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Brian Schechter’s office sat on the outskirts of a forest in Sussex County New Jersey, a few miles from the base of Gerard’s home for the summer – Sunrise Mountain. Despite its name, Sunrise had the same grey aura the rest of the city had – the view it casted over Beemerville did nothing to quell that, either. The office was brick, but by now had been twined with vines and weeds from Brian’s reluctance to take care of anything for himself and being too cheap to hire a gardener. Gerard shook his head, shoving a cigarette into his mouth. He took a couple of deep pulls, before pushing into the office.
From inside, the building (which was little more than a single room with a bathroom attached) was just as one would expect from the outside. There was a single window, the blinds upon which were dusty and bleached from the sun. The chairs and table weren’t originally matching, but now had some familial ties in the form of coffee and beer stains, and some other marks Gerard didn’t want to question. Brian sat behind the oak desk, leaning back in his chair, an array of yellowed papers strewn across the surface, and coffee cups resting on top of those. It was a sight Gerard had come to know well; the surprising part, though, was the man sitting across from him.
Gerard didn’t hesitate, continuing into the room and letting the door slam behind him, its rickety frame shaking where it clicked back into place. Brian was mid-sentence, but cut himself off when Gerard came in
“Oh, here he is –“ he gestured to Gerard, “you’re late.”
“I’m not late, I’m…” Gerard sighed, letting his cigarette hang between his lips, running a hand through his mass of chin-length black hair, “I’m hungover.”
“As per. Lucky for you, Frank here knows how to hold his liquor, so he’ll be able to get your piss sodden ass back into your tent every night,” Brian muttered, vaguely gesturing to the man sat across from him as he picked up his coffee cup.
Gerard frowned, stepping far enough into the room to see the other man. Frank was a little bit younger than him – possibly in his mid-twenties, where Gerard was already well into his thirties. He was short and slim, with black hair that was buzzed on each side, but a little longer on top. There was an effeminate quality to his features that made him seem almost pretty (if you were into that kind of thing. Which Gerard wasn’t.)_Upon noticing himself being inspected, Frank half raised his hand, as if to shake Gerard’s. The older man, though, didn’t offer his, and Frank dropped his arm loosely back to his side.
“You don’t trust me to do the job alone anymore?” Gerard grumbled over his cigarette, tucking his hair behind his ear. Brian rolled his eyes.
“It’s not that. Trust me, I wouldn’t be paying two guys if I didn’t have to. But I heard in town that you’re getting hitched later this year, and you know how it is-“
“Yeah, I know. Sorry I didn’t tell you,” Gerard muttered, more for something to say than anything. He purposefully didn’t mention his engagement to Brian, for fear that he wouldn’t be allowed the job this summer.
“It’s nothin’ personal Gee,” Brian sighed, “but marriage means babies, and babies means you being busy, and you being busy means I get stuck for a loop when you don’t turn up to help. So you’re gonna be showing Frank here the ropes,” he gestured again to the younger man. Gerard sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“Fine,” he muttered, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. He stubbed it out on the corner of the desk, leaning forward to point a finger in Brian’s face
“But if you take a single cent out of my pay to cover the cost of this kid, I’ll have your balls.”
Brian didn’t even justify that with a reply, just waved him out to the door.
“Whatever. See you Sunday,” he replied coolly. Gerard left swiftly, muttering to himself as he did. The clatter of the door served as a cue for Frank to clear his throat, sitting up a little. He watched Brian carefully, unsure of how to approach the situation. Brian chuckled to himself, meeting Frank’s gaze over the rim of his coffee cup.
“You’re gonna have your hands full this summer, boy. Try not to let him get to you. Just leave him be, and you’ll be golden.”
***
“But what I don’t get is how you do that,” Frank whined. The pair were sitting by the dwindling fire, its sunset-tinged flames lighting the approaching night just enough for Gerard to focus on what he was drawing. Two weeks’ worth of opened and drained cans of beans and beer sat strewn around their feet, catching on one of their boots if they dared to so much as move their feet a single inch. Frank was using his own fleece jacket as a blanket to shield him from the incoming cold, but peered up over the collar to watch Gerard’s hand.
Gerard smiled despite himself – no more than a gentle twitch of his lips
“What? Draw?” he asked, peering up at him from below the brim of his hat. He was beginning to feel the cold, having only his worn leather jacket for warmth, but he was reluctant to go back to his tent. Usually his inspiration would have died by now, but Frank’s constant flow of energy provided him with enough of a distraction during the day that he found himself returning to his seclusion at night; or, would-be seclusion, if Frank would shut up. The first few nights, Gerard had told him as such, but he’d slowly fallen into a bit of a rapport with the other man, and learned to sort of half tune him out.
