t seriously fucking think that I’m like that.” 

“I don’t know what you’re like, Gerard!” Frank countered, “That’s what I’m saying!” 

“Do you want to know what I’m like?” Gerard asked. 

The question caught Frank off guard. He knew the answer. He didn’t have to think about it. Even still, he glanced around to make sure no one was listening before leaning in. 

“Why the fuck do you think I asked if you wanted to hang out?” Frank asked bitterly, “Why do you think I called?”

“But… you hate me?” Gerard pointed out, furrowing his brow in confusion. 

“Just because I hate you doesn’t automatically mean I don’t want to know what you’re like now.” Frank laughed, “That’s not how it works.” 

Gerard was even prettier up close. Frank hadn’t been this close to him since high school. Frank’s heart was fluttering like crazy with the way their eyes were locked. It was more than a little unfair that James had told him how Gerard felt. Frank was too comfortable teasing Gerard when he knew Gerard wanted to kiss him. He was about to test out just how bad Gerard wanted it when someone slid a beer onto the table. They both recoiled immediately, sitting up straight in their seats to create distance between them. 

“Sorry to interrupt…” James offered sheepishly, “Jeph bought you another round, Frankie.” 

“What for?” Frank asked. 

“He means well.” James shrugged, turning on his heels and heading towards the rest of the crowd, packing in tighter around the stage, “Anyways, I’ll go keep them distracted.” 

“What was that all about?” Gerard asked as soon as James had walked away. 

It must’ve been weird to know that James could probably hear him, no matter how far away he was. Frank couldn’t picture getting used to something like that. He had no idea how Gerard was so chill about it. 

“Um… I don’t really know but James has the keys to my apartment.” Frank said. 

“Why did you give them to him?” Gerard chuckled, looking puzzled. 

“He asked for them?” Frank shrugged. “I um… I don’t know how to say ’no’ to a psychic… Like, I imagine he’s pretty good at blackmailing.” 

“It’s not hard to say ‘no’ to him.” Gerard said, shaking his head, “I could show you. He’s got much more important people to blackmail. You’re safe.” 

“Oh well.” Frank sighed. 

“I can go get them back for you, if you want.” Gerard offered, rolling his eyes. 

“That’s not necessary.” Frank said, “As long as they eventually end up with Ray, I should be fine… If you trust him, I trust him.”

“I never trust James. Ever.” Gerard said, narrowing his eyes, “What did he say to you? What is he up to?”

Gerard pulled out his phone then and, as the screen lit up, illuminating his features, he frowned. 

“Oh…” Gerard groaned, “Why didn’t you tell me he was up to no good?” 

“What do you mean?” Frank asked innocently, sliding the beer in between them to the end of the table, un-sipped. 

Gerard turned his phone in Frank’s direction. 

“getting a ride home with ray. make a clean getaway w/ frnk while u still can.” the text read, from James, less than a minute before. 

“I’m so sorry about this.” Gerard said, glancing at the text again before sliding his phone back in his pocket, “I can go get your keys back, if you want.” 

“No, Gerard, I… I want to leave with you.” Frank said, sliding off the seat, “Let’s go.” 

“Now?” Gerard asked. 

“Yeah. Now.” Frank insisted, “While we still can.” 

“I think that was just a manner of speaking, I don’t think we actually have to like…” Gerard trailed off. 

He sat there for a moment, staring up at Frank with a puzzled expression on his face. 

“I mean, if you wanna stick around for Mikey to play or something.” Frank offered, when Gerard still didn’t budge. He didn’t know what to make of Gerard’s lack of enthusiasm. 

“No, I’ve seen him play plenty of times. He probably won’t even notice I’m gone.” Gerard said, “It’s just that this is so….” 

“Unexpected?” Frank finished, mirroring James’ earlier statement. 

“Yeah…” Gerard breathed. 

“Let’s go.” Frank begged, glancing around to make sure no one was watching them. Now that he was on his feet, he was close to just leaving without Gerard.

“Okay.” Gerard said, finally sliding out of his seat.

Frank rolled his eyes as he turned to lead the way to the exit. They wove in between groups of people standing around as quickly as they could, trying to avoid being spotted by anyone who might recognize them and try to envelop them into a conversation.  

They made it through the exit doors unnoticed. Frank took a deep breath of the cool evening air as it hit him, stealing to the left and heading down the sidewalk with Gerard in tow. 

“So, uh, where to?” Gerard asked. 

“I want you to show me a ghost.” Frank declared, glancing back at Gerard with a smirk, “James said something about a cemetery?” 

“You’ll have to fill me in on everything he said to you.” Gerard coughed out, “But alright, if you want me to scare you, I can certainly scare you… My car’s the other direction though.” 

Frank stopped walking and turned back towards the venue. He saw a crowd of people pouring out of the front entrance and froze. Gerard glanced in oblivious confusion between Frank and the growing crowd in front of the venue.

“Let’s uh… let’s just go around the block.” Frank said, grabbing Gerard’s arm and pulling him along. Frank had ghosts to see and guys to kiss. He didn’t want to run into his high school enemies anymore. Though, sneaking off to the cemetery with a cute guy was definitely a pretty ‘high school’ activity for a weeknight.

Gerard didn’t ask why Frank insisted on avoiding the crowd, so Frank didn’t feel bad for falling short of an explanation. He didn’t let go of Gerard once they were around the corner. Instead, he threaded his arm the rest of the way through Gerard’s and slid  his hand into his own coat pocket to dig around for his cigarettes. He needed a smoke to get the taste of beer off of his breath, and to ease the fluttery feeling in his chest. 

If Gerard had any issue walking arm in arm, he didn’t say so. He seemed cool with it, if anything. They fell into step easily, huddled together as they ghosted down the sidewalk. Frank’s hand eventually landed on his smokes. He pulled the pack out and tilted it in Gerard’s direction, silently offering him one. When he looked up at Gerard, Gerard just shook his head. Frank pulled a single cigarette out and stuck it between his lips, stuffing the pack back into his pocket and feeling around for a lighter. 

Gerard came to his rescue, fumbling to awkwardly light the end of Frank’s cigarette and nearly burning Frank’s hair in the process. Frank blew out the lighter’s flame with a small breathy, laugh. He stopped walking and untangled his arm from Gerard’s, cupping his hands around the cigarette so that Gerard could light it without burning anyone. 

He was grateful for the first inhale of smoke, eyes fluttering closed as he took it in. When he opened his eyes again, he found that Gerard was staring at him. It hadn’t really hit him that they were alone together until then. They weren’t even touching anymore technically, but Frank felt closer to Gerard than he had before. 

There was something more to his gaze. He’d pulled Frank in with it when they’d been sitting across from each other inside the bar. Gerard wasn’t trying to pull Frank in with it anymore. It was more like he wanted to show it to Frank, dangling it in front of the younger man until he caught sight of it. 

“So tell me about this cemetery.” Frank prompted when the silence grew too heavy. He shoved his free hand in his pocket to stop himself from reaching out for Gerard again. They continued down the sidewalk, side by side in an easy stride. Neither of them made a move to touch the other. 

“What do you want to know?” Gerard asked.

“Well like, where is it? What’s so spooky about it?” Frank asked, exhaling smoke. 

“It’s a little off the beaten path.” Gerard offered, “Maybe a 25 minute drive out of town? It’s very old. I used to do a lot of rubbings there.” 

“Rubbings?” Frank asked, “Is that like… a drug thing I don’t know about?” 

“No.” Gerard laughed. “God, No. It’s.. It’s when you put a piece of paper against a tombstone or… really any sort of rock, like a hieroglyphic or whatever, and then you rub the paper with a crayon to transfer the inscription.” 

“Oh!” Frank said, biting back a laugh. 

“Sometimes headstones are too worn to read, rubbing is the easiest way to get a clearer picture.” Gerard went on. 

“No. Yeah. I get you.” Frank said, “Sorry, I shouldn’t just assume…” 

“It’s alright.” Gerard chuckled, bumping against Frank, “I’m kinda confused as to why you thought it would be a drug thing. It sounds way more like a sex thing, if you ask me.” 

“I don’t spend very much time in cemeteries.” Frank offered, “But uh, I guess it’s just easier to picture myself doing drugs in them, rather than, um, anything else, you know?” 

“I’ll give you that.” Gerard said, “Though, I wouldn’t recommend anything like that where we’re going.” 

They came up on an intersection then. Gerard stepped out into the street without looking up. Frank lagged a half step behind him, checking both directions of traffic for cars, before stepping out after Gerard.  

This was the Gerard that Frank remembered: Sex and drugs in cemeteries; His silent, cowardly death wish. Always tempting fate. 

Gerard wasn’t the type to drive drunk, he was more the type to forget his seatbelt when he knew the person driving had been drinking. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt himself; He’d do small careless things instead, antagonizing the universe to take him out in some way or another.  The Gerard Frank remembered was just hidden under a pressed-white collar and an education. He was still in there, stepping into the road without looking both ways, always hoping someone wouldn’t be paying attention and run him down.   

“I think I parked up on the next block.” Gerard said. 

Frank opened his mouth to point out that they could just ask James where he had parked, since James probably had some supernatural way of knowing. If he brought up James, though, Gerard would be reminded to ask what James had said to Frank. Luckily, Gerard’s car was just another 20 feet up the street. 

“There might be some stuff on the seat, you can just throw it on the floor.” Gerard said, unlocking the car and walking around to the driver’s side. Gerard’s car was nicer than Frank had expected. The outside surface looked as though it had been recently washed, which Frank found sort of surprising. He couldn’t see any dents or embarrassing bumper-stickers. The back seat wasn’t full of strange music cables and old receipts like Frank’s car was. It was sort of un-Gerard-like, how clean the whole thing was. 

By the dim, orange glow of the street lights, Frank saw a pair of handcuffs resting on the seat. Instead of dropping them onto the floor, Frank picked them up to inspect further as he slid into the car. 

“What are these for?” Frank asked, “Does James use these for uh… demons?” 

“I can’t believe he left those out. I lost the keys for this set.” Gerard tutted, reaching for the cuffs and taking them from Frank. He inspected them in the dim light, running his fingers over the shiny silver. 

“This set.” Frank echoed, trying to wrap his head around why Gerard would have more than one pair of handcuffs.

“They’re for exorcisms.” Gerard explained, tossing them in the back seat, “I don’t typically like to restrain people with them but sometimes it’s just easiest.” 

“You have to restrain people to perform exorcisms?” Frank asked. 

“Usually.” Gerard said, shoving his keys in the ignition and starting the car, “Demons don’t like to leave their hosts…” 

The radio came on, blaringly loud. The voices of old white men discussing pollution rates in some river filled every inch of silence inside the car. Gerard’s hand shot out to turn it off. 

“Sorry.” Gerard breathed, “James likes talk radio. The voices keep him distracted. I don’t usually…” 

“It’s okay if you like talk radio, you fucking nerd.” Frank laughed, “Actually, in all seriousness I used to work in radio.” 

“I didn’t know that.” Gerard said, putting his hand on the back of Frank’s seat and turning to look behind the car so he could inch out of his parking space. Frank could feel himself shrivel up in his seat, as if there was some way to make him take up less space. He felt overly aware of his own body. He couldn’t decide if he wanted Gerard to touch him or not. 

“What station?” Gerard asked, “I listen to the radio a lot when I’m out in the field. I don’t remember hearing you?” 

“Oh, I wasn’t a DJ.” Frank offered quickly, “I just handled the technical stuff…”

“Oh, that’s still cool though.” Gerard commented. 

“It’s the only thing I’m good at.” Frank sighed. 

“That’s not true.” Gerard countered, “You’re pretty good at the guitar… or, I mean, from what I remember, you were good at the guitar in high school.” 

“I wouldn’t say I’m good at it.” Frank said, “That’s kind of a stretch. I know enough to get by, but…” 

“You’re not supposed to think you’re good, even if you are.” Gerard said, “Rockstar pride. I get it. Mikey’s the same way.” 

“It’s not that.” Frank said, “It’s just… you should hear Toro. He’s way better than-“  

“I’m gonna come to your next show.” Gerard pointed out, “I’ll be the judge.” 

“Focus on Ray, I promise.” Frank chuckled, watching as the neighborhood slowly rolled by.

“I’ll try.” Gerard said. 

Silence hit them so hard that the small throat-clearing noise Frank made could be clearly heard in all it’s awkward glory. 

For whatever reason, Gerard decided to turn the car down the street the venue was on. Frank almost felt like ducking down as they passed by. It was a ridiculous notion. Everyone had gone inside for the next band’s set. 

It had been almost an entire decade, and suddenly it felt like absolutely nothing had changed. They were still sneaking off to be alone together somewhere - away from Mikey’s innocent, curiosity. Away from the judgmental nature of Gerard’s friends. 

Frank wondered if it would always have to be like this for them. 

It wasn’t as if they were doing something they shouldn’t be doing. It was all different now. This wasn’t high school. They were adults who didn’t have to answer to strict parents or judgmental friends.  They could do whatever the fuck they wanted. 

“So, uh, Ray said you just moved back to Jersey recently. Where were you before?” Frank asked. 

“I moved back almost a year ago…” Gerard replied, “But I guess it’s just recently started to feel like home again. I took a trip to Italy to conduct some research on behalf of the college and sort of, intentionally missed my flight back. And then I just never booked another one.” 

“I’m sure immigration was really excited about that.” Frank commented. 

“The college sent me over the paperwork to stay long-term under a studying visa.” Gerard explained, “It wasn’t so bad.”

“Fucking…Italy?” Frank scoffed, “Really?” 

“The vatican has conducted some very interesting research on modern ghosts.” Gerard said, “Unfortunately, a lot of it has no English translation…” 

A small sigh escaped Frank’s lips then. 

“What?” Gerard asked, quasi-defensively. 

“It’s just… I don’t remember the last time I left Jersey… for reasons other than touring.” Frank said, “I can’t imagine leaving it like that.You left it.” 

“It was good for me, I think.” Gerard mused, “I was going through a lot.” 

“I didn’t mean- I’m sure it was a good thing.” Frank agreed, “It’s just…. I’ve spent the last 10 years of my life drinking beer and playing guitar while you were out… exorcising demons in Italy and learning latin and shit. It’s just so… like you. I don’t know. ” 

“I’m not an exorcist.” Gerard reminded defensively, “And anyways, you shouldn’t compare yourself to other people like that.” 

“Spoken like a true lapsed Catholic.” Frank chuckled.

“No, really. You don’t see yourself the way other people do, Frank.” Gerard said, “…Everything I am now came out of losing Bert. I wasn’t born knowing what I wanted to do with myself. Back in high school I was so jealous of you for knowing you wanted to… as you said, drink beer and play guitar for the rest of your life.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” Frank scoffed.

They’d reached the neighborhoods beyond the busy part of town. The houses illuminated by the orange glow of the dim street lamps grew further and further apart, until there was considerable distance between each one. Gerard hadn’t been kidding when he’d said where they were going was ‘off the beaten path’ or whatever nerd terminology he had used. Whatever it had been, Frank found himself increasingly unsettled. 

“You were always so sure of yourself.” Gerard mused, “I might’ve been more sure of myself if I’d been paying any attention…”   

Gerard slowed the car and pulled into a gas station parking lot. 

“I’m gonna run in and get a cup of coffee.” Gerard said, putting the car in park, “This is also kinda the last bathroom we’ll run into for awhile…” 

He turned to shoot Frank a small, awkward smile as he tucked his keys into his coat pocket.

“Alright.” Frank said, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the car. 

“The bathroom is around the back of the building.” Gerard added, pointing towards a row of dumpsters, “Should be unlocked.” 

“Thanks.” Frank said, heading in their direction. He glanced over his shoulder at Gerard as Gerard shouldered his way into the small, bright convenience store. 

It was eerily quiet out in the sprawling farmlands. There was no distant hiss of the highway, no sirens, no cars driving past. The only sound Frank could make out was the chattering of early spring insects in the empty, grassy field beyond the gas station. 

He rounded the corner and found the bathrooms, making a point to be in and out as quickly as possible. The bright, flickering lights, paired the smell of urine and garbage was an unwelcome ambush against his senses. There were candy wrappers in the urinal. The water that leaked out of the faucet was freezing against his hands. 

He fussed with his hair for a moment in the dirty mirror before ducking out of the small room. 

When he got back to the car, Gerard was still inside, chatting away with the old man behind the counter. Gerard had obviously been to the place before if he already knew where the bathroom was located. Frank just wasn’t sure how often Gerard had been out here. 

Frank leaned against Gerard’s car and glanced up at the sky, immediately surprised by how many stars he could see. He could still make out the orange glow of the city against the clouds on the horizon, where the fields met the trees. Away from such light pollution, Frank felt like he was seeing the night sky for the first time in forever. 

He liked the idea that Gerard preferred the company of the quiet farmlands, with their old cemeteries out in the grassy fields. It was such a stark contrast to the company that Frank often kept. He usually found himself at crowded bars and house parties. The stillness of the fields beyond the city limits was like a vacation from all that. 

Gerard himself was something of a vacation. He was so different from the people Frank typically hung around. Frank didn’t know a single soul - besides perhaps, Ray Toro - who would stop to chat with the nice old man working the night shift at a gas station out in the sticks when he’d only gone in to buy a cup of coffee.

Eventually Gerard emerged with two styrofoam cups in his hands. 

“Sorry that took so long.” Gerard said, clearing his throat, “I did some spacial cleansing for the guy who runs this place awhile back. He’s always passing along stories from the locals…” 

“I don’t mind.” Frank shrugged, opening the passenger side door and sliding back into the car. 

“I wasn’t sure how you take your coffee so I just grabbed a bunch of creamers and sugars and stuff.” Gerard said, setting the cups on top of his car. He opened the driver’s side door and gently put their coffee in the cup holders between the front seats before sliding into the driver’s seat. 

“Thanks…” Frank offered earnestly. He hadn’t been sure if he should call what they were doing a date or not, but now that Gerard had bought coffee, Frank decided he could totally call it a date. 

“I doubt I’m about to convert you into a graveyard crawler,” Gerard said, shoving the keys in the ignition, “But I’ll just put it out there: if you do find yourself ghost-hunting, hot coffee makes a huge difference.” 

“Noted.” Frank said. 

“It’s just another couple of miles up the road. We’re not far.” Gerard promised. 

“If I was out here with anyone else, I might think this is how the horror movie starts.” Frank said, as the car was pulling out of the parking lot, “Y’know, with you taking me somewhere remote to cut me into a thousand pieces.” 

“Funny you should say that…” Gerard intoned. 

“Um… Why is that funny?” Frank gulped. 

“It’s just… That’s not so far from what happened.” Gerard explained.

“Oh. Metal.” Frank commented.

“The death of the individual we’ll be paying a visit to was pretty metal.” Gerard agreed. 

Frank stared out at the pitch black countryside. He could see a light attached to a farmhouse in the distance, but between the road and the farmhouse, was nothing. Frank knew there were fields tucked away in the darkness, but he couldn’t see them beyond the grassy edges that the car’s headlights illuminated. It served only to unsettle him. 

“So what makes you think you’ll be able to scare me?” Frank asked. 

“This place scares everyone.” Gerard said, “It’s a scary place.” 

“Even you?” Frank wondered. 

“Even me.” Gerard echoed. 

“Huh.” Frank mumbled. 

The road narrowed and got rougher. The fields gave way to tall trees and dense underbrush. The car lurched side to side as the wheels rolled over the uneven cement. There was a bump in the road, indicating the end of the pavement. Gerard slowed the car as the wheels rolled onto an unkempt dirt road. It was so quiet that Frank could hear the faint clicks of the tires rolling over gravel and dirt. The headlights illuminated the grassy patch in the middle of the road where the tires didn’t roll. Judging by the length of the grass, no one had driven the road in weeks. Moths and other insects were swooping down in front of the headlights. Frank was suddenly grateful it was still too early in the year for mosquitos.  

“How did you find this place?” Frank found himself asking. 

“It’s pretty locally famous.” Gerard offered. 

“Now if memory serves…” Gerard muttered to himself, “It should be just around this slight bend… Ah. Yes.” 

Gerard pulled the car off of the road, into a patch of grass and killed the engine, hesitating a moment before turning off his headlights. Frank stared into the green, looking for any signs of a graveyard but found none. 

“We’re here.” Gerard announced, shutting off the lights, shrouding them in darkness. 

Frank sat there silently, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark, concerned by how little he could see. If the moon was out, it was of no help. They’d passed the last streetlight miles and miles ago. The last indication of society whatsoever had been the farmhouse Frank had seen out in that field a mile or so back. 

“Wait here, I’ll go get the flashlights.” Gerard instructed, sliding out of the car. 

As soon as Gerard opened the door, Frank could hear the hiss of the insects he’d seen flying in front of the headlights. 

He took a deep breath through his nostrils and chewed on his thumbnail as he listened to Gerard rifle around in his trunk. Gerard came back a few moments later with a flashlight in his hand. 

“Alright,’ Gerard said, ducking his head in through the driver’s side door, “I think I’ve got everything we’ll need. It’s only about 50 feet into the woods… It might be a little overgrown. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“Not at all.” Frank chuckled. 

“Don’t forget your coffee.” Gerard reminded. 

“Oh, Thanks… I already had.” Frank said, reaching for the styrofoam cup and pushing open the passenger side door. 

Gerard had under-exaggerated when he’d said the trail to the cemetery was ‘a little’ overgrown. The forest’s early spring growth was in full swing. Gerard had handed Frank a flashlight, though it was of little use with so many branches in his face. Frank followed closely behind Gerard as they made their way through the woods. Gerard had managed to slap him in the face with tree branches several times within the first 30 seconds of their excursion. 

Frank wasn’t sure if he could call what they were doing ‘a date’ anymore. He was far from an expert on the subject, but something told him that most first dates were pretty much the opposite of driving out to the middle of the woods and hiking through the dark in search of ghosts. 

