Archive of Our Own

        Frank should have said no. 

        What was he thinking? Teaching guitar? He was way out of his wheelhouse here.

        Not with guitar, of course. He had played guitar since he was a teenager and played in a lot of successful bands over the years. But teaching? That was different entirely. 

        At the time, he didn't even think before he agreed because it was Gerard Way who asked. 

        Frank had heard his name before and had seen his name on the cover of a few of the comic books he read. He met him at an after-party in a friend-of-a-friend scenario. He asked to meet Frank because he liked his music, and Frank found it unbelievable that Gerard Way actually sought him out.

        When a friend introduced them, he learned what the phrase 'a cat got your tongue' meant because Gerard was different from anyone he'd ever met. Something about him was fascinating.

        The more they spoke—after Frank got over the shock and remembered what words were—Gerard turned out to be incredibly charming. He was nice and genuine and talked about his art passionately.

        Frank didn't even remember how it came up, but Gerard had a young daughter who was interested in music, too. He bought her a guitar, and despite having several teachers and music lessons, none of them stuck. It just so happened Frank only lived minutes away from him and had a long break from his tour.

        At first, he thought the whole thing was a joke, or maybe it was something they would talk about but never actually do. They would go their separate ways and never see each other again.

        But at the end of the night, Gerard asked him seriously. He said it would mean the world to him, and he really wanted to do this for his daughter. How the hell was he supposed to say no to that?

        Then, Gerard gave him this bright smile, and Frank was screwed. 

        So, that was how he got into this predicament and why he was awkwardly standing on Gerard Way's doorstep, guitar case in hand, so that Gerard could be a great fucking dad. Frank didn't know the first thing about being a dad—unless you count being a dad to his four dogs—and didn't even know what classified as a great dad. His relationship with his own father was strained, and he certainly wouldn't experience it himself. He wasn't going to have kids of his own after his recent divorce. 

        When the lock on the door clicked and opened, Frank's heart jumped into his throat. Gerard beamed, like Frank was an old friend he hadn't seen in years.

        He had been painting clearly. His plain grey t-shirt had colorful splatters on it, along with blotches of paint on his arm. His black hair was tousled as if he had run his hands through it many times. 

        "Frank! I'm so glad you came." Gerard stepped aside and beckoned him to come in. "Cleo is so excited to meet you."

        "I'm excited to meet her," Frank said as he slowly set his guitar down next to the door. 

        He felt awkward as he shrugged out of his jacket and took off his shoes. It wasn't like Gerard lived in a palace, but Frank felt like he was dirtying the place just by breathing in it. It was far nicer than his own home, which still had unpacked boxes and was hastily thrown-together. His own house screamed 'sad divorced mid-forties man', but Gerard's looked like he had everything figured out in his life.

        Most everything in the house was white, but there were pops of color everywhere. Every wall had some form of art on it, some of which were clearly his daughter's and proudly displayed. 

        "Cleo! Frank's here!" Gerard called.

        He heard a tiny voice echo "coming!" from up the stairs. 

        "Sorry, we were painting. She's really into oils right now. Lucky for me, those are the hardest to wash off." Gerard explained as he looked down at his stained clothes. 

        Frank fought down the nerves clenching at his throat and smiled. He barely knew Gerard, but he could tell this parenting thing came naturally to him. 

        The sound of small footsteps pitter-pattered down the stairs, and Frank turned to see the small girl with black hair jump down the steps. Just like her dad, she was covered in paint, and she seemed just as excited to see Frank, too. 

        Cleo stopped in front of him, assessing him with squinting eyes and no doubt taking in his alternative appearance and tattoos. Frank had never felt more worried about someone's judgment before. 

        "Frank, this is Cleo."

        Frank gave a warm smile and crouched down to the young girl's height. He hoped it didn't seem condescending. "It's nice to meet you, Cleo."

        Gerard stood back anxiously watching for his daughter's reaction. He didn't interrupt and let their introduction take its own course.

        "You don't look as boring as my last teacher. You're short, though," she declared unabashedly.

        "Cleo," Gerard scorned, followed by a stern look.

        Frank couldn't help but laugh. "No, she's right."

        He couldn't remember the last time he was around children. It was refreshing and... humbling. He forgot how brutally honest kids could be. 

        "How old are you, Cleo?" Frank asked, hoping he could find some way to win the kid over.  

        "I'm eight," she stated proudly with her hands on her hips. 

        "The perfect age for learning guitar, right?"

        Cleo frowned a little and held up her left hand. "I dunno. I think my hands are too small, and the strings hurt sometimes."

        "That's okay," Frank reassured. "Sometimes my fingers still hurt, too. And I think you can play no matter what size your hands are."

        Cleo cocked her head to the side, and she seemed to be judging Frank a little less now. "Can I learn how to play Metallica?"

        Frank blinked. That wasn't the first thing he expected an eight-year-old would want to learn. That was pretty cool, though.

        "Where did you hear Metallica? Did you go through my CDs again?" Gerard asked. His arms were crossed, but he didn't sound angry, his voice still soft and gentle.

        Cleo blushed a little. "Maybe."

        "I told you to ask, and I'd pick some out for you."

        "Yeah, but I wanted to listen to that one, and you never let me listen to it," Cleo complained. 

        Frank already loved this kid. "You know Metallica is one of my favorites. I'd teach it to you. If your dad is okay with it?" 

        Frank looked up at Gerard with a smirk. The other man seemed taken aback for a moment, but then, slowly, he nodded.

        "Alright. I approve," Gerard concluded. 

        "Yes!" Cleo squealed, her voice squeaky. "Can we start now?"

        Frank found her eagerness adorable. He had assumed the little girl would be more unwilling or hesitant, like most kids would be about trying new things. "Of course."

        Cleo skipped up the stairs to find her guitar, humming the whole way. 

        "Thank you, Frank," Gerard whispered. He looked at Frank as if he were some sort of angel, and Frank felt an immense pressure weigh on him. He had to do this right and not fuck up.

        Teaching Cleo was easier than he thought it would be. Honestly, he was used to snot-nosed, stubborn kids who had little interest in music.