“Yeah. How does it work? I can’t do anything like that,” Frank murmured. He sat up on his knees, reaching forward and dipping his hand into Gerard’s jacket pocket. Gerard felt his fingers through the fabric, and suddenly the cold was a million miles away, his ribs radiating warmth, like Frank’s hands were made of the sun itself.
He was only touching him for a moment or two before he pulled away with his prize (Gerard’s cigarettes), sliding one into his mouth. The closeness didn’t seem to bother Frank much, but Gerard was suddenly very interested in his work. That worked just fine for Frank. The younger man was intrigued by Gerard; safe with the knowledge that he was preoccupied, Frank watched the fire dance across Gerard’s cheeks and nose, casting faint shadows beneath his eyes. He looked so tired – Frank learned a couple of days in that Gerard was the kind to work himself to the bone, completing as many tasks as he could until he practically fell into his tent each night. The evenings where Gerard was awake enough to stay up and draw for as long as he currently had been, were precious. The fire was nothing compared to the glow in Gerard’s eyes when he had a pencil in hand. Frank tried not to think too hard about why he was even noticing – perhaps the mountain was lonelier than he’d thought.
That idea seeming to rouse him, Frank scrambled to his feet suddenly
“I gotta go down to the sheep,” he mumbled, pulling his coat all the way on. Gerard was quiet for a moment, before glancing up again. The moon stood high behind Frank’s head, illuminating the gentle curve of his nose, the soft dampness on his lip from where he often worried it with his teeth. Gerard swallowed, shifting a little as he continued to draw.
“Sure. Don’t stay there all night, though. It’s cold,” he muttered. His tone seemed nonchalant enough, but there was genuine concern for the younger boy. Frank snorted, chucking the box of cigarettes back at Gerard. He grabbed a bottle of beer from the crate, shoving it in his coat pocket
“Don’t worry about me, old man. You get some sleep,” Frank teased. He accentuated his joke with a wink, and was immediately filled with dread and regret when Gerard’s eyebrows rose in surprise, his lips parting. The last thing he needed was for this rough-spoken cowboy to be assuming things about him.
***
By the third week, Gerard had given up almost entirely on doing any drawing. Not because the inspiration wasn’t there – because it was. Artistic vision hit Gerard in swirls of blue sky and grey mountain, of gold-ringed hazel and green moss curling around the creek at the bottom of the hill. Had he wanted to, Gerard could have returned home after the summer with a sketchbook full of plans, which he could have implemented when he got home, and maybe even sold. He could have thrown himself back onto the track of his once dream career – but he didn’t. Now that he wasn’t alone, the days didn’t seem like they had enough hours.
“You want any of this?” Frank asked Gerard one afternoon, gesturing to the bucket of water he’d heated. Gerard shook his head, though the substance left on his hand as he ran it through his hair indicated that he should probably wash.
“Nah, it’s yours,” he muttered, turning back to the piece of wood he was whittling with his knife. He wasn’t very good at carving yet – but it passed the time nonetheless. Frank nodded in vague acknowledgement of Gerard’s permission, stripping off his shirt and jeans without a second thought. For a tense moment, he considered slipping his boxers off too, but once glance at Gerard’s face, reddened and tense-jawed under the brim of his hat, and Frank decided against it. He moaned deeply as the warm water ran over his skin, head tipping back. The sunlight shone down on his throat, refracting light off the soft beads of sweat that ran down over his Adam’s apple, before they were swept away by the stream of fresh water. Gerard’s hand twitched towards the sketchbook at his feet, but he refrained, tightening his grip on his knife.
“My fucking back aches,” Frank muttered, rolling a shoulder. Gerard glanced up, an eyebrow arching.
“Why don’t you sleep in the tent tonight? Plenty comfortable in there,” he mumbled, turning his eyes back to his work as soon as he’d spoken (though his hands remained still). Frank hesitated, pressing his lips together.
“I- naw, I won’t. Not fair on you if I take your sleepin’ space,” he muttered, but his tone wasn’t convincing in the least. Gerard chucked the wood into the fire, shoving his knife back into his boot.
“Honestly, it’s fine. It’s too soft in there, anyway. I could use some roughness to align my back,” he said, standing up with a gruff noise.
“What about the sheep?” Frank murmured, running his water-slick hands through his hair. Gerard shrugged, not sparing him a glance. His hands fiddled with his cigarette packet, but he didn’t take one out.