Frank was into it, of course. He could appreciate all things unconventional. It was just hard to stop himself from telling Gerard that dragging someone into the cold, dark woods wasn’t exactly the best way to convince them to kiss you. While it seemed like the sort of thing that should’ve been completely obvious, Gerard seemed oblivious. 

“Are you sure you can find your way back to the car?” Frank asked nervously. He shined his flashlight back behind them and saw nothing but dense, green leaves. A branch smacked him in the back of the head as he paused.

“Of course.” Gerard insisted, spinning around and pulling the branch away from Frank, “I’ve never gotten lost before.”  

Gerard ventured forward, pushing branches out of his way. Frank followed close behind him to avoid the wrath of the trees. A few more steps and they were free of the underbrush. 

The moon was out, it turned out. It’s eerie white glow illuminated a large, sprawling field of sun-bleached tombstones. Their weathered inscriptions were partially obscured by tall, thick grass. The grass came all the way up to Frank’s knees, but it wasn’t so hard to walk through if he followed behind Gerard. Gerard’s bulky combat boots suddenly made an awful lot of sense. 

“A lot of these people were buried at the turn of the nineteenth century.” Gerard explained, shining his flashlight against various tombstones. “The forest has reclaimed large parts of it… but not the parts I’m concerned with… for now, anyway.” 

Frank darted a quick glance back at the tree line to see if he could make out where they’d come through. Now that he was far enough away, he could sort of see where the trail started. It put him at ease, sort of. 

“Sort of a heavy question, I suppose… but have you thought about what you want done with your body after you die? Do you want to be buried?” Gerard asked. 

“I haven’t given it much thought?” Frank answered honestly, “I don’t plan on dying anytime soon. Not seriously.” 

“Nobody plans on dying, Frank!” Gerard scoffed, “…Or, I suppose they do. Quite often, actually. Anyways that’s a fair enough answer.” 

“What about you?” Frank asked. 

“My grandmother, before she died… she sort of bought a plot for me… and Mikey too.” Gerard explained, “So we could all be buried together.” 

“That’s sweet.” Frank commented. 

“She certainly was.” Gerard agreed. “Actually, on that note…” 

Gerard paused in front of a headstone and knelt, bringing his fingers to his lips and then gently resting them against the marble. 

“This is Agnes.” Gerard said, lowering himself onto the ground and resting his back against the headstone. 

“Don’t you mean, ‘was?’” Frank asked. 

“Well she’s still buried here, presumably.” Gerard shrugged, “Have a seat.”

“Why here?” Frank asked, nervously eyeing the dark woods just a few rows of stones away. He didn’t like the idea of having his back turned to treelike. 

“Agnes was a nun.” Gerard stated simply. 

“You mean ‘is?’” Frank laughed, slowly lowering himself into the space beside Gerard. He tried to rest against the headstone, but it wasn’t wide enough to fit both of them completely, not if Frank wanted to keep a respectable inch or so between himself and Gerard. 

“You don’t get to keep your job title when you die.” Gerard said matter-of-factly, pausing to take a sip of his coffee,  “…Though if that’s true then it negates the whole purpose of sitting with her. I’ve always sat here ‘cause I felt safer knowing I’m in the company of a nun.” 

“She does… provide a certain sense of security.” Frank offered, staring out at the tops of the old tombstones in the moonlight. They stretched all the way down the hillside, and then up another hillside and off into the forest beyond. 

“You don’t have to humor all my superstitious bullshit, you know?” Gerard pointed out. 

“I know.” Frank said, taking a sip of his coffee.  He crossed his legs, letting his knee rest against Gerard’s thigh. 

“So aren’t you going to ask me what happened to the girl?” Gerard asked. 

“What girl?” Frank asked. 

“The ghost we came out here to see?” Gerard reminded.  

“Oh yeah. Her.” Frank snorted, “Shouldn’t I be asking her about it?” 

“I’ve… tried that.” Gerard said thoughtfully. 

“Jesus Gerard, I was joking.” Frank laughed, “Tell me your damn ghost story already.” 

“Sorry I…” Gerard faltered, “Anyways. So this lady, turn of the nineteenth century, had an infant son who died when he was only18 months old. He’s actually buried at the end of this row…” 

Gerard shined his flashlight towards the far end of the graveyard, circling the dim light around a small, weathered tombstone. He flicked the flashlight off and set it on the ground beside him.  

“I still haven’t been able to figure out his cause of death,” Gerard explained, “But shortly after they buried him, crying could be heard along the road leading to his grave. The one we drove down to get here? Every time the woman heard it, she would follow the sounds back to the graveyard and attempt to comfort her son. Supposedly she would spread a blanket over the grave and sing him to sleep. Normal creepy stuff.” 

Gerard sat up straighter. His leg gently brushed against Frank’s knee with his shift in pose. Frank felt fucking ridiculous for how it made his heart flutter. 

“Do you see that old structure at the bottom of the hill?” Gerard asked, pointing towards a shadowy ditch the moon did not illuminate. Sure enough, when Frank squinted, he could make out an old wooden shadow of a building rotting at the bottom of the hill. 

“She’s buried just beyond there.” Gerard said. 

“Why wasn’t she buried beside her son?” Frank asked. 

“That’s a huge part of the mystery.” Gerard said excitedly, “A lot of the people buried around the boy were buried long after she died. There would’ve been plenty of space. There’s lots of things about her death that don’t add up, though…” 

“She was actually found in the woods around here somewhere.” Gerard went on, “Nobody witnessed her death, or if they did they kept quiet about it. Was pretty brutal from what I’ve found. She was covered in all these weird lacerations. There was no apparent sign of struggle, aside from handprints around her neck. And somehow it was decided that lack of oxygen wasn’t what killed her.” 

“What was it then?” Frank asked. 

“That’s a subject of debate among the locals.” Gerard sighed, “Some say witchcraft. Some say her body was used as an offering for a satanic ritual, which makes sense given the state of the crime scene. There are some strange markings on her son’s tombstone that correspond with that theory, as well…”

“It’s not like there’s any point in finding the killer now, whoever they were. They would’ve died of old age by now…” Gerard added grimly, “They could be buried in this very cemetery for all we know. Whatever the case, the point is that this woman didn’t move on. She walks among these graves every night to check in on her son.” 

Gerard picked up the flashlight, flicking it on and shining it down towards the ditch at the bottom of the hill. Frank flinched away from where the beam shone, concerned it would land on something other than tall green grass or sun-bleached marble. 

“How can you tell it’s her?” Frank asked, “I mean, I’m assuming you’ve seen her before if you’re telling me all this….”

“You’ll know her when you see her. It’s a full-bodied apparition, average stature,” Gerard rattled off in his professorial monotone, “The length of the dress fits the time period. She walks to the same grave every time…” 

“So how do we get her to come out?” Frank asked in wonder, “Do we have to say her name or something? Turn off all the lights and chant ‘bloody Mary?’” 

“We wait.” Gerard said simply. 

“Oh.” Frank mumbled, stifling a yawn, resting his head back against the corner of Agnes’ tombstone. 

They were quiet for a moment. 

Frank took in the sounds of the woods at night: the chattering insects, the hissing of the leaves on the trees whenever the breeze rustled through, the distant calls of an owl…

The soft sounds were interrupted by the sharp crack of a twig snapping in the woods behind them. Frank’s gaze darted to the trees, looking for the source of the noise. He couldn’t make out any human-shaped shadows. There were no branches moving unnaturally as if someone was wandering through the woods. 

“What was that?” He asked under his breath. 

“Nothing, probably.” Gerard mumbled. 

“Do you have like… do you keep a gun or anything like that?” Frank found himself asking nervously. 

“Frank,” Gerard laughed breathily, “There’s no one out there. No one comes out here.” 

“You can’t just know that.” Frank pointed out, slowly turning his back on the woods once more to look back over at Gerard. The space between them had been swallowed up. Frank must’ve scooted closer to Gerard without realizing it when he’d been focused on locating the thing he was sure was lurking somewhere in the dark woods.

“Alright, I’ll bite.” Gerard sighed, making no motion to move away from Frank, “Think about it this way… Anyone looking for an innocent stranger to kill tonight is probably not going to come looking for one in an old cemetery full of already-dead innocent strangers…” 

“I guess… you’re probably right.” Frank sighed, sipping on his coffee. Black coffee. He hadn’t added anything to it, he realized.

“I used to worry about stuff like that… at first.” Gerard consoled, “But what I’ve realized is that, more often than not, I’m in places where no one else wants to be. No one is going to bother us out here.”

“You’ve seriously never ended up in a bad situation?” Frank asked, “You’ve never had a house call go terribly wrong? Or like, found a monster you weren’t prepared to deal with?” 

“Not since I started working with James.” Gerard said, smiling softly, “Which reminds me-” 

“Do you ever get scared?” Frank blurted out, trying his best to keep the conversation away from James. 

“What do you mean?” Gerard chuckled. 

“Scared.” Frank repeated, “Like how I’m scared of the murderer that’s obviously in the woods behind us.”

Frank was anxiously trailing his fingers up and down the fabric of his jeans, staring down at Gerard’s hand, trying to figure out how to gather up enough courage to reach for it.  

“There’s no reason for you to be scared of the woods.”  Gerard promised. 

“Weren’t you just telling me about how they found a mangled, murdered girl in the woods?” Frank countered, settling for resting his head on Gerard’s shoulder instead of trying to figure out how to hold his hand, “Besides… since when does fear have to be reasonable?” 

“It doesn’t.” Gerard agreed, “But I didn’t drag you out here for you to be afraid of the woods. I brought you out here to be afraid of the ghosts. Aren’t you afraid of them at all?” 

“It’s all a little abstract.” Frank sighed, “Murdering is something I can get behind, but full-bodied apparitions?” 

There was another sound from the woods. This time it was a loud sharp crack, like a branch being snapped off of a tree. 

“Yeah, okay, no reason to be scared of the woods.” Frank moaned sarcastically, curling up in a little ball against Gerard. 

“It’s probably just an animal or something.” Gerard laughed, setting down his coffee and wrapping an arm around Frank, “Forests are full of those, you know?” 

Frank stayed huddled up against Gerard, holding his breath. He was listening for any further noises coming from the woods. Despite Gerard’s efforts at assuring Frank that nothing was out there, he seemed to be holding his breath and listening, too. Frank could hear Gerard’s heart beating in his chest. It wasn’t thumping frantically. He seemed calm and collected. 

“You never answered my question.” Frank said softly. His voice was muffled by the fabric of Gerard’s coat. 

For a moment Frank thought Gerard hadn’t understood him because he didn’t respond right away.

“What question?” Gerard asked after a beat. 

“I asked if you ever get scared?” Frank repeated. 

“Oh. All the time.” Gerard said softly, “Hell, I’m scared now.” 

“Of what?” Frank asked incredulously. 

“…Of you.” Gerard replied evenly.

“Why me?” Frank asked, trying to hide the curiosity in his voice. 

“You really fucking broke my heart back in high school…” Gerard said softly, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around you at all.” 

“I didn’t break your heart!” Frank scoffed, head shooting up to glare at Gerard. 

“You totally fucking did.” Gerard countered with a small laugh, “It’s the only breakup I remember clearly. Honestly, the fact that I remember it at all should be proof enough.” 

Gerard slid his arm away from Frank, and then they were just glaring at each other, sitting face to face over poor Agnes’ grave. If Frank wasn’t in such a state of disbelief and frustration he might’ve thought it was funny. The woman buried underneath them probably would’ve damned both of their gay, sinning souls right to hell if she could’ve heard their arguing. 

“But…” Frank faltered, “But Gerard you didn’t give a shit about us… When I called you to tell you it was over, you didn’t fucking care at all, I swear. You told me you’d see me around.”

“I was high, Frank. I don’t remember that conversation.” Gerard stated evenly. 

Frank didn’t have a counterargument for that one. The pain in Gerard’s voice caught him off guard. 

He couldn’t blame Gerard for being fucked up. That was what Gerard did. He silently watched Gerard’s face soften, feeling the argumentative energy drain from his own features. 

“My friends had to fill me in the next day.” Gerard went on grimly, “I just figured whatever I’d done… I deserved it, you know?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were fucked up?” Frank asked. 

“Calling someone the day after they dump you to explain that you don’t remember the part where they dumped you isn’t-… I don’t know, Frank. It was a long time ago.” Gerard shrugged, “But you know how you were in high school. I probably couldn’t have changed your mind if I tried.” 

“Yeah but…” Frank faltered. 

Gerard’s face was pale white in the moonlight. His dark hair contrasted with his big, sad eyes. The pallor suited him well. Frank had to look away to keep himself from mentioning it. He pulled on the blades of grass under his hands to try and let out some of the fluttery, anxious energy that was building in his chest.  

“This whole time I thought…” Frank started, pausing when he couldn’t think of a way to sum it all up.

“Thought what?” Gerard asked. 

“God… Does it even matter now?” Frank asked softly, looking back up at Gerard. 

“It matters to me.” Gerard said in all seriousness, staring back at Frank.

“I don’t know what to tell you?” Frank shrugged,  “I never blamed you for how things went between you and me. We were so young, you know?” 

“It wasn’t just that, though.” Gerard said, shaking his head, “I was a total fuck-up. Still am.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Frank countered, “I knew full well what I was getting into when I started seeing you.”

“…Great.” Gerard remarked sarcastically.

“What’s the point of dwelling on it, anyways?” Frank asked, “I mean, it all  happened so long ago… I’m different than I was then and so are you. Something would’ve broken us up along the way between then and now, right? We would’ve grown apart. Or you would’ve dumped me after realizing that it sucks to have a boyfriend who’s always on tour. There’s no way we’d still be…” 

Frank shut his mouth when he saw the pained look that Gerard flashed him.

“Can I ask you something?” Gerard asked. 

“Anything.” Frank nodded. 

“When you were talking to James earlier…” Gerard proceeded, “What color were his eyes?”

“His eyes?” Frank repeated, caught off guard by the fact that they were back on the topic of James, “They were… violet? Purplish. Why are you asking me? You look at him more often than I do.”  

“They appear different to everyone.” Gerard answered, “To me, they look light blue.” 

“Well James is…” Frank trailed off, unsure what the hell James was, “Are you…. like him?” 

“What do you mean?” Gerard asked. 

“Well, you obviously can’t read my mind.” Frank mused, “But are you, you know, different? Like him?” 

“I wish I could say I was.” Gerard answered. 

“Why are his eyes so weird? What is he?” Frank asked. 

“Different.” Gerard offered cryptically with a small smile. 

Frank wanted to press it further, but he didn’t. He bit his lip in thought, glancing back over at the woods. He’d forgotten to be afraid of them entirely. 

“What exactly did he say to you earlier?” Gerard asked. 

“Um…” Frank breathed, tearing away at the poor grass around him. Maybe Agnes could forgive him for wanting to kiss Gerard if he cleared the grass and weeds away from her grave.

“Whatever it was,” Gerard pressed, “You have to take it with a grain of salt. He likes to-“ 

“He said…” Frank interrupted, closing the distance between them to frame Gerard’s face with his palms and plant a chaste kiss on his lips. Frank opened his eyes and pulled away slowly, looking for any signs of aversion from Gerard. 

Gerard slowly opened his eyes and blinked at Frank but made no protests. 

When he’d decided Gerard was on board, he pressed their lips together again. He wasn’t sure if he had been expecting Gerard to feel familiar to him, but Gerard didn’t feel familiar at all. It felt just like kissing someone new for the first time. 

Instead of kissing Frank back, Gerard was frozen under Frank’s lips. Frank wasn’t sure if Gerard was even breathing. 

He was worried he’d overstepped a boundary until finally, Gerard’s lips moved against his. Slowly, carefully. 

“Frank,” Gerard mumbled, grazing his fingertips along Frank’s jawline. 

Frank hummed against Gerard’s lips in response, slowly parting his lips to invite Gerard to kiss him harder.

It was so strange to be leaning forward on his knees, carefully kissing Gerard Way in a graveyard in the middle of the night. Frank almost wished there was some way to tell his former teenage self that this was to be included in his future. In high school their kisses had always been hurried. Now Gerard’s breath was cool and sweet, laced with undertones of cigarettes instead of beer.  His lips were soft and warm instead of chapped. 

Gerard seemed to be warming up to the idea, wrapping his hands around Frank’s wrists and sighing into Frank’s mouth. It was nice, sure, but Frank needed more. Fate was presenting him with the opportunity to prove to Gerard what the last decade had taught him, and he intended to take it. 

It was hard to get to Gerard the way he wanted to when he was on his knees in front of the guy. For whatever reason Gerard wasn’t making it any easier for Frank. It was like he didn’t realize that Frank wanted to kiss him harder and deeper. It was like the guy had actually taken Frank out into the creepy fucking woods for reasons other than kissing after all. 

Frank was having none of it. He clawed at the front of Gerard’s coat, tangling his hands in the fabric and pulling Gerard closer. Gerard went willingly, sliding on top of Frank as he lowered them onto the grass. Gerard’s hip was pinning him to ground, right where he wanted it. 

Gerard gently sunk his teeth into Frank’s lower lip, playfully gnawing at him, which drove Frank completely insane. He curled his fingers into Gerard’s mass of dark hair and pulled him closer, gasping into his mouth, wordlessly begging him to do it more. 

“Frank.” Gerard croaked huskily in between kisses. 

“Gerard.” Frank echoed, somewhere between a whisper and a moan. 

“Frank, wait a second.” Gerard demanded. 

Frank had to stifle a displeasured groan as Gerard lifted himself up off of the ground into a sitting position. 

“We can’t… not here… not like this…” Gerard stammered, wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand and running a hand through his hair to straighten it out. 

“We could go back to the car.” Frank offered, still laying out in the grass, “Respect for the dead and shit. I get it.” 

Frank was cold everywhere Gerard had been pressed against him. He shivered in the cool night air as he stared up at Gerard, trying to dissect the look on Gerard’s face. 

“It’s not that.” Gerard said softly, offering Frank a hand. Frank took it, letting Gerard pull him up into a sitting position. 

“What is it then?” Frank asked.

“Uh, look.” Gerard sighed, “You’ll have to forgive me. I know I’ve got a complex and all…” 

Frank didn’t like the sound of it. People weren’t supposed to ask for forgiveness after they kissed you like that. 

“It’s just…” Gerard went on, staring into Frank’s eyes, “I don’t usually get second chances like this. And I have a chance to know you now. ” 

“We could go back to my place,” Frank leered, “You could get to know me real well.” 

He leaned in, licking a stripe up Gerard’s neck. Gerard swallowed hard and furrowed his brow, seeming genuinely torn. 

“I’m… sorry…” Gerard said slowly, “I just… I can’t fuck things up with you twice.” 

Frank tried not to let the hurt and confusion show on his face too much, though he wasn’t sure how successful he was. 

“I just… I don’t understand how I read this situation so wrong.” Frank said, spitting out exactly what was on his mind, “Why did you bring me here?” 

“To scare you.” Gerard said, “I’m pretty sure I said that.” 

“Alright, well, you scared me so uh… let’s go.” Frank said, feeling his face heat up. The next time he saw James, if ever, he was going to punch the guy right in his stupid, color-changing eye. 

“Frank, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Gerard said softly, frowning at Frank in concern. 

“I’m not upset I just… want to go home.” Frank lied, lifting himself off the ground on unsteady legs, grabbing his mostly full coffee cup so as not to litter in Agnes’ final resting place. He hated nuns, but for whatever reason he had respect for her. 

It was sort of true. He wasn’t mad at Gerard. Just embarrassed and confused and honestly, fucking tired. 

“Frank, wait!” Gerard insisted, once Frank was already a few paces away. 

“If you wanna hang out here longer I can just… call a cab.” Frank suggested morosely. 

“Cabs don’t come out here.” Gerard chuckled, “I’m happy to take you home, Frank. I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea about this.” 

“I’m pretty sure I get it.” Frank sighed, brushing his fingertips along the tops of the tombstones as he made his way to the end of the row.

“I meant what I said.” Gerard insisted, still a pace or two behind Frank, “I want to get to know you, but-” 

“But not like that.” Frank finished. 

“Maybe like that.” Gerard argued, “If you’d just slow down a second we could talk about this… like adults? Cause we’re both-” 

Gerard accidentally walked right into Frank, nearly pushing him over. Frank had frozen in place. It took Gerard a minute to figure out why he had stopped…

A figure was moving slowly towards them, down the hillside across the graveyard. She was nothing more than a grey, shadowless outline in the moonlight. Her ankle-length dress moved unnaturally through the tall grass. The long, green blades didn’t part where she walked. She didn’t seem to notice them, or if she did, she didn’t mind their presence. 

“Holy shit.” Frank breathed, spinning around and burying his face in Gerard’s chest. He could feel the closing distance between himself and the phantom and it made him shiver. 

“You’re missing it.” Gerard whispered into Frank’s hair, wrapping his arms around Frank’s shoulders. 

“I’ve seen enough. Get me the fuck out of here.” Frank hissed, shoving away form Gerard, grabbing the flashlight out of Gerard’s hands, and shouldering into the trees. 

“Frank, slow down. She can’t hurt you.” Gerard called after Frank as he tore his way through the branches back towards the car. Now that he was in front he could see the partially-obscured pathway that lead to the once-was parking lot. 

“That’s what James said, but I’m not buying it.” Frank grumbled, “That guy clearly doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.” 

“James was right.” Gerard assured,  following closely behind Frank, “She can’t hurt us. She has no reason to.” 

“Who’s side are you on, man?” Frank asked crossly. 

“What does that even mean?” Gerard laughed, The flashlight’s beam reflected off the shiny body of Gerard’s car. The sight of the thing brought Frank immense comfort. 

“Nothing’s funny.” Frank insisted, opening the passenger side door and handing Gerard the flashlight. 

“Right.” Gerard mumbled, going around to the drivers side. 

Frank slid into the car and held his coffee cup close as he waited for Gerard to get in too. 

Gerard shoved his bag into the back seat and got in, sticking his keys in the ignition but not starting the car. 

