Suspension of Disbelief, part eight

[lizhanne]

Title: Suspension of Disbelief, part eight
Rating: R for this part
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Author’s notes Oh god, this story. I never thought I'd actually finish it, and posting the three final parts at last feels like putting away a part of my life. I wanted to complete it for veecious's birthday, and even if late in posting it got to the birthday girl on time. Hope you like it, Vee ♥.
Thanks to ky_betty for the wonderful beta job on this part, and to sourcream_onion, who was there from the beginning, and zephyrina for being amazing and whipping me when I needed it.
No altar boys were (or will ever be) harmed in the writing of this story. Also, angst. Lots of it.
Disclaimer: this is an AU; you can't get much faker than that, right?


- Part one
- Part two
- Part three
- Part four
- Part five
- Part six
- Part seven

When Gerard’s alarm wakes him up, way too early for him to do anything but silently curse at it, he envies Frank, not for the first time in the last three weeks.

Frank is currently sleeping on his couch, where’s he’s been sleeping for all of those three weeks, and yes, he might have gone to bed really late last night after working, but at least he doesn’t have to get up at ass o’clock for the first Mass.

Sometimes, when he smells the coffee Gerard’s making for himself, Frank wakes up and keeps him company before he goes out, chatting and making plans to meet at the diner. Gerard’s a loyal customer by now, and they have developed a sort of routine: after his late night walks he always ends up there and eats something, has more coffee while he waits for Frank to be done working, then they go home together.

Frank has changed, in the past three weeks. He’s slightly more relaxed, and more willing to talk with Gerard about his life. His parents haven’t bothered him again, something Gerard finds disconcerting but is grateful for, and he’s been slowly putting together the puzzle pieces of Frank’s past, of his lonely and repressed life ever since he was kicked out of school. He knows he’s still missing something, but they’ve been making progress, and feels good for being part of it, part of the reason why Frank’s smiling more and having less headaches.

This morning, though, Frank doesn’t wake up, and Gerard debates for a minute whether or not he should leave him some coffee, but it’s going to be useless if it gets cold, so he just throws away what’s left and refills the coffee machine, ready for Frank to use when he wakes up.

He looks at Frank one last time before he goes out, already shivering at the thought of the cold waiting for him outside. Frank is not sleeping quietly. It happens sometimes, Gerard has even heard him talk in his sleep and has seen him wake up in the morning more exhausted than when he’d gone to sleep, but not in the past week or so. Maybe he should wake him up from the nightmare he’s clearly having, but it’s late already and he really needs to go if he doesn’t want to be late.

By the time Gerard has his coat and scarf on, Frank has calmed down a little. He’s still frowning, but he’s not twitching and turning anymore, so Gerard decides to let him sleep and walks out as quickly as he can, trying not to let too much cold air get inside.

The morning isn’t actually morning yet; there’s only a hint of light in the sky, and even that is filtered by the fucking clouds that hang low above his head. Wishing he had more coffee, or to be back in bed, Gerard quickens his pace and lights up a cigarette with far more enthusiasm than what he feels at the idea of having to say Mass right now.

His hand is freezing and he should throw the cigarette away, put his gloves on and warm it up, but the cold helps him in the slow process of waking up, grounds him to reality somehow. Having someone else to concentrate upon beside himself, lately, helped a lot and he doesn’t find himself staring at the stranger in the mirror as often as he used to, but he knows he’s not fixed. He’s just repressing and projecting on Frank what he cannot do for himself and he knows it but hey, he’ll take what he can get.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he’s completely taken by surprise when someone stops him next to the side entrance to the church, calling his name. He drops the cigarette, self conscious as always when someone catches him smoking, even if it’s not technically forbidden, and cringes when he sees who stopped him. Frank’s parents have left them, him, alone so far, and Gerard had been hoping they might have given up on him. Not a nice thought, but probably the safest one as far as Frank’s happiness is involved, from what he’s been able to gather. So yes, seeing Frank’s father standing in front of him in the freezing cold should not surprise him as much as it does, but it sure as hell makes him uncomfortable.

“Good morning, Mr. Iero.”

