#my ao3 is PagebyPaige

[gerxrdwxy]

In The End, Everything Collides - Peterick

My first fic…

Description: Patrick thinks Pete is dating Mikey, but he isn’t. It’s more of an elaborate ruse than anything, and it definitely backfires.

Warnings: Cursing (mild language)

Word Count: 2133

Read at AO3 here or below

MCR is just lounging around on their bus, pre-show, when Gerard gets a text from Patrick. Sure, it might just be about the show - they are sharing a venue - but Gerard isn’t quite sure. Patrick never texts about the shows, he always calls.

Patrick: hey ik this might be a kinda awkward question but does your brother have a bf?

Gerard is shocked. This was definitely not what he was expecting. He glances up, though, and sees Mikey frantically typing away on his phone.

Gerard: wat, wanna date him?

Patrick: ew no I’m just… wonderin

Gerard: why?? and no idk but I don think Mikey is dating any1

Patrick: o ok thx Gerard

Gerard: np

Gerard clicks his phone off and drops it back into his lap. Frank sits back down from grabbing his and Gerard’s coffee. He kisses his boyfriend and goes back to playing around with chords from “Mama” as Gerard silently muses about Patrick’s strange text.

—

On the Fall Out Boy bus, Patrick watches Pete carefully. He’s texting hurriedly - probably Mikey, Patrick thinks. He drops back onto the couch, leaning into the cushions and taking advantage of Pete’s distraction. His eyes follow the messy black fringe that is always falling in Pete’s eyes, wishing he could walk over and push it back into place. He mentally reprimands himself: he shouldn’t be thinking about his best friend and band member like this, especially if he’s with Mikey. Which Patrick is sure he is, even if Gerard doesn’t know. Who else would Pete be texting that he won’t let Patrick see?

After the show, the two bands gather behind the venue to pack up last minute items and head back to their respective buses when Pete pulls Mikey aside. Patrick notices immediately, not that he was staring or anything… He inches his way over towards them and strains his ears to see if he can hear what is so important, and his fears are confirmed. He walks over just in time to have his hopes smashed.

“I really like you - do you wanna go out with me?” Pete asks and Mikey giggles and claps his hands excitedly, and Patrick has seen enough.

He walks quickly away, back to their bus. He slams the door behind him and is about to storm back to his bunk when he sees Pete’s phone lying on the table. He knows he shouldn’t, but he needs proof. He’s almost afraid of what he’ll see. He doesn’t know Pete’s password, so all he can see are the recent messages displayed on the home screen. Before he can stop himself, he’s scrolling through the messages on the screen.

Mikey: Good luck at the show today!

Mikey: You were great today!! I can’t wait until later ;)

Mikey: You’re a lucky guy, aren’t you

Patrick clicks the phone off, not wanting to see anymore. When it dings behind him, he doesn’t even glance back. He walks straight to his bunk and, not bothering with his nasty post-set clothes, climbs into bed and shuts the curtain before letting himself cry. Eventually, the exhaustion of today’s show washes over him and he falls asleep, tears still staining his face.

Patrick wakes up to Pete standing over him, looking concerned.

—

“You’ve been crying,” Pete states. Patrick raises his hands to his face in a futile attempt to hide his eyes, but there’s no point. Pete has seen. “What happened?” Pete asks gently. “I want to help.” Now fully awake, the events of the past few hours flood Patrick’s mind and he shoves his band mate away. Still Pete persists, saying, “Oh come on Patrick, I just want to help you!” but Patrick doesn’t respond, instead grabbing the end of the curtain and pulling it shut in Pete’s face.

Pete walks back to the main “living room” of the bus, wondering what he could’ve done to upset Patrick so badly. He picks up his phone from where it was lying on the table, checking his text messages. He scrolls, bypassing congratulations from Mikey on the show until he comes to a new message.

Mikey: So have u asked him yet?

Pete: No… he’s in a bad mood rn and idk why

—

“Mikey get your ass over here!” Gerard shouts from the other room. Mikey quickly taps out his last text to Pete before going to see what his brother wants from him.

Mikey: o. idk then but I gtg talk to Gerard bye

Pete: bye mikes, thx for the help today

Mikey walks over to where Gerard is sitting on the couch with Frank.

“What do you want, Gerard?” Gerard stands and walks over towards the opposite side of the little room, motioning for Mikey to follow.

“Hey, so this is going to be a little weird but do you have a boyfriend?” Gerard whispers.

“What the hell Gerard? No. I don’t have a boyfriend and I don’t even know why you’re asking.” Mikey suddenly thinks of something and grins to himself: “Frank not enough for you anymore?” Mikey asks, a bit too loudly. Gerard gives him his worst big brother glare and walks over to explain himself to a not-so-happy looking Frank.

Mikey chuckles a little to himself and pulls his phone back out of his pocket.

Mikey: I’m back if you’ve got anything else to say

Pete: actually, yeah

Mikey: What’s up??

Pete: so I have this idea… it’s prob not a good idea but I’m getting impatient

Mikey: Oh yeah? hmu

Pete: I kinda wanna make him jealous…

Mikey: that’s actually not a terrible idea

Pete: I feel like he’s not really interested and I wanna c if I’m can make him jealous but I don’t have anyone to make him jealous w/

Mikey: I could do it

Pete: omg thx mikes … I’ll call my “bf” later

Mikey: K call u later bye Pete

Pete: bye Mikey, thx again

Mikey wonders what he just volunteered for, but decides its for the best. He paces around for a little bit, eventually wandering back into the living area and after one glance at Frank shoved up against the wall decides that now would be a great time to go outside and call Pete.

—

It’s getting kind of dark when Pete gets the call from Mikey, but he answers right away.

“Hey,” he says, not wanting to sound too awkward while talking to his fake boyfriend.

“Hey babe,” Mikey says on the other end of the line and Pete can hear him suppressing giggles. So this is how this is going to go.

“So what are you doing tonight, baby?” Pete asks, feeling a twinge of guilt when Patrick walks in on this. He sees Patrick freeze up, turn around and grab his jacket and then practically run out the door. Mikey, oblivious, is giggling.

“You, honey” comes from the other end, and Pete wants to punch his face off.

“He’s gone now Mikey, I don’t think there’s a point to this right now,” Pete tells him, sounding a little sad.

“What, did my horrible flirting scare him off?” Mikey jokes.

“Probably,” Pete says, chuckling along with him. Pete, bored because Patrick left and Joe and Andy are God knows where, heads back to his bunk. He can hear Ray yelling in the background and Mikey mutters a slightly annoyed goodbye and hangs up. Pete lies in his bunk and stares up at the bottom of Patrick’s. He thinks of the sweet boy with the beautiful voice who hides behind hats and haunts Pete’s dreams - the boy who sleeps just above his head.

—

Patrick doesn’t typically drink, but tonight he just wants to forget everything he just witnessed. He enters the bar alone, and he leaves alone. He’s there just for the alcohol and the alcohol only. A few drinks and a few hours later, Patrick is so drunk he can barely walk back to the bus, his final bottle in hand. He downs it as he nears the bus and stumbles through the door, almost making it to his bunk before he passes out with a crash on the floor.

—

Pete finds Patrick, asleep, his face wet with tears, again. Evidently Joe and Andy were back and asleep long before Patrick got back, because Pete was the only one to hear the crash. This time he shakes Patrick awake, wondering how he could’ve ended up like this. He gets his answer before Patrick regains consciousness, though, as he realizes that Patrick reeks of alcohol. Patrick doesn’t drink.

When Patrick’s eyes open again, it’s obvious he’s drunk. Pete’s entire world narrows to find and destroy whatever made him like this.

“Hey, Patrick, buddy, what happened?” Pete asks gently. To his surprise, Patrick begins to cry again. Pete tries to pull Patrick into his arms but Patrick shrinks away like Pete’s skin is on fire. “Patrick,” he tries again. “What happened?” Suddenly frustrated, Patrick grits his teeth.

“You.” Pete is stunned, and a little bit surprised at how clearly Patrick seems to be speaking and comprehending, considering how drunk he is. What did I do? He wonders. Patrick curls up into a ball again, and Pete feels just as helpless. “I knew it.” Patrick surprises him by speaking again. Encouraged by the sudden dialogue, Pete speaks.

“Knew what?” Patrick’s face scrunches up like he’s wrestling with what to say, until he finally decides.

“M-Mikey. I knew it was Mikey.” For a second, Pete is confused. Then, he remembers his phone conversation earlier that day. But why would he care if I’m with Mikey? Pete muses to himself. He considers just playing the game, but the pain in his heart from seeing the man he loves curled up on the floor like this, piss drunk because of him, makes him decide that he will tell the truth, whether Patrick hates him for it or not.

“Patrick,” he begins quietly, “I’m not dating Mikey.” Patrick looks up, a mixture of shock, confusion, and is that relief? on his face.

“Wh-what?” Is all he can manage before tears begin to fall again. Pete breathes in, it’s now or never.

“Patrick, I- well, um… fuck this. Patrick, I’m not dating Mikey, but I do want to date you, if you wanted to do that?” Pete asks, his voice getting slowly quieter as he speaks. Patrick looks lost.

“But… but… the phone call, and the text messages, and that conversation after the show!” Patrick’s voice rises as he recounts everything he saw and heard (in summary) and then it’s Pete’s turn to be shocked.

