Please, Try Again - 30

Title: Please, Try Again - Chapter 30 (Out of 30)
Author: vitalspark
Pairing: Frank/Gerard . Mikey Way, Patrick Stump, Pete Wentz, Adam Lazzara, Brendon Urie, William Beckett and Ryan Ross all end up making appearances.
Rating: NC-17 as a whole.
Summary: AU -- "This, was real..." 23 year-old Gerard Way shot to fame after portraying a tortured high school student who turns on his high school in the indie film of the year, immediately generating Oscar Buzz. Thrust suddenly into the spotlight, he's torn between his new hetero 'Hollywood 'It Boy'' status and lifestyle, and the small town homosexual man that he was -- engaged to his 17 year-old lover, Frank Iero.
POV: Third-person.
Authors Note: Gerard is 23, Frank is 17, but this is not a pedophile fic. Their ages are an important note to the story, but it is not all that the story is about.
Dedications: Thank you to everyone who has commented!
Disclaimer: Fake, fake, fake.


All chapters, etcetera, can be found at vitalspark.


Wow. This has been quite the journey and I want to thank absolutely everyone who has ever read this story, left feedback, and especially those that have still stuck with it, leave absolutely incredible notes that truly do help shape the story, and have had faith in me even with how long it's taken.

After reading this chapter, please read the author note/questions post. It gives some more information on this chapter especially, and also on the upcoming sequel. I figure some of you might have questions after reading this, and I'll explain a lot in that post, and answer any questions that arise.

Most importantly, just thank you for reading this story of mine that I've grown very fond of.



This was their last shot.

His lips remained partially open as Frank continued to stare up at Gerard, his breathing shallow. The air in the room felt thick, and he struggled to make a couple of breaths as he tossed over in his head the words that Gerard had spoken. He could practically taste the anticipation for his answer, his heart slamming in to his ribcage and a subtle shake wracking his body. A sound that could have been a strangled gasp left his lips, and he closed his eyes once more as he tried to slow his heart rate. He couldn’t breathe.

When he didn’t speak or open his eyes for a long minute, Gerard whispered his name into the warm bathroom. Frank swore condensation was building on the tiled floor, cooling his flushed legs, warning him of the rising temperature. When he opened his eyes, a pained expression covered his face.

Slowly, Frank reached out and put a hesitating palm against Gerard’s covered thigh. As his body lifted from the floor using his hand placement as a steadying guide, one foot pressed flat against the slick floor, coming in contact with the washcloth he had dropped what felt like hours ago. The squish his heel made upon stepping on the soaked piece of fabric burst through the room, though deafened to Frank as he concentrated on his unsteady, loud breaths that he couldn’t seem to regulate.

His knee pressed against the cool porcelain of the commode, resting on a spot between Gerard’s legs. Without another second of hesitation, Frank pressed his palms to the sides of Gerard’s neck, leaning in and pressing a firm kiss to his lips.

If he was too damn drunk to think about the situation in a realistic fashion, then he was going to go with how it felt in his heart. Regardless of the consequences his actions held in the morning. And in his heart if Gerard was a fuck up, then Frank was a fuck up.

And if he was a fuck up, then Frank was going to fuck up in a way that made him feel whole. Even if he only felt complete for a short while, he felt that he deserved at least that much.

Gerard found his own breath catching in his throat as he felt Frank’s warm exhales against his face before their lips met. His encounter with Frank in the hallway back at the club slipped from his mind, that kiss was nothing like the one he was losing himself in at the present moment. He didn’t know what the kiss was for, and he didn’t care; he wasn’t going to be the first to pull away as he reached out to press his hand against the top of the toilet, lifting up from his sitting position. His other arm wrapped around Frank’s waist, helping him fully to his feet as they kept their lips locked together. Gerard could feel the nervous shakes that still flowed through Frank’s body, and on instinct he pulled their bodies closer together as he walked Frank a couple of steps in reverse until his back was pressed against the sink.

If Frank noticed, or if he even minded, he didn’t show it as his hands slid from Gerard’s sweaty neck, tightening around the strands of his hair, pulling his face to the left as he deepened the kiss.