“Frank,” Gerard pleaded, “Please, you have to tell me what James said to you. He likes to get into my head without my permission. I could feel him doing it all day. I didn’t think he’d drag you into this quite the way he did. That was why I wanted to introduce you two, Not-.” 

“Can we just go? Please?” Frank asked, ignoring Gerard’s pleas. 

Gerard let out a deep breath and started the car, looking out the back window as he backed out of their parking space. Frank could feel Gerard’s hand on the back of his seat as he maneuvered the car and it only served to make him more bummed out. 

He didn’t know what to say to Gerard. He knew he was officially being incredibly pissy and unfun, but he didn’t know how to backtrack. He couldn’t unkiss Gerard. He couldn’t unsay he wanted Gerard to take him back to his place and get to know him or whatever it was he’d offered in the heat of the moment. 

“Frank, look.” Gerard said softly, hitting the breaks. 

Frank glanced up from his lap, jolting forward with the slow in momentum, to find a herd of deer leaping across the road in front of them. Their eyes flashed eerily in the headlights as a few of them stopped to look at the car. 

“I wish I had my camera.” Frank blurted out. 

“Yeah. Would be a great shot.” Gerard agreed softly, “I didn’t know you were into photography.” He reached down to the gear shift to put the car in park while they waited for the rest of the deer to pass by. 

“I’m not really.” Frank chuckled, “It’s just a thing I do sometimes.” 

“Always modest.” Gerard tutted, “You know, this is one of the things I really love about my job. I’ve gotten to know the night in a way that I wouldn’t have gotten to otherwise…” 

“Yeah. I can imagine.” Frank commented stiffly.

He was grateful that Gerard seemed interested in skirting around what had happened back at the cemetery. If he wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened, Frank was happy to play along. 

“There’s a whole art to catching ghosts on camera.” Gerard said, “I’m usually too busy filling out field reports to get a camera in my hands. And James is too lazy…” 

Gerard put the car in drive when it looked like no more deer were crossing the road. He rolled the car along at a glacial pace. Frank understood it was better to drive slow than risk hitting a deer, but it made their drive back to the main road take a lot longer than it should have. To make matters worse, Frank had officially decided that the woods were terrifying. He wasn’t sure camping would ever be the same again. 

Eventually the car rolled out of the trees, lurching as it rolled up onto the paved road. 

It was even quieter without the popping of the gravel under the wheels. The silence haunted both of them, growing thicker and thicker. Frank wondered if it would take a physical form in the back seat. A ‘full-bodied apparition’  manifesting Frank’s hurt feelings and Gerard’s silent awkward vibes. A physical manifestation would’ve been preferable, Frank decided. At least that was something Gerard could handle. 

“I think I owe you an apology.” Frank mumbled out as they were passing the gas station. 

“For what?” Gerard asked around the fingernail he was chewing on.  

“A lot of things, I guess.” Frank sighed, “Mostly for ruining tonight.” 

“You didn’t-“ Gerard started.

“I did.” Frank insisted, staring at the dark farmlands scrolling by, “You were just trying to show me a good time and I… well, you know.” 

“I was trying to scare you, not show you a good time.” Gerard scoffed, “If you tell anyone that that was my idea of a good time I’ll be very upset.” 

“You know what I mean.” Frank mumbled, fighting a smile. 

“I might.” Gerard agreed. 

“I’m also sorry for… breaking your heart or whatever…” Frank added, “Back in high school, I mean…” 

“I deserved it.” Gerard said evenly.

“Still.” Frank countered, “Things didn’t have to be… the way they were…” 

“Really, I should probably be apologizing to you.” Gerard said. 

“For what?” Frank snorted. 

“For being such a mess.” Gerard said, “I don’t know what you saw in me.” 

The suggestion made Frank’s heart melt. He stole a glance over in Gerard’s direction.  His lips were pursed in thought, face pale and glowing by the light of the dashboard. Frank might’ve even told Gerard what it was he saw in him if he wasn’t still so bitter over being  so flatly rejected.

“Are you… okay?” Gerard asked. 

“I’m fine.” Frank said, “A little out of it, maybe.” 

“No I mean, you just saw a ghost for the first time.” Gerard pointed, “Are you… okay? Do you wanna talk about it?” 

“I just… kinda had other things on my mind, I guess.” Frank mumbled. 

“But you saw her right?” Gerard asked.

“Yeah. I saw her.” Frank answered. 

“Do you think you’ve really processed the idea that ghosts are real?” Gerard mused, “ Because I remember the first time that really hit me and-” 

“You know you’re a fucking nerd, right?” Frank laughed. 

“Yeah I… James reminds me all the time.” Gerard sighed. 

Silence fell over the two of them. With every quiet farmhouse they passed along the smooth, winding backroads, Frank wondered if there were ghosts inside. Or demons. Or other creatures of the night. 

“I guess… it’s all kind of weird.” Frank commented softly, mostly to himself. 

Neither of them said anything for the rest of the drive. Frank could feel Gerard’s distance from him and he hated it. He hated that it would be so long before he was free of their awkward situation. It wasn’t like he could hide from Gerard for any length of time, not if they guy was cleansing Ray’s apartment, not if his brother kept inviting Gerard along to shows. 

The dark forests gave way to sprawling neighborhoods. They looked more and more familiar, growing denser and denser, until eventually Gerard was pulling the car into Frank and Ray’s apartment complex. It was dark and quiet, not that Frank been expecting anything else from the middle of the night. Still, he was grateful when Gerard parked right in front of Building C. 

“…Uh, listen,” Gerard said, “I’ll be around the next couple of days… James and I need to prepare and draw power. So, um, I guess I’ll see you around?” 

Frank couldn’t help the small, disbelieving laugh that escaped his lips. Gerard’s words were too similar to their breakup. It wasn’t like Gerard remembered saying those words, but there was still this lingering finality to them, even if their meaning had changed. 

“What?” Gerard asked. 

“Nothing.” Frank sighed, “I’m just tired.” 

“Me too.” Gerard said. 

“Um… Thanks…” Frank said slowly, earnestly, “For everything. It was cool of you to show me… uh, that.” 

“Any time.” Gerard said. Frank couldn’t bring himself to look over at Gerard, but he could hear the smile tucked away in his voice.  

“Well… Good night.” Frank mumbled, opening the door and climbing out on unsteady, exhausted limbs. 

“Good night, Frank.” Gerard echoed. 

Frank offered a noncommittal wave before turning and heading for the stairs to the second floor. 

Gerard didn’t drive off right away. The soft purr of the engine kept Frank away from the dead silence of the cemetery parking lot. Frank could hear the distant shimmer of insects, though it was nothing compared to the sounds the forest had given off. 

As his sneakers hit the carpeting on the second floor, softly skidding along, the exhaustion set in.Frank had a stomach ache. His mouth was dry and his throat was sore from talking all night. He tried the door to apartment 13, both happy and concerned when it swung open, unlocked. All worry evaporated when he saw Ray dozing on the couch while a horror movie played softly. 

Frank smiled at his friend as he slid the locks in place. Only Ray Toro would continue to watch scary movies after dealing with a poltergeist firsthand. Then again, it wasn’t like Frank exactly had anything else on the shelf above his TV. 

Frank kicked his shoes off and tiptoed through  the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He cringed when the glass clinked against the faucet, worried he’d woken Ray when he was finally starting to get some sleep.

He 007ed it back to his bedroom, not even bothering to turn on the lights. He slid out of his pants and crawled into bed, delighted when sleep came for him without a fight. 

The next day, Ray and Frank exchanged under-caffeinated mumbles as they sipped black coffee and watched cartoons before band practice. Frank didn’t mention the night before and Ray didn’t ask. 

He wondered what Ray thought. Maybe his friend could tell it hadn’t gone well. 

It didn’t come up until band practice, when in between songs their drummer inevitably asked how things were going with the haunting in Ray’s apartment. 

“Shit’s fucked… but I think the exorcist has a thing for Frank.” Ray said, running his fingers over the frets on his guitar absentmindedly. 

“He’s not an exorcist.” Frank scoffed, “And he does not.” 

“Please! He asked if you had a boyfriend. Not even if you were seeing someone, he specifically asked if you ‘had a boyfriend.’” Ray countered, lifting up his hands to do air quotes. 

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Frank argued, “Maybe he was just curious. We go way back, you know.”

“About that!” Ray laughed, “How come you didn’t tell me you went to high school together?” 

“I don’t know? It didn’t come up.” Frank shot back defensively. 

“High school?” Their drummer chimed in, “What’s this guy’s name?” 

“Gerard Way.” Ray answered smugly. 

“Oh Shit!” The drummer laughed, “Gerard Way? Really, Frankie? After all these fuckin’ years, you’re still after Gerard fuckin’ Way?” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Frank spat. “It’s not- I didn’t-“ He waved a hand at the other two musicians, praying they would take it as a warning to just shut the fuck up. 

“You know Gerard too?” Ray asked. 

“‘Course I know Gerard.” Their drummer scoffed, “I thought he was fucking… dead or married or something. Same thing, right?” 

“Shut up.” Frank moaned again. 

“He’s just being dramatic.” Ray said, turning to grin at the drummer, “They went out last night.” 

The drummer shot Frank a knowing, sleazy grin. 

“It wasn’t like that.” Frank groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. 

“You got home after three…” Ray teased, raising an eyebrow, “Cause you still weren’t home when I got up to piss at like, quarter till…” 

“Okay look,” Frank sighed, raising his hands in surrender, “I thought we were on a date… and then I tried to kiss him and he… said he was sorry and wanted to be friends??” 

The reality of their situation stung now that he was admitting what had happened out loud. 

“Ouch, Frankie.” The drummer tutted. 

“Look, whatever.” Frank sighed, “Can we just…”

Frank spun around and started adjust the mic stand. It didn’t need to be adjusted, but he didn’t want anyone to see the hurt in his face. 

“Gerard fuckin’ Way.” The drummer mumbled, shaking his head. 

It turned out the hurt that came with Gerard’s rejection was just what the band needed… When Frank screamed into the mic, he fucking meant it from the bottom of his heart. He couldn’t explain the pain, but he could certainly put a name and face to it. 

It wasn’t like Gerard was under some obligation to like Frank. Frank knew that. It still sucked so fucking much that he didn’t. It skewed Frank’s point of view, made him feel like he’d been the same person in the same position in the same fucking place for the last fucking decade. Even if somewhere deep down he knew it wasn’t true, it still made him want to, well, scream. 

~

It was the following night that Frank woke up alone in bed with his hand down the front of his pants, hard from a dream he couldn’t even fully remember. He gave himself a few noncommittal strokes with a name on the tip of his tongue before stopping himself. 

His mind had wandered off to Gerard without his permission. He frowned into the darkness and pulled his hand away. Getting over Gerard would be so much more complicated if Frank allowed himself to succumb to such desires. 

It had just been awhile, Frank told himself, rolling over and crushing face into his pillow. He groaned when rocking his hips into the mattress made everything worse, drifting off into uneasy, fitful sleep. 

Pencey was booked last minute to play an opening slot at a bar in the city a few nights later. Frank considered calling Gerard to tell him about the gig, since he’d said he would come to their next show, but every time he picked up his phone doubt curled in his stomach. No matter how he framed it, he concluded that Gerard had just said that out of politeness. If he didn’t want to kiss Frank, he probably didn’t want to see Frank’s band play either. 

He hated the way he scanned the crowd once he was up on the stage, looking for Mikey’s perfect hair, then pretending not to look for a mop of black hair, and hating himself even more each time he realized he would’ve even settled for the sight of a familiar set of sunglasses at the back of the room. 

He hated all of it, almost as much as he hated the way no one came back stage to see him after the show, and almost as much as he hated going home alone. He’d been fine with going home alone every night before Gerard had come back. He hated that he wasn’t fine with it anymore. He hated that Gerard made him feel like he was missing out on something he hadn’t been missing out on before. 

Ray hadn’t mentioned Gerard since it had come up at band practice. Frank was equal parts thankful and embarrassed as the rest of the week passed, Gerard-free. In some ways, Frank thought he could even see himself getting over it, in a way. He woke up less and less bummed out as the days passed. At band practice, his pained screaming felt less like a caged animal, desperate for freedom, and more like a monster he had control over. It was always there, but it didn’t consume him. 

It was when they were hungover, stoned, and watching cartoons on Saturday morning that Ray let it slip. James and Gerard had everything set up to perform an exorcism in Ray’s apartment later on in the day. Frank didn’t know why the information took him by surprise. 

“Why?” Frank asked. 

“What do you mean ‘why?’” Ray scoffed. 

“What do you mean what do I mean?” Frank fired back, head spinning too much to actually argue.

“They’re exercising demons, it’s what they do.” Ray shrugged, “Gerard said he’d call me when it was safe to go over there…” 

“Cool…” Frank breathed. 

There was a lull in their conversation then. Frank reached for the bong on the coffee table in front of them and took an experimental hit. When it didn’t make him nauseous he took another, much more committal hit. 

“Look, I don’t know what happened with you guys…” Ray said clearing his throat, “But if you’ve really known each other since high school, you should be able to talk to him about this.” 

“Ray…” Frank sighed, debating about explaining their complicated history, complete with it’s misunderstandings, but he stopped himself. He was too stoned, too hungover, too uninterested in spilling his guts like that. 

“I think I get it.” Ray said, “Or like, I really, really fucking don’t, but I get that I don’t get it.” 

Frank turned his head to blink at Ray in confusion. 

“Gerard’s a nice guy, Frank.” Ray added, “I’m sure he’d be upset if he knew you were upset.” 

“Maybe…” Frank offered dejectedly, setting the bong back down on the coffee table. 

The notion that Gerard was either across the parking lot or imminently going to be made Frank absolutely crazy for the rest of the daylight hours, and even into the evening. He was buzzing with nervous energy, unable to focus on anything or stick to any activities. Every time Ray tried to instigate a jam sesh, Frank would get up to smoke a cigarette within the first fifteen minutes. He smoked all of his cigarettes out of the kitchen window, to keep his eyes off the parking lot. It was hard to avoid staring off into the parking lot. He’d washed the same mug and saucer several times in an effort to keep himself from glancing out the windows to try and catch a glimpse of James or Gerard. 

From what Frank knew, Exorcisms were performed on people, not buildings. He’d never heard of anyone exercising an apartment before. He spent some time online, trying to read up on what it might entail. He found that it depended on lots of things, like the type of exorcist, and the type of demon or ghost inhabiting the space. There weren’t any Wikipedia pages on Clairvoyant Exorcists, it turned out. 

He slammed his laptop shut when he heard Ray laugh behind him. 

“Just ask Gerard.” Ray said, “He loves explaining shit like that.” 

“Since when are you an expert on Gerard?” Frank mumbled, turning in his chair to glare at Ray. 

“I’m not…” Ray countered, crossing his arms, “But you are. And you know I’m right.” 

Instead of arguing, Frank simply gave Ray the finger and got up, heading for the fridge to grab a beer. He still felt poisoned from the drinking he and his bandmates had done the night before. He was still sluggish from the weed he’d smoked over the course of the day. With all the hurt and anxiety and exhaustion, Frank felt like the epitome of toxic sludge. He slugged down a gulp of beer and startled when he lowered the bottle to find Ray smirking at him. Frank opened the fridge again and got out another bottle. He silently passed it to Ray. 

“It’s almost midnight.” Ray commented, twisting off the cap and flicking it at Frank, “Maybe we should go check on them? It shouldn’t be taking them so long.” 

“How do you know how long it’s supposed to take?” Frank scoffed. 

“Gerard texted me to say they were starting at 8.” Ray shrugged, taking a sip of his beer, “Four hours just seems a little… I don’t know? Long for an exorcism?” 

“You wanna go check on them?” Frank asked, “We could just, you know, stick an ear up to the door or whatever, make sure they’re not dead… I mean, if it would give you the peace of mind.” 

“You go.” Ray nodded with a satisfied grin, “I’ll stay here.” 

“Why me?” Frank complained, “What are you gonna do?”

“Stay here.” Ray repeated, like it was the most obvious answer in the world. 

“What? Are you scared?” Ray taunted. 

“No. Fuck you.” Frank said, setting down his beer and grabbing his sweatshirt off the back of the couch. 

“Maybe you can help them?” Ray added innocently, dropping onto the couch and reaching for the TV remote. 

“If I’m not back in 10 minutes-“ Frank started. 

“Just don’t forget to use protection.” Ray finished, turning up the volume on the TV. 

“I hate you.” Frank grumbled, making his way to the door. He hesitated a moment before turning the knob and shouldering out the door. 

It was eerily quiet in the parking lot. No one was driving around looking for a parking spot. No one was passing through. No one was sitting in any of the parked cars. The apartments themselves were also quiet. No dogs were barking. There was no distant hum of a TV, or the bass line of music. It was midnight, as usual. 

Even the darkness seemed darker somehow. The shadows between cars were pitch black and menacing. Even the light shining out of the lamp posts seemed dimmer. Frank kept catching glimpses of movement out of the corner of his eye, always turning to find he was still alone. 

He zipped his sweatshirt all the way to the top and walked as quickly as he could, sensing that he wasn’t wanted there. It was like Frank could feel the presence of the graves. It was ridiculous to say he felt them - he’d never felt them before - but there was no denying the way the ground seemed to hum with raw, negative energy. The few sips of beer Frank had managed to swallow sat heavily in his upset stomach. The bitter taste was almost sour in his mouth. 

As soon as he realized the lights were on in Ray’s unit, Frank hurried up the stairs. He paused in front of the door, listening for any indication that things weren’t going well. It was completely quiet on the other side of the door. Frank was about to conclude that no one was inside when he heard James. 

“Gerard! Now! It’s loose!” came James’ voice, “Don’t let it get out the window!” 

That was all the confirmation Frank needed. Before he could think it through, he was ripping the door open as fast as he could. The sight he was met with, was not one he had been expecting. There were candles all over the room.  Their flickering glow illuminated the violent red blood splattered across the ugly beige carpeting. The blood seemed to be coming from James. It was all over his hands and face, and blooming away on the collar of his shirt. He was laying on his back, reaching up towards the ceiling. Frank couldn’t see any obvious wounds, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

Gerard was crawling across the floor to get to James, a rosary in one hand and a glass bottle in the other. The liquid inside of the bottle sloshed across the carpet, mixing with the blood.

“Do you want me to call 911!?” Frank yelled. 

Gerard’s head snapped in Frank’s direction. 

“Frank, get the fuck out of here!” He barked, still crawling towards James. 

“But he’s hurt!” Frank countered, taking another step forward. 

There was a split second where Frank looked down and saw the circle burned into the carpet. It had five points, with strange writing all around them. Before his brain could even register the meaning of the circle, he felt his whole body go numb. Painfully, vacantly, numb.

“What’s happening?” He tried to ask. If he managed to say it out loud, he couldn’t hear himself. He couldn’t tell if his lips were  even moving. 

His body dropped onto the carpet. It might’ve hurt if he could feel anything, but there was nothing. He was trying to make sense of it. He could’t feel the blood soaking into his clothes, though he knew it probably was. He couldn’t smell the candles or the lingering smell of sage. He tried to move his tongue around in his mouth, but he couldn’t. 

“Frank!” Gerard shouted, getting off the floor and rushing over to Frank’s side. 

“It got him!” James cried. “It got Frank!” 

“Got me?” Frank tried to ask, but again, no words past his lips. 

“Frank, can you hear me?” Gerard asked, staring down into Frank’s eyes. Frank saw genuine worry and fear in his eyes, and he didn’t understand why. 

“Yeah, this is weird, but I’m fine.” Frank tried to say, and that was when he heard the sound of his own laugh, only crueler. 

“I said I’m… I’m fine!” He tried again, but only more laughing came out. His head jerked with the force of the sharp cackles erupting from his own throat. 

“Fuck.” James cursed, coming into Frank’s view. 

Frank couldn’t move his head to look around the room. He couldn’t do anything. It was like he was a passenger in his own body. 

He tried to blink, and his eyes were opening and closing. He just wasn't the one controlling them. 

“What do we do?” Gerard asked in a panicked voice, “It’s not going to kill him is it?” 

“We have to get it out as quickly as we can.” James instructed calmly.

Frank could hear himself retching and dry heaving. He tried to swallow, tried to stop the contents of his stomach from surfacing, but just like everything else he’d tried he was powerless. 

Between the blood and the burn marks and the regurgitated beer foam all over the new carpeting, there was no way Ray was getting his deposit back. 

Frank wanted to make a joke about it but suddenly everything went black….

~

When Frank came to he was on the linoleum floor of Ray’s kitchen. He still couldn’t move his head, couldn’t feel the floor underneath him, couldn’t feel the blood that had soaked into his clothes and dried. His eyes were fixed on the cross he’d made out of chopsticks back when he and Ray had tried to cleanse the apartment. It looked sad, face-down on the dusty floor. 

There was a buzzing in his ears. He thought he could hear talking going on around him, but he couldn’t make out the voices. Some of the voices were louder than others. Some sounded like soft cries. Some of them sounded like desperate prayers. The harder he focused, the clearer some of them got, until he could make out just James and Gerard, through the hum. 

“Frank? Are you in there somewhere?” Gerard’s muffled voice asked, “Can you hear me?” 

“He can hear you now.” James confirmed, “He’s fighting it.” 

“Keep fighting it, Frank.” Gerard instructed. 

“Keep saying his name. I think it’s helping.” James suggested. 

Frank’s head rolled to the other side and he was brought face to face with James. His clothes were still covered in the now-dried blood, but his hands and face were wiped clean. His hair was damp. He was staring at Frank with his bright violet eyes, searching Frank’s eyes for something. Frank wasn’t sure what. 

“Frank, listen,” Gerard said, clearing his throat. Frank’s head shifted again, up towards the ceiling this time. His eyes met Gerard’s. Gerard was sitting on the floor above his head, staring down at him, face calm and open. He could almost feel Gerard’s hands on the sides of his head. He couldn’t feel their warmth or texture, but he felt their presence. 