“Good morning, Father Way.”

They stare at each other for a moment, because Gerard has no idea what to say, and the other man is clearly having problems collecting his thoughts.

“We haven’t heard from you anymore about Frank.”

Gerard sighs, wishing he could roll his eyes without being rude.

“I thought Frank needed some time to work things out on his own, to relax.”

“Relax”, Frank’s father repeats with a smirk. “The boy has never done anything useful in his life, what should he be relaxing for.”

“Mr. Iero, Frank is not happy, I guess even you could see as much. You’re his father, after all. I’m sure you know that ever since high school, he hasn’t been okay.”

“Who’s okay? Who’s happy? Frank should just be grateful he has us to shield him from his... weirdness. But no, he kept defying and insulting us at any given chance. I thought you’d be a good influence on him, but I haven’t seen him in church once in the past month.”

“Church? Is that what you’re worried about? Have you ever noticed that Frank can’t sleep at night without nightmares, or that he’s seriously depressed? You’re worried about church?”

“I’m worried about his poor mother, and about his soul. God knows it’s probably unredeemable by now, but he could at least try, or think of her.”

For once in his life, Gerard is completely speechless. This man is Frank’s father, but somehow he doesn’t seem to be able to see beyond his own nose, beyond his narrow-minded ideas of what’s good and proper. He thinks about Frank, twitching in his sleep and still scarred by the memory of Alex rejecting him, starting a chain of events that changed his life forever, and priesthood be damned, he’d like to punch the guy.

“Mr. Iero, I really have to go now. If Frank wants to talk to you, I guess he will sooner or later, but I cannot and will not force him to go to church to make you happy, or to come back home.”

“Father Way, I don’t know what stories Frank has been telling you, but I’m sure you’ll agree with me that he needs to be under strict care. He’s wild, he can’t care for himself, he’s not normal. I appreciate your effort, but he should come home, where we can keep an eye on him. It’s a hard burden, but at least we can limit the damage. Someone could find out.”

Limit the damage. Gerard mouths the words to himself, wondering who could find out about what. He guesses the man is talking about Frank’s homosexuality, but there’s an urgency in his eye that seems to mean something more.

“I really, really have to go now. I’m sorry.”

He tries to excuse himself as politely as he can, but he’s aware of Frank’s father staring at him as he steps inside the church, judging him like Gerard has never even judged himself.

*

Frank slides back into consciousness to the reassuring sounds of Gerard making coffee. He checks the time and smiles, because Gerard must have just come back from the first Mass, meaning that this is his second batch of coffee for the morning, made as much for Frank as for himself.

Coffee would be good right now, coffee would be lovely, because last night wasn’t a good night. It started with his back complaining, again, because Gerard’s couch is comfortable but not that comfortable, especially after three weeks, and the nightmares have only been a nice added touch.

Alex, once again, his parents, yapping at him and actually turning into dogs - into shadows - into the grey mass always at the sides of his consciousness; Gerard getting out from the shower and smiling at him without a face, opening his mouth to show the grey mist inside, crawling up Frank’s body.

No, not a good night. Frank’s happy to be up, even if his eyes feel heavy and all his muscles are screaming bloody murder. But there is coffee in the kitchen and Gerard, and he doesn’t have to be at work until later in the afternoon.

It’s weird, how happy he is at the thought of being able to spend some time with Gerard – he’s never opened up to someone like this before, not even to Ray. The fact that he’s a priest makes it even stranger, the strange mix of peace and quiet thrumming under his skin that he feels when he spends time with Gerard.

He gets up and drags himself to the kitchen and yes, of course, Frank is not an idiot and not in the habit of lying to himself, so he has to admit that there is another reason he likes spending time around Gerard, but that reason he tries to keep under wraps. No reason at all to complicate things.

“Good morning,” he yawns, smiling, but he immediately notices that something must be wrong, because Gerard isn’t smiling back as he usually does. He’s playing with his coffee mug instead, turning it in his fingers and taking a sip from time to time instead of draining it as would be normal for him.