The only words flowing through Gerard’s mind would have been cause for their Aunt to blush, so his answer to Frank was a low guttural groan as he parted his mouth, biting at Frank’s lower lips. In response, Frank pressed his body flush against Gerard’s with a curl of his back, one hand dropping from his hair to his neck, and down to his shoulders. His hand fisted around the fabric of Gerard’s shirt, tugging on the collar, flattening the perfect crease, pulling at the expensive fabric. None of that mattered; Gerard encouraged Frank’s actions as he slid his hand around to his backside, pressing his hips directly into Franks.

As he felt Gerard pressed against his hips, Frank broke away from the kiss momentarily to stare up at him. Face flushed, his chest rising with quick pants as his eyes quickly scanned over Gerard’s face, searching for any indication that his mind and body weren’t working as a cohesive unit. His fingers tightened around Gerard’s hair, tugging in the same manner that he had before, lifting up on his toes to bite back at Gerard’s mouth. His hips jerked against Franks, another groan releasing on instinct into the sticky air.

That was all the confirmation Frank needed, and his other hand immediately fell from Gerard’s hair, purposely catching on the buttons that lined the front of his shirt. It had been too long; he needed to feel Gerard’s skin against his own.

He blindly tried to unfasten the small buttons. Ripping the shirt was not something that he wanted to do, sure that it was probably expensive and not wanting to chance pissing Gerard off, ruining the moment that they were in. Frank fumbled a couple more times, a grunt of frustration leaving his lips.

“Fucking rip it if you have to,” Gerard demanded, parting from the kiss. His hand wrapped around the side of Frank’s neck, leaning in to bite roughly at his pale skin.

And that damn smirk returned. The very one Gerard had fallen in love with so many years earlier, and still gave the same pull. The sly curl to his lips appeared faintly at first, before quickly deepening.

With absolute pleasure, Frank thought as his mouth moved from the smirk to stretch in to a wide grin at the bite. Gerard knew his weaknesses, and he momentarily lost himself in the feelings that flowed through his body.

Gerard focused on his neck, biting and sucking on various spots of his skin. His hand slid from Frank’s neck through his hair, lifting his face in order to press a strong kiss to Frank’s mouth.

The rip of fabric greeted his ears, and he could feel a sudden wash of cool air over his flushed skin. In return, Gerard bent him back over the top of the sink, deepening the kiss as he ground his hips into Frank’s.

“Gee.” Frank’s whine was desperate. His hands rested against his bare chest, sliding underneath the remaining fabric and over his shoulders.

A bit flustered, Gerard gave him a curious look as he pulled away from his mouth. “Yes?”

Taking a few seconds to once again try and calm his racing heart, though this time for a much better reason, Frank concentrated on his question as he carefully studied Gerard’s every move. “You want to make me happy?”

Franks tone and demeanor had changed as he asked his question, and Gerard could hear the painful honesty in his words.

Determination filled him. “Anything,” he stated firmly. His meticulous façade had crumbled far earlier in the evening. He had nothing left to pretend or hold back.

And Frank didn’t either.

This was their last shot, and it was very, very real.

“I want my Gee back,” he whispered.

Frank held no confidence as he stood there, his eyes large and full of fear. His hands rested lightly on Gerard’s shoulders, as if he was preparing to move them at a moment’s notice, which he was.

Gerard had to ignore the sharp impact that Franks words had on him, for his next move was critical and he knew it. Carefully, he reached up to press his hands against Franks neck, his fingers resting on his jawline. He started to speak, his voice thick with apology.

“Frank I—“

He cut himself off sharply, dropping his hands from Frank’s skin as if he had been burnt. The words he had bitten back choked in this throat, and Gerard was unable to miss the absolute crushed look that covered Franks’ face.

Gerard’s mind quickly raced to remedy the situation and find the words he truly wanted to say, his eyes unable to break away from Frank who by this time refused to make eye contact. In his struggle to say the right thing, Gerard knew he was quickly losing the battle as he saw Frank’s eyes water. Though he knew the alcohol still flowed heavily through his veins, Gerard had never felt more sober in his life.

Heavily, Gerard took a step back and sat back down on the closed toilet seat. He held his face in his hands, attempting to breathe deeply and hold his own emotions at bay.

Frank didn’t know what to say. He stood awkwardly against the sink with a tear stained face, every bit of arousal he had previously felt having left his body. Turning his face down to the floor, he squeezed his eyes shut. He needed to get out of there. “I should go,” he mumbled. This was a pain he didn’t want to go through again.