“Frank,” Gerard continued, “When all of this is over, I’m gonna take you out for ice cream. I wanna watch you eat a whole tub of it. Fuck veganism.” 

“You have such awful taste in sins, Way.” Frank heard his own voice intone, “Funny how we’ve ended up like this.” 

Gerard glanced over at James and nodded before turning back to look down at Frank. 

“Nostalgia is a funny thing, isn’t it? It was this very body that condemned your soul to hell in the first place. I’m sure you remember…” Frank’s mouth commented. 

“Leave.” Gerard commanded, narrowing his eyes. 

“Your thoughts alone are enough to send you there.” Frank’s mouth said, “I’d send you there myself if you’d just untie me…” 

“I won’t be doing that.” Gerard said, “Leave.” 

“Bert sends you his best.” Frank’s voice said. 

Frank tried to close his lips but he had no control. It wasn’t him talking. It wasn’t him that Gerard was touching. If he was tied up, he couldn’t feel it. He’d managed to remain relatively calm thus far, but the gravity of the situation was starting to sink in and Frank was starting to panic. What if he never got his body back? What if he was stuck like this? 

“Frank didn’t do anything to you. It’s me you want. Leave. Now.” Gerard said firmly, glaring into Frank’s eyes, “Leave Frank out of this.”

“Frank was just so easy.” Frank’s mouth mused, “He was so open, so vacant… But you already know how easy he is. Why’d you turn him down anyways? After all this time? If you’re going to sin, there’s no reason to half-ass it, Gerard. Take him down with you. Die together.  Even better, kill each other. Take your place, where you belong, in hell.” 

“Get out.” Gerard demanded. 

“Gerard stop listening to it, it’s just trying to make you mad.” James warned, appearing next to Gerard in Frank’s line of vision. 

“He is mad. I can feel it. It’s delicious.” Frank’s mouth said. 

“That’s enough from you.” James snapped. He turned to mumble something in Gerard’s ear that Frank couldn’t pick up. 

“Hang in there, Frank.” Gerard said, “I’m so sorry about all this.” 

A hand covered Frank’s eyes and again, Frank felt himself black out.

.

.

.

Frank woke to the smell of smoke. He lifted a hand to his face to rub the sleep from his eyes. The pain that gnawed at his wrists alerted him that he had control over his own body again. He traced a finger over his wrist, trying to locate the pain. He stopping touching it when the skin was tender to the touch. He propped himself up on an elbow and glanced around the room. 

His head swam with the effort. His vision blurred for a moment before returning to him. 

He quickly realized he was in his own living room. Daytime TV played silently. The air was thick with lazy, slow-drifting haze. He thought he could faintly smell the lingering promise of coffee. Coffee was the only thing about the place that felt familiar. 

The sound of glasses clinking broke the empty silence in the apartment. Frank’s heart skipped a beat. He’d thought he might be alone. 

“Ray?” Frank called out hoarsely after trying to clear his dry throat. 

A face appeared in the entryway to the kitchen, but it wasn’t Ray’s. 

“Frank?” Gerard asked, eyeing him worriedly. He crossed the room and got on his knees in front of the couch, searching Frank’s eyes. 

“Uh. Hey.” Frank said, “What-“ 

“Are you okay?” Gerard asked. 

“I think so.” Frank said, “…Everything hurts.”

He tried to yawn and snapped his mouth shut when his jaw protested sorely. 

Gerard nodded solemnly like he understood the pain somehow. 

“You… struggled a lot.” Gerard commented. 

“What… happened to me?” Frank asked, scrubbing a sore hand over his eyes. 

“A pretty textbook case of demonic possession.” Gerard said evenly. 

Frank blinked at Gerard for a moment, trying to piece together the things he remembered. It all had felt like a really intense nightmare, nothing more. 

But the aching in his limbs told him it was more. The way Gerard was staring at him worriedly told him it was more. 

“You got it out, right?” Frank asked, wincing as he tried to swallow and his throat stuck to itself, “It’s not still-?” 

“It’s long gone.” Gerard assured, “I promise.” 

Gerard’s face seemed to relax a little at that, and Frank wasn’t sure if he’d said it for Frank’s benefit or for his own. 

“Can I get you anything?” Gerard asked. 

“…Water?” Frank requested. 

Gerard promptly handed Frank a glass that had been sitting on the coffee table.  Frank took an experimental sip of the water to make sure it would stay down. His whole body felt strange, and he was becoming more and more aware of it as the seconds ticked by. 

He nearly spit out his water when he remembered everything the demon had said while Frank had been present. He couldn’t imagine what had been said when he’d been blacked out. 

Gerard looked even more concerned as he watched Frank choke on the water. He grabbed the glass from Frank’s hand and set it back down on the table. 

“What’s wrong?” Gerard asked. 

“Where’s Ray?” Frank asked quickly, “And what happened to James?” 

“I sent them out to pick up a few things.” Gerard offered, “I’ll explain later.” 

“Jame’s is okay?” Frank asked, “There was so much… blood…”  

“It’s over now.” Gerard said, aiming at reassuring. 

Gerard’s eyes were still roaming over Frank’s body, looking for signs of the demon, if Frank had to guess. Now that Frank was paying attention, he noticed the dark circles under Gerard’s eyes. His hair was messier than usual. His button-down was creased and wrinkled, speckled with blood. 

“Try not to think about it right now.” Gerard instructed, with a small smile.

“Those things I said…” Frank said softly, pausing when Gerard’s eyes met his, “They weren’t… me.” 

“I know.” Gerard said. 

“I wouldn’t… I mean, I couldn’t have…” Frank went on, nervously pausing to take another sip of water, “ I didn’t know that you…” 

“The thing about evil entities is that they know things most people don’t.” Gerard said, “They know all your sins, all your wrong-doings and uncertainties. Everything down to your impure thoughts, impulsive or otherwise.” 

“Wow… I need a fucking cigarette.” Frank breathed. 

“You shouldn’t get up.” Gerard insisted, eyeing Frank nervously as he gingerly lifted himself into a sitting position. He tried not to wince as his muscles protested against the movement. 

“What’s the worst that could happen to me at this point?” Frank huffed, reaching into his sweatshirt pocket for his smokes, almost surprised when he found a crushed package there. It wasn’t his brand. He wasn’t sure who the smokes belonged to, but he was desperate enough to smoke them anyways. Most of the cigarettes were flattened, he found, but not unsmokably flattened. While he fumbled with what was salvageable in the pack, his wrists sent him painful little reminders of their injured state. 

“You got a light?” he asked, sticking a cigarette between his lips. 

“Frank.” Gerard sighed.

“You’re no help.” Frank muttered teasingly around his cigarette. 

“You shouldn’t smoke for a few days.” Gerard said stiffly. 

“Okay, Mom.” Frank said, pulling the cigarette from his lips. He flicked the cigarette onto the floor, causing his aching wrist to throb. He wasn’t going to be able to play guitar like this, he realized. He felt himself growing incredibly, unnaturally irritable. 

“I’ll explain everything later.” Gerard offered cryptically. 

“Why can’t you explain now?” Frank challenged. 

“I want to give you some time to recuperate first.” Gerard said. 

“I’m fine, Gerard, just tell me what the fuck is going on.” Frank pressed. 

Gerard looked a little taken aback by Frank’s hostility. Frank himself was a little taken aback by it as well. 

“I’m… God, why am I so… mad at you right now?” Frank asked.

“Lingering demonic side effects.” Gerard said matter of factly, “I promise I’ll explain everything once you’ve had more time to rest.” 

“Seriously. Just explain it now, I’ve clearly got all fucking day.” Frank pressed. 

The anger bubbling up inside him made him feel heavy and toxic, just like he had before the possession had taken him. 

“Frank, you need to calm down.” Gerard said softly, placing a hand on Frank’s chest and attempting to push him down onto the cushions. 

“Easy for you to say.” he spat, resisting against Gerard’s hand for a moment before letting himself drop onto the couch.

“I’m serious.” Gerard said firmly, “If you don’t relax you could relapse. You’re like an open wound right now, begging for an infection.” 

“Gross.” Frank grumbled.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t think of a better analogy.” Gerard said sheepishly.

“This is all your fault.” Frank said. 

He immediately regretted it. 

Gerard gave Frank a stunned look as Frank continued to glare at him. Even if it was true, Frank probably shouldn’t have said it. The  accusation had sucked all the air out of the room. 

“…I know it is.” Gerard said solemnly, pulling his hand away from Frank, “I’ll do all I can to make it up to you.” 

“Make it up to me?” Frank scoffed, “What exactly is the price of getting your fucking body hijacked? What would you equate that to, Gerard?” 

“You have every right to be upset with me.” Gerard said evenly, “I’m so sorry this happened to you. But we’ll get you through this. I can refer you to someone who can help you…” 

“I don’t need your pity.” Frank said, “Honestly, I’ll probably be safer as soon as you fucking leave.” 

“Frank…” Gerard argued softly, “I can help you.” 

“Like hell you can!” Frank scoffed, “If you hadn’t come back with your stupid fucking ghost stories none of this would’ve happened!!” 

“This isn’t you.” Gerard said, “Frank, don’t let it control you like this.” 

“How the fuck would you know me?” Frank asked harshly, “You’ve never fucking known me, Gerard. Ever. Seriously. Get the fuck out of my apartment.” 

“I’m not leaving you alone like this.” Gerard countered. 

“Fine. As soon as Ray gets back I want you gone.” Frank stated, feeling his heart pounding in his ears.

He knew he was being an asshole but it felt so good. Frank was tired of Gerard’s stupid games. He was tired of Gerard walking around acting like he was the only fucking expert in the world on all things supernatural. It wasn’t like he’d invented the field of study. He was arrogant and selfish, at best. Frank hated everything about him.  

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” Gerard said softly. 

“Well it’s worthless.” Frank said flatly.

Gerard slowly got up from his place on the floor in front of Frank and ghosted into the kitchen. As soon as Frank was sure he wasn’t going to come back into the room, he slowly eased himself off the couch and headed for the bathroom. 

He knew what Gerard would think if he locked himself in, so he left it unlocked. The last thing he needed was Gerard ruining another apartment in the name of science or demonology or whatever.

Frank glanced at himself in the mirror and immediately had to look away. He was unrecognizable to himself. His face was pale and gaunt. His eyes were bloodshot, framed by puffy dark circles. He had no idea how Gerard had looked at him and not freaked the fuck out. Frank looked like death itself. 

He turned the cold knob on the sink, letting the cool water spill over his hands. It was relaxing to confirm that he was in control of his own hands. He could feel the water on his skin, on his aching wrists. The pain in his fingers comforted him. 

He turned off the water and sat on the floor, relishing in the quiet. Relishing in the stillness. 

He moved his hands experimentally, watching the tendons in his fingers flex when he commanded them to. 

Frank felt spread out, like the blood of a deer hit by a car on the turnpike. It would have to rain a few times before all of him could rinse off the baking asphalt and recollect in a ditch on the side of the road.

There was a soft knock on the other side of the door. 

“What?” Frank sighed. 

“Are you okay?” Gerard asked from the other side of the door. Frank could hear him try the doorknob and it sent another spike of anger through him. 

“I just want to be alone.” Frank said firmly. 

“I know.” Gerard said through the door, “I get it.” 

“No you don’t!” Frank fired back, “Stop acting like this is normal. I’m not a fucking case study, Gerard!” 

“I know you’re not.” Gerard said defeatedly. “I’m sorry.” 

“Fuck you.” Frank said, feeling tears prick his eyes. 

“Can I come in?” Gerard asked. 

“Fuck. No.” Frank shot back. 

“Please, Frank.” Gerard pleaded. 

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore.” Frank said, voice echoing against the tiles, “I don’t want to be in this body.” 

“Those feelings will pass in time…” Gerard said encouragingly, “Please come out.” 

Frank rolled his eyes and slowly lifted himself off the floor. The movement made his head swim and he leaned against the sink until his vision stopped blurring. He took a step towards the door, wiping his eyes before opening it slowly. 

Gerard was just standing there, eyeing him curiously. The worry in his eyes seemed genuine, which only seemed to make Frank hate him more. 

“I can help you.” Gerard said slowly.

Frank silently wandered past Gerard, and headed back to his living room. He dropped onto the couch, eyeing the TV. He pulled a throw blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around his shoulders. Now that the anger was draining from him all he could feel was exhaustion. 

It looked like a documentary was on. Frank glared at a helicopter view of the vatican. A documentary on catholic shit. Gerard couldn’t be serious with this shit, Frank thought to himself. 

Gerard sat beside him on the couch and grabbed the TV remote. 

“Is there really nothing good on TV?” Frank mumbled. 

“Stuff like this keeps them away.” Gerard said, “They hate all electronic stuff. Music, TV, anything like that…” 

Frank glared at Gerard indecisively. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to bother asking who Gerard meant by ‘they.’

“I can change the channel if you want.” Gerard offered. 

“Please.” Frank nodded. Nodding hurt. He made a note to not do it again. 

“Any requests?” Gerard asked. 

“Cartoons.” Frank said, “But keep the volume off. My head hurts.” 

“Do you want something for that?” Gerard asked. 

“Just like… if you have some poison I could ingest to make this all go away…” Frank said. 

“Frank.” Gerard scolded gently, flipping quickly through the channels.

Frank pulled the blanket tighter around himself and curled up into a ball. He felt far away from everything, like he wasn’t even in the room with Gerard. At the same time it wasn’t like he was somewhere else. It was like he was glued between two places and couldn’t unstick himself to move into either of them. 

“Are you still feeling like you wanna leave your body?” Gerard asked softly. 

“Is it that obvious?” Frank asked morosely. 

 Gerard had found cartoons, though it wasn’t the ones Frank liked. The lack of churches or actual human beings was a plus, he had to admit. 

“Can I… try something?” Gerard asked. 

“Um.” Frank hesitated, pulling his eyes away from the TV to look at Gerard, “Do I have to move?” 

“Nope.” Gerard said, shooting Frank a small knowing smile.

“Okay. What is it?” Frank sighed. 

“Just give me your hand.” Gerard said. 

Frank extended his arm and let his hand limply dangle in front of Gerard. Gerard took Frank’s hand in his own carefully, running his fingers over the back of it. It made Frank’s skin tingle, uncomfortably at first. 

Frank returned his focus to the television as Gerard’s fingers ghosted over his palm. He felt tingly all over.

As he adjusted to the sensation, he began to feel himself relax in a way he hadn’t been allowing himself to since he’d woken up. It was like releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. 

Slowly, Gerard pushed Frank’s sweatshirt sleeve up his arm, running his fingers over the exposed skin. 

“What are you…” Frank trailed off, too over-stimulated and exhausted to form complete sentences. 

“The idea is to positively reinforce your subconscious need for soul-to-physical threading through external stimuli.” Gerard said, tracing his fingers around the tattoos curling up Frank’s arm. 

“In English?” Frank hummed, letting his eyes flutter closed. 

“I’m trying to make your body feel inviting to you on a subconscious level.” Gerard explained, “So that you’ll be here, and not there. One hundred percent.” 

“How do you know about… there?” Frank asked, “It doesn’t feel like a real place. It’s a place between places.” 

Gerard’s fingers trailed past the crease in Frank’s elbow, sending a shiver down his spine. 

“James tried to explain it to me once.” Gerard said softly, “It’s like this… hollow feeling, but it’s more.” 

“There are other things you can do… besides this…” Gerard went on, “Taking a bath might help. Or swimming.”

“Baptism?” Frank snorted. 

“That’s actually not a bad idea.” Gerard mused. 

“Fuck you. I was kidding.” Frank said. 

“Right…” Gerard agreed. 

Frank bit his lip to keep himself from moaning. Now that his body was responding to Gerard’s fingers, he wanted to be touched all over, like it was something he’d been starved of and now required as substance. 

“…Do you do this with everyone?” Frank found himself asking. 

“No, I…” Gerard faltered, “Actually you’re the first. Is it helping?” 

“I think so…” Frank swallowed. 

Frank opened his eyes to find Gerard staring at his arm intently. He followed Gerard’s gaze down and realized Gerard was studying his tattoos. His fingers gently traced along the dark lines, taking them in. It made Frank’s breathing seize up to have Gerard’s eyes on him like that. And then suddenly seeing Gerard’s hand moving over his arm was too much for Frank. It made him feel far away again. Like it was happening to someone else and he was just seeing it through their eyes. 

It was then that he noticed the sweatshirt he was wearing, wasn’t his. 

“Um, who’s sweatshirt is this?” he asked. 

“It’s mine.” Gerard said, “Yours got sort of… blood-soaked.” 

“Oh.” Frank hummed. He did remember the blood on the floor but hadn’t considered what that might mean for the clothes he’d been wearing the night before. 

Gerard skimmed his finger from Frank’s elbow down, to worry at his wrist and Frank felt himself shudder. His arm felt over-sensitive. He wanted Gerard to keep touching him, just somewhere else. Anywhere else. Everywhere else. 

“It’s black so if you run it through the wash a few times to get the smell out, no one will be able to tell.” Gerard said. 

“Only you would suggest that.” Frank laughed breathily. He pulled his arm away from Gerard and reached up, unzipping the sweatshirt carefully.

“You can hang on to it for as long as you want.” Gerard said. 

“Okay.” Frank said, pulling the zipper back up, “Maybe just until mine’s clean.” 

Wanting to lay down and asking Gerard to move at the same time was too much for Frank. Instead he settled on resting his head on Gerard’s thigh, curling himself into a comfortable position. He tried to focus on the cartoons, in hopes that it would help him stop feeling like he was going to float right up to the ceiling if he wasn’t tied down. 

He was worried he’d crossed a line until he felt Gerard’s hand run over his hair, smoothing the locks down in the same direction. It felt so nice to be touched. He held his breath as Gerard tangled his fingers in Frank’s hair, tousling the locks and smoothing them back down again in a slow rhythm. He couldn’t focus on the TV at all, it felt so nice. 

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Gerard asked, slowing his movements. 

“How could you possibly be hurting me?” Frank breathed. 

“You thrashed quite a bit.” Gerard said, “I tried to hold you still, but I think you hit your head pretty hard a few times.” 

“That explains the headache.” Frank mumbled. 

“If it hurts I can…” Gerard trailed off. Frank thought Gerard was going to try to stop, but instead he just slid his fingers down to the back of Frank’s neck. He trailed them over the skin there, working slow, gentle patterns. Frank had a hard time not nuzzling against Gerard’s jeans anymore or groaning at the overwhelming pleasant tingling sensation. 

Eventually he adjusted to the intimacy of it, cocking his head to the side to give Gerard better access to his skin. He shuddered involuntarily when  Gerard’s fingers traced his collar bone. 

By the end of the episode, Gerard had a hand down the back of Frank’s borrowed sweatshirt, making slow circles against Frank’s back through a layer of t-shirt. 

Frank let himself drift in and out of sleep, occasionally blinking at the TV, but mostly just relishing in Gerard’s touch. 

After awhile he realized Gerard had stopped moving. He could still feel the warmth of Gerard’s hand resting on his shoulder, but his hand had gone still. When Frank gently rolled onto his back and glanced up. He found that Gerard was fast asleep. His head was back and his mouth was hanging open. 

Frank looked back towards the TV to try and figure out what cartoons were on. 

His heart skipped a beat when the screen went grey, filling with static before returning to full color. He reached a hand up and rubbed at his eyes, trying to make sure he’d seen it right. When he inspected the screen again, it was flickering. 

“Gerard.” Frank whispered. 

Gerard hummed in his sleep, hand twitching on Frank’s shoulder. 

The screen flickered again. Frank glanced around the apartment. The sun had gone down and the shadows in the corners of the room seemed bigger, fuller. Menacing. 

“Gerard.” Frank tried again, slowly lifting himself off the couch and looking around at the darkness, begging it to stay away from him. He felt alone and scared and cold, coming apart at the seams. He was spread out and rotting like roadkill. 

When Gerard didn’t wake up, Frank got up and stumbled into the bathroom. He squinted in the light,  avoiding looking at himself in the mirror on his way to the toilet. He wasn’t sure which matter was more pressing, the need to pee or the need to throw up. He felt light-headed and hollow, staring down at the toilet as his throat constricted. His stomach was empty, he reminded himself, unzipping his pants.

He was in and out of the bathroom as quickly as possible. The quiet, emptiness that had been inviting before, was nothing short of terrifying for Frank now. After washing his hands thoroughly, relishing in the sensation of the warm water on his palms, he headed back for the living room. 

The TV had stopped flickering and Gerard had gotten up.  Frank heard his microwave whirring away in the kitchen and followed the noise, like a moth drawn to the light. Gerard was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, waiting for his cup of coffee to finish heating up. He shot Frank a groggy smile as Frank crossed the room. 

“How are you feeling?” Gerard asked. 

“Bad.” Frank answered honestly, moving into Gerard’s space without waiting for permission. He wrapped his arms around Gerard’s neck, burying his face in Gerard’s shirt and taking a slow, deep breath. It hurt to breathe deeply. He added it to the list of ‘things to not do again.’

Gerard’s arms slowly curled around Frank’s middle to pull him closer. 

“How long am I going to feel like this?” Frank asked. 

“I don’t know.” Gerard said softly, “It’s different for everyone.” 

Neither of them moved when the microwave beeped. The smell of stale coffee filled the kitchen. The idea of a cup was almost appealing to Frank. Almost. It was still the only thing in his apartment that felt like it actually belonged to him. 

Frank lifted his head to look at Gerard. 

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore.” Frank said miserably. 

“I wish I could make it go away.” Gerard said, furrowing his brow. 

“I bet you could.” Frank said. 

“I’m not really qualified to-“ 

Frank cut him off with a kiss. It felt so good to have something to do with his lips other than complaining. The spacey far away feelings vanished as soon as Gerard pulled him closer and politely kissed him back. He carefully moved his lips against Frank’s, sliding his hands up the back of Frank’s shirt and spreading his palms against Frank’s back. The heat felt so nice, Frank thought he might melt into a puddle.

