#hoboken

He didn’t care if it hurt them. In fact, he wanted it to hurt. He was hurting, so Gerard had to hurt too. They lied. They said that Frank was the most important person in their life. Then, they got married.

Frank had no problem with Lyn-z. She was cool and nice enough to him. The part he had a problem with was that all of a sudden, Gerard’s touches were different. Colder. The intimacy was gone. Frank’s heart clenched every time Gerard looked at him because their eyes weren’t affectionate anymore. The two hadn’t had real sex in four months.

It made Frank’s skin boil. He’d jumped on Gerard last month in Michigan, trying to be playful or give them a hug or something. Just a quick little chuckle to lighten the mood. Of course his guitar got stuck on the mic and of course Gerard got pissed about it and shoved him away. They blamed him. They said he shouldn’t have been so “reckless”. The person who married a lady they’d only known for three months called him reckless. Motherfucker.

“I’m not o-fucking-kay!”

He spat out the lines harshly. This performance, he really meant it. He played his guitar harder than usual, shredding with the intent to somehow transmit his anger into the strings and out through the speakers.

He thought back to the writing on the stage at the Michigan show. “She Loves You”, scrawled on in inky, dripping letters. A dark, blotchy black that followed Frank around the stage, ingrained into his peripheral. Gerard had written the words impulsively. The stage looked too “blank”, according to them. Just another thing to plague with his newfound love. Just another thing to ruin.

Ray sustained the last note, letting it fade into the cheers of the crowd. Gerard said something to Mikey, then stepped past him to reach Frank.

“I’m sorry,” they said. Their voice was strained. They’d apologized before.

“I know.” That was all they were going to get. Frank hoped it hurt.

Gerard didn’t approach Frank to mention it again, just quickly giving the customary check-ins that they gave everyone else. At one point, Mikey nudged Frank and gave him a pointed look, but Frank ignored it.

Gerard, of course, thought they had the solution to everything. Their favorite thing to do was fix people. Frank understood, but the thought made him bitter in the moment. Gerard, always trying to fix other people because they know there’s something broken inside them. Gerard, who always worried that they’d broken Mikey by keeping him in the band. Gerard, who, when watching the towers fall, worried for the people around them instead of themself.

Why couldn’t their selflessness extend to Frank? Why did they have to lie? Didn’t they love him anymore? Surely they didn’t. He knew they didn’t.

‘Prison’ came hurtling in, guitars aggressive and staccato. Gerard gave their usual improvised monologue- probably something about being a bottom and sucking guys off. The usual shit. Gerard tipped their head back and stared at Frank. Then, they lifted their hand and shifted it repeatedly at their face, tounge poking their cheek in rhythm. A silent offering. A pitiful “I can make it up to you”. The promise of a fucking blowjob. Because surely a fucking blowjob was how to fix Frank’s inner turmoil.

A funny feeling buried itself behind Frank’s ribs, weaving around his lungs. It felt impossible trying to name the mixture of emotions. Just trying to sort through the myriad sounded like too much work. He offered Gerard a tight-lipped smile before forcing his eyes down at his guitar.

Gerard thought that Frank was simply upset because of the sexual aspect. Gerard thought Frank was just annoyed that he’d have to share their holy dick. Yes, he was pissed that they hadn’t fucked him anytime in the past four months, but Gerard was wrong. Frank wanted all of it- their body, their heart, their kisses, their comfort, their personality. He wanted them. They didn’t want him to have it.

Frank wished it hurt less.

He must’ve zoned out or something for the last chunk of the performance, because before he knew it, Bob was climbing out from behind the drum kit and the melancholy piano was filling the room.

Mikey, Bob, and Ray left the stage. Hands gently brushed their arms as they worked their way through the crowd.

Frank didn’t want to leave. He took off his guitar and curled up behind one of the amps. Out of the way, but still a good vantage point for watching Gerard. Frank didn’t know if they realized he was watching. He didn’t care. He wanted to watch anyway. He brought his knees up and rested his sore hands on them, panting open mouthed. The usual post-show adrenaline rush was nowhere to be found. He didn’t care about the sweat pouring down his back and dripping off of his hair. He just wanted to watch. The only thing Frank could think about was Gerard.