“It’s fine. It’s just one night, ain’t it?”
***
Gerard had always thought that he was the toughest person he knew – but that night, he had to admit that if Frank had been sleeping rough like this for three weeks, then he must be twice the man Gerard ever could be. The ground beneath him was jagged and cracked, so he could feel stones between his ribs even when he used his jacket as a makeshift mattress. The air was icy, cutting any exposed skin like a whip, so sharply he was certain he’d have red marks across his neck and arms by the end of the night. He glanced longingly at the soft yellow glow emitted from the tent, the lantern flickering delicately, casting Frank’s shadow onto the canvas edge. He could see the curve of the man laying down, blanket pulled up over his shoulders. Gerard could see each wave of Frank’s form as he breathed steadily, warm and oblivious to Gerard’s suffering.
“God damn it,” Gerard muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. Sleep was hopeless, so he tried to force his body to at least relax, his mind slipping into a trap of longing – though for what, he couldn’t quite discern.
“Hey,” Frank whispered, his gentle voice somehow still too loud as it cut through the gentle hum of the grass as it swayed in the breeze. Gerard wasn’t sure if he’d fallen asleep or if he’d just been trying too hard to, but he jolted when he saw Frank regardless.
“Hey. What’s going on?” Gerard muttered, sitting up. He felt his back ache in protest, and couldn’t avoid the grunt of pain he uttered as discomfort shot along his spine. Frank sighed, glancing between the older man and the tent.
“I couldn’t sleep knowing you were out here. C’mon. Do us both a favour and come share the god damn tent with me,” he muttered, offering Gerard a hand. The older man’s initial instinct was to politely decline, but another wave of crushing agony coursed through his shoulder just as he went to speak, and it washed away any protest he may have had. In its wake, though, Gerard felt a sort of warmth in his chest, already beginning to create a barrier between him and the cruel wind.
He sighed, holding his hand out, but didn’t say a word.
The tent was a little too small for two grown men, but Gerard was so cold, he didn’t seem to mind the closeness. Frank was radiating a gentle heat, and it took everything in Gerard’s power not to snuggle close to him, letting his warmth course through his body. He was wondering if there was a non-weird, completely platonic way to broach the subject, when he felt Frank’s hands on his arms.
“You’re freezin’, Gee,” Frank whispered. There was a thickness to his tone that made Gerard shiver despite the warmth emitting from his palms. He glanced up, hazel meeting hazel, and smiled nervously.
“I-it’s cold out,” he muttered uselessly. Frank nodded, pulling Gerard closer to him.
“It’s okay. We can keep each other warm in here,” he murmured. He moved closer, pressing his thighs against Gerard’s, moving close so they were chest to chest. Gerard could feel Frank’s breath, heavy with the taste of beer as it settled on his lips, could feel his heart stuttering in his chest. He felt his erection pressed firmly, insistently against his thigh, and wondered if Frank could feel his, too. He couldn’t help it – Frank was surrounding him, his scent clinging to his hair, the husky, dragging sound of his aroused breaths seeming to fill Gerard’s lungs- until he realised that it was himself who was panting.
“Frank-“ Gerard began, but Frank didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to hear apology or justification, or denial. He surged forward, crashing their lips together hard.
“Don’t,” he hissed, nipping the older man’s lip.
Gerard froze for a moment, seeming at a complete loss. The point of no return was five miles behind him, and he felt like he was hurtling forward on a road he was certain would lead him off a cliff.
But God, what choice did he have?
Frank didn’t get so much as a warning before Gerard was grabbing at him, hoisting him up to his hands and knees by his belt loops, his hands heavy as they pawed at his hips and thighs. Gerard had never been one for half-measuring, and this was no different. If he was throwing himself off the ledge, he was doing it without hesitation, and he was doing it right fucking now.
“Oh, Gee, oh god-“ Frank gasped, shoving his hips back. Gerard snarled, holding the younger man still as he undid his own belt, shoving his jeans and boxers unceremoniously halfway down his thighs. Frank reached back, assisting as much as he could with the removal of his own clothes, until he laid bare and exposed to the other man. They both sat in silence for a moment, heavy breaths filling the space between them.
“I can take it,” Frank whispered, taking Gerard’s silence for hesitation, “I…I was practicing. Earlier. You don’t gotta wait.”
Gerard tried, unsuccessfully, not to picture Frank fucking himself open on his fingers, in anticipation of maybe seducing him. He wanted to ask how long, and how did he know – but he couldn’t. The moment existed only as long as he was living in it, and he was determined to live . Wordlessly, Gerard grabbed Frank’s hips, slowly sliding into him with a soft grunt.