“What’s wrong?” Frank asks, sitting at the table and inhaling half a mug of coffee in one go. He’s seen Gerard’s bad moods, he’s seen him when he can’t sleep and thinks Frank won’t notice if he goes out in the middle of the night to walk himself to exhaustion, but this is something different.

“I saw your father at the church. Before Mass.”

Shit.

“What did he want? I thought you’d given them the perfect excuse not to think about me anymore.”

Frank knows he sounds bitter, and he doesn’t care. He is bitter, and also has a bad, bad feeling about this. Something starts pulsating behind his right eye, and he drinks more coffee, closing his eyes and trying to calm down.

“I am not sure what he wanted. He talked about having to control you, about people finding out, and I thought he was talking about... Alex, and whatever else happened after that, but he was weird. Really weird. I ended up excusing myself and running away, because there was nothing I could have done except insulting him, and I don’t think that would have been a good thing.”

Despite how tense he is, how suddenly his vision isn’t completely clear anymore from rage and something else building up in his mind, slipping from the tenuous control he’d been able to put it under while living with Gerard with no one to bother him, Frank has to smile at this, silently thanking Gerard for his support.

Then Gerard, of course, has to open his mouth again, pushing more than he’s ever done before, even if gently.

“Frank, I know you haven’t told me everything, and I’m worried about you. I can’t help you, or even try to, if you don’t tell me what the problem is. And who knows, maybe getting it out of your system will make you feel better.”

Oh, no, Gerard has no idea how wrong he is. There is only one reaction people have when they find out about Frank and his weirdness, the same one Alex had, the same one his parents, his grandmother had. He’s a freak, and he hates it, and wishes he couldn’t do any of the things he does.

As the pressure behind his eyes increases, little sparkles of light crossing his field of vision, and as his breathing gets more and more shallow and panting, he remembers a time, a long long time ago, when he thought that maybe it made him special, having his own invisible friends that only he could see. He laughs, a small hysterical laugh as he can feel his control slipping and the shadows, scarce as they are in Gerard’s house, converging on him, desperately and uselessly trying to get his attention, turning the buzzing in his brain to a roaring noise.

Frank looks up at Gerard, unable to speak, staring at him with wild eyes, and as Gerard opens his mouth to say something else, clearly worried about him, the kitchen door smashes shut and at the same time, the lights go off, light bulbs dying quietly in their sockets. Frank crosses his arms on the table and rests his head on them, almost sobbing now, completely out of breath.

A couple of seconds later, the noise subsides. He still has problems breathing, but his mind clears up a bit when he feels Gerard’s hands on his shoulder, gently pulling him up. Frank hasn’t cried in a long time, and sometimes he thinks he’s forgotten how to, but right now he wouldn’t mind, just to have another way to shake off the excess frustration.

“Come on,” Gerard whispers soothingly, and pulls him up from the chair, hugs him, and slowly moves him to the bedroom. He doesn’t say anything, just pets Frank’s hair and wraps him up in the warmest blanket, curling up next to him.

Frank closes his eyes and tries to calm down, to concentrate on his breathing, on Gerard’s warmth next to him. He doesn’t exactly know why he starts talking, then, but once the first words get out, he can’t stop them anymore.

“I see them all the time. Not see them, exactly, not unless I’m sleeping or deliberately concentrating on them and even then they’re just shapeless grey... things, but they’re always there. I see them out of the corner of my eyes, I feel them buzzing in my brain, making noise.

It’s the shadows. They... Follow me around, trying to catch my attention, and they don’t even know why, because once they have it the only thing they can do is drive me fucking crazy with the noise, or they pick up on my fucking anger vibes or something, and make weird shit happen when I’m upset.

That’s what happened with Alex. When I kissed him and he pushed me away, it could have ended like that, it would have been awkward and I’d have been heartbroken, but he wouldn’t have freaked out so much, I don’t think so at least. But of course, all the pretty Christmas lights had to explode around him right at that moment, and believe me, that freaked him out. He was so worried that people would blame him, perfect little mommy’s boy, that he used the kiss as an excuse to blame me, saying I’d destroyed them on purpose when he rejected me.