        Cleo, however, was focused and determined. She would strum the same chord ten times until she got it perfect. She listened to his every word and got excited when he showed up for their lessons.

        After just three lessons, Cleo had already picked up on a couple of easy chord progressions and even practiced scales like Frank told her to. 

        In a lot of aspects, she was just like her dad. He could see the resemblance when her nose scrunched up as she focused. She had the same bright smile and yellowish hue in her green eyes. 

        Frank wasn't one to make assumptions, but he did enough research on Gerard Way to get some ideas. He knew that he had never married, but he couldn't find many other details about his love life. In fact, he had to scroll to the second page on Google to even find that information.

        One thing was pretty clear, though: Gerard was gay. He didn't hide it from the media when asked, but he didn't exactly talk about it openly either. He had his suspicions early on, but Gerard had a daughter. Adoption was, of course, an option, but Cleo looked far too much like him for that to be the case. It wasn't a casual topic he could bring up in conversation. How would he even phrase that question? So, does your kid have a mom? You like men, though, right? He shouldn't ask because it was none of his business anyway.

        It was a month into his lessons with Cleo when he finally figured it out.

        "Sorry, I forgot to call. I was caught up in work and everything," Gerard apologized, brushing his fingers through his hair. He looked stressed, the most rundown Frank had seen him.

        "It's fine. You've clearly had your hands full."

        Frank pointedly glanced over the various medicines littered on the kitchen counter and boxes of tissues on almost every flat surface in the room.

        Gerard informed him when he showed up that Cleo was sick, and he forgot her lessons were today. He apologized profusely for forgetting to tell him. He invited him inside, probably purely out of guilt, but Frank accepted anyway. 

        "She refuses to rest even when she's sick. It reminds me of her mom. She works constantly," Gerard said casually while standing over the kitchen sink, washing dirty cups full of Cleo's leftover milk and juice. 

        "I haven't heard much about her mom. She never mentions her."

        "She's never met her," Gerard answered. His nose scrunched up in disgust when some chunky milk spilled out into the sink. It reminded him of the face Cleo made when she strummed the wrong note that sounded bad. "A friend was a surrogate for me and my, well, ex now, I guess."

        "What happened there?" When Gerard looked at him oddly, Frank quickly added, "If you don't mind me asking."

        "We broke up a couple of years ago, but we were together for five years. I thought we were... forever, I guess. Ugh, that sounds cheesy," Gerard scoffed. He didn't seem too pained while talking about the situation, having long since moved on through the years. "But two years after we had Cleo, I think he was really stressed out, and apparently, that's a reasonable excuse to fuck someone else."

        "Oh," Frank muttered in shock. He never would have guessed that. Who in their right mind would cheat on Gerard Way? 

        "I was stupid and wanted to forgive him, work things out for Cleo. But that only made things worse, and when he left, I wasn't even sad. I was just pissed he did that to Cleo, you know?"

        "Does he still see her?"

        Gerard huffed. "Of course not. Asshole disappeared off the face of the planet. He doesn't talk to us anymore."

        Frank thought this guy was scum for abandoning their family. He should have been thankful to have such great people in his life, and a daughter who was so sweet and funny. Some people would have killed to have that.

        "He is a fucking asshole, then. You guys are awesome."

        Frank meant that statement. They didn't need someone else in their lives because even if it were just the two of them, Gerard and Cleo were an amazing family.

        A small smile flickered across Gerard's lips, but it didn't stick. "It sucks sometimes. Being a single dad and doing everything myself," Gerard admitted quietly. 

        "I'm sorry. I can imagine." Frank didn't know what else to say. He sipped the coffee that Gerard generously offered him in a classic white mug that said 'Best Dad Ever' in bold, red letters. 

        "I can't even tell you the looks I get at parent-teacher conferences. And Mrs. Armandi hits on me every single time," Gerard groaned with a comedic eye roll. 

        "Not your type, I take it," Frank said with a giggle.

        "Not quite."

        The familiar sound of little footsteps came into the kitchen, and Frank immediately turned to follow the sound. Cleo didn't look good. Her eyes were red, her face pale, and she swayed a little when she walked as if she'd fall over any moment. 

        "Daddy?" she called, her voice raspy and sore. 

        "Cleo, I told you to stay in bed." Gerard put away the last cup he was drying and pressed his hand against her forehead. "You're still warm."

        "I feel better, I swear. I wanna do my lessons."

        Soon after she spoke, she broke into a coughing fit. 

        "Yeah, I don't think so."

        "But I'm tired of resting," Cleo whined. 

        "You know, if you don't rest, you won't get better, and if you don't get better by next week, you'll miss another lesson," Frank told her. 

        Cleo looked at him with wide eyes. She hmphed. "I guess you're right."

        "I'll bring you up some soup in a little bit, okay?" Gerard said.

        Cleo nodded and accepted defeat. She rubbed her eyes while leaving the kitchen, and the sound of her footsteps disappeared up the stairs. 

        Gerard sighed and rubbed his face with the palms of his hands before turning to look at him. "Thanks, Frank. You're good with her. She listens to you more than me."

        Frank knew that wasn't true. It wasn't that Cleo didn't listen to him, because she always did during their lessons, but Frank in no way had childcare skills. 

        He shrugged. "I don't know about that, but she's a great kid." 

        And, of course, she was because her dad was great too. He left that part out.

        Frank's house always felt too quiet after coming home from Gerard's. He was used to hearing Cleo's giggles and dramatic sighs, and Gerard's random, weird noises. He enjoyed their presence, and he stayed a bit longer over their allotted hour every lesson. Sometimes, teaching Cleo extra techniques or talking to Gerard before he left. 

        Even with his four dogs prancing around and yipping, the house felt too empty. He was usually distracted by the busy tour, and before that, he had a wife to go home to, so loneliness wasn't familiar to him. That wasn't the case anymore. 

        As nice as it would be to have someone special in his life, Frank wasn't ready to date. He didn't even remember how dating worked, and how many single women was he going to meet around his age anyway? Everyone would already be married with kids, or maybe there was a good reason they were still single (not that Frank could judge). 

        It took him a while to fall asleep that night. 