“You saw that?” Pete asks, which probably isn’t the best thing to say. “Oh, shit. That didn’t sound right. Patrick, I- Ididallthatbecauseiwantedittobeperfectwheniaskedyouout and Mikey helped,” Pete explains, talking so fast that Patrick can’t understand nearly a word he says. “Ah, damnit, this will take a while. Maybe we should get off the floor?” Patrick nods and Pete helps him off the floor and they slowly make their way to Pete’s bunk, since it’s at floor level.

Once they’re sufficiently cocooned in blankets, Pete begins to explain, from the beginning, how Mikey helped him practice (among other things) asking Patrick out. Once Pete is finishing explaining the phone call with Mikey, Patrick lays a tired head on Pete’s shoulder and and whispers quietly into his shirt.

“I’d love to go out with you, Pete.” Pete smiles and blushes, but only for a moment until he straightens and speaks again, his tone final.

“No. I want that answer when you’re sober,” He slips out of his bunk to go sleep in Patrick’s. Patrick, drunk and exhausted, falls asleep almost instantly in Pete’s bed. When we wakes up, terribly hungover, he’s happy to realize that he remembers the previous night with surprising clarity.

“Pete,” He says, his voice quiet, hoping the man sleeping in his bunk hasn’t left yet. To his relief, he hears the bunk above him creak and Pete make his way down and poke his head through Patrick’s curtain. Patrick can feel the tension, and apprehension is written all over Pete’s face. “I still want to go out with you,” He says, and he can’t hold back his grin. He glances nervously at Pete and adds, “If…if you want me to, th-that is.” Pete’s grin is equally huge and he wraps his arms around Patrick.

“Of course,” he says, and, tension buzzing in his fingers where they lie on Patrick’s back, he kisses his boyfriend. He pulls away a moment later and, giggling, says, “Go take a shower, Patrick, you reek.” Patrick hesitates a moment, gathering his courage before saying, “Only if you come with me.”

The two boys walk giggling and holding hands, into the bathroom together. As they walk through the main room, Joe silently hands Andy a twenty and goes off to sulk.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9794450/chapters/21994796 (AO3)

[ao3feed-frerard]

Happy Birthday Frank

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2zWVsky

by PagebyPaige

part 2 of Happy Birthday Gerard

a continuation of a oneshot from April - this one is less of a cliffhanger, though

Words: , Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 6 of Happy Birthday!, Part 5 of Frerard Angst

Fandoms: My Chemical Romance

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Frank Iero, Gerard Way, Jamia Nestor, Lindsey Ballato, Bandit Way, Lily Iero, Cherry Iero, Miles Iero

Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Frank Iero/Jamia Nestor (former), Lindsey Ballato/Gerard Way (former), frerard - Relationship

Additional Tags: implied infidelity, Current era, Happy Ending, Fluff, resolved angst, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, birthday fic, Halloween, oct 31

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2zWVsky

[softiero-blog]

oh my god you're @insertsomethingedgyhere?! I've read your stuff and I really like it (enough to remember ur URL!) I'm @PagebyPaige on ao3 just btw

oh wow yes!!!! im so honored?? thank u!!!

also can i ask which fics u read??

[dykebians]

Snow, What's A Meme Page?

Read it on ao3 By PagebyPaige

Summary: Being back at Watford is nice. Really nice. Until Simon’s (creepy) roomate starts (creepily) going through his stuff. Probably plotting.

Word Count: 920 Chapters: 1/1 Language: English

•Fandom(s): Carry On - Rainbow Rowell •Rating: General Audiences •Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply •Categories: M/M •Character(s): Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton “Baz” Pitch •Relationships: Simon Snow/Tyrannus Basilton “Baz” Pitch, Snowbaz - Relationship •Addtional Tags: Alternate Universe - Rival Meme Page Owners, no I am not joking, sophie you better love me for fucking ever I just put this on the internet

When Simon gets back to the tower after dinner, Baz is already there. He's sitting at Simon's - now tidied - desk, and... scrolling through his laptop? If Simon wasn't such a giant clutz, he might find out what Baz is looking at, but no. Instead, he trips over a pile of his clothes, banging into the bed and definitely drawing attention to himself.

Baz looks up, his face showing confusion and a bit of sheepishness along with smugness at the fact that Simon got caught. Oh Crowley, Simon thinks. What did he find?

"Hey Snow?" Baz's tone lacks the smugness from his face.

"Yeah?"

"What's a meme page?" Simon nearly laughs, and he nearly cries.

"Baz!" He exclaims, fake scandalized. "I thought you were smart."

"I am smart, Snow. Smarter than you, if that's even an achievement," Baz fires back.

"Well clearly you're not very educated if you don't even know what a meme page is." Simon draws out his words, pouncing on the opportunity to make Baz feel dumb.

"Ah, I, uh, of course I do. I have one!" Baz hurries out, tripping over his words.

"Sure you do." Simon says.

"Don't doubt me, Snow. Perhaps what I meant to ask was why yours is so horrid as to barely constitute a 'meme page'."

"Really. And you're implying yours is better?" Simon allows his voice to lilt, trying to sound smart like Baz.

"That's exactly what I'm implying, brilliant of you to catch on."

"I expect to see the web address on my desk before curfew tonight, Basilton."

With that, Simon walks back out of their room, taking his laptop with him and slamming the door. He has to make sure his meme page is fucking amazing if he's to beat Mr. I'm-Somehow-Good-At-Things-I-Didn't-Even-Know-Existed. (It's happened before).

He spends the evening tweaking and re-posting, making sure his page is the damn best.

Back in the tower, Baz has his own computer open on his lap, working rapidly. Simon Snow will not defeat him in anything. Ever. Except maybe cuteness, but he'll never admit that, so it doesn't count. Damn Simon and his freckles, Crowley.

After a quick Google search on what exactly a meme page is, Baz has begun. He works for hours, building and perfecting a meme page. The things he does for Simon Snow.

He jots the URL down on a piece of note paper and slaps it onto Simon's desk just before their door opens and Simon comes crashing through it. He eyes the paper on his desk.

"The competition begins tomorrow after breakfast," Simon announces. (Of course, nothing can happen until Simon's had his breakfast).

The moment sunlight filters through the windows, Baz and Simon are up, grabbing for their respective computers, Simon lugging his down to breakfast, Baz sequestering himself in their room with his, neglecting breakfast for the time being. By the time breakfast has ended, Simon is hauling himself, his laptop and several cherry scones back through their door. Immediately, he pulls up Baz's page on another tab, and Baz does the same on his own computer.

Simon hums occasionally in approval, and then starts posting, rapid-fire. Baz follows suit.

"Okay, what determines the winner?" Simon asks suddenly.

"Most followers by the end of the month?"

"Done. You're on, Pitch."

Their follower counts grow equally steadily as the month drags on, and everything seems like it's up to fate now. Simon is content to just sit back and watch - that is, until he sees some of Baz's "personal posts". The damn boy is now writing out (perfectly punctuated) posts about a crush. A crush. Baz!

Simon doesn't know what do with himself. Especially since this crush is a boy. He just wanted to beat Baz at something, he didn't want him to start crossing off his Reasons Why He Can't Like Tyrannus Basilton Pitch one by one!

The problem is, Baz's followers are loving it. And Simon can. not. lose. So he pulls some lines out of his own crush reserves. As the days tick down, he knows he's getting more and more obvious, but Baz doesn't seem to notice, so everything's okay. On the last day, Simon pulls his final card. Fuck, guys, it's so hard to have a crush on your roomate. Not three minutes after he's posted it, Simon receives an anonymous message. I have the same problem. Simon has to remember how to breathe. It's not Baz. It can't be Baz. But he needs to know. So he fucking goes for it. He replies to the anonymous message. You should kiss him. The response is practically immediate. You think so? Simon takes a deep breath. If he's anything like me, he'll love it. Go for it. Then, he closes his laptop and sets it on the desk to wait and see if his suspicions are confirmed, and his fantasies fulfilled.

Probably five minutes later, not that Simon's counting, Baz slinks through the door. He also sets his computer on his desk, and then stalks his way over to SImon's bed. Simon's eyes follow the curves and edges of his face. Then, Baz is closer than ever before. And then his hand is on the back of Simon's head, tangling in his hair. This is really happening. Baz's lips are meeting his, gently, then rougher. When the need for air finally overwhelms their newfound need for each other, Baz pulls back.

"I can't believe a meme page was the reason I finally got to kiss you." And Simon bursts out laughing.

[closethegoddamndoorswat]

hihihihihi I found ur ao3 before I found this tumblr and you're my fav author I love your writing so much especially whatever that frerard fic is when Gerard kisses Frank first idk I'm just v glad I found u (PagebyPaige on ao3 btw) I don't have any writing up but I stalk ur fics I read all the bandom one shots in one night kill me -@emo-Trinity-confirmed is my bandom blog okay byeee

hihiho holy shit youre so sweet and make me so happy also im so sorry you read them all in one night! Thank you so much ilysfm keep doing you my guy(Ahhhh this is crazy to me!)

[gerxrdwxy]

So I might’ve written a fic…

[gerxrdwxy]

Be Careful Making Wishes In The Dark - Frerard

Read it on ao3 By PagebyPaige

Summary: A drunk truth or dare fic

Word Count: 1161 Chapters: 1/1 Language: English

•Fandom(s): My Chemical Romance •Rating: General •Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply •Categories: M/M •Character(s): Gerard Way, Frank Iero, Mikey Way, Ray Toro, Bob Bryar, Brian Schechter •Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way •Addtional Tags: drunk truth or dare, what else can I really say, don’t read this it’s horrible

“Let’s play a game,” Mikey slurred. Everyone was varying degrees of intoxicated, and all grumbled their approval.