Frank was soft beneath Gerard’s rough hands, pliant, he moved like a wave crashing into the shore, like wind skimming through grass; and yet he was insistent. He was direct, and needy. His noises of pleasure, spat profanities and blasphemies filled the tent, filled Gerard’s ears, sunk under his fingernails and didn’t stop until he was nestled under his skin, coursing through his veins. Gerard fucked like he worked – subdued, silent, only the occasional grunt leaving his lips, even as he felt that familiar storm begin to tremble the bones in his thighs, making his hands clench around Frank’s hips.
He didn’t ask if he could finish inside of him, but he did it anyway, before reaching down to wrap his hand around Frank, coaxing him to reach his own pleasure.
The blankets were damp with sweat and cum, their bodies glistening in the soft glow of the lantern. Gerard was afraid to look at Frank, for fear of what he’d see; the pair just stared up at the arched tip of the tent, imagining the swirls of constellations beyond the thin fabric
“It’s okay,” Frank said finally, “it doesn’t mean a thing, Gee. It doesn’t.”
“I’m not-,” Gerard began. His voice was husky, no more than a soft rumble in his chest. Frank nodded.
“I know you’re not. Me neither. It’s…it’s nobody’s business but ours,” he muttered, pressing closer into Gerard’s arms. Vaguely, the older man thought that he should shove him away, but sleep overcame him before he had the chance – or that’s what he told himself, anyway.
***
Gerard didn’t want to define the next couple of weeks, and Frank never asked him to. The mornings were slow, and sleepy, with Frank’s face nuzzling the pillow so he didn’t have to open his eyes, and Gerard holding his hips flush against him. They wrestled in the fields and bathed in the river, their fingers leaving dewdrop trails along each others skin until they glittered like diamonds under the glare of the sun. Frank complained about how sore he was after riding his horse all day, Gerard made a blue joke about Frank’s riding skills, but promised he’d make the pain go away. The evenings were Frank’s thighs braced on either side of Gerard’s face, fingers digging into pale thighs, high-pitched gasps of relief and pleasure filling the tent, and muffled moans pressed against skin.
The late nights were Frank’s favourites, though. They both slept in the tent each night, now – it was unspoken, yet mutually agreed. Gerard was a light sleeper, so when Frank woke up in the middle of the night with a hard cock and arousal flooding through him, all he had to do was push his hips back, rubbing himself against the other man. It never took long before Frank was being hauled to his hands and knees, crying out into the dead of the night as Gerard gave him everything he wanted and more – each time seeming to become more adventurous.
The final night they spent together, Gerard had his hand curled in Frank’s hair, teeth sinking into the flesh of his shoulder, moans almost drowning out Frank’s own cries.
They usually fell asleep after, but Frank was filled with terror at the thought, so he kept Gerard awake. They talked about home, and the future, how cold the nights had gotten. Gerard spoke fleetingly of his fiancé, and Frank let him. When Gerard’s eyes started to droop with exhaustion, Frank would kiss him, as if he were breathing energy back into him – sometimes grinding against him, sometimes sliding down to take him into his mouth, just so Gerard wouldn’t leave him for the welcoming arms of sleep.
By the time the pair collapsed in each other’s arms for the last time that summer, the sun was rising above the horizon, casting golden shadows over their entwined forms.
***
“I’ll write,” Frank said gently, glancing up at Gerard. He was wearing one of the older man’s shirts – his own had to be thrown into the fire to destroy the evidence it was soaked in. Gerard wanted to say something about how beautiful he looked in his clothes, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Instead he nodded gruffly.
“Yeah, do. And don’t be a stranger-“ he winced at the hopeful look in Frank’s eyes, “uh. Linds’ would really like to meet you, I bet. She’s great with that kind of thing-“ he forced himself to look away, so he wouldn’t see Frank’s face fall.
“Gerard?” Frank breathed, taking a step towards him. Gerard met his gaze, clenching his fists and shoving them in his pocket to avoid drawing him into his arms. Frank smiled tightly, his eyes clouded with defeat, “I’ll see you around, okay? You get home safe.”
They stared at each other for the length of a single breath, minds seeming to meld and project the same image – they wanted to grab each other, fall into the grass at their feet and fuck until they forgot that the summer had to end.
“Yeah. You get home safe too, Frank. Give that dog a head pat for me,” Gerard muttered. Frank nodded.
“Yeah, don't worry. I won’t forget.”