        Frank couldn’t sleep and woke up annoyingly at the crack of dawn. He distracted himself by unpacking and cleaning while blasting his record speakers loudly to block out his thoughts. That worked for a few hours until every box was empty and every surface in his house spotless. He even swept behind the oven, which was something he realized he should do a lot more often. It could get seriously gross back there. 

        It wasn't even past three o'clock yet, and Frank was already going stir-crazy. 

        He showered and changed and left his house for the first time in several days. He didn't have anywhere to go, really, so he settled for a to-go cup of coffee and lingering around a local bookstore. The cashier watched him suspiciously while he perused the horror section for over thirty minutes. 

        He walked down the street leisurely because he had nothing else to do. He pulled his hood up over his head in case anyone passing by just happened to notice him. He loved his fans truly, but he didn't have the energy to chat that day. He just wanted to walk in the sunny spring weather in peace for a moment and maybe drown in self-pity a little bit.  

        He walked by a chain-link fence that surrounded a crowded park. He smiled at the sound of children laughing and playing as their parents sat by and watched. He imagined that as a parent, you would praise having nice weather to give your kids a chance to expend all their energy outside instead of later all around your house. 

        He used to think most kids were brats and didn't want much to do with them, but after he met Cleo, his opinion changed a little bit. Only the tiniest bit because she was the exception. 

        He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk when he heard a voice yelling Cleo's name. 

        He looked across the playground to see Gerard with his fingers pressed against his temples as he watched Cleo stand up proudly on the top of a swing set. Frank laughed. Seriously, though, if Cleo fell, it would be disastrous, but he admired her audacity. 

        He could have walked by and gone home, leaving Gerard and Cleo to enjoy their day, but instead, he entered through the park gate. It felt odd walking into a playground without a kid of his own—he pulled off the hood of his jacket because he didn't need to make this scenario any weirder—and he might have been receiving concerned looks from some moms. He was drawn to Gerard and Cleo and kept walking.

        "Hey," he greeted once he was close to Gerard on the park bench. 

        Gerard grinned like he always did when he saw Frank. "Hey! Fancy meeting you here."

        Frank thought this situation must have seemed from Gerard's point of view. "Sorry, I was just walking by, and I, uh, wanted to say hi."

        Gerard scooted over and patted the bench next to him. "It's good to see you. Maybe you can convince Cleo to stop climbing on top of the swings!"

        Cleo turned at the sound of her name and stuck out her tongue at her father. Then, when she saw Frank, she waved. "Hi, Frank!" 

        Frank waved back. Cleo went back to playing seconds later, surprisingly listening to her dad's warning and climbing down the side of the swings back onto the gravel. 

        "I'm glad to see she's feeling better," Frank said. 

        "Like nothing ever happened," Gerard sighed. 

        Frank watched the little girl jump up to the monkey bars, stretching her short arms as far as they would go to reach the next bar. 

        "How are you?" Gerard asked. His eyes stayed focused on Cleo, and Frank thought it was sweet that he wouldn't let her out of his sight. 

        "Good, I guess. It feels... weird being back home after tour."

        "Weird how?" 

        Frank shifted nervously. He was hesitant to tell Gerard, but he supposed the other man would figure it out soon anyway. If he were as nosy as Frank, he might already have typed his name into a search bar.

        "It's different coming home to no one there. After the divorce, it's just me now."

        Gerard looked over at him with a soft expression. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—I didn't know you were divorced."

        Frank shrugged. "It was for the best. It didn't end badly or anything. So I'm not too caught up on it, I guess."

        Well, he did still hurt a little bit. He couldn't just forget the woman he spent over a decade of his life with. She was the one who initially brought up the idea, and at first, Frank was distraught. Then, he began to understand his ex-wife's wishes. They'd grown apart, he was gone a lot, and she wanted to move away to find happiness with her own career and life. He wasn't going to hold her back. The thought of being alone was terrifying, but once he came to accept it, he moved on. Very slowly, but he moved on. Mostly. 

        "How long has it been?" Gerard questioned with a sympathetic voice.

        "Six months? Right before I left for the tour. She packed up all my things, and I moved out when I got back. It's crazy how fast things can change."

         Gerard nodded as his gaze turned back to Cleo. "It really is."

        He saw this glint in Gerard's eyes. He wondered if that statement struck a nerve. Gerard experienced something similar, losing someone you built a life with. Maybe even worse, Gerard had a child to raise on his own because of it, and he watched her grow and change every day. 

        "Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?" Gerard blurted. He looked like he hadn't even been expecting the question himself.

        Frank already learned the hard way that he couldn't say no to Gerard, and honestly, not sitting alone moping at home sounded pretty damn nice. 

        "Yeah. I'd love to."

        Frank wasn't going to show up for dinner empty-handed. He didn't know what Gerard liked, but a bottle of wine was always a classic choice, right? He noticed Gerard's strangely large collection of wine glasses in one of his cabinets, so he must like wine to some degree. 

        He didn't forget to grab something for Cleo, too. A package of sour gummy candies that he remembered her mentioning one day. Cleo asked him random questions often—one of those being about his favorite candy—and Frank made sure to return those questions. He learned a lot about Cleo that way. 

        Her favorite color was pink, and she wanted a dog, but her dad would never let her have one. She loved Saturdays because she always got to do something fun with her dad, but hated Tuesdays because her dad seemed to work more on those days. She had a lot of friends at school, and music class was her favorite.

        When he made it to the Way's house, Frank's palms were sweating, and he gripped the bottle of wine tightly, trying not to drop it on the doorstep. He'd been there a dozen times in the past, but this time felt different, far more daunting. It was easy to show up with an expectation. He would do his lesson with Cleo and go home, but now, he had no idea what to expect. Since when did something as simple as going to dinner freak him out? 

        Gerard answered the door with flour splotched on his apron and a little chunk of mystery dough in his hair. Frank should have known. Gerard was always covered in something when he opened the door.

        "You came!" Gerard greeted excitedly as if he suspected otherwise.

        When Frank stepped in, he was met with the smell of a bakery and the soft playing of Metallica, of all things. He heard Cleo in the kitchen banging around pots and pans and humming along to the song. 

        Gerard gestured down to his apron. "Cleo wanted pie. She's learning how to whisk and is... great at it. Clearly."