“What should we do, guys?” Ray was probably the most sober of all of them, which wasn’t exactly encouraging.

“Let’s play truth or dare!” Mikey piped up, giggling at his own idea. After several nods of agreement, they all situated themselves on the floor/couches of the cramped living area of the bus.

When everyone had gotten comfortable, the first thing they did was prey on the new guy.

“So, Bob,” began Mikey. “Truth or dare?”

“Uh, dare?” Bob asked, not knowing what he had coming for him.

“Call Brian and tell him you murdered a fan and don’t know what to do with his body,” Mikey instructed. Bob looked stricken, but picked up the phone anyways.

“Put it on speaker! Put it on speaker!” They all listened intently when Brian picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi Brian, so I have this p-problem,” Bob stuttered.

“Yes?”

“So I kinda murdered a fan…”

“Bryar! What the fuck?!”

“And I don’t know what to do with the body.”

There was a lot of intelligible screaming on the other end before Bob finally choked out, “It’s a joke, Brian! It’s a joke! Please don’t call the police!” He hung up before Brian could yell at him for something else, or, like, fire him.

A few rounds passed, including doing shots off of Mikey’s bony arms and someone’s face getting stuffed in Ray’s hair until they begged for mercy, but nothing particularly interesting until it was Ray’s turn to ask. After some suspicious whispering with a very drunk Mikey that was probably against the rules of the game, Ray turned to Frank. Frank turned faintly pink around the ears and gave his answer.

“Truth,” he said, more quietly than usual. He and Gerard were smushed together on the couch, and he leaned forward awaiting his question.

“Okay, I gotta ask the question. You like somebody?”

“Yeah, I do,” Frank replied honestly.

“No groupies!” Gerard piped up from somewhere beside him. Ray chuckled.

“So just to appease Gerard,” he said with - was that a wink? - at Frank. “Is it someone on this bus?”

“Hey! One question only, fucker,” Frank grumbled. “But yeah, it is,” he added quietly. Ray and Mikey gleefully shook each other, and then there was more suspicious whispering.

“Mikey’d like to know if you wanna donate your turn to him, Frankie,” said Ray.

“If he’s got a good one, sure,” Frank replied. “I got nothin’”

Mikey turned to face them on the couch.

“As the drunk younger brother, I claim the authority to ask this question,” he said, barely intelligible and trying to look dignified. “Gerard, if you had to kiss someone on this bus - excluding yourself, since I know that’s what you’ll say - who would it be?” More suspicious giggling as they waited on Gerard’s answer.

Gerard’s eyes darted around frantically, and he was close to panicking. He knew his answer, but he couldn’t say it. What if someone took it too seriously. If someone found out what he really meant by his answer, he could fuck up everything.

“I, uh, I don’t know! All of you bastards are pretty nasty, but, uh, well not Mikey, and Bob’d probably punch me, and Toro’s like nine feet tall and his hair might eat me, so I guess Frank?” He tried his best to sound as dubious and indecisive as possible.

Frank was practically glowing, and everyone could see it except Gerard.

Mikey whispered something to Ray that involved way too much giggling, and then he stood up shakily and said, “’M gonna go pass out,” and then stumbled off to his bunk.

“You bitches are gonna get me killed,” muttered Bob, following Mikey toward the sleeping quarters.

“Well I guess it’s just you and me, motherfuckers,” Ray said, rubbing his hands together in a way that definitely did not look good for Frank and Gerard. He cracked his knuckles.

“Okay. Truth or dare, Gerard?” Not wanting to have a repeat incident, Gerard chose dare. “Sit in Frank’s lap,” Ray commanded.

Gerard looked reluctant, and Frank gave Ray a look that involved some very aggressive eyebrows, and then Gerard settled himself on top of Frank’s legs. Frank was close to hyperventilating at this point, and Ray smirked. He mouthed something at Ray, his brows creasing behind Gerard’s head. Ray looked almost giddy and nodded eagerly.

Both men settled down and Frank decided somehow that it was his turn.

“Ray.”

“Yes?”

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Ray said with a look that roughly translated to ‘are you really going to do it?’ Frank blushed behind Gerard’s head. Ray saw him inching a hand around Gerard’s waist.

“I dare you to fuck off.” Ray pretended to be offended.

“That’s not much of a dare, but whatever.” He walked off, barely containing a grin. Gerard flipped around in Frank’s lap to where they were facing each other.

“Hey Gerard?”

“Yeah?”

“So, I guess it’s just us now.”

“Mmhm…”

“So, truth or dare?”

“Uh, dare.” Gerard didn’t want any awkward late night confessions, not right now. At least he was somewhat sober.

“I… I dare you to kiss me.” Frank said quickly.

“What?”

“You said if you had to kiss someone, it’d be me. So, now you have to.” Gerard looked panicked again.

“I, I didn’t mean that!” He stuttered. Frank looked down.

“Oh, sorry. I mean, you don’t have to…”

“Do you want me to?”

“I’m daring you to do it.”

“O-okay then. If you’re sure…” Gerard took a deep breath while Frank nodded a little too enthusiastically. He leaned down and gently pressed his lips to Frank’s. He started to pull away, but then he felt Frank’s hands come up to tangle in the greasy mess that was his filthy hair, pulling him back down. He kissed him a little harder, getting completely lost in the moment, and the fact that Frank wanted to kiss him. Frank was kissing him. He was kissing Frank. Oh god. It took Gerard a moment to register that they were no longer alone.

He heard a wolf whistle from what sounded like Bob, and a grunt of disgust from his very drunk brother, before a whoop of approval from Ray. His cheeks felt like they were on fire, and the tried to get up, but Frank’s hands had migrated from his hair to his hips, locking him in place. He swiveled his head around to glare at the guys, flipping them off. When it was clear the fun was over, they all stumbled back to the bunks, and Gerard practically fell onto Frank, kissing him again. And then he fell asleep, lying on top of him. After, of course, Frank fell asleep on the couch. That was how Ray woke them up at 6 am in running shoes, still lying on top of each other. After coffee, they went straight back to kissing.

[gerxrdwxy]

There Should've Been A Veil - Happy Birthday Pete

Read it on ao3 By PagebyPaige

Summary: Pete and Patrick have to go to an Important Event and Things Happen (im bad at summaries)

Word Count: 570 Chapters: 1/1 Language: English

•Fandom(s): Fall Out Boy •Rating: General •Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply •Categories: M/M •Character(s): Patrick Stump, Pete Wentz •Relationships: •Addtional Tags: Happy Birthday Pete, Fluff, Present Day, don’t feel like tagging rn sorry

Part 4 of the Happy Birthday! series.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“I can’t believe it’s purple.”

“Yeah, I’ve been excited for literally months.”

“I know, Pete. That’s why we’re doing it on your birthday, in June, instead of in September like we planned.”

“Shush, you’re excited too,” Pete pouts childishly.

“I mean, how could I not be? This is a big moment.”

“Damn right it is,” Pete affirms.

“I just can’t believe we’re doing this outside, in June, in Chicago.”

“Patrick, it’s the perfect time for an un -ahem- veiling.”

“Pete, honey, that’s not funny if there’s no veil.”

“But…”

“Just pretend, if you must.” Patrick says with a sigh. “I’m going to go make sure everything’s ready.”

“I’ll be waiting for you when you’re done.” Pete says with a nervous grin.

“I should hope so.”

Patrick moves swiftly, anxiously. Lights decorate the trees around them, cased in purple. The little park in Chicago really is the perfect place for the event. He straightens his tie for the millionth time and hopes he looks presentable. Against all recommendations, he’s wearing the old trucker hat Pete gave him back in ‘02.

He retreats out the way he came, listening from the back as people slowly trickle in, and speeches are made. He hears talk of Fall Out Boy, even of what came before. He hears talk of the hiatus, and of course, MANIA. He hears loving words, many about him, and then he’s walking. He’s concentrating just solely on keeping one foot in front of the other as he makes his way through the crowd and up to the front. As soon as he’s there, he links his hands with Pete’s and tries to calm down.

After the obligatory preface speeches, Patrick’s asked if he’d like to say anything.

“Happy birthday, Pete Wentz.” He grins as he looks directly into his boyfriend, no, fiancé’s eyes.

In reply, Pete remarks, “I still think there should’ve been a veil,” to which he earns some laughs.

A few nervous moments pass and all of the sudden Patrick’s being asked the famous question, the jesus-this-is-way-too-fucking-long question.

“Patrick Martin Stumph,” Patrick nods his head, affirming every word. “-part?” He sees Pete holding back a giggle at the last bit, just as he did when the question was posed to him. He’s already given his answer, and now it’s Patrick’s turn.

“I do,” he says clearly, firmly. People clap around them, he ignores them.

“Then, since I know you’ve been waiting,” Patrick’s humming with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. Surprisingly, this is the first time he’s ever done it in public. “You may-”

The man doesn’t even have time to get the words out before Patrick has Pete by the back of the head and is pulling him down, kissing him like there’s no tomorrow. Because he can.

They pull apart to cheering and the odd sneer. Patrick ignores them all; nothing is more important to him than the man standing right in front of him.

“I’m so glad you let me marry you,” Pete says, grinning.

“Yeah, me too.” Patrick agrees. “Now, you big 38-year-old, we have an album to prepare.”

“And then I get my cake?”

“Yes Pete, and then you get your cake. Or are you forgetting the wedding cake?”

Pete’s eyes light up with excitement and he practically drags Patrick off for cake and dancing and just them.

And then they prepare for the album.