Quick to object, Gerard’s voice was pleading. “No, please.”

If Gerard had been quick to object, then Frank’s attitude was quick to change. “Then what?” he snapped back, lifting up his face and staring directly at Gerard. “What the fuck am I here for?”

And seemingly out of nowhere, Frank reached out and punched Gerard—hard—in the arm.

“What the hell was that for?” Gerard asked, his hand immediately reaching up to wrap around the spot that had been hit, looking up at Frank incredulously. Sure, they had argued occasionally in all the years that they had known each other, but Frank had never just outright punched him. Not when it was clear that they weren’t just joking around.

“Make up your fucking mind!” Frank yelled out. He reached out to punch him again, but Gerard was already one step ahead of him. Wrapping a hand around the fist that Frank extended to hit him with, he stood up quickly and placed his other hand on the boys’ shoulder.

Frank struggled to get out of his grasp for a few minutes, shouting for Gerard to let him go. He lifted up his hands to try and push Gerard away; he curled them in to fists and punched at his stomach a couple of times which only tightened the hold that Gerard had on him. After it was quite clear that he wasn’t going anywhere, Frank tried one last method. Loosening his entire body, he let his legs sink out from underneath him, going completely limp in Gerard’s arms.

Caught off guard, Gerard let him fall from his grasp before catching him just before he hit the ground. Frank hadn’t pulled that one since he was fourteen and stayed up watching a marathon of Cops while waiting for Gerard to return home from a night class.

Adjusting his hold on him, Gerard started to lift him back on his feet before changing his mind and raising him until Frank sat on the bathroom counter. Pressing his lips together, he looked at the face of the boy he loved who, smartly, was ashamed enough by his own antics even through his anger to be unable to meet Gerard’s eyes. “I am so sorry for everything I’ve put you through the past couple of months,” Gerard said firmly, reaching out to wrap his hand around Frank’s jaw, forcing him to look his way.

If there was ever a bratty look that crossed Frank’s face, then the expression that Frank was currently giving Gerard was it. “Oh yeah?” he retorted. His face softened almost immediately after he said it, as if he knew indeed just how childish he sounded. He tried again with another question, his tone more of a curious nature. “Why… why do you say that?”

“Because you are worth so much more than any of this fucking bullshit,” Gerard said. His hand was still wrapped around Frank’s chin, and he was almost afraid that if he let go then Frank would turn his face away again. And this time, he wanted to speak without being interrupted. Not by Steven, not by any childish tantrums, not by any drunken behavior. He just wanted to be honest.

He lightened his hold on Frank’s face just enough to make sure he wasn’t hurting him, but not enough to let him look away. His voice had dropped to a smooth, softer tone. The voice he had usually reserved for when he was speaking with Frank. “I never should have treated you the way I did in LA,” he began, “and there’s nothing I can say or do that will ever make up for the shit I pulled. And I never expected you to forgive me right off the bat—“

The look Frank gave him at that moment caused Gerard to pause with his words, and a bashful hint of pink came to his cheeks. “Okay, maybe I would have. But, that’s not the point. The point is, I seriously screwed up Frank, and I realize that. I thought what I was doing was the right thing, but I had my head so far up my ass that I didn’t realize that I was losing the best thing that I had in my life. It never should have even gotten to a point where you felt that you needed to leave, and I can’t express enough how fucking sorry I am for that.”

Frank wanted to hate him, he really did. Looking down as much as he could with Gerard’s hand still on his face, he released a faint exhale. “Why can’t I believe you when you say those things to me?” he asked meekly.

To his credit, Gerard was quick to follow with a response. “If you want me to leave Hollywood, I will.” His voice was completely steady and even, causing Frank to immediately lift his eyes back up to meet his. “If you want me to come out to America, even on Oscar night, I will.”

And well, Frank absolutely believed him. Gerard had offered to leave his acting career behind before, just after he had initially shot to fame, and after a rather long promo tour that had taken its toll on the younger boy. Frank would have never actually let him give it up, but he had known that Gerard would have called it a day if he had simply asked. And now sitting before him on the bathroom countertop, even through everything they had been through, he absolutely believed that Gerard would come out to the world on Oscar night if Frank so much as asked.