        Frank thought that was one of the cutest things ever. 

        "I didn't want to show up empty-handed. I had to get something for Cleo, too," Frank said, holding up the wine bottle and giant bag of sour gummies. 

        "Oh, you didn't have to!" Gerard took them from his hands anyway. "Thank you. How did you know these are her favorite?"

        "She really likes to talk."

        Gerard smiled wider at that. "We're almost done with dinner. Hope you like pasta."

        Frank remembered Cleo asking what his favorite food was once. He thought maybe she remembered it and wanted to make it for him. Or maybe Gerard asked. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

        "It's my favorite."

        Frank watched Cleo finish baking her pie in the flour-covered kitchen. His chest felt tight as Gerard showed her how, and mostly let her take the reins, even if it resulted in another mess on the tiled floor.

        He felt a little... empty. He probably wouldn't have anything like this. He might die alone without a family or even a partner, for that matter. Maybe not. He could hold on to hope, but for now, he enjoyed it vicariously.

        Cleo was proud of her blueberry pie—slightly lumpy dough and all—and her help with the pasta sauce, which was delicious. 

        After dinner, Frank felt bad about the awful state of Gerard's kitchen and offered to help clean. Gerard refused at first, but Frank insisted on at least helping with the dishes. He didn't want to be a bad house guest, and Gerard was his friend. Or... sort of friend?

        Cleo sat in the other room with her sour gummies, watching a movie, the only sound that could be heard for a while. Frank thought it was a bit of an awkward silence, but he didn't know what to say. As many times as he'd been over for Cleo's lessons, he and Gerard didn't have too many one-on-one conversations, except the one while Cleo was sick. Any other time, they mostly only talked about Cleo. 

        "Thank you. For everything. And staying to help," Gerard said, breaking the silence as he swept the flour explosion off the floor. 

        "It's nothing. I don't mind." Frank truly didn't. 

        "Well, it means a lot that you've helped me with the flour bomb that went off in my kitchen."

        "I'm sure after some practice, she'll keep the flour in the bowl. Or maybe most of it."

        "She's gotten a lot better at guitar. She plays every day," Gerard mentioned. 

        Frank wasn't surprised by that. Cleo was the most determined kid he'd ever met, and she was getting better. She had already built up the thick calluses on her fingertips.

        "She may be the only musician who practices every day," Frank joked as he put another dish on the drying rack. 

        "I think it's because she likes you. She didn't exactly like her other teachers."

        "Why not?"

        "She's quite picky," Gerard sighed. "She just never clicked with any of them."

        Frank wasn't sure why he was different than the others. He wasn't anything special. He took it as a huge compliment; an eight-year-old Cleo saying how great he was meant more than it coming from anyone else. 

        Frank turned to Gerard after he finished scrubbing the last dish. He giggled when he saw another streak of flour somehow find its way onto Gerard's cheek. 

        "You have a little something," Frank told him and gestured towards his own cheek. 

        Gerard wiped his other cheek, missing the spot completely. Frank laughed again and reached out to wipe the spot off himself.

        Gerard smiled. "Thanks."

        Frank ignored a weird feeling in his chest.

        The second dinner, a few weeks later, was easier. His anxiety wasn't at an all-time high, and he felt more comfortable in the Way household. 

        Just like last time, Gerard answered the door covered in flour.

        "Pie again?" Frank mused.

        "Cupcakes," Gerard sighed. 

        Cleo's sweet tooth was never satisfied, it seemed. This time, she didn't manage to explode a giant flour bomb in the kitchen, just a tiny one. 

        Gerard was clever, hiding small chunks of vegetables in a casserole so Cleo would eat them. He convinced her to eat enough so she wouldn't have a stomach full of only cupcakes.

        Frank stayed again to help clean up, and they weren't even finished before Cleo passed out on the couch, tired after school and an afternoon playdate.

        "So, when are you touring again?" Gerard asked, attempting to make casual conversation. He put away the clean dishes after Frank finished drying them. 

        He was better at it than Frank, who could never think about what to say around Gerard.

        "We're not sure. I think we're going to work on another album first. We've been planning out some ideas." 

        "Ooh, can I have any details?" Gerard looked at him with pleading eyes that reminded him of Cleo. 

        "I can't tell you," Frank smirked. "What about the big project you're working on?" 

        "I can't tell you," Gerard mimicked.

        "Well, what can you talk about?" 

        "Hmm. Other comic books that are not mine. Every Stephen King book and the best '90s movies. Painting. Or D&D."

        Frank realized that he didn't know much about Gerard. It was the most he had heard him talk about himself, and Frank was curious to learn more. They had some things in common and probably even more in common than he knew yet. 

        "Oh my God. You're a huge fucking nerd," Frank said with a grin. 

        Gerard squinted at him, but he couldn't hide his smile. "And what do you like that's so cool?"

        Did Frank have other hobbies? He was so busy with his music career that he didn't have much time for anything else before.

        "Huh. I guess I never do anything besides music anymore. I just didn't have time. I like Stephen King too, though, and '90s movies."

        "So you're also... a fucking nerd," Gerard retorted, nudging his shoulder. 

        Gerard was close enough that Frank could see his long lashes and smell his cologne before the other man quickly pulled away. 

        He grabbed two wine glasses from the cabinet and set them down on the granite countertop. 

        "You're helping me drink all this wine by the way," Gerard stated. Frank brought over another bottle that night, and if he kept doing that, Gerard would have quite a collection. 

        He didn't ask before he opened the bottle and poured two glasses. Not that Frank would have said no to begin with. He took the glass of red wine and slowly sipped it, his hands shaking slightly. He wasn't much of a wine person, but it wasn't that bad, richer with almost a smoky flavor.   

        "So, what's your opinion on Labyrinth?" Gerard asked, leaning back against the counter with his wine glass in hand. 

        "Um, it's one of the best movies ever. And David Bowie was glorious."

        Gerard beamed. "That's the only right answer. Did you know they made a comic book series of it?"

        Frank gasped from true interest. "Shit, no way! You have to tell me about it."