[ao3feed-frerard]

Be Careful Making Wishes In The Dark

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2qzlc1P

by PagebyPaige

I can't believe I just titled it that

A fucking drunk truth or dare fic with the whole damn band bc what else could I waste my time on

Words: 1161, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: My Chemical Romance

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Frank Iero, Gerard Way, Ray Toro, Mikey Way, Bob Bryar, Brian Schechter

Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, frerard - Relationship

Additional Tags: Truth or Dare, I should've elaborated further, A shitty fic, literally don't read it, Late Revenge/Early Parade!Everyone, Drinking, Party Games, wtf paige

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2qzlc1P

[gerxrdwxy]

Maybe I Will - Frerard

Read it on ao3 By PagebyPaige

Summary: My normal fluffy, canon frerard

Word Count: 1423 Chapters: 1/1 Language: English

•Fandom(s): My Chemical Romance •Rating: Teen And Up Audiences •Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply •Categories: M/M •Character(s): Gerard Way, Frank Iero, Mikey Way •Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Frerard - relationship •Addtional Tags: Fluff, canon, tbp era, for sayuri

This was one of their wildest sets so far, and it wasn’t even half over. Though, really, what were they expecting? Projekt Revolution was just insane all around. Because of this, it was no surprise when about four songs in Frank somehow managed to cut his finger and smeared the blood down the side of Gerard’s face. The next couple of songs went as normally as was possible during an MCR set. Until ‘Prison.’ When they passed the first chorus, Gerard pranced himself over to Frank, and the smirk on his face reflected in both of their eyes.

The Jumbotron magnified the way Frank’s eyes widened when Gerard pulled the mic away and whispered into his ear.

“I’ll get you back for that,” he chuckled smugly. He then sauntered in his dramatic way back towards center stage, picking up exactly where he left off. Frank scrambled to get his fingers back on the frets of his guitar and figure out how to breathe again as he contemplated what exactly Gerard might have in store for him.

Frank didn’t have to wait long, though, before Gerard beckoned them with a finger behind his back and they advanced on each other. Suddenly Ray’s guitar got unnecessarily loud and they figured he knew he was going to have to be compensating for some kind of distracting prank in a moment. Frank played violently for a moment until he reached Gerard, and just as he was letting his fingers loosen their death grips on the neck of the guitar, Gerard was grabbing him around the back of the head and kissing him. Hard. He let go of everything, his guitar dangling between their hips as he grabbed for any part of Gerard he could get his hands on and Gerard pulled them closer together, sweaty foreheads sliding together. Too soon, Gerard put a palm to his temple and shoved him off with a flourish.

Frank was still flushed and panting as they finished the song, and he could see in Gerard’s eyes that he wasn’t the only one who thought it ended too soon. Frank tried not to think too hard about the fact that for the first time, Gerard kissed him first. He tried not to think about how maybe this wasn’t just a stage thing, or at least maybe it didn’t have to be. He tried not to think about it because as soon as they left the stage, it was as if their heated kisses had never happened. Frank figured he should probably take what he could get, but this time was different. This time, Gerard had started it.

When they left the stage, sweaty and exhausted, Frank couldn’t decide whether to be devastated or relived. He was, of course, ready to get back to the bus and take a fucking nap, but he knew as soon as he did, today’s set would be just another thing for him to store away in his memory. Another thing to wish for.

So when he finally dragged his own lazy ass to the bus, he was surprised to find Gerard sitting on his bunk, vibrating. Gerard was shaking so badly it was like he was trying to defrost or something.

“Gerard?” Frank asked tentatively, not sure if he wanted the answer. “Are you okay?”

“I’m f-fine, Frank,” Gerard tried to sound snappy but he just sounded cold. If you knew him as well as Frank did, though, you’d know that this isn’t cold Gerard. This was borderline-anxiety-attack Gerard.

“Hey, what’s got you so fucked up?” Frank asked gently. Gerard shook his head vehemently.

“No.” He said, tone adamant and somewhat steady.

“Come on, Gerard.” Frank persisted. “Spit it the fuck out.”

“I, just, fuck, I don’t know what to say,” Gerard said, sounding defeated.

“That’s okay, Gee, but try?” Frank wasn’t giving up. He sat himself beside Gerard and tilted his head, waiting.

“I- can I just, um, fuck.” Gerard let his head fall downwards again.

“What were you tryin’ to say, Gerard?”

“It’s stupid, sorry, I shouldn’t have thought it-”

“Gerard, whatever it is, it’s fine. Just tell me.”

“Can I, um,” Gerard kind of flailed his arms in the general vicinity of Frank’s shoulders. Frank gave an encouraging nod and Gerard gripped his shoulders tightly, pulling him in for another heated kiss, less rushed and more passionate than before. Frank felt himself falling into Gerard’s embrace as the long artist’s fingers wound into the short hair at the back of his head. At the same time, he wanted to jump up and down and scream at the sudden adrenaline surge he was feeling. Gerard was kissing him. Again. Off stage. It was all too much, and Frank froze. Gerard pulled back almost instantly, holding Frank at arm’s length.

“S-sorry, I shouldn’t have done that…”

“Oh my god, Gerard,” Frank practically groaned. “Don’t be fucking sorry, oh my god.”

“Then why’d you-”

“Gerard.”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to do this, um, off stage thing more often?” Gerard’s face split into one of his infections grins, showing off the rows of tiny teeth that Frank had probably stared at for way too long for it to be normal.

“Frank Iero, are you trying to ask me out?”

“Depends,” Frank replied cockily.

“If it depends on my answer, honey, I think this’ll suffice,” Gerard said, pulling Frank in by the hair for another kiss.

“Yeah,” Frank panted when they finally broke apart. “I’ve got my answer.”

They wrapped themselves up in Gerard’s covers and Frank curled in Gerard’s side.

“You’re warm,” he murmured, content.

“Mmhm,” Gerard replied. “Fuck,” he said, speaking up again suddenly after a moment of silence. “I’ve wanted to do that forever.”

“Yeah? How long’s forever?” Frank asked.

“I don’t know, really.”

“Why the wait?”

“You always… did it…. first,” Gerard sounded like he was forcing the words out.

“Hey, I waited five years to kiss you, so I was takin’ every chance I got,” Frank defended. “What’s your excuse?”

“I was scared you thought it was just a stage thing, y'know?”

“Gerard Way, I joined your fucking band in hopes of gettin’ to kiss you,” Frank sounded shocked.

“Well then we’ve wasted enough fuckin’ time, huh,” Gerard smirked, inches away from Frank’s face.

“Fuck yeah,” Frank grinned. Gerard tightened the grip he had around Frank’s back, and Frank wriggled his arms up between them to wrap around Gerard’s neck. Gerard drew their lips together again and Frank never wanted the moment to end.

Frank was pleasantly warm, snuggled under the covers and pressed up against Gerard.

“Can I take you out for coffee sometime?” Frank asked when they pulled apart to breathe.

“You know me too well,” Gerard sighed. “Now sleep.” Gerard pulled Frank tight into his chest and they both quickly fell asleep.

They woke up to Mikey banging around a few feet away from them. The first thing Gerard did when they woke up was press his lips to Frank’s as if to say, “I didn’t dream this, right?” and Frank kissed him back to say, “No, and I don’t think I did either.” Frank smiled against Gerard’s lips and tried to pull away when he heard Mikey’s voice. However, Gerard held him fast.

“Oh look, they’re awake,” Mikey said sarcastically. “A-and kissing.” He awkwardly turned his back and retreated down the hall. As soon as they heard a door slam behind him, Gerard let Frank breathe again and they both burst out laughing.

“Fuck, that was hilarious,” Gerard said through giggles.

“What’re you gonna do next time, tell him we fucked in his bunk?” Frank laughed and he felt Gerard’s body against his, shaking with laughter.

“Maybe I will,” Gerard said, fake determined. They busted out laughing all over again.

“You will what?” Mikey asked, a disapproving look already painted across his features.

He glowered down at them.

“I fucking dare you to hurt him, Frank, you see what happens,” he said threateningly.

“Mmhm,” Gerard mocked from behind Frank’s back, his arms still locked around his waist. “Big, bad Mikey will come and get you.”

Mikey jerked his head up indignantly.

“Fine, fucking suit yourself, Gerard.” He huffed and Gerard started laughing again.

“I’ll be okay,” he said, pulling Frank even closer. Frank let his head drop back onto Gerard’s shoulder and he nuzzled his neck.

“I’m fucking leaving,” Mikey announced. He slammed the door behind him again and Frank would’ve been laughing if he wasn’t kissing Gerard. Again.

And he would continue to do so for years to come.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10983666

[ao3feed-frerard]

Maybe I Will

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2qMCxHq

by PagebyPaige

A fluffy frerard set during tbp era (projekt revolution era really) based loosely on something my dear friend wrote and not-so-loosely on a certain video

Words: 1423, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: My Chemical Romance

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Frank Iero, Gerard Way, Mikey Way

Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, frerard - Relationship

Additional Tags: Fluff, for my lovely friend sayuri, shes a sweetheart btw, Canon, tbp, tbp era, bus days

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2qMCxHq

[gerxrdwxy]

Without You Is How I Disappear - Frerard - Chapter 2

Read it on ao3

By PagebyPaige

Summary: I read an amazing fic that I thought was a mcr reunion fic that ended up being heart-shattering angst. Long story short, I decided I would rewrite the fic myself and end it the way I wished it had ended.