“We wanna thank you guys very much for comin’ out,” Gerard said into the mic. They were slightly out of breath, but their voice was still smooth.

“Thanks for helpin’ out. This is gonna be the last song- there’s not gonna be any encore, so we wanna thank you all, very much, from the bottom of our hearts. We hope you had a great time, we had an amazing time.”

They just spoke the same bullshit they said after every show. Sure, this crowd was one of the better ones, but they’d say that to any crowd. Plus, Frank thought bitterly, not everyone had an “amazing” time.

Gerard thanked the audience one last time before turning around and leaning down. Frank could’ve sworn he made eye contact with them, but their body was angled ever so slightly away.

Their voice was wretchingly soft- softer than in the actual record. Emotion filled every note. Frank was always fascinated by how their mouth moved when they sang. It hung open when they were throwing on an accent heavily and not annunciating. Their eyes matched the movement of their mouth. Their eyes were pinched shut and their lips twisted into something pained the way they always did whenever they sang ‘Cancer’.

As they sang, kids in the crowd lifted their lighters and waved their arms, huddling close despite the condensation dripping from the ceiling.

“Still, I will not kiss you…” They held the note longer, rubbing it in. Frank pulled his knees in closer.

“‘Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you.” They closed their eyes again, head tilted up at the ceiling. Even though Frank couldn’t see their entire face from where he sat, he knew that they looked angelic. They always did. He wished that someone would paint them like Bouguereau painted the Pietà. They’d look beautiful. They always did.

“Know that I will-…” They pulled away from the microphone. “Never marry,” the audience supplied. Frank felt his gut twist again. Of course they didn’t sing that line. It was just another lie.

After thanking the crowd again, Gerard held the last “you” for a long time. Their voice never wavered in its confident beauty. Its melodic grace.

“Thank you! Goodnight!”

Frank forced himself to stand up. His feet ached. He set aside his guitar and followed Gerard out of the venue. Cheers followed them even as they left. Usually, Frank would be grinning and bouncing off of the walls (and pissing everyone else off). This night, he was silent and glum. Watching Gerard sing had made his insides twist unpleasantly and the knot hadn’t loosened.

Once they were released into the cold October air, Gerard turned to face Frank. They had a calm look on their face. The knot tightened.

“You changed the lyrics,” they stated.

“Better than not singing them,” Frank shot back, bristling.

“Frankie,” they cooed, voice suddenly soft, “if you want attention, I can give you that. I can give you attention.” Their eyes flickered down to Frank’s pants as they strutted towards him.

“A blowjob behind a shitty bar? Real classy apology, G.” Frank’s voice dripped with venom. His lips were curled into a snarl.

“Antoher apology? Is that what you want?” Their voice turned mocking. “What do I have to apologize for? Hurting your feelings? We’re not a couple, Frank. I have a wife. We’re friends who mess around a little.”

“You never spoke to me like we were ‘just friends’.” Frank didn’t know why, but his voice was hushed. “Your wife never held you while you threw up the dozen beers you’d had since 7 in the fucking morning.”

“My wife never used me just to get off. My wife communicates with me. She understands when I need a break. She makes me happy, Frank.”

Their voice grew soft on that last sentence. They were no longer trying to act sweet or condescending- they were being honest.

“Well,” Frank exhaled long and hard, “I’m sorry being with me made you so fucking miserable.”

He turned and started to walk away, towards the van where everyone else would be so he could ignore Gerard in peace. Preferably with a joint.

Gerard grabbed his shoulder.

“Frank.”

“If you’re not gonna apologize like a man, then-.”

“Fuck! I already apologized! I dunno what more you want from me!”

“You lied,” Frank snapped.

Gerard took a shaky breath. When they spoke, it was slow and cold. “Frank, I’m sorry that I sprung the wedding on you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier or give you a heads up. And I’m sorry you don’t care about anyone other than your own fucking self.”

Frank surged forward. He grabbed Gerard and crashed his face against theirs sloppily. Gerard’s hands flew up to where Frank’s were clutching the sides of their face. They made a muffled sound of protest.