Frank parted his lips and sighed against Gerard’s mouth, inviting him in. To Frank’s dismay, Gerard kept his kisses polite and cordial. It took a substantial amount of willpower to not shove Gerard against the counter and take matters into his own hands, but he hadn’t forgotten Gerard’s previous rejection. Even in his compromised state, Frank didn’t want to push Gerard further than he was ready to go.  

Gerard pulled his lips away from Franks then. Frank was about to protest when Gerard pressed his lips against Frank’s jaw, and then lower, lower, lower on his neck. Gerard’s lips gravitated towards the hem of Frank’s shirt. He leaned against Gerard as he continued his torturously slow neck kisses. Gerard’s hands slid further up his back, making Frank’s head spin. 

He felt open and hollow, just like he had all day, but it was different somehow. There was purpose to the hollowness. He let Gerard control the situation. He was Gerard’s for the taking. 

Frank ditched any last minute efforts at not making embarrassing noises when Gerard gently dragged his nails down Frank’s back. A small, desperate groan escaped his lips. The sound seemed to only make Gerard pull him closer. 

“Is it helping?” Gerard mumbleed, grazing his teeth over Frank’s neck. 

Frank hummed in response, capable of little else. 

“Good.” Gerard whispered. 

Frank stayed pressed up against Gerard, relishing in the slow kisses, the hands pressing into his back, the warmth, the presence. 

“Take a nap with me?” Frank offered, breathing Gerard in. 

Gerard pulled away enough to stare into Frank’s eyes. It was like he didn’t understand what Frank had said. He bit his lip as his eyes searched Frank’s. 

“I’m tired, you’re tired…” Frank said, trying to break the tension, “We could…” 

“Frank.” Gerard said blankly. 

“What?” Frank asked. 

“You’re not talking about actually… sleeping.” Gerard said. It wasn’t a question. 

“Well, we could…” Frank said. He wouldn’t turn down an offer to sleep next to Gerard. At least that would put them somewhere closer than they were. 

“We shouldn’t.” Gerard said. 

“Why not?” Frank asked, trying to keep his voice light. 

“You’re not thinking straight.” Gerard said simply. 

“My thinking’s fine.” Frank countered.

“You were trying to make me leave less than an hour ago.” Gerard pointed out, “Did you forget you’re mad at me?” 

“Did you forget, too?” Frank retorted in disbelief, “Cause you’re being pretty fuckin’ handsy for someone who’s ready to leave.” 

“I’ll admit, I’ve been selfish…” Gerard offered hesitantly. 

“Don’t tell me it’s all for science, Gee.” Frank said sadly, pulling away from Gerard, “I’m not just a fucking case study to you. Tell me you fuckin like me, too. I know you do.” 

“Can we not do this right now? James and Ray will be back any minute.” Gerard sighed. 

“So what?” Frank asked. 

“This isn’t like you.” Gerard said, staring into Frank’s eyes with a pained look. 

“I wanted you before all this.” Frank said matter of factly, feeling another bout of rage bubble up inside him,“This isn’t a fucking side effect. I wanted you when everything still made sense…” 

Frank was too tired to get angry, and yet here he was, ready to fight Gerard all over again. He took a few steps back and glared at Gerard. 

“I know you did.” Gerard nodded. 

“I don’t understand. Why would you kiss me if you don’t- What was that bullshit about taking me out for ice cream?” Frank stammered, shaking his head. He felt ridiculous having to argue for something that  he knew was real. He couldn’t figure out why Gerard was resisting so much. He knew Gerard liked him. James had said so. Ray had said so. Frank could see it all over Gerard’s face. 

“You heard that?” Gerard asked. 

“Yeah. Right before my own fuckin’ mouth told you how fuckin’ easy I am.” Frank scoffed. 

“Frank, you’re not.” Gerard argued, “I don’t think you’re-“

“You don’t know the first thing about me.” Frank interrupted darkly. He hadn’t thought it through, it just came out of his mouth, almost as if he didn’t have control over his own words. It scared him, but he couldn’t let Gerard see that. 

“I know I don’t, Frank.” Gerard said, “That’s why we shouldn’t make things any more complicated than they already are.” 

“God, fuck this.” Frank groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Gerard was really fucking dragging things out. He still hadn’t said he liked Frank back. The longer he waited to say it, the more likely it would be that he wouldn’t say it at all. 

“You don’t have as much control over yourself as you think you do right now…” Gerard said softly, “Remember that.” 

“I’m not a fucking case study.” Frank repeated morosely. He couldn’t fucking believe it. Gerard wasn’t going to say it.

“I know you aren’t.” Gerard said instead. 

Frank continued to glare at Gerard, even though he had nothing else to say - other than that he fucking hated Gerard. He was certain Gerard already knew, though. 

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” Gerard asked carefully. 

“What I want is for you to leave.” Frank said, and for once, he fucking meant it.  

“As soon as Ray gets back, I’m out of here, I promise.” Gerard said. 

“Good.” Frank said, backing out of the kitchen. 

He ended up back on the couch, wrapping the thin blanket around himself. He could still feel Gerard’s lips on his. He could still feel his hands all over. He still wanted Gerard’s hands all over. 

“Gerard?” Frank called out. 

“Yeah?” Gerard asked, voice echoing through the apartment. 

“I fucking hate you.” Frank said. 

“Good.” Gerard said. 

“Why is that good?” Frank yelled. 

“Because it means you’re thinking straight.” Gerard called back, “And I actually believe the words coming out of your mouth.” 

Frank couldn’t argue with that, nor did he want to. Instead he pulled the blanket tightly around his shoulders and laid down on the couch. He eyed his guitar warily. He wanted to play it, mostly to see if he could even play it through the pain, but he suddenly felt too heavy to get up and get it. 

He wanted to go somewhere that didn’t remind him of himself, or of Gerard, or of the horror he’d gone through the night before. He pulled the blanket over his eyes and curled up in a little ball, as if the darkness would make him feel less spread out. He tried to think of somewhere he would rather be. The first thing that came to mind was a shooting range. The second, a theme park… 

Frank hated guns, but he wanted to watch other people shoot them. He wanted to see evil in someone other than himself. He wanted the sound of guns firing to drown out all his awful gnawing thoughts. 

He also sort of wanted to get on a roller-coaster, just to have his fate in someone else’s hands for a few seconds. He would’ve been just as satisfied to crash a bumper car into other bumper cars over and over but it was too early in the year for any amusement parks to be open anyways.

The minutes seemed to drag on and on. Frank was painfully aware of his distance from Gerard. Every now and then he could hear Gerard moving around his apartment. Whatever Gerard was doing, he did it silently. One minute Frank would hear him in the kitchen, and then seconds later Frank would hear him in the room with him. It was as though he could walk through the walls. It was as though Gerard himself was a ghost, haunting Frank’s apartment. 

Which reminded Frank…

“Gerard?” Frank croaked out miserably, pulling the blanket off his head.

“Frank.” Gerard echoed from the kitchen. 

“Will you come here?” Frank asked. 

“I don’t know.” Gerard hesitated. 

“I still hate you, I promise.” Frank sighed defeatedly. 

“Alright.” Gerard said, appearing in the doorway. 

“Do you know…” Frank said, swallowing dryly, “Is my apartment… haunted?” 

Gerard crossed the room and perched on the arm of the couch, looking down at Frank with pity. Frank felt better the second Gerard was in his space bubble. 

“Nothing can hurt you here.” Gerard said, “I promise.” 

“How can you be so sure?” Frank asked. 

“I checked while you were still out.” Gerard said, “And I had James check, too.” 

“Okay…” Frank said. 

“Do you need anything?” Gerard asked. 

“No. I…” Frank paused, “I just want to be somewhere that isn’t here.”

“Where do you want to go?” Gerard asked, reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table and turning the TV off. 

“Anywhere.” Frank said, closing his eyes, “I’ve been thinking about shooting ranges and amusement parks.” 

“What do those places have in common?” Gerard asked, with a note of amusement in his voice. 

“They’re both examples of hell on Earth.” Frank said matter of factly, allowing himself to smile. 

He meant to elaborate further but then he heard his front door open, followed by the rustling of grocery bags and jackets being pulled off. Ray and James had returned. 

Gerard headed towards the door to greet them. 

Frank inspected his hands as he listened to the quiet exchange between his friends. Or, his friend and two of his enemies. He hadn’t forgotten how mad he was at James for trying to hook him up with Gerard when Gerard had no interest in being hooked. 

“Is he awake?” Ray asked. 

“Yeah.” Gerard said. 

Frank sat up and pulled the blanket around his shoulders. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with himself, so he sat completely still as Ray sped into the room, dropped onto the couch and pulled him in for a hug. 

He could feel James’ and Gerard’s eyes on them but it didn’t matter. He thought he could even feel James trying to get inside his head. Frank didn’t have the energy to stop any of it, so he didn’t bother. All he wanted was for Ray to know he was okay. 

“How are you feeling?” Ray asked, pulling away enough to let Frank breathe. 

“I’m okay.” Frank nodded, trying to sound as earnest as possible. 

Ray looked just as tired and concerned as Gerard had, Frank noted. He wondered if any of them had gotten any sleep the night before, or if Frank had been the only one. 

“We got some stuff at the store that’s going to help you.” Ray said. 

Frank snuck a glance in his enemies’ direction to find that they had both left the room to give the two friends the illusion of privacy. Frank mentally gave James the finger as he tried to smile convincingly at Ray. 

“Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Thirsty? In pain?” Ray asked cautiously, like Frank would break if he spoke too loud. 

“Actually,” Frank said, “I just-“  

Ray popped up and ghosted into the kitchen, before Frank could even finish his sentence. Frank tried not to listen to the soft rush of voices. He knew they were talking about him and he hated it. What could they possibly have to say that couldn’t just be said to his fucking face? 

It was Gerard, not Ray, that came into the room after they’d all stopped whispering to each other. Frank opened his mouth to politely tell him to fuck off, but stopped when Gerard passed him a fresh glass of water. 

“Don’t start…” Gerard said, perching on the edge of Frank’s coffee table, “I just want to get something straight, before I leave.” 

“Okay.” Frank said, feeling his anger deflate.  

“You still want me to leave…” Gerard said. 

“…Yes, and?” Frank asked. He mentally cringed at how bitchy it sounded. 

“I know you want space to heal right now, so I’m going to give it you, but if you… Just, if you ever need anything, you can call me okay?” Gerard said, averting his gaze away from Frank, “I’ll always… I know this stuff. I can help you. All you have to do is call me.” 

“Okay.” Frank said. 

“I want to help you.” Gerard said, “I’m your friend in this. I swear.” 

Frank kept his mouth closed. He was still waiting for the part where Gerard let it slip. He searched Gerard’s face for any indication he was about to say he liked Frank, too. 

“Alright, well then…” Gerard said, scrubbing a hand through his wild, dark hair. He got up and disappeared just as quickly as he’d appeared. 

Frank was starting to notice a pattern. He could feel himself spreading out when he wasn’t directly engaged. If no one was talking to him, looking at him - If the TV wasn’t on… If he was sitting quietly by himself, he’d start to slip apart. He could feel it happening as he tried to pick out what James was saying to Ray. 

Ray didn’t come back into the room until James and Gerard had let themselves out. Frank wasn’t sure he could’ve shown them out, even if he’d had the strength. He was sort of glad he hadn’t. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until he heard the front door close. 

Gerard had  said they didn’t like music. Frank still didn’t know who ‘they’ were, but that didn’t stop him from lifting himself off the couch and shooting over to his stereo to look for something to play. He put on The Power of Failing, because he knew he’d end up on the record anyways. 

As the familiar opening notes of Five, Eight, and Ten filled the room, Frank felt more tethered to reality than he had since he’d woken up. It was a delightful mood swing, really. He didn’t need Gerard, he reminded himself. He was still the same person he’d been yesterday. He was still the same person he’d been since before Gerard came back. The only difference was that he couldn’t convince himself he belonged in his own fucking body. 

But Gerard had said the feeling would pass.

“So um,” Ray coughed, “You can tell me to fuck off if you want to be alone… but I’m gonna hang out until you tell me to fuck off.”

“It would be nice if you hung around.” Frank said, “I feel more… me, when someone else is in the room.” 

“Cool.” Ray nodded, “I’m gonna make us something to eat then.” 

Frank wanted to say he wasn’t hungry, because he wasn’t. The idea of eating kind of repulsed him but he couldn’t keep standing there, staring at Ray. He nodded slowly in agreement and grabbed a stack of CDs to flip through. 

Frank followed Ray into the kitchen and perched on the counter. He watched as Ray pulled things out of a pile of grocery bags that had appeared on the floor by the sink. He tried to not think about how Gerard had been in the room less than 15 minutes prior. Luckily, he was so spaced out, it felt like their touching and kissing and arguing had all happened to someone else. 

Frank stifled a yawn as Ray set a pot of boiling water on the stove. The slide of the CD cases clacking against each other as Frank sorted through them was the only sound cutting the silence. 

“I didn’t know you could cook, Toro.” Frank commented. 

“How hard can it be?” Ray said, inspecting the back of a package of pasta. 

“If you set my apartment on fire, leave me, just grab the guitars.” Frank snorted. 

Ray looked up from reading the cooking instructions and for a split second Frank could tell Ray really wasn’t amused. Ray quickly hid his concern under a polite smile and Frank added ‘jokes about his own death’ to his growing list of things to avoid. 

“You’re not going to set my apartment on fire.” Frank amended. 

They were quiet for a moment then. It was awkward. Frank was waiting for Ray to stop skirting around Frank and just say what he was thinking. While Frank wanted to avoid talking about what had happened for as long as possible, he knew it would help Ray. 

“Frank…” Ray sighed, giving in just like Frank knew he would, “I shouldn’t have let you go over there. Gerard told me to wait until he said it was safe…” 

“There is no way in hell I’m letting you blame yourself for what happened last night.” Frank argued.

Frank realized he wasn’t even sure it had happened the night before. It felt like it had happened so long ago.  He was about to ask when Ray cut in. 

“It should’ve been me, dude.” Ray said.

“Gerard told me not to come inside. I was the one who walked right into his stupid witchcraft circle.” Frank said. 

“What withcraft circle?” Ray asked. 

“It was burned right into the fucking carpet.” Frank said, “Don’t tell me you didn’t see it?” 

“Frank… there weren’t any burn marks on the carpet.” Ray said slowly. 

“Maybe they were under all the blood?” Frank suggested. 

“There wasn’t any blood either.” Ray said, furrowing his brow. 

Maybe Frank had imagined it. Maybe the thing that had crawled inside him had made him see things that weren’t really there. 

“I’m not making this up.” Frank promised. 

“No, I believe you, just…” Ray paused, “Somethings not right. I’m gonna call Gerard.” 

“Don’t.” Frank said quickly. 

Ray frowned at his friend for a moment before turning to pour the entire package of noodles into the still-warming pot of water. Frank wanted to point out that he should have waited for the water to get to a rolling boil before pouring them in but it was too late. 

“We thought you guys would work it out if we were gone long enough.” Ray said sheepishly. 

“Gerard doesn’t wanna work it out, I guess?” Frank laughed bitterly. 

“I think it was pretty rough for Gerard, too.” Ray pointed out, “I know he handles this kind of thing all the time, but I’m pretty sure he’s not used to seeing it happen to someone he… cares about.” 

“Who’s side are you on?” Frank grimaced. 

“All I’m saying is that maybe he’s got some stuff to work through, too.” Ray said, “He feels responsible for what happened to you.” 

“He should feel responsible.” Frank said, “None of this would’ve happened if…” 

Frank stopped himself. Trying to reason through everything was making his head spin. Gerard had told him not to think about it. As his vision blurred, he got why Gerard had suggested it. 

“Never mind.” Frank said. He’d rearranged the CD cases in the order he wanted to listen to them and so slid off the counter and headed back into the living room to set them by the stereo. Instead of going back into the kitchen, Frank dropped onto the couch. He felt heavy and mean and helpless. He didn’t want all his negative emotions to rub off on Ray. Ray was only trying to help, after all. 

He closed his eyes and tried to think of nothing at all, but something about nothingness terrified Frank.  

Frank must’ve dosed off, because he opened his eyes to find Ray sliding a bowl onto the coffee table in front of him. The Power of Failing had ended and the room was quiet. 

“Frankie, you should really eat something, man.” Ray said, squeezing Frank’s shoulder. 

He sat down on the end of the couch and flipped the TV back on. He turned the volume up a few notches, but kept it low, which Frank was grateful for. His mouth had dried out again. He hadn’t consumed much water since he’d come to, and it was starting to give him a fucking headache.

Frank closed his eyes for another moment, chasing his dreamless sleep. Eventually he lifted his tired hands up to rub at his face and sat up. Deliriously, he grabbed the bowl and stabbed a forkful of pasta. He inspected the food in the dim lighting. Olive oil and herbs were the seasoning, maybe some parmesan, if he had to guess. It seemed like a safe thing to shove into a body Frank didn’t completely trust. 

He chewed slowly, grimacing at the way his throat contracted with the first bite. He knew Ray would leave it alone if he saw Frank eat a few bites, so he tried to get through them as quickly as possible. The mild pasta dish burned its way down to Frank’s stomach and sat there heavily. 

Defeated, Frank set the bowl back down on the coffee table and tried to relax against the couch cushions. It felt like there was a lake of lava resting in his stomach. The stretched out feeling dissipated, now that he was in an un-ignorable amount of pain. He tried to ignore it by gently trailing his own fingertips over his forearm, just like Gerard had done. It managed to soothe him a little, but the soothing came with it’s own brand of agony and regret. Frank wondered if anyone could ever touch him like that again without it reminding him of Gerard. 

He’d gotten over Gerard once before, it shouldn’t be so hard to do it again. Frank wasn’t sure how he’d done it before, though. His late teens were all a messy blur of weed and dark basements and broken guitar strings. 

It took another 30 seconds for Frank to realize he needed to throw up. He quickly got up and raced for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before the contents of his stomach resurfaced. His throat burned as he wretched over the toilet bowl, trying his best to tuck his bangs out of the way. 

“This isn’t good.” Ray sighed from the doorway. 

Frank wiped his mouth off on the back of his hand and glanced over at his friend, trying his best to conceal the amount of pain he was in. The last thing Frank needed was for Ray to worry any more than he already was. The stabbing pain caused his eyes to prick with tears. He tried to swallow the pain, only causing more tears to spill from his eyes. 

“I’m okay.” Frank promised, “I just… don’t feel up to eating right now. But I’ll be fine, dude, really.” 

He slowly lifted himself up off the floor on queasy legs and glanced at himself in the mirror. Noticing he looked worse than ever.. 

“Dude, um,” Ray hesitated, “I don’t know how to say this but…” 

“What?” Frank asked cautiously. 

Some part of him didn’t want to know what Ray had to add, especially if Ray was gonna keep looking at him like that. 

“Well, I sort of…” Ray paused, “Dude… I put holy water in your food.” 

“Oh.” Frank breathed. 

“It was just a few drops.” Ray said softly, “James said it would help you.” 

Frank looked at himself in the mirror again. He turned on the sink and cupped his hands under the tap to pull the water into his mouth. The cool water soothed his burning throat as he gargled. He spit the water out and swallowed more down, swishing it around in his mouth. After he’d gotten most of the bile taste out, he returned his gaze to the mirror. 

He stuck his tongue out and was surprised by the angry, sore spots he found all over. They definitely hadn’t been there before. Frank would’ve felt them. He swallowed dryly, causing his throat to burn. It was like the sores traveled all the way to his stomach. 

“I’m gonna call Gerard.” Ray said, pulling out his phone. 

“Don’t.” Frank commanded darkly, wiping the water from his lips on the sleeve of his borrowed sweatshirt. 

“I don’t want to fuck around with this anymore, dude.” Ray said, shaking his head, “Give me one good reason why you’d be puking up holy water.”  

“Demonic side effects?” Frank guessed, “Gerard said it might happen.” 

“Right, well, there’s no harm in making sure.” Ray said, scrolling through his contacts list. 

“Please don’t call him.” Frank begged, “I’m fine, really. Just don’t put any more fucking holy water in my food. That’s easy enough, right?”  

“Frank…” Ray said, furrowing his brow in uncertainty. 

“Plenty of people get through this shit without Gerard’s help.” Frank pointed out, “I don’t fucking need him. If you’re worried, we can google it.” 

“Fine.” Ray caved, “But if you start speaking in tongues or floating, or spinning your head around in circles I’m fucking calling Gerard.” 

“No Exorcism remakes. Got it.” Frank laughed. 

“That’s not funny.” Ray said, fighting a smile. 

At least Ray was smiling again, Frank thought. 

The two friends settled onto the couch to watch TV together. After clearing Frank’s holy pasta out of the room, Ray flipped through the channels until he found a romantic comedy. Frank thought that maybe there was evil lurking under his skin after all, because the idea of people being happy and in love filled him with uncontainable amounts of nauseating anger. 

Then again, he might’ve owed the sentiment to Gerard. 

Ray promised he’d make it up to Frank by taking them out for ice cream in the morning if his throat still hurt. The place that Frank liked across town, was definitely closed, Ray said. 

The suggestion made Frank want to scream. He hadn’t forgotten Gerard’s promise. It was like the universe had planned out some fucking running joke for Frank and the punchline was ice cream. But Frank’s run in with holy water had depleted whatever remaining energy he might’ve had. Instead of explaining to Ray that he’d rather sell his soul to Satan than ever go out for ice cream with anyone ever again, he curled up in a ball and closed his eyes, praying for sleep or death or both. 

Frank used to be the sort of person who would joke about selling his soul, but that was before he’d gotten a taste of what it actually felt like.

It was unfortunate that there wasn’t a pamphlet on demonic possession like the one on ulcers Frank’s doctor had handed him the last time he’d gone in to get his stomach checked. In the days that followed Frank’s possession, he could’ve fucking used a few bullet points on what the fuck he was supposed to do with himself. Even a clip art diagram would’ve been better than nothing. 