Word Count: 2706 Chapters: 2/? Language: English

•Fandoms: My Chemical Romance •Rating: Teen and Up Audiences •Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply •Categories: M/M •Characters: Frank Iero, Gerard Way, Bandit Way, Ray Toro, Lindsey Way - mention, Mikey Way •Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Frerard - relationship •Additional Tags: (Abbreviated version) Angst, Fluff, Angst with Fluff, mcr reunion, Resolved Angst, tagging is hard

Frank wobbled where he stood, his legs shaking and his feet trembling against the side of the bridge. He was so unsteady that he promptly fell backwards, his intent for the bridge struck from his mind when he saw the person he least expected to see walking towards him. He fell through the arms that tried to catch him, promptly on to the pavement. He must’ve spent a lot more time walking than he thought, considering who he saw.

Gerard gingerly lifted the smaller man up by his arms, pulling him into a tight hug. Silently, Gerard walked him back, past his car. Confused, Frank looked up. How he could’ve missed it, he had no idea, but the bridge couldn’t have been more than a couple hundred yards from Gerard’s house.

—

All Gerard saw as they walked back was Frank careening forward, tumbling over the side of the bridge. He couldn’t believe he had let it come to this. What was he even doing, living alone with Bandit in the middle of California? He should’ve been in Jersey, making music with his favorite people in the world. Gerard didn’t find happiness away from the band. He felt just as he did back in 2001, hopeless and alone. He needed his band just as much now as he did then. And he knew Frank did too.

Frank. He needed Frank. He missed the tiny man’s smile, his never-ending energy when they played. He missed sharing a tiny bunk because neither of them could sleep, Mikey grumbling when the vocalist was woken up next to his rhythm guitarist. Gerard missed the crowds, his songs, his friends, and Frank. Gerard missed everything about MCR, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to admit it.

—

They reached Gerard’s house, both men were crying, and Gerard kicking at the ground as they walked. Without even a discussion, Gerard booked tickets for three back to New Jersey. Gerard called his brother, arranging for him, Frank, and Bandit to stay with Mikey for now. Until then, Frank would stay with Gerard and Bandit.

“Why?” Frank broke the heavy silence, his voice cracking under the weight of the word.

“Why what?” Gerard tried his best not to snap back, but his voice was still strung taut.

“Why are you coming?”

“Frank, I hope you realize that I need it just as much as you do. I talked to Mikey about it a while ago, and he’s all for it. Ray will of course be on board, and obviously we need you. Plus, I need to go back to Jersey too.”

Frank was blown completely away by how well Gerard read him. To his surprise, Gerard wrapped an arm securely around his shoulders.

“Frankie,” Frank’s cheeks were tinted rose just from the nickname. “I need you. It’s been six years, and I can’t do this anymore. If you’re up for it, I want to try again.”

“W-with the band, or…” Frank trailed off, too afraid of hoping to utter the remainder of his question.

“Both.” Gerard answered, giving Frank everything he had been needing for six years in one word.

Frank flipped around to where he faced Gerard and locked his arms tightly behind the taller man’s head. Gerard’s slipped easily around Frank’s back, pulling him close. Frank raised himself up on his tiptoes and kissed Gerard, just as easily as it was twelve years earlier. His fingers knotted themselves in Gerard’s hair, and he pulled back to breathe.

“Keep your hair long?”

“Only if you lose the mustache.”

Frank smiled against Gerard’s lips as the two kissed once again.

“So, the new album.” Frank loved the words against his lips. “Is there a theme? A hair color?” Gerard giggled and Frank felt it as his body shook gently.

“I don’t know yet, but at least I’ll be doing it with you.” Frank now had his face buried in Gerard’s chest (because at 5'6" he was the perfect chest-burying height) and Gerard could feel his smile.

At that moment Bandit came running in. The ten-year-old looked so different from when Frank had last seen her at age four.

“Dad?” She cocked her head at Gerard, whose arms were still around Frank.

“Bandit, this is Frank. You remember him, right?” To Frank’s surprise, Bandit’s eyes lit up with recognition.

She turned to point at Frank. “You let me play your guitar!”

“Yeah, I did.”

“But why are you here?” Bandit was of course confused as to why he was in her house, wrapped around her father.

“I-” Frank was at a loss for words. Gerard came to his rescue.

“Bandit, Frank is my best friend and I really missed him so he came back. In fact, we’re going to take a trip with him in just a couple days! Until then, he’s gonna stay with us, okay?” Bandit nodded her understanding and then proceeded to shock everyone in the room with spontaneity present only in the inexplicable mind of a ten-year-old.

“Do you love him?” Both Gerard and Frank’s jaws dropped.

“Do I- do I love him?” Gerard was obviously caught off guard, and the room was dead silent. Then Frank felt Gerard’s grip tighten around him as he said, “Yes, I think I do.”

“Good.” Bandit seemed satisfied with herself and went back to wherever she had come from.

Frank looked up at Gerard.

“Really?” He asked the taller man tentatively.

“Yes. Frank Iero, I love you.” By then, Frank was smiling so much that he could barely respond when Gerard kissed him once again.

—

Frank helped Gerard make dinner, clean up, put Bandit to bed, and even hummed softly in the background as Gerard sang her to sleep. He noticed immediately with a grin what the “lullaby” was. Demolition Lovers. Of course Gerard would sing to his ten-year-old daughter his own song which was by now almost double her age. Wow, Frank thought, that song is 18 years old. Holy shit.

After making sure she was soundly sleeping, Frank and Gerard shuffled slowly together towards Gerard’s bedroom. At the door, Frank started to turn back, to sleep on the couch. Gerard grabbed his shoulder, steering Frank into his bedroom. As soon as they crossed the threshold, Gerard wrapped his arms around Frank’s neck, pulling him close.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, earlier.” Gerard sounds so completely done with himself. He looks at the floor in shame. Frank hooks a finger under his chin and tilts his head back up, even though now he can’t look Gerard in the eye anymore.

“Gerard… I wish I could say it’s okay, but I don’t really know what you were thinking either. To be fair, though, I’m sorry too.”

“No, Frank, I’ve been there. I know how it feels to be that desperate. I never should have let things go this far, I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

“Why did you then?” Frank’s question was nearly absorbed into the soft material of Gerard’s t-shirt. He thought at first that Gerard didn’t even hear it when from above his head came the almost mumbled reply.

“I couldn’t let myself love you.” Certainly not the response Frank was expecting.

“Why’s that?”

“I convinced myself it was just rebound, after my split with Lindsey.” Gerard sighed, preparing himself for what he would say next. “Truth be told, I couldn’t admit it but Lindsey was rebound for you.” Frank blushed gently against Gerard’s chest. “I didn’t know how to function after we broke up, so I got with a girl. Then, I felt guilty when I married her and all I could think about was how much I wished it was you. I couldn’t look at you anymore without thinking about that, so I split up the band. That just hurt me and you even more, and by then I was an emotional wreck. Lindsey and I weren’t working out, so we ended it. The only good thing about life was Bandit. After all that, it seemed like you wanting to come back into my life was just life playing a cruel joke on me, when I obviously forgot that you never intended to leave it in the first place-” Frank interrupted Gerard’s monologue by crashing their lips together again. When they pulled apart, Frank said his piece.

“Gerard, it’s okay. We’ve both been through some tough shit in the past few years. What I know is that you saved my life today. What I also know is that MCR saved all of our lives, and I think it has the potential to do that again. Lastly, I’ve waited almost ten years to kiss you again, and I’m not letting that go to waste. I never wanted to leave in the first place, and I’m sure as hell not leaving now.” Frank grabs his hand and drags them both to Gerard’s bed. “Gerard, I joined MCR because I loved it and I loved you. Both of those things are still true today, so let’s go back to Jersey and fix what never should’ve been broken in the first place.” Frank finished his speech, looking rather proud of himself. Gerard laughed.

“Okay, well if we’re done giving novel-worthy speeches, I’d like to get back to kissing you.” Frank lay in the bed of his (ex)ex-boyfriend, the two of them curled around each other, the happiest they’d both been in probably six years.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10169528/chapters/22590992

[dykebians]

Without You Is How I Disappear - Frerard

*New more ao3-like format Read it on ao3 By PagebyPaige

Summary: I read an amazing fic that I thought was a mcr reunion fic that ended up being heart-shattering angst. Long story short, I decided I would rewrite the fic myself and end it the way I wished it had ended.

Word Count: 1139 Chapters: 1/? Language: English

•Fandoms: My Chemical Romance •Rating: Teen and Up Audiences •Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply •Categories: M/M •Characters: Frank Iero, Gerard Way, Bandit Way, Ray Toro, Lindsey Way - mention, Mikey Way •Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Frerard - relationship •Additional Tags: (Abbreviated version) Angst, Fluff, Angst with Fluff, mcr reunion, Resolved Angst, Attempted Suicide, tagging is hard

It was the worst thing that ever could've happened.

The only thing keeping Frank alive was gone, and now it was killing him. If things didn't get better today, Frank was going to die.

Every day for weeks, Frank kept the same mantra. If things didn't get better, he would die. So far, he was getting closer and closer.

He'd gotten so bad that he decided to fly out to California. If he didn't make things better, Frank would die.

Frank kicked at the dust beneath his feet where he stood at the front door of his best friend. Some best friend he was, someone who didn't even return Frank's calls anymore.

Finally, Frank knocked gently at the white-painted door. Who was he kidding? Gerard had a family, a daughter. He wouldn't want Frank back in his life. Of course, Frank had to be right.

"Oh, hi Frank." Gerard looked older now, his fiery "Danger Days hair" faded to a dark orange. His tone was clearly annoyed, exactly what Frank feared.