        Gerard did and made entertaining gestures and facial expressions as he did. Frank liked the sound of his voice, and he could have listened to him go on for hours.

        They were three months into their lessons, and Cleo's biggest struggle was bar chords. That's expected from everyone first learning, and he told Cleo that. Still, the little girl got frustrated, but she still didn't give up easily. She kept trying and promised she would practice her hardest this week. Frank believed her. 

        He bought her a sparkly pink guitar pick in hopes of motivating her further, which surprisingly seemed to help. He figured out the best ways for Cleo to learn and how to keep her encouraged. Not that she needed much encouragement because she was self-determined. 

        Frank truly enjoyed their lessons. He looked forward to them. It kept him busy when he didn't have anything else to do but sit at home alone and occasionally answer phone calls from their band's manager. Even though Gerard still paid him, he would do it for free. Cleo was a sweet kid, and Gerard wasn't an asshole. That's all he could ask for, really. 

        From what he witnessed and heard from Cleo's stories, Gerard was a great dad. Frank didn't know how he did it between his job and raising a daughter at the same time. He respected him for somehow finding time to do both and do both well. 

        Friday afternoon, after their lessons, Frank asked Cleo about their plans for the weekend, something he always did. 

        "Dad is taking me to a fair. He says there's gonna be food and fun stuff."

        Frank smiled at her excitement as she bounced on the tips of her toes. "It sounds like you're going to have a lot of fun," Frank remarked.

        He latched his guitar case shut and followed Cleo down the stairs to the living room. Usually, this was where she relayed to her father everything she learned that day, speaking so fast her words sometimes slurred together.  

        Cleo stopped suddenly and gasped like she had an idea. "You should come with us! Please, Frankie," she pleaded with adorable puppy dog eyes.

        Frank laughed anxiously. "I think you would have more fun just you and your dad."

        "No, it will be more fun if you come!"

        Gerard walked around the corner, for once not having some sort of mess all over him. He said he had an important deadline for work, and spent the past hour writing while Cleo had her lesson. It was common for Gerard to disappear into his office and work during their recent lessons. Frank didn't know how much work he managed to get done the rest of the week with Cleo around. Even when she was at school, Gerard still had other responsibilities on top of that. 

        Frank did let their last few lessons run a little long, giving Gerard another ten minutes or so to work before he left. It wasn't much, but he didn't know what else he could do without interfering too much; he didn't want to force himself somewhere he wasn't wanted. 

        "What is it?" Gerard asked, quirking an eyebrow at his animated daughter. 

        "I want Frank to come with us to the fair," Cleo spoke confidently. "Can he come with us? Please?"

       Cleo was stubborn, and there was no way she was letting Frank get out of this. His only hope was that Gerard would say something. It wasn't that going to a festival with them sounded horrible, but Frank couldn't intrude on their time. It would be... weird. Because Frank wasn't a part of their family. Gerard only knew him for three months, and likely didn't want him around for more than lessons and occasional dinners. 

        Gerard looked back and forth between them as if he were contemplating it. Frank thought he was thinking about how to tell Cleo Frank couldn't come without breaking her heart. Frank was just glad he didn't have to be the one to break it to her.

        "Well, that's up to Frank."

        Frank's mind went blank, and he looked over at Gerard, shocked. The other man just smirked at him and shrugged. 

        Fuck, he didn't know what to think. Did Gerard say that to be nice, but didn't actually want him to come? Did he expect Frank to say no regardless?

        His mind raced with possible excuses to give the girl that wouldn't upset her too much. But when he looked back at Cleo's pleading eyes, he felt pinned in place. Turned out that Frank couldn't say no to Gerard or Cleo. Maybe it was hereditary. 

        "All right. I'll come," Frank caved.

        Cleo squealed and jumped up and down. "I can't wait!"

       Before he left, Gerard gave him all the details of where to meet them on Saturday. He reassured him that he really didn't mind if Frank tagged along after Frank asked that three times. Frank hoped it wouldn't be awkward, imagining a thousand scenarios on how things could go wrong. 

        Though deep down, he was looking forward to it.

        The spring weather blessed them with a warm day, albeit cloudy and windy. Cleo had her hair tied up in tight pigtails with pink ribbon to match her sweater. She was so proud because she picked out her own outfit, and it matched quite well. Frank suspected she had some subtle influence from her dad. Or maybe she just had an outstanding fashion sense for her age. 

        Gerard and Frank followed Cleo as she skipped down the boardwalk. Luckily, it was early enough in the morning that there wasn't a large crowd yet. If there was, Frank was fairly sure they could never catch up to Cleo if she decided to move any faster.

        Cleo stopped in front of another candy stall, immediately pointing to something on the shelf. It was only the fifth time she'd done that. 

        "Can I have chocolate? Please?" Cleo begged.

        Gerard sighed, but didn't sound irritated. "I think you've had enough sugar for one day."

        "No, I haven't!"

        Cleo had, in fact, eaten plenty of sugar that morning: cotton candy, Twizzlers, and some weird, colorful caramels. It wasn't even noon yet. Frank was just glad he didn't have to be the responsible one and tell her otherwise.

        Gerard crossed his arms and shook his head. Frank couldn't see Gerard's expression through his dark sunglasses, but he knew he was giving Cleo his 'stern' look, which wasn't really that stern in Frank's opinion. 

        "You can get real food but no more sugar," Gerard said.

        Cleo grumbled but didn't argue anymore. "Fine, but I want a hot dog."

        Frank waited until after Gerard bought her hot dog—distracted by squirting an excessive amount of ketchup on it—before sneakily slipping a bill to the cashier. He hid the bag of chocolate in his jacket pocket until the opportune moment. When Gerard finally looked away to throw away Cleo's empty hot dog wrapper, he slyly slid the chocolate bag to Cleo like handling contraband. 

        She quietly gasped and smiled. "Thank you, Frankie."

        "Don't tell your dad," Frank whispered.

        Cleo nodded and shoved the chocolate into her pocket. She didn't say anything about the chocolate, instead leading them toward one of the spinning rides. Frank hoped that she wouldn't barf up all that sugar after riding that thing. 

        "I saw that you know," Gerard told him.

        Frank smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "Oops."