“Shut- shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Frank hissed against their teeth. He kissed them again and pulled away to repeat the mantra. “Shut up, just shut the fuck up.”

“Fuck,” huffed Gerard. They kissed Frank back, moving their hands to hold his face. Frank relaxed into them a little bit. The knot in his stomach loosened. This was where he was supposed to be. Pressed against Gerard, kissing them in the cold. It would’ve been perfect if not for everything that happened over the past few months. He wishes he could forget about it all for a little while and enjoy the moment.

“Fuck,” Frank repeated when the two parted. “Fuck, G…”

“You still want that blowjob?” Gerard asked when Frank pulled away again. Their eyes were tired, like they were only doing this out of obligation.

“Yes,” Frank forced out. He buried down the guilt he felt for asking them to do this. Once Gerard wrapped their lips around his dick, he’d be fine. It would be okay.

Gerard stepped away and nudged Frank against the wall of the building. Frank went willingly. He moved his hands down to his jeans and unzipped the fly, pulling his soft cock out. He hadn’t bothered to put on boxers that morning. It’s not like he had clean ones on that bus anyway.

He watched as Gerard lowered themself to the ground. Frank ignored the nagging urge to get them a towel or something to cushion their knees. He didn’t care if it hurt them.

Gerard leaned forward and took Frank into their mouth. They nursed him to hardness quickly (almost embarrassingly quickly). Their mouth was always a heavenly place to be inside. Whether it was your fingers, dick, pussy, ass, nipple, or other suckable body part, Gerard could work wonders with their tongue. They knew it too- always making a show of licking their lips or their hand to the audience. Sometimes, Frank felt like Gerard was purposefully putting on a show just for him. Now, it seemed like naive, wistful thinking.

The moment they started to pick up a rhythm, Frank grabbed their hair and forced them down. A choked noise erupted from their throat, but they didn’t pull back. Their mouth was warm and tight and hitting all of the right spots. Frank was gasping out these little, strained moans.

He could feel the drool pooling at the base. Gerard lifted their hand up and stroked him. Frank moaned more.

“Take it, just take it,” he heard himself pant. “Yes, yes.”

Gerard made a noise, sending vibrations through Frank’s cock and all the way up his spine. He shuddered. Frank cursed when Gerard’s front teeth brushed against the underside, but the discomfort only added to the pleasure.

Hand still in their hair, Frank didn’t let up on the pace he’d set. Gerard’s head felt heavier, like they were giving up. Frank didn’t want them to give up. He wanted them to suck him off like they said they would. Was that just another lie too?

Without warning, Frank pulled Gerard completely off. They blinked up at him in confusion.

“Wh-?”

“Shut up. Get on your feet,” Frank demanded. He didn’t want a blowjob in a back alley that stunk of weed, cigarettes, and sweat. He knew what he wanted.

“Fuck’s gotten into you?” snapped Gerard as they stood up. Their voice was scratchy. They stared for another moment before realization dawned on their face. There that freaky telepathy thing was again. “God, you want to fuck me.” They sounded awestruck.

“Very fucking observant,” Frank snarled back. “Gonna let me?”

Gerard hesitated. Frank grit his teeth together. “C’mon, don’t be a pussy. Your wife probably fucks you with a strap.”

“Motherfucker-,” Gerard shoved Frank’s shoulders against the wall. “I’ll walk right back to that fucking van.”

Frank cursed under his breath and stepped away from the building. He maneuvered himself behind Gerard and gave them a little push forward. They looked over their shoulder at Frank wairily. He just lifted his eyebrows in question.

“It’s my birthday next week. You know that. C’mon, G, we haven’t done anything fun in four months.”

Gerard grumbled under their breath and pressed their palms against the wall. Frank smiled and tugged his jeans down more. There was a lot more struggling trying to get Gerard’s tiny-ass women’s jeans off.

“Jesus Christ, do you vacuum-seal these or something?” he muttered. Gerard gave an amused snort in response.

“Quit complaining. There’s, uh, lube in the back pocket,” they responded.

“Oh? Let me guess- your wife wants you to always have some?”

“Shut up and stick your dick in my ass already, motherfucker.” They spread one cheek invitingly.