"S-sorry, am I interrupting?" Frank cursed himself for stuttering.

Gerard sighed. "It's fine, Frank. Just, what do you want?"

"I was just wondering if you, um, wanted to reconnect some time? I haven't seen you in a while..." Frank trailed off. It was a stupid idea, anyways. Gerard had a life, a solo career. He didn't need Frank.

"Sorry Frank. It's just that, well, I don't think that it's a good idea for us to be friends right now." Not even friends? Frank thought back to the fierce kisses, the screaming lyrics, him playing until his fingers bled. They were so close, and now they couldn't even be friends.

"Oh, okay. Well, um, bye then."

"Frank." Gerard stopped him. Frank let himself hope. "If you have some time, there's a nice little soda fountain type place, really cute and all, and you should probably hit it before you leave town."

"O-okay, I'll check it out."

"Bye Frank."

"Bye Gerard."

Frank left, feeling worse than when he got there. They one man who could fix him had somehow made him worse. If things didn't get better, Frank was going to kill himself.

Frank thought back to the past five, no, six years since he had lost the band. He had tried to make music on his own, but so far that was failing spectacularly. He couldn't play a guitar without thinking of Gerard's perfect voice singing the vocals it should've been matching.

The truth was, Frank was just as upset about the breakup as the fans, though they didn't know that, of course. He hated it. He hated everything. The band had been his everything: it was a distraction from all of his many flaws, his failures. Gerard had survived alcoholism, addiction, attempted suicide, everything because of the band, but suddenly now he couldn't stand to be around Frank anymore. Frank thought Gerard had needed the band as much as he did, but apparently not.

It was probably just another thing Frank had fucked up. Still himself, Frank did everything Gerard asked of him. That meant he did indeed visit the soda fountain, which was of course in a drugstore. Sitting on a stool on the far end of the counter, he was left alone. If today didn't get better, he would kill himself. He looked around at all the different pill bottles lined up neatly on shelves. Any variety of things in there could've been deadly. On a whim, Frank picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts. Scrolling past all the familiar names, Frank reached one he hadn't looked at in a long while. If he was going to die, he might as well indulge himself. Frank hit call and raised his phone to his ear.

"Frank?"

"Hey Ray."

"Hi Frank. What can I do for you?"

"Are those cars in the background? Ray, if you're busy..."

"Well if it's urgent Frank..."

"No, no. It's not a problem. I'll call you back later?"

"Sure thing. Why don't you call Gerard? I'm sure he'd be able to help with whatever you need, unless it's guitar chords." They both laughed, but Frank wasn't sure if he was laughing at Ray's comment or the absurdity of his question.

"Sure, why not. Bye Ray."

"See ya, Frank."

Frank clicked his phone off and sat quietly, musing to himself. Maybe he would call Gerard. If today didn't get better, Frank would die.

The first time he tried, Gerard didn't even pick up. Feeling desperate, Frank tried again. And again. On probably the third or fourth time, Gerard finally answered.

"Frank, for God's sake. You need to stop calling me, I said we shouldn't talk right now!" Without a word, Frank hung up.

Frank knew he shouldn't have bothered Gerard. He was just generally a failure. He had stopped taking his meds because they weren't working. He stopped picking up his guitar because he no longer found joy in playing. He knew, secretly, the only thing that would fix him. He still loved Gerard, and the band. He needed both if he was ever going to be okay again. Just like so many of their fans, the band had saved his life. Just like every teenager ever had said, the band understood him.

Frank took out a pair of earbuds and scrolled through the music on his phone. Yes, he had My Chem in his music. How couldn't he? Playing it on stage or listening like a fan, Frank needed the music. This time, though, the music wasn't enough for him. He still felt the aching in his heart because they weren't going back in next week to record the new material, they weren't going back on tour in a few days. MCR was done, just like Gerard said.

Suddenly angry, Frank yanked the earbuds out of his ears. His throat was tight; he didn't trust himself to speak. Frank made the decision: today had gone to shit, and he was going to die. He walked out, almost in a daze, and got back in his car. He drove in vaguely the direction he came from, stopping only when he reached a bridge.

He got out and walked. There was no question to him that he deserved this. He only joined the band because he thought the lead singer was cute, after all. He was only in the band because they needed an "extra guy" to help out Ray. Frank wasn't necessary. He meant nothing to the guys, and they didn't need him. Gerard denied all rumors of them being together after it had ended, although Frank's feelings were still very clearly present.

Frank reached the side of the bridge, and climbed up the side railing. As he stood, teetering on top, he brought back his worst fear. Gerard never loved you.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10169528/chapters/22590992

[gerxrdwxy]

Memories - Happy Birthday Brendon

Read it on ao3 By PagebyPaige

Summary: Brendon is sad and alone and its his 30th birthday.

Word Count: 2047 Chapters: 1/1 Language: English

•Fandom(s): Panic! at the Disco •Rating: General •Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply •Categories: M/M, Multi •Character(s): Brendon Urie, Spencer Smith, Dallon Weekes, Ryan Ross, Sarah Orzechowski (mention), Dan Pawlovich (mention), Kenneth Harris (mention) •Relationships: Brendon Urie/Ryan Ross (Platonic), Past!Ryden, Brendon Urie/Spencer Smith (platonic), Brendon Urie/Dallon Weekes (platonic), Brendon Urie/Sarah Orzechowski •Additional Tags: Brendon is 30, April 12, Fluff, Angst, Brendon is sad and alone, happy birthday bren

How did he end up like this? Brendon is somehow alone and sad, moping in a dressing room on his 30th birthday mourning the loss of the friends he threw away.

Brendon finds himself lonely and unenergetic, completely unlike him. He doesn’t feel like talking to even Sarah, or fooling with his dogs. Brendon looks through the ‘House of Memories,’ the display of “artifacts” from older years of Panic! He looks at his ridiculous hair, the crazy makeup, stage outfits and fond memories. As he moves through and finally reaches Death of a Bachelor. Here he is, headlining a tour by himself, basically the entire record credited to him.

Brendon goes back again, this time really taking time to remember.

Brendon remembers Fever, him and his high school best friends getting together in a space they could barely afford, no idea how they would get by. They had had the band together for three years already and were finally preparing to record. Brendon’s family threw him out and that translated into stage makeup and ‘fuck everyone I like drugs’ type lyrics that were so artistic (courtesy of Ryan) that they somehow worked.

Brendon remembers Pretty. Odd., the messy Beatles album where they spent months in a cabin and most of them were pretty much constantly high. Meanwhile, Brendon and Ryan only got closer. They sang duets with intimate lyrics and Brendon thought they really had something going, maybe.

Brendon remembers Vices, and the god awful fight that caused it. Brendon pauses, unable to continue. Ryan. It’s all he can think of. Brendon had done something proud and stupid and he lost Ryan. His Ryan. Brendon lets himself relive the fight that cost him the love of his life.

Of course, it wasn’t just one fight. It was fights every single night, ending in slamming doors at 3am. Even the people around them could feel the tension slowly building up by the day, until one day everything fractured. The fight wasn’t anything major, just their average argument, but somehow it was different. Brendon and Ryan had reached their breaking points, and no matter what they did that night someone was going to explode. No one really excepted the end, though; everyone really just figured Brendon would trail Ryan like a dog forever. Clearly, that’s not quite what happened.

It was late at night and everyone else had gone to bed, not wanting to deal with Brendon and Ryan’s petty shit. They were talking about the new record, and what they wanted to do. Ryan wanted to be a bigger part of the musical process: Ryan wanted to sing. When he said it, Brendon couldn’t help but snort.

“Why the hell is this funny?”

“It’s just fuckin’ ironic, Ry. You, Ryan Ross, in the spotlight!” Ryan looked indignant.

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

“I- nevermind.”

“Spit it out, Bren!” Of course, the irony was obvious. Brendon had been trying for almost eight years to work around Ryan’s stage fright, putting everything into his vocals to make anything possible, musically, for Ryan. Now Ryan wanted his chance in the spotlight. So this is how it works, then? Brendon thought, You just get to choose when you want to be in the spotlight and everyone else just works around you? Why, when we started and I wanted to be included in the lyrics I sang was I shut out, but now that Ryan Drama Queen Ross wants to be in the spotlight he gets it? The hypocrisy, Jesus.

“You’re just a fucking hypocrite, okay? We only ever do things when Ryan wants to do them. When I wanted to write lyrics, it was all, 'No, Brendon, what we have now is working’ but now that you want the spotlight I’m just supposed to give it to you?”

“Yes, Brendon. I’m trying to get over my stage fright and sing in our band and I should be allowed to do that. Besides, not letting you in the artistic process was for the best.”

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you can’t write, Brendon!”

“Well maybe I can! You don’t fucking know that, Ryan. I’ll prove it.”

“Go ahead and prove it, Brendon. But if this is how this is going to go, I’m going to find someone who doesn’t turn important decisions into petty fights!” Ryan stormed out the door and Brendon, still fuming, mentally bid him good riddance. It wasn’t until a few days later when he got the email that he realized: Ryan wasn’t coming back. Brendon had just thrown away the love of his life over some comment Ryan probably didn’t even mean. Still stubborn, Brendon was determined. He sat down that very day and began to write the beginnings of the next record, and the first thing he wrote about was Ryan Ross.

Brendon feels the tears on his cheeks and realizes he’s barely even crying anymore. He doesn’t know when he started, or when he slid to the floor. He picks himself up and moves on.