        "Well, hopefully, the sugar crash will hit soon after we get home."

        Gerard took off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. Gerard sounded tired and looked even more tired. Without the sunglasses, Frank could see the faint dark circles under his eyes.

        "Are you okay?"

        Gerard smiled weakly, not like his usual bright smile. "I'm fine. Just tired."

        "Rough night?"

        "Busy with work stuff. It's easier to work after she's asleep, you know? Sometimes that means staying up till two a.m. I guess," Gerard explained.

        Frank didn't remember the last time he stayed up until two a.m. He felt tired just thinking about it.

        "You don't have anyone to help you with Cleo? Like a babysitter or something?"

        Gerard shook his head. "Cleo doesn’t really get along with many people. Neither do I, and I guess I just don't want someone else to care for her. Maybe that's me being an overbearing parent."

        Frank knew Cleo could certainly be picky, and it wouldn't be surprising if Gerard was the same way. Either way, he didn't think Gerard was overbearing in any sense.

        Frank replied, "I think that's normal. You don't get any time off, though?" 

        Frank felt guilty for having free time. He would donate some of it to Gerard if he could. He knew Gerard loved Cleo, but didn't every parent need a break occasionally?

        "My brother watches her sometimes when I go away for work."

        So, Gerard never got a break. Frank felt even worse now, and he was becoming way too soft because... 

        "I can help out with Cleo, you know. If you ever need me to?"

        Gerard's eyebrows rose, and his eyes widened, like he was afraid that Frank offered. He turned and watched Cleo reach the front of the line for the ride before handing over her tickets and climbing on. Gerard shifted his weight from foot to foot and pushed his hands into his jacket pockets. 

        "I couldn't ask you to do that. You do so much already," Gerard said, still looking forward to Cleo. 

        Frank wondered if that was Gerard's way of politely declining, attempting not to offend him. Then again, he could be overthinking it. He had been teaching Cleo lessons for months, Gerard had invited him to their dinners, and let him come along today, so that had to mean he trusted him a little bit. 

        Frank decided to give a neutral response, one that was honest but still gave Gerard an opportunity to back out. "Well, you can at least think about it. I don't mind. Really."

        Gerard studied him for a moment as if he were trying to detect the hint of a lie. He wouldn't find one. 

        "Maybe I'll think about it," Gerard answered softly. 

        Shortly after, Cleo bounded up to them with a wide grin, her pigtails tangled from the ride.

        "Did you have fun?" Gerard asked, matching her infectious smile. 

        Cleo nodded vigorously. "So much fun."

        The change was instant, and Frank saw Cleo sway a little bit, her face going pale. "I don't feel so—"

        In a split second, Cleo bent over and threw up bright-colored pieces of candy, chocolate, and thick mush. It partially landed on the boardwalk, but mostly on Gerard's shoes and splattered onto his pants. Frank tried to stifle his laughter. It was disgusting but equally hilarious.

        Gerard's lips stayed pressed together in a thin line. He looked defeated but not surprised. 

        Cleo looked back up, still woozy and pale. "Sorry, daddy."

        Gerard picked her up and held her on his hip. She rested her cheek on his shoulder. "It's alright, sweetheart. We should get you home."

        The little girl just nodded and closed her eyes. 

        Gerard glared at Frank, who was clearly holding back laughter. "I'm partially blaming this on you."

        Frank felt like he did deserve some of that blame. "That's fair."

        "My birthday is coming up. I'm going to be nine! Oh, and I have a recital for school soon. I've been practicing all week," Cleo rambled at the end of their next lesson. 

        "It sounds like you have a busy schedule coming up," Frank mused. He was already brainstorming ideas of what to get Cleo for her birthday. "When is your recital?"

        Cleo thought about it for a moment with her pointer finger on her chin. "Next month, I think? Will you come?"

        Frank was pretty sure Gerard wouldn't mind. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

        Her little nose scrunched up when she smiled. "I'm going to be the best guitar player up there! Well, the only one. I'm going to be great though!"

        "I have no doubt about that," Frank said. 

        Cleo pranced into the living room with Frank not far behind her. Gerard was sitting on the couch, a sketchbook on his lap, but it looked like he was about to drift off to sleep rather than draw.

        Cleo snapped him back into full consciousness when she loudly announced, "Frank's gonna come to my recital!" 

        Gerard set down his sketchbook beside him and slowly leaned forward. "Oh?"

        Frank nodded. "If that's okay with you? I did teach her after all."

        Gerard tiredly smiled. His eyes were soft yet bright as he locked eyes with Frank. "We'd love for you to come."

        Something about that statement made Frank's lungs constrict. It wasn't only the words themselves, but the way Gerard said them. It felt honest and emotional. 

        "Thank you," he said softly. 

        He didn't know what he said thank you for at first, but slowly, he figured it out. He didn't say it because Gerard let him tag along. He said it because Gerard made him feel included, welcome, and part of their family that he had no business being in.

        Frank could feel Gerard's exhaustion the next time he came over. It was obvious when his smile didn't meet his eyes, and his shoulders were slumped. He didn't look like himself. 

        "It's just this work deadline I have soon, and I'm barely halfway done," Gerard explained when Frank asked. "Trying to plan Cleo's birthday party and work, and I have this showing thing coming up. It's just a bit overwhelming."

        "Are you working tonight too?" Frank asked as he set down his guitar.

        He could hear Cleo making a racket upstairs, probably finishing up whatever shenanigans she got up to with her dad right before he arrived. 

        Gerard nodded. 

        "Let me stay later today. I can watch Cleo for a few hours."

        Gerard stumbled over his words for a moment. "You really don't have to and—"

        "Just let me help," Frank interrupted. "Besides, she can't be that hard to entertain, right?"

        Gerard chuckled. "You'd be surprised. She has a new hobby every week."

        "So, what is it this week?"

        "Drawing. I think I prefer that one over baking."

        Frank thought back to the pounds of flour Gerard must have lost on his kitchen floor. 

        "Well, I think drawing I can do." Not well, but Cleo would appreciate that he tried. 

        Gerard slowly started to accept that Frank wasn't letting up, that he was serious and not just being nice. 

        "You're... really sure?"