Lifting up his hands, Frank placed them over Gerard’s on his face. Gently prying them from his jaw, he brought them down to rest against his thighs as he turned one last question over and over in his head. “Do you still have them?” he asked slowly, attempting to be careful with his words.

There was no explanation needed for what Frank was asking for. Taking both of his hands from him, Gerard reached into his pockets. First, he pulled out his engagement ring from his right pocket. Secondly, he pulled out the ring box that he kept Frank’s in from his left pocket. Looking at both rings in his hand, he raised his shoulders in a small shrug as he met Frank’s gaze once again. “I never go anywhere without them.”

Frank felt as if his heart might burst. The way he felt at this exact moment in time, it was the feeling that meant everything to him. It was the way he felt when he realized he loved Gerard for the first time, the way he felt every time he kissed him, the way he felt when he met Gerard’s hazel eyes and just knew.

He could have everything he ever wanted, but this right here, this was his life. Frank wouldn’t fight it—Gerard was his past, and even if he wasn’t his immediate present, he would always be his future.

At the end of his days, he would love Gerard just as much as he loved him now. And with every single way that Frank knew how to love, with every single thing Frank knew about love, he loved Gerard.

And he always would.

Tentatively, he reached out to press his palms back to Gerard’s chest. He felt the man give an exhale, whether of relief or confusion Frank wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. This wasn’t their last shot; this was only the start of building their lives—separate, and together.

Scooting off the bathroom counter, Frank landed on the balls of his feet onto the cool tiled floor. His hands sliding along Gerard’s chest, a smile rose as his fingers brushed over the soft stubble of hair. Frank leaned in, pressing his lips to a spot of skin just over his heart.

Words meant absolutely nothing at this point.

Gerard set the rings down gently on the counter behind Frank, lifting his arms up and wrapping them around his shoulders, taking a careful step closer. Bowing his head, he rested his forehead against Frank’s hair. He inhaled his scent. The liquor ran heavily, but through it all he could make out the faint remnants of his shampoo, and a hint of sweat from Mikey’s bar.

Both men stood still for a few peaceful minutes. Frank had taken to pressing his cheek to Gerard’s chest, listening to the steady sound of his heart beating. Lifting his face up just enough, he pressed another kiss over Gerard’s heart, his arms still snug around his waist.

In response, Gerard raised his head and pressed a kiss to the top of Frank’s head.

Resting his mouth back against his hair, Gerard spoke into the dark strands. “I love you so much; I don’t know how to cope when you’re not around.”

Frank closed his eyes briefly at the words. Then, he brought his face up to meet Gerard’s eyes. He didn’t say anything in return; just let a small, genuine smile drift across his lips.

Stretching his back to be as tall as he could, Frank reached out to press a hand to Gerard’s neck, bringing their faces closer together so he could press a kiss to his lips.

The desperate urgency from before had melted away, in its place a gentle sense of compassion. A familiarity, a clear bond between two individuals that had long ago decided they had been forever melted in to one.

Gerard let Frank take the lead, keeping his arms around the boy and simply falling in to the feelings that flooded through him each time Frank leaned in for another kiss. His hands slipped just underneath the hem of his shirt, resting against the small of his back as each kiss grew more and more needy.

The various blankets and objects covering the floor made navigating it a maze, one Gerard found hard to master. His foot caught on a blanket, sending both him and Frank tumbling on to the bed sooner than anticipated. Gerard landed heavily on top of him, concern immediately flooding his face.

He broke apart to make sure Frank was alright, but was pulled right back down.

“Don’t stop,” Frank pleaded into Gerard’s mouth. His eyes opened briefly to stare up at Gerard, large and bright, their lips apart but brushing against each other.

Gerard stared intently at Frank, his eyes darker, his soft breaths falling against Frank’s lips. He would never be able to put in to words just how much he loved this boy. “Never,” he promised, bringing their lips back to one.

* * *

A lazy cold breeze drifted in through the dark curtains, brushing over the bare skin that lay exposed. A thick blanket matching the curtains draped over the gently breathing form, his face pressed snugly in to the pillow and a faint smirk painted on to his lips.

With a stir, the smirk faded as his lips parted, releasing a heavy yawn in to the air. Stretching his body underneath the blanket, he extended his legs followed by his back to his arms. Moving both limbs above his head, he yawned once more as he slowly brought an arm down to wrap around the other figure in the bed.