***
Four years passed in a blur of laughter, of beginnings. It was white snow and matching dresses, tiny feet stomping on crunchy red leaves for the first time, screaming at jack-o-lanterns that guarded familiar homes, now turned untrustworthy and secretive. It was flowers in bloom, butterflies landing on freckled noses. It was summers at the beach, tiny footprints in sand, castles built with earth and water, knocked by the wind. It’s okay, it’s okay, it belongs to the earth, it’s never really gone.
Gerard never returned to Sunrise. With his new daughter, it was helpful to have both parents at home – so he and his new wife, Lindsey, decided to take his earnings from that fateful summer on the mountain, and put it towards rent on a studio, so they could focus on their art. The burst of inspiration and passion Gerard had upon returning from his summer job that year had been unexpected, but absolutely welcomed by his wife. She commented that there was something in his eyes she wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen before. He assured her that she just hadn’t been looking close enough.
The postcard came on a Wednesday afternoon, in the middle of lunch. There was no rolling clouds or torrential rain-pour, nor was Gerard suddenly hit with any sort of premonition. Its arrival was punctuated with the flap of the letter slot on the door, and it was Lindsey who rose to her feet to get it. She was wearing her bathrobe, as was Gerard, and it swept around her ankles as she left and entered the room. There was a bundle of letters in her slender hands as she returned, and the postcard set wedged between them. She dropped it in front of Gerard as soon as she saw his name on it, not giving it a second glance.
The picture on front was a photo of a sunrise reflecting onto a dark lake, the silhouette of a boat rocking on its surface. Gerard flipped the card over, and had to bite his lip to suppress his gasp.
Sorry I didn’t write, I’ve always been a liar.
I’ll come pick you up tomorrow, 3pm.
- xo
Lindsey glanced up from the bill in her hand, mouth quirked upwards as if to make a comment about it – but it fell as soon as she saw her husband’s pale, stricken face.
“Gee? Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she laughed, though her eyebrows remained furrowed.
Gerard didn’t respond. Perhaps he hadn’t seen a ghost, but he certainly felt haunted.
***
Gerard tried not to look like he was trying to look pretty, muttering “just a friend” when Lindsey asked, for the eighteenth time, who he was meeting. He wore a powder blue button up shirt, tight jeans, no underwear – the latter made him blush, but he had theories about what today was.
By the time 3pm came, Gerard was all but shaking with anticipation. His daughter sat next to him on the sofa, babbling in toddler to him about god-only-knows-what, but Gerard didn’t even pretend to listen. His eyes were fixed to the driveway. By the time Frank had parked the car outside the house, Gerard was already on his feet, heading in a beeline to the door. Frank stepped out of the car, but Gerard was already rushing down the steps, the screen door clattering shut behind him. Frank looked up at the noise, or maybe he just felt Gerard’s presence. Regardless, he didn’t have time to even fathom it before he felt rough hands on his arms, Gerard’s familiar scent flooding his senses.
“Fuck-“ he just about managed to gasp, before he found Gerard’s lips crushed hard against his own. Four years and Gerard still tasted the same, still felt the same, save the faint scratch of his beard against Frank’s chin.
“Baby,” Gerard whispered against his lips. He’d never called Frank any sort of pet name before, but this one came tumbling off his lips as easily as air. Frank replied only by kissing him harder, hips pressed harshly together, waves of pleasure rocking through them.
Somewhere behind them, a million miles away, the screen door opened and shut, punctuated by a sharp gasp - but they didn’t hear it. They didn’t hear a damned thing.
***
“I like this,” Gerard whispered, hand scratching faintly at Frank’s moustache. The nearest motel was a half hour drive away from Gerard’s house, which made it just far enough that he could feel like he was in a different world – a different life; one ruled by sex, and cigarettes, and Frank, and things they didn’t tell each other but proved with each drag of their hips.
Frank smiled, leaning in for another kiss. Gerard could taste himself on Frank’s tongue, tried not to blush and failed.
“I like this too. I’m sorry it’s been so long,” he murmured, rubbing their noses together. Gerard laughed gruffly, turning them over so Frank was pressed into the mattress (face-up, for the first time ever).
“I don’t mind. Just means we have four years to make up for – if you have the stamina?” he wiggled his eyebrows. The harsh kiss Frank pressed to his mouth served as his answer, and the pair fell back beneath the covers for the third time that evening.