Frank’s cock had softened a bit, but that sight kicked his arousal back into gear. He grabbed the little bottle of lube from the pocket of Gerard’s crumpled up jeans and popped it open. He drizzled a good amount onto both his palms.

With one hand, he jerked himself off. With the other hand, he roughly pushed two fingers into Gerard’s ass.

Gerard made a noise and bucked their hips. Frank grinned. He twisted his fingers around, pressing into them like he pressed into the fretboard of his guitar. They made eager little sounds.

Teasingly, Frank brushed their prostate. He could find Gerard’s prostate easier than he could find his own. He could probably meld into their body if he tried hard enough. They bucked their hips again.

Deciding that his dick was slick enough, Frank spread Gerard’s cheeks and pushed himself against their rim. He teased them for a few moments longer before he buried himself in their ass. He thrust his hips a few times, then bottomed out. Gerard moaned loudly. They leaned back, trying to push Frank against them at a more satisfying angle, but he refused.

“Fuck- shit- fucking warning next time?” Gerard managed to spit out as they arched their back instinctively.

Frank pulled back and thrust again. Gerard moaned into the wall. He started to build up a steady rhythm. Gerard’s ass was almost as amazing as their mouth. It was tight (despite frequent use) so even if there wasn’t a twitchy little tongue, it still provided great pleasure. Frank liked to think that his dick was the perfect size- shorter but thick. It could fill them up just right.

“Do I fuck as well as your wife?” he cooed into Gerard’s ear. They whined and squirmed against Frank’s thrusts. “Is she rough with you? I can be rougher.”

“Fr-ank,” Gerard hissed through breaths. “Don’t be like that.”

“Does she like it when you talk? You can’t shut up for the life of you, so maybe she puts that mouth to use.”

“Fra-”

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up. You never fucking-,” he let out a moan, “-shut up. God, you feel amazing.”

Both Gerard and Frank were sweating and panting. The October breeze was no longer cooling the two off.

“How does your wife fuck you?” he murmured, never slowing the pace of his thrusts. “Does she use a strap? Or just her fingers? She plays bass, I know she’s good with her hands. I bet you’d come from her fingers alone.”

Gerard just gasped and sputtered. It looked like they were trying to formulate a response, but Frank took their thoughts with him every time he pulled back- lost in translation when he thrust in.

“You carry around lube for her… what else do you do? Do you dress up for her? Put on your pretty dresses and do your makeup? I bet you’d look so pretty all sweaty, eyeliner ruined, dress all messed up from how fucked you’d get.”

A moan forced its way out of Gerard’s throat. Frank knew how much they liked dresses. He knew that they’d wear girly clothes around the house. They never told anyone- Frank just nosed around the closet in their bedroom and found pretty dresses stuffed in the back. He knew the clothes didn’t belong to any girlfriend.

“You’re such a fuckin’ bottom, you can’t- can’t even fuck her.” Frank was nearly hyperventilating. Between the rapid movement of his hips and his rambling, there was no room for a breath. His rant was growing delirious. “Fuckin’- bottom whore, yeah. Just takin’ it.”

Frank knew full well that Gerard was a big switch. He almost never fucked Gerard- it was always the other way around. Frank only fucked Gerard when they specifically asked for it. They hadn’t asked for it in a while. They had Lyn-Z now.

“Fuck, Frankie- slower,” Gerard gasped out when Frank’s thrusts increased in force. But Frank didn’t want to go slow. He wanted to set the pace and the intensity by himself, on his own accord. He wanted to feel in control. Everything was out of control these days. His emotions were all over the place, Gerard was unpredictable, the crowds seemed to be growing in size every other concert, and he was so, so lost. The future of the band turned down a different road every day.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go on with the draining tours and performances. It had been easier when Gerard was there to help him through it. It had been easier when they had each other. It had been easier when there was someone in Frank’s life who understood him inside and out. He was losing them and he needed to feel in control of something, lest he go insane.

His thrusts were growing erratic as the pressure in his pelvis built. In the earlier days, Gerard used to tease him for how fast he would come, but they stopped when they realized he could get it up again just as quickly. In the end, it simply gave him more pleasure.