Brendon remembers Too Weird. He remembers getting a girlfriend and coming out almost simultaneously. Brendon remembers writing about girls. Brendon remembers writing about guys. Brendon remembers writing about Spencer. He sees himself again, slaving over lyrics powerful enough to show Spence what he needed to see. Hard as it was, when Brendon sees This Is Gospel framed on the wall, he thinks of Spencer now and knows it was worth it.

Brendon has once again reached Death of a Bachelor. Brendon thinks of Sarah, of his puppies, all his friends, all his fans, everything he has. He thinks about the fight with Dallon, nothing even major; it was just a little tiff, but now Dallon’s not even an official member anymore. Brendon is alone.

He picks himself up and goes and finds an unoccupied room. He finds a comfortable looking, semi-clean couch and flops down on it face first. He curls up into the fetal position, nearly falling off the couch in the process. Brendon sinks into the couch and cries. Brendon is a mess.

When he calls Dallon, he doesn’t care that he’s in the other room. He calls him anyways, sniffling into the phone and apologizing for their fight, begging him to rejoin the band fully. Dallon just sighs and tells Brendon they’ll discuss this later, and Brendon has too many things to do to worry too much.

When Brendon calls Spencer, he swallows back everything he planned on saying, and so all he tells the answering machine is that he hopes Spencer is doing well and that he’d love to see him soon. He hangs up before he cries again.

The last person on Brendon’s spontaneous must-call list is Ryan. Brendon doesn’t even know what to say, he just calls and sobs and mumbles something that might be 'I’m sorry’ or 'I miss you’ or 'please come back I fucked up and I love you.’ Who knows. Brendon has almost convinced himself he’s talking to a voicemail when he hears Ryan’s too familiar voice on the other end. He bursts into a fresh round of tears.

“Brendon? Bren? Brendon, are you okay?” Brendon’s heard Ryan’s voice recently, but this is different. He sounds so old, so much more mature. Too mature to deal with a grown ass thirty year old crying on his birthday. Brendon almost hangs up when Ryan speaks again.

“Happy Birthday, Brendon. I’ve got a surprise for you, by the way.” Brendon is astounded by how calm Ryan is. “That is, if you’re up for it…”

“What is it?” Brendon is suddenly an overeager child.

“It’s a surprise, Brendon. A surprise.”

Brendon sighs and hears a knock at the door. “Hey Ry, I gotta go. I have soundcheck like, now, and a full set in an hour. Bye Ryan.”

“I kn- bye Brendon,” Ryan chirps and hangs up, leaving him headachy and confused.

Every song in Brendon’s set is practically pointing fingers at him. Brendon plays This Is Gospel and can barely focus on the piano keys for the amount of glances he steals of the drum throne, it’s drummer a shadow of his predecessor. Brendon plays Golden Days side by side with Kenny and he thinks of every memory he describes and all he sees is Ryan. Finally, playing House of Memories he stares at Dallon, a silent apology for everything he managed to fuck up to get him here, without even Dallon as a constant.

When Brendon walks back out for his encore, he knows what he’s going to play. No one will expect it but it’s so, so fitting. Brendon just misses his goddamn friends.

Oh memories, where’d you go? You’re all I’ve ever known. How I miss yesterday. How’d I let it fade away? Don’t fade away!

Brendon’s song, one not well known out of Vices, the album of his heart, is an apology to all those he hurt. I’m sorry, Ryan, it says, for driving you away. I’m sorry, Spencer, that I couldn’t save you sooner. I’m sorry, Dallon, that I let a trivial fight rip the last link from my band. I’m sorry, Panic! at the Disco, that I am you now: a thirty-year-old man touring the world crying alone on his birthday. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I fucked up. I miss you.

As the lights dim, Brendon walks off the stage, ready to go back to his dressing room or the hotel or wherever to lie back down and cry. When he gets back, though, he gets three simultaneous phone calls. He answers Spencer first, shaking from exhaustion and adrenaline.

“Yeah?” Brendon is too tired to deal with people, yet still a little euphoric to have Spencer calling me.

“Dallon just called me telling me you won’t answer your phone, so please for the sake of us all answer him!”

“Oh, o-okay. Bye Spence.”

“Catch ya later.” Brendon shouldn’t be this disappointed by Spencer’s call, and yet he is. The fucker didn’t even say happy birthday! Regardless, he picks up his phone again and dials Dallon, wondering what the hell could be so urgent.

“Brendon Boyd Urie get your ass back on this stage right fucking now!” is all Brendon hears before Dallon hangs up. Not wanting to make Dallon bother Spencer again, Brendon quickly complies, not having time to deal with the rest of his missed calls. He’ll get to them later.

When Brendon finally gets himself back on stage, the arena is empty. Almost everyone has neatly filed out the doors, security on their heels. Brendon walks up to Dallon.

“So what the fuck was so damn urgent that you had to call Spencer Smith?” Brendon hears a snicker in the background; probably a tech guy snooping in their drama. Dallon now fumbles for words, not making a very convincing case.

“I, uh, well…. uh, I needed you to help me with…….. something.”

“Right, yes. Something. I’ll get right on it.” Brendon isn’t in the mood for games tonight. This time, the snickering is a certain little giggle, and Brendon does a double take. Tech guys don’t laugh like Ryan Ross. Brendon faces out into the crowd, trying to determine where the sound came from. He looks down and ends up locking eyes with the one and only Ryan Ross, seated next to Spencer Smith.

“Happy Birthday!” Dallon’s voice is behind him and it’s filled with barely veiled excitement. Ryan and Spencer grin at him from the front row and he gestures for them to mount the stage, still unsure how to react.

“You knew about this?” Brendon finally decides to ask Terrible Actor Dallon.

“It’s possible…”

“Oh for fucks sake.” Ryan. Dramatic as always. “It’s Brendon Urie is 30, damnit, and I dragged our asses -he gestures to Spencer and himself- out to Vegas to tell you happy birthday and Dallon can’t even speak English! This isn’t the friends I know.”

Brendon doesn’t even think now, he just loses it. He gives in, wrapping Ryan in a bear hug. Spencer soon joins, smothering them both, and Dallon adds himself on, his head sticking up above everyone else’s. Brendon smiles genuinely for the first time in a very long time inside the friend-pile. Things are shaping up to be pretty damn okay.

[gerxrdwxy]

Happy Birthday Gerard

Read it on ao3 By PagebyPaige

Summary: Gerard is 40 and that’s a big fucking deal to Frank - big enough to do something drastic.

Word Count: 2425 Chapters: 1/1 Language: English

•Fandoms: My Chemical Romance •Rating: General Audiences •Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply •Categories: M/M, F/M •Characters: Gerard Way, Frank Iero, Lindsey Way (mention), Jamia Iero (mention) •Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Frank Iero/Jamia Nestor, Lindsey Ballato/Gerard Way •Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff, Angst with Fluff, Happy Birthday Gerard, Birthday Fic, Gerard is 40 wtf, post-mcr, present day, stop tagging paige

April 9th, 2017. It has been circled on Frank’s calendar ever since he bought one. He bought the tickets around the same time, months before he needed to. He has three days in LA, and seats in the roiling pit of the crowd. He has glasses and a hoodie, even gloves to cover up his identifying knuckle tattoos. He is ready, and he’s going like a fan. This is going to be the surprise of his life, Frank thinks.

This has to be Frank’s millionth plane ride to a show, but he’s still jittery. This isn’t even his show, but it isn’t just any show, either. He again reaches into his carry-on, checking to make sure it’s there. He runs his hands over it, feeling the soft fabric. He feels the card he pinned to the back of it, and he almost cries again. He really hopes Gerard likes it.

Frank can feel his emotions boiling up as he strokes the shirt in his bag. Gerard is 40. He’s grown up so much since Frank first saw him at 25, barely alive and desperate for something to cling to, and at the same time Frank can still see the little 25-year-old in Gerard’s face, the hope and the dreams paired with their real-life counterparts in his memory. Gerard has everything that 25-year-old ever wanted, and yet the only way he’s really changed is that he’s happier and healthier.

Frank also kind of feels like he’s slipping out of Gerard’s life. That 25-year-old let Frank into his band because they needed an extra guy, but now Gerard could have as many extra guys as he wanted. Frank’s first real crush was on that 25-year-old, who by the time he hit 27 loved him back.

By 30 he was married and still they stayed in love.

By 32 he had a daughter and still kissed Frank just as passionately, still told him he loved him when no one was listening to them, or when thousands were.

All it took, apparently, for him to fall out of love with Frank was 36. Frank knows Gerard’s mental state wasn’t the best then, so it was better for him not to deal with the emotional stress of having a family and loving Frank, but that doesn’t make it any easier for Frank. He stubbornly, selfishly believes that Gerard still harbors some feelings for him deep inside and he’s desperate to feel that again. Even Jamia has never made him feel quite like Gerard did, and Frank is willing to risk their friendship to prove himself right.

Frank reads the card over and over again, thinking about what he’s about to do. He feels so awful about it but he can’t stand not doing it either. Frank pulls the army green button down that Gerard repeatedly stole from him out of his bag. After Gerard announced the breakup and by extension their breakup Frank had stolen it back, telling himself it was because it was his and he needed it back if they weren’t going to be practically living together anymore, and definitely not because it smelled like Gerard. Frank pulls it out of his bag now, buries his face in the scent of Gerard and cries on a plane on his way to see the now 40-year-old be successful without him.