Except, his arm met the sheets covering the mattress instead of a warm body.

The mouth that had previously held a graceful smile had formed to a frown as he reached once again for the body he remembered falling asleep with.

Once more, he was met with nothing.

Sleepy eyelids lifted to expose hazel eyes, peering curiously at the empty spot he lay next to. Tentatively, he reached out to feel the sheets as he strained to listen to the sounds of a running shower. They were cool to the touch, he had gone awhile ago.

His mind blank, Gerard Way turned from lying on his side on to his back, suddenly wide awake. Question upon question ran through his mind, but he tried to put himself at ease.

Frank had simply gone out to pick up breakfast for them.

As the questions continued to pour through his head pounding with a building hangover, Gerard knew the truth.

As his eyes landed on the nightstand next to the bed, his fears were confirmed.

Sitting neatly on the hard wooden surface was a clear glass of water, two small white pills lying next to the glass. His journal was set next to the pills, closed apart from a thin pen marking the spot between the first and second page of the book.

Suddenly, Gerard didn’t know whether the pills were for his headache, or for the way he’d be feeling after he read whatever was written in his journal.

After a couple minutes of quiet debate, Gerard reached for the book.

He had a feeling he was going to need something stronger than aspirin.

* * *
* * *

Three weeks later, black instrument boxes and small road cases lined the sidewalk, complimenting the off-white 15 passenger van that rested on the side of the road. The back doors swung open, men walked back and forth between the instruments and the van, packing everything in neatly, in Tetris-style fashion.

“Are you excited?” Frank asked, looking over at William who stood leaning against the van, scrolling through the texts on his Sidekick.

“It’s only two weeks of East Coast shows,” William said in a careless manner, as if he wasn’t the least bit excited about taking off to travel to the states that lined New York. Looking up at Frank, he raised a solitary eyebrow. “Why aren’t you coming with us again?”

Franks shoulders rose. “I figure I’ll take some pictures in Brooklyn, I’ve got a friend down there that’s willing to pose for me.”

William visibly ignored what Frank said, standing up from the van and shoving his phone into his back pocket. Turning around, he reached in through the passenger side window of the van, picking up Frank’s camera bag off the passenger seat. Facing Frank once again, he shoved the bag at Frank’s chest, leaving Frank to raise his arms and clutch the bag before it fell onto the sidewalk.

“Not a good enough reason,” William said. “Get in the van.”

* * *

Fifteen months later, Gerard found himself on a barstool in the middle of Hollywood out of his mind and barely clinging to the bar countertop. Hunching over, he held his drink tightly in his hand as he stared sullenly at the faux marbled table, every so often shooting quick glances up at the bartenders running around making drinks. It took a repeat question for him to hear the female voice from beside him.

Lifting his head, a soft sigh left his lips before he could stop himself. She was average Hollywood, with dark brown hair perfectly styled and pristine makeup. Though she was minus the bleached hair and designer handbag purchased with a maxed out credit card, he still had her pegged. She was a barfly, and Gerard didn’t like barflies.

She introduced herself, and he promptly forgot her name, though accepting a refill of scotch when it was offered.

“Is that one of those purity rings the kids are so fond of wearing these days?” Her voice was gently teasing as she handed him the glass.

Gerard blinked at her, before bringing his eyes down to his right hand to catch a dull sparkle from his engagement ring. He never took it off.

And he couldn’t explain why, but the first response out of his mouth was sharp. “It’s a symbol of a fucking mistake,” Gerard said. He followed his words with a drink.

With the look of actual concern that crossed her face, even if she was an actress, and they all were in this town, Gerard had to give her credit for how genuine she appeared. “That rough? Well, you know they don’t call it heartbreak for no reason.”

Gerard gave a bit of a snort. “You’re telling me,” he said. Falling silent, he pressed the glass to his lips once more. “How are you supposed to feel when you’re convinced this person is your future, and now they want nothing to do with you?”

He had said far too much and he knew it, but he couldn’t help himself. “I mean fuck, I gave them everything. And now… what the fuck!” Gerard slammed the glass back down onto the counter, as if for emphasis.

The woman gave a sympathetic smile. “Sounds like this girl really broke your heart.”

“Oh, she sure did,” Gerard mumbled with a bitter laugh. His vision had started swimming awhile ago, and he could have sworn he had two glasses in front of him. “I feel like my fucking heart is gone. Who lets some fucking chick do that to them?”