“C’mon, baby, ’m almost there. Talk to me,” he panted.

“Thought you wanted me to shut up?” Gerard snapped back.

“Fuck, just say some hot shit. I know you can. Do you talk to your wife the way you used to talk to me? You said the filth- fuck!- the filthiest shit.”

Gerard moaned surprisingly loud when Frank rammed into their prostate harshly. He hit it again and again, their noises making his balls tighten.

“Ya make real pretty sounds, G. Keep goin’, keep goin’.”

More whines and gasps fell out of Gerard’s throat. Their head nearly hit against the brick every time Frank pushed in. They let themself be throughly fucked. Maybe Lyn-Z had enhanced their submissive side.

“Your wife fucks you like a little bitch, doesn’t she?” Frank huffed. Gerard whined. “I bet you want her to knock you up. God, ’m gonna get you so fucking pregnant. Fuck, everyone’ll see how fucked you actually are.”

With a shuddering moan that turned into a gasp, Frank came. A chorus of “fuck, fuck, fuck,” followed until his mini thrusts turned painful. When he finally pulled out, his legs felt like jelly.

The post-show adrenaline must have been there after all. Without it, he probably wouldn’t have had the stamina to fuck Gerard so ruthlessly. He looked down at where his hands were, still spreading their cheeks open. Their hole fluttered when he gave a little push on their soft ass. Cum dribbled out.

Upon further inspection, Frank could see bruises already forming where his fingers pushed into their hips. The sight made him grin.

He yanked his pants up, wincing as he stuffed his sensitive dick into the rough denim of his jeans. It rubbed against him uncomfortably, but he didn’t care. Exhaustion overrode any post-orgasmic bliss, leaving Frank drained and itching to find somewhere comfy to lay. It wasn’t until he was situated back in his clothes and looking less disheveled that he thought to check on Gerard. He felt bad for not checking sooner.

Their hands were still pressed against the uneven bricks and their breathing was heavy. Jeans bunched at their ankles and head hung low, they made an uncomfortable image.

“…G?” Frank asked hesitantly.

Gerard stiffened, then slowly lowered their hands. They stood up fully and Frank could see that their dick was barely even half hard. It surprised him. Did Gerard not get pleasure from him anymore? The thought made him annoyingly angry.

They yanked up their pants and boxers, trying to pull themself together. Their eyes looked teary. It was dark out, but in the glow of the streetlights, Frank could see how red their face was. He didn’t know if it was from heat, embarrassment, or tears. He had a feeling that it was a sick mix of the three and maybe even more.

They faced Frank. Their hands had little cuts from where they dug into the brick the hardest. Frank frowned at that.

“Want me to jerk you off…?” he asked hesitantly. They weren’t even hard.

Gerard shook their head, dark hair shuffling with the movement. “No. I’m tired. Just go back to the bus.”

Frank nodded stiffly. The two walked in silence, Gerard a few paces behind Frank. He wasn’t a fan of this dynamic. Of course Gerard was being all mysterious and brooding again. Perhaps they only did it because they knew it screwed with Frank’s head.

The hike felt like a walk of shame. A humiliation ritual designed just to make Frank uneasy. When they finally arrived at the bus, Frank stopped and stepped aside so that Gerard could enter first. They didn’t even glance at him.

They walked inside and wordlessly continued down to the bunks. Bob and Mikey were sitting in the main area- Mikey on his phone and Bob holding an XBox controller. Both of them looked confused at Gerard’s unusual lack of greeting.

Frank wanted to run after Gerard and force them to tell him why the fuck he was being such a bitch, but something held him back. Instead, he gave a quick “g’night” to Mikey and Bob, then hurried to the bunks.

Gerard’s curtain was drawn shut, as was Ray’s. They were awake, though. Frank knew. Frank always knew. As quietly as he could, he climbed up to his bunk and curled up.

His mouth tasted sour. As he closed his eyes, he tried not to think about anything. When that didn’t work, he tried to think about something other than Gerard. That didn’t work either. They were always present, lingering alone in the back alleys and waiting just around the corners of Frank’s mind.

After what felt like hours but could’ve been minutes, Frank slept. He dreamt of Gerard.

~~~