***
Frank didn’t expect Gerard to drop his life for him, and nor was he going to. The next few years were punctuated with weekend long fishing trips, where Gerard would pack up his gear (all still with tags on), head out to a seedy motel near New York, and fuck Frank until they both swore they could taste heaven in the sweat that lay slick over their skin. They talked in their brief moments of rest, just like they had up on the mountain. Frank was seeing some girl, and then he wasn’t, and then he was engaged. Gerard joked that he should come to the wedding, and Frank ignored him. Gerard’s marriage was going okay, and then badly, and then was tenuous. His daughter grew more beautiful each day, and he missed her on those weekends away.
“I feel like this is going to fuck us up some day,” Gerard mumbled, hand stroking Frank’s hair even as he said it. That wasn’t unusual – Frank knew Gerard had more to lose than him, and he accommodated for the guilt.
“It won’t. This isn’t bad. It can’t be, Gee. Not when it feels like this,” Frank mumbled, pressing a kiss under his jaw. Gerard sighed, eyes fluttering shut, but didn’t reply for a moment. When he did, his voice was a little weaker than Frank was used to, and the sudden change startled him
“When’s this going to end?”
“End? What do you mean?” Frank’s tone was shaky as he sat up, watching Gerard with furrowed brows. The older man shrugged and sat quiet for a moment.
“I just… I don’t know if we can do this forever, Frank. Something’s gotta give,”
“And it will. Some day. But not now, Gee. Promise me this isn’t the last time.”
Frank’s face was calm, but his eyes revealed an inner turmoil that made Gerard’s stomach turn. The older man hoisted himself up from the bed, still nude, skin illuminated by the sharp moonlight that pushed through the gap in the flimsy curtain.
“Frank… I don’t-“
“Oh, Christ, Gerard. Gerard, don’t. You can’t… after all these years-“
“I haven’t said anything, Frank. I haven’t said-“
“You don’t have to. I know you. You’re giving up, you’re-
Frank barely had the words out of his mouth when he was shoved up against the wall, making the bed tremble beside him, the light above his head flickering
“You don’t fucking know me, Frank. You don’t know shit ,” Gerard spat. Frank just watched him with wide eyes as he stepped back, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t dare speak, not until Gerard did – and that was only after he’d already pulled his pants back on.
“I can’t meet you til’ August now, okay? Just… so you know,” Gerard muttered, pulling his shirt back over his arms. Frank’s eyebrows furrowed, heart plummeting to his feet.
“ August ? Gerard, that’s months away – that’s- that’s so long-“
“So?” Gerard bit back, glaring at him from under his eyelashes, “why does it matter? You said you didn’t like men, didn’t you? Shouldn’t fucking matter-
“Don’t do this-“ Frank whispered, tears prickling at his eyes. Gerard snorted, grabbing his boots and tugging them on roughly.
“I’m not doing shit, Frank. I’m doing what we agreed to. I come here, I leave my family – my daughter – to come fuck you, and then I go again. Why does it have to be… a big fucking deal. Why-
“It doesn’t have to be like this, Gee. We could… we could go some place. You and me. Where nobody knows us… we could-“
“ Stop it ” Gerard cried, suddenly throwing his boot onto the floor. Frank was rendered speechless, gaping at him with wide eyes,
“Frank, just fucking stop . We can’t be anything. We can’t be happy, or together, or anything like that. So just fucking quit it . Fuck, the way you go on, I’d think you’re in love with me-“
“And what if I was?” Frank breathed, voice trembling with the effort of holding back tears, “what if I am? What if I’m the one who can’t do this anymore? What if seedy motels once every couple of months with you isn’t enough? What if I wake up in the middle of the night, every night, and ache for you? What if I pay men to touch me the way you do, just so I’ll feel something? Is that okay, or does that scare you, because it fucking scares me.”
Gerard was silent for a beat, staring wordlessly at Frank. He almost didn’t recognise him like this. His Frank glowed from the inside, he was sunlight trapped in man form – but now all Gerard could see was darkness, and fear, and desperation. He wanted to go to him, to kiss him and tell him he loved him too.
But he didn’t. He couldn’t.
“You better hope for your sake that those things aren’t true.” Gerard’s voice was rough, the words precise and too-careful, “you better hope you’re telling me a fucking story. You’re getting me dangerously close to realising something that I’d rather not. So you best hope I understand that that was one big joke.” His words were practically snarled, but his face was impassive. Frank didn’t speak either way – the effort of holding back his tears stopped him from opening his mouth. Gerard nodded briskly, pulling his other boot on and heading to the door.
“I wish I could quit you, Gerard. I wish I fucking knew how to quit,” Frank breathed. Gerard glanced once over his shoulder.
“Yeah. I wish you did too.”