Frank greeted the following by startling from a horrific nightmare. In the dream, he’d been sitting in his living room, trying to play the guitar. His wrists still hurt from whatever had happened while he was out, but he’d kept trying. The sounds coming from his guitar were all muddled and wrong, so he looked down to inspect the shape of his hand clamped against the fretboards to make sure he was holding the chords right.

What he found, was blood. 

Blood all over the strings and frets… All over his jeans. All over the floor in front of him. 

He’d checked his hands to make sure the blood wasn’t coming from his fingers, but when he looked for his hands he couldn’t find them. They’d disappeared, along with the rest of his arms. His guitar slid off his lap and crashed on the floor with a sickening snap. Frank had tried to bend over and pick up the pieces, only to find that the rest of him had disappeared altogether. 

When Frank awoke from the nightmare, he shot out of bed and grabbed the first guitar he saw, fumbling with the strings comfortingly just to prove he still fucking could. His wrists protested against the small, expert movements he made along the fretboard, but Frank had no intention of losing anything else over what had happened to him. 

After proving to himself that he could still play, Frank crawled back into bed and stayed there, with his guitar by his side. He spent the rest of the day in bed, only getting up to refill his water glass and use the bathroom. 

Days three and four were also spent in bed, occasionally playing the guitar, but mostly staring off into space. Frank left the door to his room wide open, so that Ray could check on him without having to knock and wait for Frank’s reply. 

It was sort of like Ray had moved in. He stayed on Frank’s couch every night, and though Frank didn’t know how to thank him, he was eternally grateful for the company. Ray still got up and went to work in the morning, but instead of going back to his place, he came back to Frank’s. He’d cook Frank simple things that would all be easy to puke up, which Frank found suspicious at first, but quickly grew thankful when he realized Ray wasn’t going to try and dose him with holy water again.  

He still couldn’t really eat and he wasn’t sure why. There were too many variables for him to figure out his loss of appetite. Was he sick? Untrusting of his physical form and the world around him? Depressed? It could’ve been a combination, Frank supposed. He wasn’t sure what the normal reaction to possession was supposed to be. Maybe loss of appetite was to be expected. 

Ray brought his guitars over to Frank’s place at some point and would occasionally work on stuff quietly in the living room. Frank liked to listen to Ray work through songs. It centered him. He would’ve wanted to play with Ray if he could’ve dragged himself out of bed, but he found himself incapable.  

Instead of fighting the spaced out feelings, Frank let them take him. As time went on, he couldn’t tell if they were lessening or if he was just adjusting to them. He hated the way he got when he was all stretched out. It kept him from playing the guitar, or reading, or day dreaming, or really listening to the records he put on, or anything else for that matter. 

The nightmares seemed to worsen as the days progressed. Frank had the dream about losing his hands and breaking his guitar every night. Some nights he dreamed that he was talking to Gerard, and then suddenly his lips wouldn’t match the words he was saying. The sound of his voice would lose sync more and more, and it would always devolve into Frank saying things to Gerard that he didn’t want to say. Frank would try to yell that it wasn’t him saying those things, but nothing would come out of his mouth when he wanted it to. He couldn’t tell Gerard it wasn’t him. All he could do was watch until the fear and frustration of it all woke him up. 

Frank wasn’t sure if Gerard had called. He didn’t know where his phone was and he hadn’t bothered to look for it. He knew his mom had probably tried to call him and for that he felt sort of shitty. He hoped she would think he’d just lost his phone again. It was fortunate he’d had a tendency to lose cellphones often in his early twenties. 

Ray had mentioned in passing that Gerard wanted to talk to him, and that he’d sounded genuinely worried when he’d called, but Frank just snorted and told Ray to tell Gerard that he was fine. 

He was fine. 

As fine as a person who’d recently been possessed could be. 

If Frank was certain of anything, it was that he didn’t want to talk to Gerard. Gerard had seen way more of Frank’s bad side than Frank had meant for him to see. He hated the way he was acting. He didn’t need Gerard to know how childish and bitter he could be, even as an adult. Gerard didn’t need to know how unpleasant he was to be around.

On top of all of it, Frank still had to process everything the demon had said while inhabiting Frank’s body. The piece about Gerard’s condemnation to hell was a point of curiosity, as was the demon’s comment on nostalgia. The demon must’ve known Gerard from somewhere. As much as Frank told himself he didn’t care, he still found himself wondering about it often. 

Thinking about his own possession only lead to spacing out, which Frank genuinely tried to prevent as much as possible, and so he left the subject for later thought. 

Most of his thinking was spent trying to figure out a way to explain his situation to his general practitioner without getting himself fucking committed. It wasn’t as if he could call up his insurance company and ask for a reference to a therapist who believed in demonic possession. It was quite possible he could. Maybe people called up and said things like that all the time. But of course, in the end, that would necessitate finding his phone, which was way above Frank’s energy level.

“Are we still on for tonight?” Ray asked, on the fifth or sixth day following Frank’s possession. If he was completely honest, Frank had lost track of the days, let alone anything that might’ve been on his calendar. He didn’t know if they were on. 

“On for what?” Frank asked, not looking away from the space on the ceiling he’d been staring at blankly . 

“Band practice.” Ray said slowly, “We don’t have to, if you’re not up for it.” 

“Oh.” Frank breathed. 

Band practice. 

The idea of getting up seemed like too much for Frank, but at the same time, he was beyond bored of laying around in bed trying to decide if his whole life was some meaningless nightmare coma he was about to wake up from. 

“We’re still on.” Frank offered hesitantly. 

“Cool.” Ray said, “I’ll let the rest of the guys know.”

Frank listened for Ray’s footsteps, and felt himself start to panic when he didn’t hear them. He darted his head in the direction Ray’s voice had been coming from to find Ray was still standing in the doorway of Frank’s bedroom. 

“Are you sure?” Ray asked, “It’s okay if you’re not up for it, dude.” 

“I’m not really up for anything.” Frank said, lifting himself off the bed into a sitting position, “So, in a way, I guess that makes me up for everything.”

Ray just stared at Frank for a second, trying to make sense of his rationale. 

Frank hadn’t really answered Ray. He’d skirted around answering, if anything. 

“I want to go.” Frank said, not adding that he’d be just as miserable if he stayed home, as if he went. 

“Okay… You wanna leave in an hour?” Ray asked. 

“Sure.” Frank nodded. 

He closed his eyes and listened comfortingly to Ray’s footsteps. 

Frank spent the hour before band practice in the shower. The hot water cascading over his skin felt so good, he was almost mad at himself for not trying it sooner. The spaced out feeling disappeared completely under the warm spray. The familiar smell of his own shampoo was comforting in this distracting sort of way that reminded Frank of chugging the last beer in a 6 pack. He would’ve stayed in the shower longer if the hot water hadn’t run out. He gave many thanks to useless apartment complex water heaters, in the form of curse words. 

He was nervous as he slid into clean jeans and a sweatshirt. He hadn’t been around anyone besides Ray since it had happened. He couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t be a total asshole to everyone. If they asked, he’d decided he’d just say he’d quit smoking cold turkey and was having a hard time adjusting. It wasn’t a total lie. Gerard had told him to avoid cigarettes, and Frank had, though he had no idea why they were to be avoided. His cravings for nicotine were killing him. 

The nervousness lasted through the drive to their practice space. Frank liked riding in the car with Ray. He always played good music and never forced conversation. 

Ray apparently had no problem smoking in front of Frank, though. Frank tried not to death-glare at him too intensely when he lit a cigarette  as soon as he parked the car. Not only did he want to get greeting the rest of the band over with, he wanted a fucking cigarette, too. Wordlessly, he shouldered himself through the front door, leaving Ray to finish his smoke alone, as punishment. 

It was easier to say hello to everyone without Ray watching anyways. He didn’t have someone looking over his shoulder to check if he was acting normal or not, which made it easier to relax into a conversation with their drummer about ‘the weather lately.’ Frank wasn’t actually too sure of the recent weather, seeing as he hadn’t left his apartment in a week, but he left that part out pretty smoothly. 

It felt nice to be in a room with people who knew him. Frank felt better than he had all week in this passive sort of way. 

Nobody asked how he was doing, which he found equally unsettling and relieving. He wasn’t sure if Ray had filled in the blanks, or if they all got the impression he wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. He ended up feeling pretty neutrally pissed off as a result, which wasn’t necessarily a bad way to start band practice. 

As soon as Ray got inside and pulled his guitar out, the band settled into playing together. 

Frank hadn’t realized how much pent up energy he had buzzing inside of him until he started singing. Once he’d tapped into it, it was hard to slow down. Screaming into a microphone just felt so fucking good. A few songs in and he was sweating and dropping to his knees. 

His throat was raw and his knees were starting to get sore from crawling around. He felt alive and present. Everything was clear. Real. 

By the time the rest of the band was itching for a cigarette break, Frank was breathing heavy and ripping his sweatshirt off from the heat. He ignored the beers in everyone else’s hands, mumbling some excuse about getting over a bug when someone tried to hand him a can. 

While everyone was outside smoking, Frank penned down some changes to the lyrics of a song they’d been working on. He got so caught up in tweaking the words, he didn’t even hear anyone come in the room. 

“I don’t know what it is you’re doing, Frankie,” their drummer snorted, promptly startling the shit out of Frank, “But keep it up.” 

It was a policy of Frank’s to never turn down a show if it was offered to him. The next morning after Frank finally got around to finding his cellphone, he checked his voicemails to find an old friend in the music scene had hit him up. They wanted to see if Pencey wanted to fill in some slots that had opened up at a few shows over the course of the next month or so. All of the venues were within driving distance of Frank’s apartment. All but 2 of them were close enough that he wouldn’t have to make arrangements to stay somewhere overnight before driving back home. Frank couldn’t say no. 

After making some calls to make sure nobody in Pencey had anything else going on any of the Friday or Saturday nights, Frank started making arrangements. 

It was sort of like going on a mini local tour. Tasking himself with organizing the road trips helped Frank form some semblance of normalcy. He put his personal problems on the back burner by busying himself in itemizing his gear to see what, if anything, needed to be repaired or replaced. The first show wasn’t for a week or so and Frank was totally jumping the gun, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. 

Frank found himself a nice rhythm in the days that followed. When he wasn’t at band practice, screaming his heart out, he was at home, ignoring Gerard’s calls almost as much as he was ignoring all the weird shit that was happening to him. 

He couldn’t lie, the recurring nightmare about losing his ability to play the guitar was nothing short of terrifying. Sometimes he wished he could get himself together enough to just call Gerard and get an idea of what the fuck was going on in his head. The mood swings he was experiencing made it difficult for Frank to see tasks all the way through. Barely eating anything and sleeping fitfully seemed to be impacting his sanity. If he moved too quickly, he’d see shadows out of the corner of his eye. Whenever he started to zone out, he thought he could hear whispers of prayers. 

Sometimes when he was wailing into the mic at band practice, he’d find himself growing increasingly violent all the time, until it was hard to control. Sometimes he’d find himself wanting to punch holes through the walls. 

There was also the strange magnetism people seemed to hold over him. He stopped spacing out the closer they got. He felt like he belonged in his own body when someone else was in the room with him, speaking to him directly. The few times he’d brushed past Ray, he felt overly aware of where their hands or shoulders had brushed for hours and hours afterward. 

Ray had slowly started to move back into his own place. He spent less and less time at Frank’s, though he always made sure to return in order to sleep on the couch. Frank was working up the courage to tell Ray that he didn’t have to do it anymore, because there was no way his couch was super comfortable, but he wasn’t sure how to breech the subject. Ray kept doing it without question. 

Eventually the night of their first show on the mini-tour came. The were a little late to the venue, only because Ray spent a good 10 minutes fussing over Frank, making sure he was really up to playing shows again. 

Unlike Ray, Frank was excited to test out his new vocals on the crowd. It changed the overarching sound of the whole band. The guitars and drums and bass all had to compete with Frank’s energy. He couldn’t wait to see how the new sound was received by their fans.

Frank was jittery by the time he started unloading the band’s gear at the venue. It could’ve been the coffee he’d drank before he left his apartment, it could’ve been that Ray had suggested he try drinking beer again after the show. He hadn’t drank since before his possession. 

It hadn’t been hard to avoid Gerard since he never went anywhere Gerard was likely to go. James couldn’t plot any run-ins if Frank never went anywhere besides band practice, his house and the music shop across town. Now that he was sort of on-tour though, he felt like a sitting duck, waiting for psychic meddlers to come out of the woodwork. 

He kept himself occupied by helping the sound techs more than he needed to. He wouldn’t be scouring the crowd for his enemies if he was busy helping to set up. 

Frank was excited to be playing shows again. It hit him more and more as he shot around the venue, doing all he could to make sure the everything was in it’s place. Touring was the healthy distraction he needed to move forward with his life and he knew it. 

He hadn’t been in public since his possession and if anyone had known what to look for, they would’ve seen it all over Frank’s face. As the venue started to fill with show-goers, he started to buzz with their energy. Every time he bumped into someone he felt more alert, more present. Someone tried to hand him a beer and he declined, feeling it would only slow him down. 

By the time Pencey was about to go on he thought he might shake apart with the energy inside him. They were the opening band, so he had to make sure he was working the crowd, getting them revved up for the bands to follow. It was a tough thing to do, but Frank’s heart was in the right place. 

He felt everyone’s energy focus onto him as he walked out onto the stage and stepped in front of the mic. He kept quiet, waiting to hear the buzz of Ray’s amp. He smiled at the faces his eyes fell on in the crowd. 

Taking a queue from their drummer, Frank dropped to his knees to scream the opening lyrics of their first song. He leaned over into the audience, grabbing hands with strangers in the crowd, closing his eyes and letting himself fall apart in their presence. He operated on autopilot, screaming lyrics he’d written a million years ago thoughtlessly. It was a rush. The stretched out feeling was back, but it was different. Frank wasn’t here or there, he was everywhere all at once, overflowing with energy. 

By the time the first song ended he was already sweating. Panting, swaying back and forth, he brought the mic back up to his lips and spoke: 

“Be careful who you trust…” He panted, glancing out at the audience, “Because people don’t have to die to haunt you.”

 He heard a few commiserating shouts from out in the crowd. 

“I’d like to dedicate this song to someone who’s been haunting me…” Frank continued, flipping off their drummer to tell him to count off the opening measures of the next song. 

In the second verse Frank dived into the crowd and ghosted across the room on their hands, floating above everyone like the angriest poltergeist imaginable. 

Eventually he floated his way into back onto the stage and let himself drop to it’s solid surface, wailing into the microphone like his life depended on it. 

The rest of Pencey’s set went on like that. Frank was totally unaware of anything that wasn’t the crowd, the mic, or Ray’s shredding rifts. His heartbeat was in time with the drums. His voice chased the bass line. 

It was all over too quickly. Frank was a sweating mess by the time Ray grabbed his arm to pull him off the stage with the rest of the band. His ears were ringing and he could barely comprehend the things going on around him, still coasting on the adrenaline. 

They ended up in a room back stage. Frank found an empty table against a wall in the corner to sit and cool off. He ripped off his sweat-soaked shirt and used it to wipe the sweat from his face. Someone handed him a beer and finally, he accepted it, but only so he could press the icy aluminum against his forehead. It was nice to have something to do with his hands. He looked down at the can, experimentally fingering the pull tab on top. 

Ray had said they would try it out after the show, so Frank left the can unopened. There were still 2 sets to get through before they would pack up and leave. 

Frank glanced around the room. Everyone else had found a place to sit down and start sipping on their beer. Ray was on the couch next to the bassist. They were making some kind of cigarette trade from the looks of it. The drummer had given up and sprawled out on the floor, pressing his sweaty face against the cool, dusty tiles. 

Venue staff were all buzzing around them, going on about their jobs. Someone had popped a Slayer CD in for background noise. Frank couldn’t say if it was Ray’s doing or not. 

Frank saw the door across the room open out of the corner of his eye. A familiar blur of perfect hair, fluttered past his sight. Frank’s heart nearly stopped at the realization that he’d just caught a glimpse of Mikey Way. He turned his head and there he was in the all his perfectly styled glory. He waved a small, friendly, neutral wave at Frank and darted off towards whatever business he had. 

A few people drifted into the room after Mikey. A girl with purple hair stepped in and glanced around. Behind her, were a matching duo of jeans and t-shirts on tattooed bros. 

James’ sunglasses gave him away immediately. He didn’t even try to enter inconspicuously. He tossed Frank a sly grin and floated across the room to sit down next to Ray. 

As soon as Ray spotted him, Ray’s gaze immediately darted over to Frank. There was a silent exchange as Ray wordlessly asked if it was cool with Frank, and Frank grinned to let Ray know it wasn’t okay, but it was cool. He could be cool. He wouldn’t start shit if James didn’t. 

It was at that moment that Gerard walked into the room. His eyes scanned around until they landed on Frank. Frank wanted to disappear the second their eyes lock. He felt his breath catch in his throat. He didn’t know what to do, so he froze, beer can numbly pressed to his temple. 

He tried to say ‘hello’ but all he could manage was a weak, dissatisfied grin. 

“Frank.” Gerard said, pausing in front of him.

“Gerard.” He echoed. 

“You’re drinking.” Gerard said. It sounded more like a judgement than an observation. 

Frank frowned, pulled the can away from his forehead, and turned it upside down to show it wasn’t open.

“Not drinking.” Frank said evenly. 

“I’m sorry. I just assumed… anyways, how are you?” Gerard asked, changing the subject. He took a step towards Frank so he could keep his voice low. 

“I’m fine. How are you?” Frank asked numbly. 

“No one’s, ahm… no one’s ever dedicated a song to me like that before…” Gerard said. 

“Who said I was talking about you?” Frank scoffed, raising an eyebrow.

Gerard pursed his lips as he glared at Frank, obviously realizing Frank wasn’t going to make things easy for him. 

Frank tried not to think about the way Gerard’s eyes studied the tattoos that covered large portions of his torso. He felt exposed and well, naked, but his shirt was way too gross to put back on. 

Frank hadn’t really realized how childish he’d been acting over the time since his possession until he had Gerard in front of him. He almost wanted to apologize for it, but he was still sort of relishing in the effect it had obviously had on Gerard. Frank had a right to be childish, anyways. He was the one who’d ended up possessed after all, not James, not Ray, not Gerard…

“How come you haven’t called?” Gerard asked, rerouting the conversation again. 

“I’ve been busy.” Frank shrugged. 

“I’m really worried about you.” Gerard said. 

“Don’t be. I’m fucking fine.” Frank promised with a small bitter laugh. 

“Has anything strange been going on? Are you hearing voices?” Gerard asked, “Prayers, maybe? What about recurring nightmares?” 

“Can you drop the fucking scientist act already?” Frank asked, keeping his voice low, “You’re not my fucking shrink and I’m not your goddamn case study.” 

“I know you’re not, Frank.” Gerard said, shaking his head, “I’m just your friend… I’m just worried.” 

“Well, I. Don’t. Need. You.” Frank said, annunciating each word as slowly and clearly as he could. It felt so good to say the words out loud. 

Gerard frowned, glancing around the room before leaning in to speak softly. 

“Maybe I need you?” Gerard countered softly, moving closer to Frank, “Did you ever fucking consider that? You’re not the only one dealing with this, you know?” 

The near-confession caught Frank off guard. It took him a moment to recollect himself. 

“I’m not in the mood for a psychological ambush right now, so it would be cool if you could stop whatever the fuck it is you think you’re doing.” Frank combatted morosely, glaring back at Gerard. 

“I was in a good mood before you showed up, actually. Emphasis on the was.” Frank added, when Gerard didn’t respond. 

Frank was still beyond pissed, and he wasn’t about to let it go because Gerard had had a change of heart. Gerard wasn’t getting off that easy. 

Frank wasn’t making it up, either. If this was a snapshot of what hanging around Gerard was like, Frank wanted no part of it. Only an entitled piece of shit like Gerard would demand control of a situation just because he knew a thing or two about it. Frank didn’t need any more entitled assholes in his life. The music industry had enough of them as it was. 

Frank wanted to run away from this trap but Gerard was standing right in front of him, and even if he shouldered past Gerard, Ray would try to stop him. James probably would, too. 

His overall hatred for Gerard resurfaced. The guy cared too much. He was too nice. Too good. Too attentive. Too polite. Too fucking entitled and educated. 

“You know, for someone who spent their high school years in a fucking drug coma you sure are like, the least fun person to be around.” Frank said bitterly. He knew it was a low blow. The proof was in the soft, stunned frown that formed on Gerard’s face. 

“He didn’t fucking mean that, Gerard!” James yelled across the room, earning a few confused stares from other people in the room. 

“Fuck you!” Frank yelled back, “I meant it!” 

“Frank…” Gerard sighed, returning his face to calm and collected, “Can we please just go somewhere and talk about this?” 

“I’m kinda busy.” Frank said. 

Gerard raised a curious eyebrow. 

“It’s poor form to not watch the other bands.” Frank explained, “How do you not know that?” 

“Do I look like I go to shows often?” Gerard asked. 

“No, you don’t.” Frank agreed, “So I’m kind of wondering why you’re still here.” 

“Fine. I can take a hint.” Gerard said, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket and holding it out for Frank, “If you change your mind, stop by my office.” 

Frank eyed the paper in Gerard’s hand but made no motion to grab it. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep up his attitude if his skin touched Gerard’s so he didn’t chance it.

Gerard just rolled his eyes and set the piece of paper down on the table beside Frank and walked away. Frank watched as James got up and fluidly followed after Gerard. He didn’t breathe until they’d left the room. 

Frank picked up the piece of paper and inspected the writing. It had an address and phone number, as well as business hours. It took Frank a moment to realize that these were Gerard’s office hours. The address was on the college campus. 

There was no way in hell Frank was going to a fucking college. He’d been avoiding college campuses for years. 