        Frank nodded. "I'm a shitty artist, but maybe she can teach me something this time."

       After an hour of sketching, Cleo was dozing off in her sketchbook. Frank convinced her to at least move to the bed, and she was too tired to argue or do anything other than sleep after that. He tucked the blanket over her before cleaning up all their art supplies because he knew Cleo would never let him set foot in her room again if he left a mess. 

        Frank turned off the light and closed the door softly behind him before he ventured down the hallway. He never went this far into their home, and it felt like he was invading Gerard's personal space. He didn't even know which door was which. The only thing that gave it away was the thin beam of light peeking out from under the door at the end of the hall. 

        He knocked and opened the door after Gerard said to come in. 

        Gerard didn't look up when he stepped into the room, still bent over his desk and drawing on a screen. The room was relatively dark except for the small amount of light from the lamp by the desk. The walls were lined with shelves full of comic books, figurines, and art supplies. Frank didn't expect to see anything different, but he was still somehow surprised, like he stepped directly into Gerard's creative mind.

        "So this is where the magic happens. I feel like I'm walking into the Bat Cave, seeing a lot of cool secret stuff," Frank commented, staring at the full shelves in awe.

        "I'm flattered that you would compare my workspace to something as cool as the Bat Cave," Gerard chuckled as he continued tracing lines on his tablet.

        When he was focused like this, there was a small smile on his lips, and this intriguing look in his eyes. Like an artist who loved their work. Frank thought it was beautiful. 

        "Well, it is cool." Frank inspected all the figurines lined up on one of the corner bookshelves. Everything from cartoons to D&D characters.

        "I thought I was a 'huge fucking nerd'?"

        "Oh, you are. But a cool one," Frank said as he ran his finger over the many colorful comic book volumes on the shelf. 

        Gerard snorted. "I guess I'll take that as a compliment."

        It was a title he didn't recognize, but there was a swirly signature in black Sharpie at the top. It was a clear match to the artist's name. Frank imagined it wasn't too difficult to get signed work like this, considering he was in the field. This one seemed odd to him, though, a unique art style and strange names. 

        "Did you know the artist for this?"

        Gerard looked up from his work, his eyes adjusting after looking away from the desk lamp light. 

        He let out a hushed laugh. "Yeah, I guess you can say that. We had a fling."

        "Wait, seriously?" Frank gaped.

        He flipped to the back cover and thumbed through a few pages, trying to find the artist's picture. He could only find a cartoonish portrait, not an actual photo, which was disappointing. It was the first time Gerard had mentioned someone romantically other than his ex, and Frank was genuinely curious. 

        "You seemed shocked?" Gerard said in an amused tone. 

        Frank wasn't necessarily shocked that Gerard found random hookups and got laid. He was more surprised that he found the time. 

        He also never pegged Gerard as the casual type. Maybe he had only seen one side of Gerard—the sweet, caring, and emotional side—while he was being a dad. He never saw otherwise. He imagined Gerard having a night to himself and going out with the intent of finding a hookup. How did he decide who he wanted to take home? And after he took them home, did he really just fuck them no strings attached? Or maybe... let them fuck him?

        Frank cleared his dry throat. "I just didn't think you found the time. Being a single parent and all." He tried to make it sound casual and not like he was really thinking about it. He returned the comic to its proper place on the shelf. 

        "Even parents have to get laid," Gerard quipped, still smiling while looking down and sketching. 

        "Sure," Frank drawled. 

        Frank tried to remember the last time he got laid, the last time he had sex with his wife before their divorce. It was far too long ago, and a moment he didn't care to think about. His sex life was just as tragic as his love life. 

        Frank sat down on the corner of Gerard's desk, his knee only an inch away from touching Gerard's elbow. If he cared about Frank's closer proximity, he didn't show it. He continued drawing, his eyes focused downward, and occasionally biting his lip. Frank had the urge to push Gerard's hair back for him, uncovering more of his bright eyes, but he didn't move a muscle. 

        "Do you want kids of your own someday?" Gerard asked. It felt like a deep personal question, but he asked it flippantly.

        "I don't know. I thought about it, but then the divorce. And now I think it's too late anyway." 

        He was never completely sure about starting a family. When he was younger, he wanted nothing to do with children. They annoyed the shit out of him. After he got married, naturally, the next discussion was children. He thought about it and slowly opened up to the idea, but then, the band took off, and he was barely even home most of the time. He and his ex-wife tried for a while, but it just never happened.

        "Who says it's too late?"

        Frank scoffed. "By the time I get my shit together, I'll be like eighty. I'm pretty sure I'd be a horrible single dad anyway. Except maybe to another dog."

        Gerard glanced up at him for the first time in a while. "You don't plan on getting remarried?"

        Frank dejectedly shook his head. "I don't... It's hard to move on after that, I guess. I mean, I have moved on, but getting married in your forties seems kind of sad."

        "Hey!" Gerard objected with an offended tone.

        "Sorry," Frank giggled.

        Gerard shrugged, leaned back in his chair, and ran his fingers through his hair. It looked like he was giving up any chance of finishing work for the night. 

        "It's okay. Not like I plan on ever getting married either."

        Frank cocked his head to the side. "No?"

        "I sort of hate every guy I meet. Maybe I'm too picky."

        Gerard had every right to be picky. He was kind, successful, charming, and, even Frank couldn't deny, attractive. Any guy would be lucky to have him. He was always surprised that Gerard wasn't with anyone—being single for five years was quite the milestone—but now it all made sense. That, combined with the busy tasks of fatherhood, must have been near impossible to find someone, let alone someone who wasn't a dick.

        "Well, I'm sure the right one will come along eventually."

        Gerard hummed thoughtfully. "We'll see. I'm sure the right person will come along for you, too."

        "I'm content being alone forever."

        Gerard looked at him sadly. Not with pity but with understanding. With hope.

        "I think you would be a great dad," Gerard said softly. 

        Frank didn't know what it meant, but it made his heart skip a beat nonetheless. Or maybe that was because of the way Gerard looked at him—sincere and gentle.

        Frank smiled anxiously. He really tried to find the words to form an answer, but his mind was radio static.