My parents knew what had really happened, of course. They’ve always tried to tell me that these things don’t exist, that it’s all in my head, but they know, and they’ve always hated me for it. My grandmother hated it. I think she was scared of me, with my tales of curtains moving and invisible friends in the corner and waking up at night screaming about the noise being too much to sleep.”

Frank closes his eyes, finding it difficult to describe what he’s been living with all his life to someone who can’t feel it without having to use words. He’s never talked about this, to anyone, so he never had to come up with a description for it.

“When I sleep, if there’s someone close to me, usually my father for some reason, I can see them. I moved around the house sometimes, I’d meet him and he wouldn’t see them, but he’d be making so much noise. Not actual noise, it’s the same kind of noise the shadows make, but – oh, fuck, this is frustrating.

You don’t make noise, for example. When you sleep, even if you have trouble falling asleep, you don’t make noise, you don’t move, you’re – peaceful. That’s why I like living with you so much. They don’t even bother me so much, around you.”

He turns on his side as he speaks the last words, looking straight at Gerard, feeling warm and, strangely enough, relaxed. He never thought that talking about it could actually help, and he knows this doesn’t change anything, but at least the attack passed, and he hasn’t blown up any more lights.

Slowly, he drags a hand out of the blanket and puts in on Gerard’s. Up close, his eyes are really fucking huge, and Gerard is staring back at him, without pity or fear, maybe with something like – fascination? It’s a totally unguarded look, and Frank would like to say something, say thanks, thanks for not screaming at me or telling me I’m a freak, but somehow, he leans forward and kisses Gerard instead.

It’s different than kissing Ray. Gerard’s lips are soft but smaller, and he’s not opening is mouth, he’s just pressing back lightly but not moving away, as Frank feared he’d do. He has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. Gerard is a priest, and if nothing else he shouldn’t be doing this out of respect for the fact that he has helped him, but he’s tired and wired and high on the quiet that being near Gerard brings to his mind, and he wants as much of that as he can.

Things get frantic, though, pretty quickly. Frank hasn’t had sex in a while, Gerard is fucking gorgeous and warm and even if he’s not moving much, he’s holding Frank gently and yes, that’s his erection all right. Frank forgets that Gerard hasn’t opened his mouth yet, just a tiny flicker of his tongue when Frank tried to lick it open before closing it again, and starts pushing his hands under Gerard’s clothes, opening the collar and throwing it away, finding the fly of Gerard’s pants with shaking hands.

It seems inevitable, to him, and good, when he crouches in the middle of Gerard’s legs and takes him into his mouth at last, mouth and tongue and hand working together to make Gerard lose control, make him share the warmth that’s racing through Frank.

Gerard doesn’t moan, doesn’t thrust up into Frank’s mouth, doesn’t grab Frank’s hair. He just pants slightly, mouth open and wet, clearly trying to make as little noise as possible. When Frank slides Gerard’s dick out of his mouth and looks up at him, lips resting warm and wet just under the head, murmuring nonsense against his skin, Gerard doesn’t steal a look, doesn’t look at all.

Frank gets it, at last. Gerard isn’t looking at him, his arm covering his eyes, and he’s carefully not moving, every inch of his body tense in the effort. The fact that he hasn’t told Frank to stop is what makes him vicious, so he doesn’t leave him like that, it would be too easy; he goes down on him again, sucking as hard as he can, and strokes him hard and fast, maybe tightening his grip too much.

Gerard comes after a handful of seconds, bitter and hot in Frank’s mouth. Frank sits on his heels for a moment, not knowing what to do. He feels strangely empty and sad, but the anger of a few moments ago has disappeared. Gerard is looking at him now, at last, with huge dark eyes that spell fear in huge letters. It’s funny how he wasn’t afraid of Frank being a giant freak of nature, but he can’t accept this.

Turning away from him, Frank curls up on his side, next to the edge of the bed, trying to ignore the pressure in his groin. The disappointment helps. Next to him, Gerard doesn’t move, not even to slide under the blanket too. Frank’s last thought, before he falls asleep, is that he must be cold.

*

When Gerard wakes up, it’s dark outside and Frank isn’t there.

End