Even so, instead of tearing the paper to shreds, Frank stuffed it in his pocket. The back pocket of his jeans, to be specific. That was a pocket the paper couldn’t fall out of.  

~ 

Frank had been sleeping better since the show they’d played. Sleeping dreamlessly, that is. He fell asleep easily, without tossing and turning, and woke up several hours later without terror in his heart. He felt almost normal again, if that was possible. He’d started to eat more, too. 

Maybe touring was exactly what Frank had needed all along. He started sending out e-mails to friends around the country, and even a few in Europe, to see if he could put together a real tour - complete with leaving New Jersey entirely for a nice, long stretch of time. 

Naturally, things got bad again. It was on some cold weeknight that the nightmares returned. 

It was the nightmare to end all nightmares…

Frank was vaguely aware he was dreaming in some sort of vague, passive way, but it wasn’t enough to figure out how to wake himself up. He didn’t know what was lurking in his dark apartment. All he knew was his deep overwhelming need to run away from it. He ripped open his front door and flew out into the night without bothering to put on jacket or sneakers. He flew down the stairs and out into the deserted parking lot. He searched the rows of neatly parked cars looking for someone, anyone, who might be able to help him. The cement felt cold under his feet

Upon realizing that walking directly under the street lamps was the worst possible hiding place, Frank made a run for the trees. He felt safer as soon as he was in the shadows. The grass was cold and damp. Twigs snapped under his bare feet he shouldered through the underbrush. 

He could barely see where he was going. He wasn’t even sure where it was that he intended to go. All that laid beyond the forest was a highway with a gas station a few miles down. Frank knew that. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to keep going and so he persevered, pushing branches out of the way and crawling over logs. 

His breath was coming out ragged and strained. He tried to focus on keeping quiet as he tiptoed through the moss and mud and decaying leaves. 

He heard a branch snap behind him and bolted forward. He thought he saw a clearing up ahead and raced towards it. 

As soon as he was out in the open, he found himself in the graveyard Gerard had taken him to. He paused to take in the weathered marble basking in the moonlight. The faded stones stretched on and on through the green fields. The bright of the moonlight ate up all the shadows that might have been cast by the rolling hills. Again, Frank searched for someone, anyone, who might be able to help him. He turned around in search of the path he had made through the woods, but couldn’t find where he’d come out from. 

The creature was getting closer. It started to wail. The sound made his blood run cold. Branches snapped under it’s tremendous weight. Frank could hear it’s footsteps, slow and constant, following his scent. 

He ran out through the rows of graves, looking back to see if he could catch a glimpse of the monster, but there was nothing there. 

He darted back into the trees to hide, praying he’d thrown it off, or at the very least distracted it. Branches were smacking into his face as he tried to run, miserably failing at making as little noise as possible. 

He made it another twenty feet before he tripped over something and landed on the forest floor with a sickening thud. He skidded into the dirt, scraping his palms and twisting his wrists painfully. 

He stopped to inspect the thing that had tripped him, lying there in the shadows. It had been much softer than a fallen tree or a rock. It hadn’t sounded like what Frank thought those might sound like to trip over. 

To Frank’s horror, he quickly realized the thing was vaguely human-shaped. The wind blew through the tops of the trees. The moonlight shined across the forest floor as their branches fluttered out of the way. 

The shadows dissipated. 

Whoever it was had been there for awhile. 

The skin was incredibly discolored. Sickening shades of purple and green swirled around under the tattoos covering the sprawled out arms, spread out in the dirt in an unnatural position. Some parts of the flesh had gone black. Fingers were missing. The ink Frank could make out looked familiar to him in a vague sort of way. In fact, it wasn’t until he looked up towards the head and saw the scorpion on the neck that he realized… 

It was him laying there in the dirt. 

He’d found his own body. Cold and forgotten on the forest floor out in the woods somewhere. Frank backed away from the body slowly, looking down at his own hands. The tattoos on the backs of his own hands was all the confirmation he needed. He was in his own body, as far as he could tell. 

He backed right into a tree, suddenly nauseous and dizzy with confusion and horror. 

As if things couldn’t get any worse… The corpse on the ground started to move. An arm twitched, sliding into a natural position with a sickening snap. Frank was sure he was going to throw up. He couldn’t get himself to run away. He was frozen in place, watching in paralyzed fear. Not a deer splattered across the highway anymore but a deer in the headlights. 

The corpse sat up slowly, with cautious movements. The eyes opened. Or, an eye, rather. The other one was missing. A black sludge slid out of the open socket. The body looked around, gathering it’s surroundings. 

The jaw was hanging open in a sickening sort of way. Something had eaten away at the lips, exposing the cigarette-and-coffee-stained teeth. 

The corpse lifted itself off the ground. It remained bent over as it took an experimental step towards Frank. He tried to scream but no sound came across his lips. 

When the corpse finally swung it’s upper half into a full standing position, light was pouring out of the empty eye socket. It was a burning sort of light, orange in color, shooting a bright beam through the leaves. 

“You’re not the only one we can hurt…” a disembodied voice said to Frank, “But you’re the one we want.” 

Frank woke up screaming. It felt so good to be able to scream all the fear out. He never wanted to stop. 

Ray came running into the room a few seconds later, looking bleary eyed and scared. 

“Frankie, what?” Ray asked. 

Frank just stared at his friend, glad he wasn’t alone anymore in a way words couldn’t even quantify. 

“Just…” Frank croaked out, “Just a bad dream.” 

Ray’s face softened in understanding. He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing at the sleep in his eyes. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Ray asked. 

“No.” Frank answered quickly, “It was… horrible. I… I’m just glad it’s over…” 

“Have you been having nightmares a lot?” Ray asked. 

“Yeah. Every night.” Frank admitted. 

“I hear you sometimes…” Ray said, “You talk in your sleep. I can never understand what you’re saying though. It doesn’t sound like…” 

“Like what?” Frank pressed when Ray paused. 

“Like English.” Ray said, furrowing his brow, “It’s some other language. Do you even know any other languages, dude?”

“Well, no.” Frank said slowly. 

He was still reeling from the dream. It had been just that, a dream, but it had felt so real. There was something incredibly sinister about the symbolism. The world around Frank felt cold, unforgiving. He felt small and defenseless, like he was fighting something he couldn’t quite fully grasp. It was all out of his control. Especially since he hadn’t had any fucking coffee to make sense of it all. 

He sat there clutching at the bed sheets, feeling nothing but dread. 

“I’m calling Gerard.” Ray said, “I don’t care if you don’t want him around. You don’t have to marry the guy. But you can’t go on like this, Frank. This shit is getting out of hand.”

“Don’t call him.” Frank said.

“I’m calling him.” Ray stated firmly. 

“No, Ray, listen man.” Frank sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I’m… I’m gonna go see him. Today. I promise.” 

Ray’s eyes widened in disbelief. 

“Alright,” Ray sighed, still looking hesitant, “Good. I’m um… I’m going to go make us some coffee then.”

While Ray made coffee, Frank spent a long time in the shower working through the nightmare he’d had. The dream had been a warning.  The thing had threatened the people Frank loved. It had asserted its power, demonstrating that it was capable of turning Frank into an unfindable rotting corpse in the woods. That terrified him. He couldn’t stand the thought of something like that happening to Ray. To anyone else in his band. To his friends. To his un-friends like James or Gerard…

Ray was more than happy to give Frank a lift over to the college campus. Frank allowed it, reasoning he was less likely to chicken out if he couldn’t hop in his car and drive off. Ray must’ve been overwhelmingly in support of Frank’s decision to see Gerard because he barely made fun of Frank for it at all through the drive over. He didn’t say a single word about it, only smirking at Frank when he promised he’d call if he planned on staying out late. Frank had just rolled his eyes and slid out of the car. 

The college campus was dreary and uninviting, though that might’ve had more to do with the fact that it had rained all morning. The sky above was still overcast and the air was thick with humidity. 

Moss and ivy clung to the old buildings. Dark wet stains leftover from the rain splotched the exposed brick. The long stretches of brick and concrete gave way to common squares, with fountains and benches. Gargoyles perched along the rooftops, staring down at Frank in stoic silence. He passed a few students on his way to the faculty building, but many of those that might’ve commonly dwelled outdoors had gone inside as the sky threatened more rain. 

He got lost a few times, back-tracking and circling the same fountain half a dozen times before stopping to ask a someone for directions. His cheeks and fingers were numb in the chill. Once he made it to the faculty building, Frank got lost again, this time in the maze of corridors that made up the offices. He paused in the doorway of an office and asked an older man if he knew where Gerard’s office number might be. 

It turned out that, of course, Gerard’s office wasn’t even the faculty building, but tucked away in the back of the psychology building. Frank should’ve guessed. Well, no, he should’ve just called and asked Gerard to come find him. 

After walking past the same fountain for the 10th time, Frank was ready to give up and try to find a bus stop or call a cab or find some other way home that didn’t involve admitting his failure to Ray.  

It turned out finding a bus stop proved to be just as complicated as finding Gerard’s office. Frank didn’t want to ask for directions again, and he thought he might scream if he passed the same fountain one more time. 

Frank followed a walkway through a grove of trees, just as the older man had told him. The psychology building slowly came into view, lurking in the shadows of the small forest that swallowed the edge of the campus. Staring into the woods made Frank uneasy, and so he kept his eyes on the ground as he walked. 

The psychology building was just as dreary as the rest of the campus. The ugly, faded carpeting prevented sound from carrying very far. The stale air held notes of dusty old books and a chemical that Frank couldn’t remember the name of. As he wandered down the main hallway, he realized the classrooms were deserted. There were no voices, no footsteps, nothing. 

The older man had told Frank that Gerard’s office was at the far end of the building. He swung around a corner, keeping his eyes on the room numbers. Down another set of stairs and around another bend, and finally, he’d found it. Tucked away in the dimmest, dustiest corner lay Gerard’s office. 

His door was cracked open a few inches. Frank peeked inside before knocking. Gerard was bent over his desk, squinting at a stapled stack of papers through a pair of reading glasses. His brow was furrowed in concentration as his finger traced the type on the page. 

Frank swallowed hard and lifted a hand up and gently rapped on the door, pushing it open a few more inches with a loud creak. 

Gerard pulled his glasses off and glanced up. 

“Hey.” Frank said, flashing Gerard a small, weak smile. 

“Frank?” Gerard said smiling back much more genuinely than Frank had, “I wasn’t expecting-…”  

He pushed his chair back and got up, crossing the tiny room and pulling the door open the rest of the way. He waved a hand to invite Frank in. 

“Is this a bad time? I was hoping we could talk.” Frank said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“It’s never a bad time.” Gerard said. He quickly spun around to lift a large stack of files off a tattered, old wing chair across from his desk.

Frank took a seat in the dusty old chair as Gerard searched around for somewhere to set the stack of files down. Taking in Gerard’s appearance, Frank decided he was dressed for lecture. Or, he had been. He’d untucked his white button down and rolled up the sleeves the second he’d gotten to his office. 

Frank cringed as he watched Gerard carefully balance the files on top of an already-menacing stack beside a bookshelf against the wall. Gerard took a step back and held out his hands for a moment like he wasn’t sure the stack wouldn’t topple over. When the tower of files remained standing, he pushed the office door shut and returned to his desk. The sound of the door clicking shut reminded Frank of the safety bar dropping onto his lap before riding a roller coaster. It was too late to change his mind. The ride had started, there was no backing out. 

“So… what’s up?” Gerard asked nervously, shoving the paper he’d been reading to the side and clasping his hands on top of his desk. 

It took Frank a moment to know where to start. He stared at Gerard, trying to decide if he should start with the long, overdue apology or if he should get right to the part where he needed help preventing his own horrific supernatural death. 

“I uh…” Frank hesitated, “I think I need your help after all…”

He paused, tearing his eyes away from Gerard. He studied another menacing stack of files along the opposite wall as he tried to put the words together in a way that would convey the horror of it all. 

“I think… I don’t know. I think something is after me.” Frank said slowly, “I had a dream last night… or, well, it was a nightmare actually, I guess.” 

“Can you describe the dream to me?” Gerard asked, clicking his pen.

“Uh yeah.” Frank said, swallowing hard. He leaned back in the chair and took a deep breath, allowing memory of the dream to come back to him. 

“It was fucked up. Something was in my apartment, and it started chasing me through the woods. I couldn’t see it, but I could… feel it.” Frank explained,  “And when I was running away from it I tripped over my own body out in the woods…” 

“Interesting.” Gerard breathed. 

“No. It wasn’t interesting it was… awful.” Frank countered, swallowing hard, “I’d been there for awhile. I was decaying… My skin was all purple and shit…. But then my body got up and started crawling towards me. One of my eyes was missing and light was pouring out of the eye socket. Or, my eye socket, I guess?”

Frank glanced over at Gerard, expecting to find him at least curious about the details of the dream, but he had his professional face on. He was calm and collected. The nightmare wasn’t as scary to retell as it was to experience firsthand, Frank realized defeatedly. 

“It was like the thing had chased me right into a trap.” Frank said, “It wanted to show me what it could do.” 

It was then that Frank’s brain registered the pen in Gerard’s hand. Gerard was squinting at his own handwriting on a legal pad that had appeared in front of him. Either he was writing down everything Frank had said or focused on something else entirely. Whatever the case, it made a wave of frustration well up inside Frank. 

“Are you fucking taking notes?” Frank scoffed. 

Gerard glanced up and frowned softly at Frank. 

“I’ll save you my speech about the scientific method.” Gerard shrugged. 

“Put the pen down.” Frank demanded, crossing his arms. 

“Do you want my help or not?” Gerard asked plainly. 

“I…” Frank huffed, pausing to take a breath, “Sorry.” 

He was angry that he was already so angry when he knew he shouldn’t be. Getting angry about getting angry was making him angry too. 

“It’s perfectly alright.” Gerard assured with a small, weak smile. 

“I didn’t know you needed reading glasses.” Frank commented, grasping for a subject change.  He closed his eyes, reasoning he wouldn’t feel as angry if he wasn’t looking at Gerard. 

“I’m getting old, I guess…” Gerard sighed, “Anyways, please continue.” 

“That was basically the whole dream.” Frank said, “But right before I woke up a voice said, ‘you’re not the only one we can hurt, but you’re the one we want.’” 

“Creepy.” Gerard commented. 

“It was!” Frank defended, feeling like he’d failed to convey how scared he was, how terrifying the dream had been. To him it was so much more than science. He was offended that Gerard didn’t seem to get that. 

“I don’t want to die like that.” Frank said, opening his eyes to glare at Gerard, “I don’t want anyone to die like that.” 

“You’re not going to die like that, Frank.” Gerard said soothingly, “They can’t hurt you, I promise.” 

“You can’t promise me shit like that.” Frank argued. 

“I can. Frank, how would something with no physical form-“ Gerard paused to stat over, “Look, James made sure that nothing was still attached to you.”

“Why do you always have such an easy solution for everything?” Frank interrupted, “It’s so fucking-“ 

He stopped himself short of finishing what would’ve been an incredibly rude sentence.  

“Sorry…” Frank sighed, “I’m trying not to be mad at you, but you’re not helping.” 

“It’ll fade.” Gerard promised. 

“The know-it-all shit is really getting on my nerves.” Frank said icily, “I’ve always hated that.” 

Gerard leaned back in his chair and slid his top desk drawer open. He pulled out a small brown glass vial and got up. 

“Hold out your tongue.” Gerard instructed. 

“Why should I-“ Frank started, but shut up and stuck his tongue out when Gerard glared at him. 

Gerard unscrewed the cap and pulled out the long, thin dropper. He dispensed 4 droplets of an orange liquid onto Frank’s tongue before replacing the cap and sliding the bottle into his pocket. 

Frank pulled his tongue back in his mouth and swished the solution around on his tongue. It was sweet. Almost too sweet, in a way that burned the back of his throat. 

“What is this?” Frank asked, feeling the fight drain from his body a few seconds after he’d swallowed. 

“A tincture I’ve been working on.” Gerard explained, sitting on the edge of his desk, “It’s a blend of herbs that are commonly used in anti-anxiety remedies. And a dash of holy water diluted in mango chutney. Simmered in extra cinnamon for that little kick at the end. It’s good, yeah?” 

Frank nodded. 

“It should help to… calm you down.” Gerard said, fighting a smile. 

“I don’t wanna calm down.” Frank countered. 

“Give it a few more seconds.” Gerard said, he held his wrist up to glance at his watch, eyes following the second-hand. 

“Huh.” was all Frank could muster as he adjusted to the overwhelm of the mood swing that took him. 

“Anyways,” Gerard said, “I felt so terrible about what happened to you… so I sort of had a friend do a little research. They said you were clean. There’s no price on your head in the spirit world, so to speak. Nothing is coming after you.” 

“But this dream felt so real, Gee.” Frank argued. 

“I can have James look at you again, if you don’t trust me.” Gerard offered. 

“It’s not me I’m worried about, Gerard.” Frank explained, “That thing said I wasn’t the only one it could hurt. What if… what if they get to Ray? I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to him.” 

“It was just a dream, Frankie.” Gerard said soothingly. 

“Are you one hundred percent positive of that?” Frank countered, “What was that speech about the fucking scientific method you were about to give me?” 

“Frank…” Gerard sighed, running a hand through his messy dark hair. He circled his desk and returned to his chair, eyeing Frank curiously. 

“Did the creature ever say your name directly?” Gerard asked. 

“…No?” Frank said, pausing to think about it. 

“See?” Gerard said, “Even if something got into your dreams, it didn’t know you personally.” 

Frank didn’t have an argument for that. The way Gerard spoke of evils as if they were everyday humans still threw him off. It was hard to imagine the terror he’d found in his dreams as an everyday reality. As an occupation. 

“I know you deal with this stuff all the time.” Frank said, “But I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Gee. What if we overlook it and something terrible happens? ” 

Gerard blinked at Frank for a moment, considering the idea. 

“Alright, I’ll bite.” Gerard said, “I’ll have my colleague do some more digging. And we can have James look at you again.” 

“And Ray?” Frank asked. 

“We’ll take care of Ray.” Gerard nodded. 

“Thank you…” Frank sighed. 

There was an overwhelming awkwardness to the pause in their conversation. The well-deserved apology was on the tip of Frank’s tongue, but Gerard looked like he was about to say something too, so he waited. 

“Aside from the dream, how are you doing?” Gerard asked, clearing his throat, “Have the other symptoms subsided at all?” 

“The stretched out feeling…” Frank said, going with the first thing that came to mind, “It’s really changed the sound of my band…” 

Gerard’s features sobered at the mention. Frank had dragged them right into their unfinished business from the other night without even trying. 

“About the other night…” Frank coughed, “Um, I suppose I owe you an apology. That stuff I said wasn’t…. It wasn’t very nice.” 

“It was all true.” Gerard shrugged. 

“No.” Frank argued, shaking his head, “I didn’t mean it. I had no fucking right to say that to you.” 

“You didn’t mean those words…” Gerard said, “I could’ve figured that out without James. But even if you didn’t mean those words, the anger behind them was real. You were angry with me. You still are. I can tell.” 

“Gerard-“ Frank said.

“No, let me finish. Frank, I…” Gerard paused, “You’re a rockstar-“ 

“Am not!” Frank punched in. 

“Fine, whatever, you’re- you’re a musician.” Gerard amended, with a weak smile, “You’re up until the sun. You have no schedule, no one you have to answer to… But I go to bed on time. Every night. I eat at regular intervals. I do my taxes. I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol in years… And I do all this because I wake up early and I come here. And if I’m not here, teaching people how to rid the world of parasitic evil, it’s because I’m out in the field getting rid of it myself. Usually alongside James.” 

Gerard sounded like a fucking comic book sidekick, which Frank found equal parts charming and absurd. He bit his lip to keep himself from pointing it out since Gerard looked serious.

“I came to see you the other night because James told me you still…” Gerard paused, gaze fluttering away from Frank, “You still like me.” 

Frank had meant to play it cool, but he found himself blushing. He bit into his lip harder as if it could will away the blood rushing to his cheeks. 

“And I still like you. I needed you to know that.” Gerard added, “Need you to know that. But even so, I don’t think we should-… There’s just no way for me to keep you out of harms way. There’s no way for me to keep you safe from my work.” 

“Well, you’ve been doing a terrible job of that so far anyways.” Frank blurted out, glancing back at Gerard, “So what’s your excuse now?” 

“I…” Gerard faltered gazing at Frank and then quickly looking away again. 

“And what the fuck did James mean by ‘still’?” Frank asked, “It’s not like I was waiting around for you to come back all this time. There have been extended periods of my life where I fucking forgot you existed altogether.” 

The anger was back. And suddenly Gerard’s desk was so… in the way. Frank rose out of the old chair and circled Gerard’s desk. Gerard slid his chair back as Frank slid onto his workspace, making a point to sit on his stupid fucking notepad. 

“I forgot you, too.” Gerard nodded, giving Frank a worried look. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the vial of his tincture prototype. 

“Do you need more of this?” Gerard asked. 

“I’m allowed to be mad at you right now.” Frank said firmly, gesturing wildly with his hands, “Because you’re being ridiculous. If you honestly have no intention of being with me in any capacity, why bother telling me you like me, huh? Do you get off on torturing me? If you don’t like me, just fuckin’ say so.”

“You said it better than I ever could.” Gerard said, “I’m no fun, Frank. Exorcisms are nothing compared to some of the stuff that’s followed me home.” Gerard said, “Seeing you suffer like you have been… I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you. And I mean, really happened to you.”

“So what then?” Frank asked, “Are you just never going to date anyone ever again? There’s plenty of things that suck about being with me. I promise I can hurt you just as much, Gerard. I’m gone for months at a time. I’m out late and I lose my phone. I forget to call even when I have it. I forget all kinds of shit cause I’m always stoned. I’m the least fun person ever because I’m a fucking asshole.” 

Gerard was still holding the bottle up like he was waiting for Frank to change his mind, so he paused to take a deep breath to prove he was still in control of himself. 