“We do a lot of things in the name of love,” the woman offered.

Gerard shook his hand in front of his face, giving a lazy look. “Not me,” he said. He reached for the glass again, completely missing and slapping at the countertop. “I’ve given up on that shit, she doesn’t want me? Fuck her! I don’t want her!”

When he finally managed to grab the glass, he took a deep drink. To her credit, the barfly didn’t say anything.

“Truth be told,” Gerard mumbled, staring at the nearly empty glass. “All I’ve done since they’ve gone is drink. I get dumped and I develop a drinking problem while in every other aspect of my life I have everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Who the fuck am I to have any problems?”

Tipping the rest of the glasses contents into his mouth, he frowned. “I don’t even know why I’m saying this shit to a stranger.”

“My mother always said sometimes it helps to vent a little, get the pain off your chest,” the woman said. She gave a shrug. “For what it’s worth, she’s a Southern belle born and bred, and you know they can’t be wrong.”

The frown didn’t leave Gerard’s face. “Perhaps,” was all he said.

Lifting up his empty glass, he motioned for the bartender. “Another,” he demanded.

“Are you sure?” the woman asked. “Don’t you think perhaps you’ve had enough?”

Gerard gave her the sourest look he could muster in his drunken state. “Listen, whoever the fuck you are—“

“Madison,” the woman offered, extending her hand which Gerard promptly ignored.

“Okay, Madison,” he said, picking up the glass when the bartender set it down in front of him. “You’re not my mother. You’re not my Aunt. And you’re sure as hell not my lover. So your opinion doesn’t mean shit.”

Madison held her hands up in surrender. “My apologies,” she said. “I overstepped myself.”

“You’re damn right,” Gerard declared, taking another drink. He was convinced the bartender had given him water, but couldn’t be assed to make a complaint.

The two sat in silence, Madison sipping a cocktail and Gerard drinking the scotch every now and then. He could barely sit up straight, but he was careful not to rest his head on his arms so the bartenders wouldn’t remove him from the bar.

“You know what I don’t understand?” he slurred after a few minutes, his hand still grasping the glass. “I spill my fucking heart out to him, and the next morning they’re gone. Left behind a fucking note. I haven’t spoken to him since.”

Gerard knew he had made a mistake the second he spoke, and he followed with a loud curse. Immediately, he shot a dark look at the woman, who was watching him over the rim of her cocktail glass. “You didn’t hear shit,” he spat, a forceful tone to his words.

Setting the drink down on the bar, Madison shook her head slowly. “We’re just two acquaintances having an innocent chat at the bar,” she said lightly.

There was something in the way she held herself, and the way that she spoke that it all clicked in his mind. Gerard let out another loud curse, slamming down the rest of his scotch. It burned and brought tears to his eyes but he forced himself to swallow it. “You’re not from the South.”

“I am,” Madison said. “Georgia Peach, all the way.” When Gerard signaled the bartender to return, Madison pulled out her credit card and handed it to him. “I’ve got both tabs,” she said.

And once more, Gerard cursed.

The bartender poured him another drink, and Gerard stared at it sullenly. “Who do you work for?” he asked. His head both simultaneously pounded and swam, and his heart was in his stomach. Was everything he had worked so hard for the past couple of years and sacrificed so much for now gone because of a stupid drunken slip with one of the top people he wasn’t supposed to slip up in front of?”

“Madison Clark,” she introduced, following with the name of a popular tabloid television show. With confirmation, Gerard knew exactly who she was. He caught the show at times, and the more he looked at her, the more he recognized her. She was a producer on the show, and regularly pitched stories on air. Gerard could remember watching her speak of him quite often.

This time, he didn’t curse. He brought the glass of scotch to his lips but didn’t drink. Honest to say, Gerard felt shattered. How was he supposed to get out of this one?

“I won’t share your deal, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Madison said.

Gerard gave her a way look. “Pardon if I don’t believe you when you say that. You guys show little mercy to those you feature.”

“Not in every case.” She placed her empty glass on the bar and turned her chair to face him. Reaching in to her purse, she pulled out her business card and handed it to him. “Let’s keep in touch.”

When he didn’t take the card, she set it down on the counter in front of him. Staring at the black piece of stock paper emblazoned with her name on it in silvery writing, Gerard wanted to give up.