***
Lindsey wasn’t stupid, by any means; she never had been. She was quick-witted, and observant, and self-aware. If anything, being a mother had only heightened her skills of detection. She noticed that Gerard never wore underwear on his fishing trips with Frank, and that he always came back with bruises around his neck, but never any fish, or any indication that he’d been anywhere except the motels whose receipts she found in his pockets. She knew that all he wanted to do since that last trip was fuck and sleep. He didn’t draw anymore, he barely spoke; Lindsey didn’t have all the answers, but she knew she’d seen Gerard kissing Frank out on the porch that day, and that Frank was probably the reason why he had been so withdrawn the last two months.
Lindsey wasn’t stupid, and she also wasn’t patient. Her daughter needed her Father around, so she’d tried to make it work – but Lindsey had a breaking point, and that breaking point was, apparently, titled ‘Wednesday afternoon’.
The arrival of Lindsey’s breaking point was announced, as it had been before, with the sharp click of the mailbox. She walked to the door, dressing gown swirling around her ankles, and picked up the single letter that lay on the mat – addressed to her husband.
“Gee. You got a letter, hon,” she called, walking back into the living room, where Gerard was sat, staring mindlessly at the TV. He didn’t look up when she came in, but shot her a weak smile once she dropped the letter into his lap.
“Oh. Thanks,” he muttered. There was no reason why Lindsey should have believed that this letter was going to be significant, but she did. She felt it in her bones, knew it like she knew her own name. When Gerard’s face paled and he sat up sharply, showing true emotion for the first time in two months, she knew, at least, who the letter was from.
“What is it, honey?” she asked brightly, though irritation was bubbling just below her pleasant tone. Gerard was silent, fingers trembling as he held the paper, reading it repeatedly, until he knew it word-for-word.
“It’s nothing,” he mumbled, crushing it up in his hands, “just… my buddy Frank, who I fish with. He’s…been in an accident… I guess he told his fiancé to write to me,” he mumbled. Lindsey sat with pursed lips for a moment, running the situation through her head. Their daughter was at school, so if she was going to confront her husband, now was an ideal time.
That was all the motivation she needed.
“Go to him, then. You’ve not had any problems going places with him before,” she sniffed, rising to her feet. She almost felt him bristle behind her and turned to look at him only when she was sure he caught her meaning – from the look on his face, he had.
“What is that supposed to mean?” he mumbled, trying to play dumb despite the flush in his cheeks. Lindsey sighed, shaking her head at him.
“Gerard do you think I’m stupid? Or that I just don’t love you enough to notice when you’ve been fucking someone else?” her voice was filled with reproach as she spoke, years of repressed anger rising to the surface, “or maybe you really thought you were getting away with it. Maybe you thought I wouldn’t realise that you were kissing on my fucking front porch-“ she slammed her hand down on a table, making Gerard jump. His eyes were impossibly wide, his lips parted as quick, darting breaths slid between them.
“Linds- baby-“
“Gerard, fucking save it, okay? I’ve known the whole time, and I didn’t say shit, did I? And why do you think I did that? Why do you think I sat here and watched you be in love with someone else?”
“I don’t kn-“
“I did it because I loved you. I loved you so much, I didn’t care-“ she felt tears in her eyes, but blinked them back, “I didn’t care that you didn’t love me, that you loved someone else. I wanted you to be safe, and to have someone to come home to. So I kept my mouth shut, and I watched you fade away from me. But now-“ she let out a defeated breath, sinking down into the chair beside him. She held his hand, the motion seeming almost patronising,
“But now I… need you to leave. For both of us. I’ve been lying to myself, saying that things are fine, and that they’ll go back to normal. But all you do without him is sit around and rot. So you go to wherever your boy is, and you see him and apologise for whatever the fuck you did wrong, or you let him apologise. I don’t care. You get out, and you don’t come back and-,“ finally, Lindsey let a few tears slip down her cheeks, “and you leave me alone, alright?” she whispered. Lindsey hated the way her throat tightened around the words, making them even harder to choke out than they already were. Gerard just stared at her silently.
“What about our baby girl?” he breathed. Lindsey felt a shock of pain run through her – he didn’t care about leaving her , just their daughter. She knew she should have seen it coming, but it was a shock either way.
“We’ll work it out. But he wrote to you because he wants you near him, and I know you want him too. So go. If you have ever loved me, please just go.”
Gerard had a million things he wanted to say to her, but none that he could fathom. He rose to his feet, mouth gaping as he searched for words – words of reassurance, of love, of gratitude. Lindsey was half tempted to let him struggle – but as a final kindness to him, she just nodded, seeming exhausted after her tirade.