“Look, I didn’t come here to argue with you. I came here because I thought something was trying to kill me and my friends.” Frank said, leaning back on Gerard’s desk, “It’s gonna take awhile for me to get over that kind of paranoia, I think. But I want to make good and sure we’re on the same page here. From the looks of it, I like you, and you like me, and we’re both fucking sorry about the other night. And I’m sorry for ignoring you’re calls. And you’re sorry about the demon that hijacked my body.” 

“That was a lot of ‘and’s but I think that about covers it.” Gerard said evenly, sliding out of his chair and closing the distance between the two of them. He framed Frank’s jaw with his palms and kissed him gently, sliding in between his legs. It felt so good to be touched Frank had trouble keeping it cool.  He wrapped his arms around Gerard’s middle, pulling him closer. His shirt was softer than it looked. His breath was sweater than Frank had remembered it. 

“Um,” Gerard mumbled, pulling away enough to speak, leaning his forehead against Frank’s, “But could we continue this conversation somewhere… less likely to get me fired?” 

“Now?” Frank asked. 

Gerard pulled one of his hands free and checked his watch. 

“Employee handbook says I have to stick around for another 15 minutes.” Gerard said, pulling away. Frank tried not to whine at the lack of contact, as much as he wanted to. 

“Where, um, where did you park your car?” Gerard asked. 

“Oh, I got a ride.” Frank said dreamily. 

“God, you sound way too much like a student looking to negotiate grades. Get the fuck off my desk right now.” Gerard laughed breathily, fussing to straighten out his shirt. 

“A fantasy of yours?” Frank asked, raising a curious eyebrow. 

“More like a nightmare.” Gerard sighed. 

Frank begrudgingly slid off Gerard’s desk. 

“But I’d like to continue…” Gerard said, “Our ahm… conversation.”

“We have a lot to talk about.” Frank nodded, taking a step back away from Gerard. 

Frank didn’t get what the big deal was. Gerard left the door closed, so the way Frank saw it, they could’ve been doing anything in Gerard’s office, as far as a passerby was concerned. He took it to just be one of the things Gerard was very particular about, and spent the last 15 minutes of Gerard’s hand-book-required office hours snooping around. Gerard had a lot of weird shit; from a collection of research papers on the necessary evolution of vampirism and it’s applicable uses, to a variety of taxidermied bats arranged around his intricate filing system. 

Frank stopped every couple of minutes to see if he could catch Gerard in another moment of focus, bent over a paper and squinting through his reading glasses. Every time Frank glanced over though, he found Gerard staring right back. After looking away for the third or fourth time, he felt Gerard’s eyes on him, even when he wasn’t looking at Gerard.

Frank was about to break into the files as soon he found out Gerard had a collection of books on common symbolism in Russian prison tattoos when he felt Gerard’s hand on his shoulder. He spun around, making a small, surprised sound when Gerard leaned in and stole a kiss. He’d somehow gotten his coat and bag together while Frank was off in the land of prison tattoos. 

“Shall we?” Gerard asked softly. 

“Who looks like they're trying to negotiate grades now?” Frank laughed. 

“Don’t even fucking joke about that.” Gerard said, fighting a smile. 

They walked down the hall side by side, making a point to not touch each other. Frank didn’t see the point, because the building was empty. He hadn’t seen another person the entire time he’d been in there. 

“You picked the spookiest fucking building to work in, by the way.” Frank said, rather loudly. It seemed as though they were alone. The classrooms were still silent. 

“I get that a lot.” Gerard said, “Mikey hates visiting me when I’m here, actually. But I like it. It’s quiet.” 

As soon as they were outside, Gerard wove his arm with Frank’s. 

“Is this okay?” Frank asked after a beat, not really wanting Gerard to pull away, regardless of if it was okay or not. 

“What kind of self-respecting teacher would walk arm and arm with a student they just… negotiated with?” Gerard laughed, “If anyone asks, I’ll just tell them you’re my boyfriend.” 

Frank felt his heart skip a beat. He glanced over at Gerard in surprise, only to find Gerard himself had gone a inhuman shade of pink. 

“Even if you’re not!” Gerard amended awkwardly, “It’s just… that’s, well… It’s legal for me to walk arm and arm with-…” 

“I know what you mean.” Frank offered. 

“Good.” Gerard breathed, squeezing Frank’s arm. 

Gerard’s car was a lot closer than where Ray had dropped Frank off. It was parked in a small staff lot on the other side of the woods. Frank was happy to not walk past the fountain again, but unnerved by the forest surrounding them. He stayed pressed up against Gerard as they walked. 

Frank didn’t feel safe until he was curled up in the front seat of Gerard’s car. He watched Gerard’s hands as he steered the car out of the parking lot. 

Gerard liked to keep the cab on the warm side which made Frank incredibly sleepy. He’d been stressed out all day and it was starting to wear on him. He hadn’t even realized he was tired until he tried to rest his head against the seatbelt. 

“Where are we going, by the way?” Frank asked once Gerard had pulled the car off the campus roads. 

“…Your place?” Gerard said. 

“No. Ray might be there.” Frank pointed out.

“Alright,” Gerard said, clearing his throat, “My place then?” 

“You’re place.” Frank agreed. 

And then Frank was nervous, because they were on their way to Gerard’s place, to be alone.  Together.

It was too much for his tired brain to process, and so he stared out the window, watching the trees pass by at a legal driving speed of thirty five miles an hour. Frank added ‘driving the legal speed limit’ to his mental list of things that made Gerard a fucking nerd. 

Frank might’ve drifted off once or twice over the course of the drive. He was so zoned out he wasn’t sure if he’d managed to catch a few moments of sleep or if he had just stretched into the place between here and there. He wondered if it was the tincture prototype Gerard had shoved down his throat back at the university. Which lead him to wonder what other things Gerard had invented. 

Gerard didn’t live far from the campus. Before Frank knew it, Gerard was parking the car along a tree-lined street. As Frank slid out of the car and looked up, he found the sky was swollen with the threat of rain again. He’d gotten used to the warmth of the car and shivered in the outside air. 

He followed after Gerard, down a thin, cracked cement walkway towards a faded white house. Most of the house was obscured by a large rose bush that obviously hadn’t been pruned in decades.  

“So uh, this is my place.” Gerard said, shoving his key in the first of a row of locks.

“Do you live… alone?” Frank asked, stifling a yawn into the sleeve of his sweatshirt. 

“Mikey technically lives in the basement.” Gerard said, “But he’s never, ever, ever home… And James stays over sometimes when he’s mad at his roommate, but, yeah, mostly it’s just me.” 

Frank stayed closely behind Gerard as they made their way inside. Gerard crossed through the first room without stopping to turn on any lights. The place was dim in the fading afternoon light. Frank couldn’t admit how afraid he was of the dark, and tried to focus on how much warmer than outside it was. 

“I’m going to make myself some coffee. Can I get you anything?” Gerard asked. 

“I’m alright.” Frank said. 

He began glancing around the room, noticing that the decor didn’t match what Frank understood of Gerard, or even of Mikey. The horror movie posters on the walls made sense, but the floral couch below them didn’t. The hand-crocheted blankets draped over the back of it didn’t make sense either. The pastel pink of the hallway, the mint green of the small kitchen, the collection of teapots above the window in the corner… 

“A lot of this stuff was my grandmother’s.” Gerard explained from somewhere behind Frank. 

“Was.” Frank repeated absentmindedly.  

“Yeah, she… y’know.” Gerard sighed. 

“I’m sorry.” Frank said. 

“Don’t be.” Gerard insisted.

Frank could hear him messing with his coffee maker. 

“She was a tea drinker…” Frank commented. 

“She’d kill me if she knew I was drinking coffee this late in the day.” Gerard chuckled, “I miss her.” 

“Is there any way for you to contact people… after death? Can James?” Frank asked. 

“Only if the person hasn’t moved on completely.” Gerard explained, “She moved on right away, apparently. There’s nothing keeping her here. I’m thankful for that.” 

“What about Bert?” Frank asked, spinning around to face Gerard. 

“He’s… he’s moved on now, James thinks. It took him awhile.” Gerard offered, swallowing hard. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” Frank said. 

“No, it’s interesting. It’s nice to know for sure, even though I can’t prove it with science…” Gerard sighed, “Yet.” 

There was an awkward pause between them. Gerard hadn’t turned the lights on in the kitchen and it was getting harder and harder to see as the sun went down. Frank wanted to close the distance between them and kiss him, but he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to. Emotions weren’t running as high as they had been in Gerard’s office. Gerard still had reservations over them getting involved. 

Frank crossed the small kitchen and leaned against the counter next to Gerard. He watched the coffee maker spit out the first couple of watery droplets onto the bottom of the coffee pot. 

“How has the soul to physical thread been healing?” Gerard asked, “The, um, spaced out feeling, that is?” 

“It hasn’t gone away. It’s almost like, I can control it now though?” Frank explained, “Being around other people makes me feel more… at home in my own skin? The show the other night was… amazing?” 

“Interesting.” Gerard said, “I didn’t even think about-“ 

Gerard reached out a hand and brushed Frank’s jaw with his fingertips. Frank leaned into his touch. 

“You’re still over-sensitive.” Gerard observed softly. 

Frank hummed in response, taking another step closer to Gerard. Frank was buzzing from the almost-contact. He was on the verge of asking for more. 

“I should probably… call Ray.” Frank said slowly, “Just to let him know where I am.” 

“By all means.” Gerard said, waving a hand at Frank. 

Frank pulled out his phone and found Ray in his contacts list. He brought the phone to his ear and waited for Ray to pick up, all the while staring into Gerard’s eyes. 

“Frank, is everything alright?” Ray asked, not even bothering with ‘hello’s. 

“Yeah, dude,” Frank said, “Everything’s fine.” 

It was then that Gerard decided it was a good idea to step into Frank’s personal space. He slid his hands up the back of Frank’s shirt, spreading his palms out on Frank’s lower back, pulling Frank close. Frank let Gerard push him up against the counter without a fight.He tried very hard not to moan at the shiver the contact sent up his spine. 

“Cool. What’s up, then?” Ray asked. 

“I just wanted to let  you know I’m… I’m with Gerard.” Frank managed, keeping the tone of his voice under control pretty successfully. He bit his lip against the sensation of Gerard’s lips brushing his neck. 

“Yeah, I know?” Ray said. 

“He’ll… give me a ride home later. If I need one.” Frank added, “When I need one, I mean.” 

“Gross.” Ray laughed, “I’m hanging up now.” 

“Bye.” Frank said, dropping his phone on the counter. 

“You fucking jerk.” Frank mumbled, wrapping his arms around Gerard’s neck. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt. I didn’t realize you were… quite so sensitive.” Gerard said, gently dragging his nails down Frank’s back. 

“Motherfucker.” Frank breathed. 

Gerard smirked and untangled himself from Frank to pour himself  a cup of coffee. Frank couldn’t tear his eyes away from Gerard as he stirred in a spoonful of sugar lazily, like he hadn’t just pushed every single one of Frank’s buttons. 

“There’s something I want to show you.” Gerard said innocently, “It’s upstairs.” 

“Alright.” Frank nodded. 

Frank followed Gerard out of the small kitchen and up a flight of narrow, creaky stairs. The sounds of the old wood protesting under their weight broke the silence in the rest of the house. Frank glanced out at the living room but it had gotten completely dark outside and he could barely make out the old floral couch in the dim glow of the streetlights outside. 

“I built this, sort of, panic room.” Gerard explained, “It’s un-enterable by at least 15 different types of parasitic evil.” 

Frank hadn’t realized there were that many types of evil out there. He only knew of two. 

“I didn’t have a lot of options, so I had to use my room…” Gerard went on, opening the first door to the right at the top of the stairs. 

Gerard fumbled with something on the wall inside the door frame. The room filled with an eerie, blood red light. 

“Ghosts are visible in red light.” Gerard said, “So even if a ghost found a way in here, someone like you or me would be able to see it pretty immediately.” 

Gerard crossed the room and fumbled with a small panel on the opposite wall. The room brightened, switching from red to a softer green lighting. 

“But I can’t sleep in the red, so I’m working on a green that allows me to see ghosts as well.” Gerard said, “As of now, it only works on shadow people.’” 

Whatever shadow people were, Frank decided he was better off not asking. 

“It’s sort of hard to grade papers in the red and green, but I had to use the wiring from the ceiling light for the green.” Gerard said, “So I usually just grade in the kitchen now…” 

The green light was cold. Frank didn’t like the way it filled up the shadows their bodies would’ve cast. It accentuated Gerard’s pale skin, bringing out the dark circles under his eyes. The system seemed pretty cool, but Frank couldn’t figure out why Gerard was talking about it so much. 

And then it hit him: Gerard was nervous. 

“You’re safe in here.” Gerard said, staring into Frank’s eyes, “Safer than you would be if you weren’t in here, anyways. And percentage-wise you may or may not be safer than if you were in a church. It depends on what continent you’re on.” 

Gerard took a small sip of his coffee.  

“It’s kind of a boring panic room for now. I should really move the TV up here…” he commented. 

“We could move it right now?” Frank suggested. 

“Right now?” Gerard asked. 

“Yeah, why not?” Frank shrugged. 

“It’s pretty big… I don’t know.” Gerard sighed, “But we could try?” 

Frank nodded. 

Gerard sighed and set down his mug on the table beside the bed. He lead Frank back down the stairs and into the room with the old floral couch. He bent over and turned on a small lamp beside the couch. Frank glanced around until his eyes landed on the TV.

The TV belonged in a museum. It looked so old. The layer of dust coating the screen didn’t help much. Not only did it look old,  it looked heavy. The thing had to weigh well over a hundred pounds. 

“Jesus.” Frank laughed. 

“A relic from the early 90s.” Gerard said, “The picture’s all messed up. It adds a new element to horror films.” 

“We can move it later.” Frank said, dropping onto the couch. He grabbed the first remote he saw and pointed it at the TV. 

“Mikey lost the remote for the TV. That’s for the VCR.” Gerard said. 

“VCR.” Frank echoed. “You have a fucking VCR?” 

He watched Gerard kneel down to turn the TV on and switch the VCR on. 

“It comes in handy. I still receive evidence on VHS all the time.” Gerard shrugged, maneuvering around the coffee table and sitting down next to Frank. 

“I left my coffee upstairs.” Gerard pouted. 

“Pour yourself another one and drink the one upstairs later.” Frank said, watching the picture slowly fade in on the ancient TV. Frank got what Gerard meant about the picture being off. He thought he remembered how to navigate an old TV menu enough to adjust the color setting and clear up the picture. 

He looked over at Gerard, who was just smiling back at him dreamily. 

“What?” Frank asked softly, “The kitchen’s closer, and you don’t have to go up any stairs.” 

“You’re so pretty, Frank…” Gerard said softly, “You were always pretty… but now you’re just absurdly fucking pretty…” 

“Shut up.” Frank said, feeling himself blush. He tried to laugh but mostly just let out a staggered breath. 

He peeled his eyes away from Gerard and looked back to the TV. 

“Oh my God, is this The Crow?” Frank asked. 

“Um… yes.” Gerard said sheepishly. 

“You’re only like 20 minutes in, too” Frank said.

His heart started to race when he felt Gerard’s fingers glide over the back of his hand, still clasping the remote. Gerard pulled it out of his hands and set it on to the coffee table. He took Frank’s hand in his and gently ran his fingers over Frank’s wrist. 

“I can’t believe you have The Crow on VHS…” Frank said. 

Gerard just hummed, leaning closer to Frank and pressing a soft kiss to Frank’s cheek. He nudged Frank’s sleeve further up his arm to caress gentle lines around the tattoos there. 

Frank melted into the couch cushions and let Gerard work on him. He couldn’t focus on the movie at all. His whole body was buzzing with Gerard’s touch. He felt like he might vibrate right out of his skin. Frank closed his eyes and operated on feeling alone. 

Eventually his arm grew oversensitive and he pulled away from Gerard, only so that he could pull his sweatshirt over his head. He could feel his t-shirt ride up as he pulled it off and tossed it onto the arm of the couch beside him. He ran a hand through his hair to smooth it out, shuddering at how cold the room was. Gerard got right back into his space, lowering both of them down onto the couch. Gerard curled up behind Frank so they could both still see the TV. He slid his hand up the front of Frank’s shirt and ghosted his fingers over Frank’s ribs. It sort of tickled, but mostly it just made Frank crazy. Gerard’s fingers trailed down to Frank’s hip, tracing over the tattoos that crept up over the waistline of his low-cut jeans. 

“I never thought you’d get so many…” Gerard mumbled against Frank’s ear. 

It was so strange to think that he already knew Gerard, and that Gerard already knew him. It was strange to think that they’d sort of been like this before. Nothing about Gerard or his lips felt familiar. 

Frank rolled onto his back, locking eyes with Gerard, silently begging Gerard to kiss him.

Gerard did, sort of. He slid down Frank’s body, pressing his lips against the stretch of skin between his jeans and the hem of his t-shirt. His kisses were slow and open-mouthed and greedy. Frank arched his back into the kissing. Gerard pushed Frank’s shirt up further so that he could cover more of Frank’s skin with his lips. He spread his hands out on Frank’s lower back, lifting Frank’s hips up against his lips. 

Gerard fumbled his way between Frank’s legs, trailing kisses all the way up his chest. 

Frank’s jeans were getting uncomfortably tight. He couldn’t believe he was already so hard. He chalked it up to fact that it had been awhile since anyone had kissed him like Gerard was kissing him. 

“I fucking hate you.” Frank breathed. 

“What? Why?” Gerard chuckled in between kisses, “What’ve I done now?”  

“We could’ve been doing this for weeks.” Frank huffed. 

Gerard paused to look up at Frank, palming at Frank’s hard-on through his jeans. 

“Well, I’ll do all I can to make up for lost time.” Gerard said simply. 

Frank bit his lip and nodded, sliding his hips up into Gerard’s touch. Gerard pressed his hips down against’s Frank’s and kissed him, hard, on the lips, fumbling with the button on Frank’s jeans. 

“Why do you always have to wear such tight pants?” Gerard complained. 

“I had to make sure you knew what you were missing.” Frank chuckled. 

Gerard cut off his laugh with a rough kiss. He’d gotten the button on Frank’s jeans undone and was working on the fly. 

Frank groaned into Gerard’s mouth as soon as he had a hand on his Frank’s dick. Gerard was stroking him off slowly, struggling to move his wrist under the tight fabric. Frank helped him out by sliding the waist of his pants down a few inches. It was hard to work them down with Gerard in the way, but there was no way he was letting Gerard stop, and there was no way he was going to stop Gerard long enough to take his jeans off all the way. 

He didn’t want to be rude. After a few more moments of selfishly admiring Gerard’s handiwork, Frank started to fumble with the button on Gerard’s slacks. Gerard’s pants were much easier to open, making Frank almost want to stop and reconsider his battle plans for the future. Maybe clothes that were easy to take off were sexier than clothes that left little to the imagination. 

He forgot all about it entirely as Gerard moaned against his lips, all low a guttural. Gerard was just as hard as Frank, which only served to turn Frank on more. There was a considerable amount of fumbling as they tried to find a position that suited both of them. Frank was just glad they didn’t have to move or stop, and no one fell off the couch. 

As Gerard quickened his strokes, Frank could feel himself zoning out. It was different kind of zoning out. Frank felt light and warm, trapped under Gerard. 

“I’m so close, Gee..” Frank moaned.

“Me too, Frankie.” Gerard panted, sinking his teeth into Frank’s bottom lip. 

“I’m gonna…” Frank breathed against Gerard’s lips. 

“Cum for me.” Gerard commanded. 

That was all the push that Frank needed; and just like that he was spilling white heat all over himself. Gerard wasn’t far behind Frank, spilling on top of Frank’s. He stayed like that, bent over Frank, for a  moment, panting and kissing him all over. 

“Fuck.” Gerard breathed. 

Frank just nodded in blissful agreement. 

“Stay there.” Gerard said, sliding off the couch on unsteady legs. Frank could feel come cooling and drying on his skin. He felt cold where Gerard was no longer leaning against him. 

He watched Gerard wander into the kitchen, and then return a few seconds later with a handful of paper towels. He crossed the room and helped Frank wipe up the majority of the mess. Some of the thinner smears had dried onto his skin. It was sort of nice to be covered in Gerard, Frank thought, though he looked forward to taking a shower. 

Gerard left the mess of paper towels on the coffee table and grabbed one of  his intricately stitched blankets to wrap around them. He kissed Frank deeply and slowly a dozen more times before curling up behind him again so they could resume watching the movie. Frank was too spaced out and tired to focus, and he’d lost 20 minutes of the plot, though in all honestly, he’d seen the movie a million times and already knew how it went. 

Gerard lazily wrapped an arm around Frank’s middle, stroking soft trails against Frank’s skin with his thumb. 

“Can I ask you something?” Gerard asked softly. 

“Sure.” Frank croaked out. 

“Is this picking up where we left off… or starting over?” Gerard asked, pressing his lips against Frank’s ear. 

It was a good question. Frank didn’t have an answer right away. 

He thought about how Gerard felt like a stranger. About how they’d been apart for so long that it felt like they were both completely different people. He thought about how strangers didn’t usually have enough of a history for demons to use it as leverage… 

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it…” Gerard pressed, hugging Frank tighter. 

“It’s both.” Frank answered. 

“Both?” Gerard echoed, “No, you have to pick one.” 

“No I don’t,” Frank chuckled, “It’s both, okay?” 

“But-“ 

“The next time you try to dump me, I’ll check in with you the next day to make sure you remember it.” Frank said, letting out a breathy laugh. 

“That’s not funny.” Gerard huffed. 

“It’s funny in retrospect.” Frank countered, “All I ask is that you do it in person instead of over the phone next time.” 

“I can’t believe you’re already talking about breaking up.” Gerard scoffed. 

“I’m dumpable.” Frank reminded lightly. 

“…Both, huh?” Gerard asked again. 

“Yeah.” Frank said, “Both.”