Looking around before he spoke, when his eyes returned to her they were desperate. “Please,” he said as low as he could, “you didn’t hear anything. I can’t have this out.”

Madison stared at him, her face unchanging. “Let’s keep in touch.”

Shoving away the drink he had been holding, a scowl quickly crossed over his face. “Are you fucking joking?” he asked. Pushing himself away from the bar, he attempted to stand on wobbly legs. “Is this how you get your fucking stories?”

He misjudged his footing, and nearly fell to the floor before catching himself on the barstool. As he struggled to maintain his balance, Gerard shoved away everyone who tried to help.

“I don’t need this shit, I’m out of here,” he said. Brushing off his pants with one hand, Gerard set his shoulders as strong as he could and gave a grunt to those that watched as he turned to leave.

Madison’s clear voice followed him to the hallway. “There are paps outside waiting, so you know.”

Knowing what lay ahead only caused his anger to build before Gerard caught himself. If Madison Clark was going to pull a sneaky move on him, then he’d pull one right back.

Drunk and ready to play games, Gerard brushed his thumb over the band on his finger once more. A devilish smirk crossing over his face, he headed out the front door instead of the back he usually opted for.

* * *

Eleven hours later, Ryan was the one who caught the gossip report on the website.

The story spread quickly, and Frank found his phone slammed with phone calls from his Aunt, Patrick, Carissa, and various others from New York that knew both Frank and Gerard.

Confused, Frank scrolled through the texts as he walked through the venue they were in.

Lawrence, Kansas.

Not the most happening of places compared to New York City, so Frank had spent his midday at the venue waiting for sound check.

Walking in to the backstage area, the worn tour laminate swung from his belt, occasionally smacking into his thigh. It felt like they had been on tour forever; Lawrence was at the tail end of a 30-city tour, stretching from coast to coast that had proved to be incredibly successful for the band. More than a handful of shows had sold out, and the fans were intense.

And Frank enjoyed every second of it, covering the whole tour with his trusty camera, sometimes filling in and selling merchandise.

Opening the door to the dressing room in order to retrieve his camera, Frank stopped in the doorway as he was greeted by a very guilty looking Ryan Ross.

Arching an eyebrow, Frank slowly stepped into the room. “What’s up man?”

Ryan sighed. “Crap, you haven’t heard yet?”

Without a word, Frank walked over to the couch where Ryan sat. He debated briefly on not looking, but curiosity had killed the cat after all.

Frank’s eyes immediately scanned the words on the screen. A picture of Gerard with bright red eyes lay next to the text, his hand outstretched as he tried to block the camera’s view.

Phrases in the news bite jumped out at him, and though Frank was used to feeling hurt when it came to Gerard, he couldn’t help how deeply the words hit him.

When he saw that there was a video attached to the story, Frank broke his silence. “Play it, please.”

Footage of Gerard stumbling out of the bar flashed across the page. Frank watched closely as the man stumbled out of the club, purposely ignoring the photographers. When he looked into the camera, Frank watched as his eyes narrowed at the questions, turning away to look around for his car.

The paparazzi were persistent. “Gerard! Are you currently seeing anyone?” The way Gerard’s face snapped to the camera and the look he gave the lens caused Frank to swallow hard.

Briefly, Gerard looked away and for just a moment a fallen look covered his face. Correcting himself, he looked back at the camera and held up his left hand.

“Always will,” he said firmly. Without another word, he stepped in to his waiting vehicle.

As the video ended and the websites logo appeared, Ryan looked over at Frank who simply sat there with a blank look across his face.

In the past year, Frank had made a promise to himself that no one would ever see him react to anything involving Gerard again.

So, he stood and picked up his cell phone in one hand. Sliding it into the front pocket of his jeans, he took the opportunity to brush a finger over the delicate piece of jewelry already inside.

“Well,” Frank offered as he grabbed his camera bag and headed towards the door. “Somebody was plastered.”

* * *

Thirty-three months later, and Gerard found himself driving along the Pacific Coast Highway with a smile on his face.

Life was good, and he couldn’t complain. Steven had let him borrow a convertible for the week, and though Gerard could tell it was solely for the purpose of driving around and getting photographed for the tabloids to showcase his ‘status’, it was still an amazing car and California was in the middle of a beautiful summer season.