“Don’t worry, Gerard. I already know. Just get out.”
***
Frank was being kept at a hospital in New Brunswick, so by the time Gerard had packed his bags, shoved them in the car and said a tearful goodbye to Lindsey, he only had a drive of a couple hours before he reached him. Gerard kept the radio on as loud as he could to drown out his thoughts – but mainly, to cover the fact that he wasn’t thinking about Lindsey at all. His mind was on Frank, so potently that he could see him behind his eyelids whenever he blinked. The letter said he’d been in a car accident, but something about it didn’t feel right.
Gerard’s mind flitted back to Frank mentioning he’d been seeing other men, and he felt his foot nudge the pedal.
Gerard hadn’t quite managed to think of his cover story to tell the receptionist, but it turned out he didn’t need to. Gerard recognised Jamia by the picture Frank kept of her in his wallet, and felt his stomach twist when she looked upon him as if she knew him, too. He approached her briskly, but didn’t meet her eyes, even as he mumbled a hello.
“He’ll be glad you’re here,” she said curtly. Gerard glanced up, genuine sorrow written across his face. He didn’t need to wonder if she knew – he could see it in the red rings around her eyes, the sharp set of her jaw.
“I’m sorry. I really wish-“
“Don’t, okay? It’s… fine. I’d rather it be you than any of the others,” she paused, before leaning a little closer. She smelled almost the same as Frank, except there was a faint, floral scent that hung around her neck, “keep him out of trouble, please. Whatever you do, or wherever you go – try to be discreet. I don’t wanna read about you two being hanged. I don’t want anything like this to happen to him again. Don’t be mistaken – I don’t like this, and I don’t like you . But he’s made up his mind – so for God’s sake, at least keep him safe ,”
“Miss, I’ll never let anyone hurt him ever again,” Gerard vowed, the words coming strong even despite the knot in his throat. A part of him wanted to stay and talk to her, but now that he knew he was in the same building as Frank, he couldn’t resist the pull.
***
Gerard didn’t know much about Frank’s condition, so he didn’t know what to expect. The younger man lay on the white sheets, a deep bruise around his nose and one of his eyes, a small cut on his forehead, and a swollen lip. As Gerard stepped into the room, he noticed harsh red burn marks around Frank’s wrists and neck. His shirt was splayed open, revealing a bandage that had been wrapped tightly around his middle. Gerard swallowed hard, feeling his heart ache at the sight. His boy. His boy had been hurt, and it was because he wasn’t there.
“You look like shit, Frankie,” Gerard said gruffly. He lingered by the door, fingers touching the frame, as if reminding him that he could leave any time he wanted to.
Except, he didn’t want to. For the first time, he knew exactly what he wanted, and it was lying broken in a hospital bed two feet away from him.
Frank tried to sit up, but stopped with a faint whimper of pain. Instead, he found Gerard with his eyes. He didn’t look surprised to see him, but Gerard noticed his body relax once their eyes met.
“I hope you found a nice place for us to go after this, Gee. No seedy motels. I want a nice little farm house or somethin’,” Frank muttered. Gerard shook his head, a smirk gracing his lips.
“You’ll take what you get and you’ll like it, kid,” he muttered. Frank groaned, this time succeeding to get himself to an upright position – though, not without swearing sharply under his breath.
“Jeez, I almost got killed and you still can’t be nice to me,”
“Being a dumbass and flouncing around with random men isn’t something that gets you pity. Especially not from me,” Gerard sniffed. Frank grinned, ignoring the pain that surged through him at the motion.
“Well, if you’d just admit you’re in love with me, I wouldn’t have to see anyone else, and I wouldn’t have got caught, would I? It’s all your fault, when you think about it,” he sighed dramatically. Gerard looked at him, remorse etched into every line on his face. He knew Frank wasn’t joking, and he knew he was right, too. Frank got hurt because Gerard had been a coward – but not again. Never again. Gerard sighed, finally crossing the room. He took Frank’s hand in his own, fixing him with a warm, loving look.
“Alright. I love you. Now what?” Gerard muttered, though he couldn’t keep the grin off his face for more than a few seconds. Frank surged forward and kissed him. This time he didn’t ignore the pain – he felt it, but he chased it down with the love pouring from Gerard’s lips, and pulled away with a heady buzz that eased some of the stabbing pain that wracked through him.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but when I get outta here, I’m gonna wanna go on a real long fishing trip. Sound like fun?” he grinned. Gerard closed his hand over Frank’s, staring into his eyes with an intense, burning sincerity.
“Anywhere, Frank. We’ll go anywhere you want. I promise.”