—

When Frank gets to his hotel room he doesn’t even bother to unpack fully. He grabs the hat, sunglasses, and gloves, for once not caring how hot it is in April in California. He gets to the venue way too early and enters with the first crowd. He makes it to his seat with obstructions and sits quietly, checking his phone. On impulse, Frank tweets a ‘Happy Birthday’ at Gerard and shuts his phone off, not wanting to see the thousands of retweets from fans saying exactly what he’s thinking.

When Frank makes it through the opening act without shitting himself he feels like he deserves a medal. He and Gerard haven’t even seen each other in person since 2014 and they only really talk occasionally (the group chat doesn’t really count) on the phone. He’s practically vibrating with nerves plus the added bonus of there being a chance someone recognizing him and ruining the surprise, resulting him getting completely mobbed. Of course, this is the one show where practically everyone in the room would know who he is.

When Gerard goes on, Frank actually cries. Just hearing Gerard sing again, live, gives him flashbacks to heated kisses under the eager eye of an audience, rushed and sloppy and fumbling because of the adrenaline haze of being on stage. Frank wishes he was up there beside his best friend, shredding and jumping and injuring people and touching him. Frank just stands, half-sobbing the words to songs that he definitely hasn’t cried over before. A girl with lavender hair and a 2001-infinity tattoo pats his arm gently and then goes back to singing along. By Gerard’s last song Frank has dried his tears but his hands and voice still shake as he slowly composes himself.

By the time Frank has gotten himself together most of the crowd has emptied out and he can easily make his way up towards the front in the direction of the dressing rooms. Dressing rooms that he has stayed in, since this is a venue that MCR played. When he reaches the barrier security moves to block him when he takes a risk and removes the sunglasses. One of the guys was on the MCR crew during Black Parade and gives him a curt nod. Frank replaces his glasses to be safe and heads back into the depths of backstage.

Frank follows the tunnel, removing hat and glasses and gloves as he goes. He sees some familiar faces and puts a finger to his lips when their jaws drop. They nod overenthusiastically back and Frank continues on, his determined step shaky. He carries the shirt neatly folded under his arm, the card stock of the note tucked inside it poking his arm with every step.

His guess is as good as anyone’s which dressing room Gerard is in, but he takes a shot and knocks on the one he and they guys were in years before. When Gerard opens the door sweaty and ruffled, Frank almost cries again. Both of them sputter awkwardly in the doorway, equally shocked and feeling too many emotions at seeing each other. Gerard eventually steps aside, allowing Frank to come inside. He gently closes the door behind them and Gerard falls back onto a couch. Frank stands awkwardly in front of it, all of the sudden unsure of what to even say.

“Um,” Frank breaks the silence and somehow manages to make things even more awkward. “Happy Birthday?” Frank looks at the floor. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. When he looks up again, Gerard is smiling. He’s grinning that happy little smile that usually only really special people get to see; the one with his tiny little teeth poking out and even his eyes turning up at the corners.

“You came all the way out to LA, bought tickets to my show, and stalked me in my dressing room just to tell me happy birthday?!” Gerard is incredulous, but still grinning. “You ridiculous bastard.” He giggles a little bit and stands up, the ice having been broken. They’re almost as easy together as they used to be, even after three or four years apart.

Frank can’t help himself. He drops everything he’s holding and walks over to the still-smiling Gerard, hugging him tightly. As soon as they touch, Frank is overwhelmed by just Gerard. Frank lays his head on Gerard’s shoulder and feels all of his muscles relax. Any previous apprehension he had about coming is erased just by being in Gerard’s hold. Too soon, Frank feels Gerard gingerly peeling them apart. He backs off reluctantly, almost tripping over the clothes he dropped. As he struggles to remain standing, Frank follows Gerard’s eyes to the mound of stuff on the floor. On top of it is the still mostly folded green shirt. Gerard raises his eyebrows at him and it’s pretty much now or never.

Frank picks up the shirt and smooths it gently, subtly checking to make sure the note is still there. He holds it out to Gerard.

“Happy Birthday, Gerard.” Frank tries to keep a straight face, which involves biting the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting into sobs. He hopes Gerard knows what this means, but isn’t sure if it would really be worse if Gerard had forgotten. Soon enough, the recognition flashes in Gerard’s eyes and then a frenzy of emotions, some of which Frank can’t even name, flash across his face as he stares down at the shirt that has been transferred to his waiting hands.

“Frank, I can’t take this.” He looks up, avoiding Frank’s eyes. “It’s yours.”

Frank feels a spark of anger course through his body. You took things from me all the time, including this shirt. Frank doesn’t realize until he sees the look on Gerard’s face that his retort wasn’t entirely in his head.

Gerard puts his head in his hands, nearly smothering himself with the shirt. His voice develops an edge that cuts though the shirt that muffles him when he says, “That was different.” Frank can feel his face fall.

“S-sorry I shouldn’t have-” Gerard lets his arms, and the shirt, fall to his sides.

“Frank, you have to realize that things are different now! We’re both married and we have kids and here we are acting like a high school couple!” If Frank’s going to go all the way back home now and be miserable, at least he’s going to go out with a bang.

“I just miss you, okay? I’m not happy. We’re looking into divorce papers; we’ve already worked out what to do with the kids. I never see you anymore, and the best parts of my life had you in them. My life isn’t going the way I want it to, okay Gerard?”

“You know Frank, I’m not here just because your life isn’t-”

“Do you love her?” Frank has to force the words out. Everything seems to be pressing down on him, willing him to just give up.

“Of course I… this is stupid!” Gerard’s face gets a little redder. “My ex boyfriend should not be standing here asking me if I love my wife!”

“Then finish that sentence,” Frank challenges.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s ridiculous.”

“Well if it’s so ridiculous, why can’t you say it?”

“Because… I…” Gerard fumbles for words.

“You’re not happy either, are you?” Frank’s every word is a dare, his voice getting stronger as he spins his pain into anger. “Are you?” Frank is seething at this point, all of his pent-up feelings for Gerard coming out as one huge wave of anger. “Goddamnit Gerard, are you fucking happy with her or not!?”

Gerard buries his face in the shirt again.

“I’m not dmfnit!” Gerard mumbles into the shirt, and it sounds suspiciously like “I’m not, damnit!” Which is, of course, exactly what Frank wants to hear. Frank listens closer, hoping to hear better and make sure Gerard said what it sounded like he did. He hears sobs instead, increasing rapidly in volume until Gerard is flat out crying into Frank’s shirt. Just like Frank did hours earlier.

Tentatively, Frank walks over and puts his hand on Gerard’s back. Gerard shakes him off.

“Leave me alone,” he says into the shirt.

“I’ll go. Whatever. Just read the card.” Gerard kind of snort-groans but lifts his head, revealing puffy eyes and tears wetting his cheeks. Frank feels his heart break a little more at the sight. Reluctantly, Gerard fishes around in the shirt, finding the card pinned to the inside of it mostly legible. As soon as he reads the first line, Gerard says exactly what Frank wants him to.

“Frank, wait.” So Frank does. As he waits in silence, he feels the wave of anger ebb into love for the man in front of him as he stands silently and thinks about the words he so meticulously copied onto that little piece of card stock.

“I’d end my days with you in a hail of bullets /

I’m trying, I’m trying, /

to let you know just how much you mean to me /

and after all the things we put each other through /

and I feel like there’s nothing left to do /

but prove myself to you /

but this time, I mean it /

I’ll let you know just how much you mean”

-Demoliton Lovers, but you know that. You wrote it, after all. I pulled lines from your  our song because I figured then you’d understand that this is how I feel about you. Still. Damn it, I love you Gerard. I just wanted you to know that. I know I probably just ruined it, but Happy Birthday Gerard! I hope 40 treats you well. I really do. xofrnk

Gerard stares at the card in his hands, turning it over and over.

“This is…-”

“Yep.”

“And you really…”

“Yep.”

They stand there, the silence thick and tense.

“Well if you don’t have anything else to say, I’m going to get going…”

“Frank, wait.”

“What?”

“I’m just.. trying to figure this out.”

“What is there to figure out? Do you want to be with me or not?”

“Frank… I just need some time. Okay? Frankie, I love you. I do. It’s just, I’ve been trying so hard to forget us that having it back is… complicated.” Frank takes a second to breathe, partly to keep his anger at bay and partly to keep from running over and kissing Gerard’s face off.

“I’ll wait for you, Gerard. I’ll always wait for you.” Frank feels himself stumbling forward, half falling into Gerard’s arms. Gerard drops shirt and card in favor of holding Frank.

“Then I guess we’ll have to figure something out.” Is whispered into Frank’s hair.

“Yes, I we will.” Is said through a grin into Gerard’s shirt.

“I love you, Frankie.” Frank can feel himself melting both at the words and the nickname.

“I love you, too. And we’re gonna get through this, okay? No matter how long it takes.” Frank feels Gerard nod against the top of his head and they quickly untangle themselves when there’s a knock at the door. Frank folds his arms awkwardly as Gerard opens the door.

“Oh, hi Lindsey.”

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10581510

[ao3feed-frerard]

Cuddles

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2o4GrdW

by PagebyPaige

it was so nice to have a bus instead of the van. to sleep horizontally instead of breaking your back in a sitting position.

Words: 1076, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: My Chemical Romance

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Frank Iero, Mikey Way, Ray Toro, Bob Bryar, Gerard Way

Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, frerard - Relationship

Additional Tags: cuddling :)), my gay children are my outlet for all my problems, i write fluff bc I hate my life, okay time for the real tags, Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, they need each other okay, just something short if you need to be happy, Oneshot, plantonic-ish, Abuse of italics, abuse of commas, hell even abuse of parentheses probably, stop the punctuation abuse compensate our betas

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2o4GrdW