And he wouldn’t admit this to anybody, but he might have printed out a copy of a picture posted on a tabloid website of him in the car and framed it. He hadn’t been able to help himself, it was a beautiful shot and he was in love with the car.

The warm air whipped through his hair, and dark shades covered his eyes. Upon stopping at a red light he reached over to turn on the radio, nodding his head as the familiar tail end of a rock beat immediately filled the open air around him.

He was no rock aficionado, but Gerard at least knew a couple songs that were in the current Top 40.

A couple commercials hit the air, and he took to the road once again as the light turned green. His cell phone vibrated against the passenger seat, distracting his attention away from the deejay that returned to the radio.

“We’ve got a real treat for you guys, my fellow Los Angelinos. This band’s had varying success over the past couple of years, but the track I’m about to play for you is definitely the breakout from their EP, “Living Well Is the Best Revenge”. It’s the song you’ve heard all over Gossip Girl this season, here’s Caveat with “Gives You Hell”.”

Gerard’s face snapped to the radio and his foot slammed on the gas in surprise, the car jolting forward.

What?

He forced himself to focus on the fact that the car was getting dangerously close to the car in front of him, immediately taking his foot off the pedal and allowing the car to slow down. Gerard could feel his heart racing in his chest as he heard William’s familiar voice come over the airwaves. It was an older voice, more mature sounding, but still unmistakably William’s.

And still unmistakably the words that Gerard already knew.

“When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell. When you walk my way hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell.”

This had to be Frank’s doing. These had to be Frank’s words, turned into another damn song.

Only this one wasn’t just being played in a bar full of a group of their closest friends. This one was being played on a nationwide radio station.

Gerard was grateful for the next red light he hit, stopping and pressing his palm to his forehead as he tried to relax while simultaneously listening to the song. It wasn’t a bad song, the beat was nice and he could admit the melody was catchy.

But the words. What was he supposed to think about the words?

“And truth be told I miss you”

For a second, Gerard let a small hint of a smile come to the corners of his lips.

“And truth be told I'm lying!”

Any hint of the smile that remained immediately faded from his lips as he let the chorus sink in to him once more.

Frank hated him. Still. Almost three years later.

“Now you'll never see what you've done to me, you can take back your memories they're no good to me. And here's all your lies, you can't look me in the eyes with the sad, sad look that you wear so well…”

Pressing his lips together in a frown, Gerard slammed his foot back on to the gas pedal as the light turned green.

He had to get home.

* * *

An hour later, Gerard sat in front of his laptop, reading the lyrics to the song he had heard on the radio. He read the lyrics to every song he could find by Caveat, and with each line felt his heart sinking in his chest.

He could feel a headache coming on, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Opening up a new email, he typed in the familiar email address.


To: petepetepete@caveatmusic.com
From: bringmeyourbullets@njglobal.com
Subject: (No Subject)

I heard “Gives You Hell” on the radio today.
Straight up—did Frank write that song about me?

g


He was sure the email probably came off as obnoxious, but Gerard didn’t care. It was too much of a coincidence for it to be something his mind was making up.

Pete’s response came quickly, a product of his obsessive love affair with his Blackberry.


To: bringmeyourbullets@njglobal.com
From: petepetepete@caveatmusic.com
Subject: RE: (No Subject)

Fuck dude.
I didn’t want to say anything, it’s not my place… but they’re all about you man. Every last one.

PETE

(Sent from my Blackberry)

* * *

Thirty-six months later to the day, Frank stood on the rooftop of a building in Chicago, Illinois as fireworks exploded above his head. The cheers around him grew as different sparks of color lit up the sky of the New Year, and a hint of a smile graced the edges of his lips. His right hand, with a flash of a soft golden hue, was wrapped around a champagne flute as Frank stared up at the sky.

A hand rested on his shoulder, and Frank glanced up at William standing next to him, also looking up at the sky. “This is our year,” he said. “I can feel it in my soul.”

With a genuine smile in response but no words, Frank brought the hand holding the champagne flute closer to him as the fireworks finale started. He was careful to avoid the spot on his chest just above where his heart beat that was taped to cover a fresh tattoo. His index finger uncurling from the stem of the flute, he brushed it discreetly over the edge of the tape hidden underneath his shirt. “Always will,” he said faintly.