        "It's late. I should—I should go," Frank muttered as he hopped off the desk. His stomach fluttered when his fingertips grazed over Gerard's forearm.

        Gerard sat still, completely calm and smiling easily. "Yeah, of course. Thank you again. For everything."

        "You'll never stop saying thank you, will you?"

        Gerard smirked. "Never. I have great manners."

        Frank rolled his eyes. "Keep telling yourself that."

        Frank was awake in bed, listening to his dogs snore from across the room in their beds. He didn't know how long he'd been lying there awake. It felt like hours, but he didn't check his phone because he didn't want to know. 

        He felt like a stupid teenager. Who else would lie awake this late at night, obsessing over someone? Well, he wouldn't call it an obsession. He wasn't obsessed, just intrigued. 

        The more he learned about Gerard, the more he liked him, which was the stark opposite of how he felt about most people. No matter how much they talked, how much he discovered about him, he still wanted to know more. 

        He knew Gerard liked the same kind of music. He liked art, books, and horror movies, and all the same ones that Frank did. He was patient, kind, and unique. He was unlike anyone Frank had ever met. 

        He wanted to spend more time with him, learn more about him, and that was the thing that confused him the most. He knew plenty of people. He had plenty of friends. He didn't want to make an effort to make more, and for the past decade, he hadn't. But then there was Gerard. 

        Wanting a new friend wasn't a bad thing. He knew it wasn't something to be ashamed of. Gerard was different, though, and he couldn't understand why. He made him feel different. 

        He tried to shut off his mind so he could finally sleep, but the restlessness didn't go away. In desperation, he imagined that Gerard was there with him instead. If Gerard were there now, he wouldn't have to think about him as if he were miles away.  

        "Five times seven?"

        "Thirty-five," Cleo answered with no hesitation. 

        "Twelve times four?"

        She thought a little longer this time. "Forty-eight."

        "Eight times eight?"

        Cleo tapped her finger against her chin. "Sixty-two?"

        Frank winced.

        "No, sixty-four!" She corrected.

        "I think you are ready for that test."

        "I'm going to get a hundred percent," Cleo said proudly from across the table.

        "You definitely are."

        Frank loved Cleo's confidence. No matter what it was, she gave it her all and had to be the best. Frank admired that about her. 

        Gerard was smiling from across the kitchen as he finished packing Cleo's school lunch for tomorrow. Frank thought it was adorable that Gerard always doodled some cartoon on a sticky note and stuck it to the bottom of her lunchbox. There was always a dessert too, either a small cookie or a piece of chocolate, because she couldn't go one meal without something sweet. 

        Cleo pushed away her finished homework and started bouncing in her seat. "My birthday party is this weekend," she said excitedly. "You're coming, right?"

        Frank smiled. "Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

        He truly meant that, too. He put it in his calendar weeks ago and already bought Cleo's present. Plus, it would have been a shame not to see all of Gerard's hard work at party planning. 

        "Good and bring a present," Cleo instructed. 

        "Cleo," Gerard chided from the kitchen. 

        As if Frank hadn't been contemplating her birthday present for weeks already. "It's a good thing I already have one wrapped, then."

        Cleo grinned brightly and went on to talk about her birthday, which apparently included a piñata and a bunch of cupcakes instead of a cake because "they're more fun to eat" than regular cake. She couldn't wait to see all her friends and wear a new sparkly dress her dad bought last week. Frank sat still and listened to it all, finding her enthusiasm adorable. 

        Cleo continued for another minute until Gerard came over and scooped her up out of the kitchen chair and into his arms. Cleo giggled.

        "Alright, kiddo. It is past your bedtime," he said as he sat Cleo back down.

        "Can't I stay up a little longer?" Cleo whined.

        "You should get plenty of rest for your big test tomorrow," Gerard said.

        Cleo huffed but didn't argue with that logic. "Okay, fine."

        "I'll be up in a minute."

        "Goodnight, Frank!" Cleo called as she headed to the bottom of the stairs.

        "Goodnight, Cleo," Frank yelled back.

        "And brush your teeth!" Gerard shouted, followed by Cleo groaning dramatically as the pitter-patter sound of her footsteps faded up the stairs. 

        That was Frank's cue to leave. He stacked up Cleo's homework and put it back in the folder before slipping it into her backpack on the table so she wouldn't forget it in the morning. Not that he thought she would; she's far too responsible.

        "Thank you for staying," Gerard said from across the table, giving him a weary smile.

        Gerard was still keen on thanking him for every little thing, even though Frank already knew Gerard was thankful. He didn't need to hear it a dozen times, but he certainly couldn't say he felt unappreciated. 

        "Yeah, of course."

        Frank stood up, realizing now how tired he felt, too. Did he need the same bedtime as an eight-year-old? 

        He thought about how the rest of his night would go; he'd pick up his things, drive the short way home, and open the door to greet no one except his dogs. He'd fall asleep alone. This was all typical routine by now, yet the thought still made his heart sink just a little. 

        For a small moment, he thought he didn't want to leave. But nothing would come from him staying, except Gerard thinking he was pathetic and lonely. 

        Gerard wiped Cleo's cookie crumbs off the table and looked over at Frank. "I know you've been helping a lot lately, and I really appreciate it. Seriously, it means so much, and, um, I can pay you more for all the extra time. I know it's a lot and—"

        "No, it's fine," Frank interrupted. "Seriously, I don't mind. Cleo, she's—spending time with her isn't a job, you know? She's a great kid."

        Gerard blinked, his mouth moving as if he was trying to find the words to say but couldn't. He didn’t look in disbelief, just... astonished, like no one had told him something like that before. 

        "Yeah, she is," he replied eventually. "I honestly have no idea where she gets it from."

        It seemed like he wanted to say more, but didn’t. Frank swore he saw a glimmer in his eyes, but it was only for a second until Gerard's gaze dropped down to the kitchen tile. 

        "Well, her dad is pretty cool too," Frank said lightly. 

        It was true, but Frank didn't know why he said it. It just slipped out. Did it classify as flirting? No, it was just a compliment, right? What would Gerard think, though? It made his stomach twist up in a knot, but when Gerard smiled back at him, it came undone. 

        "I'm glad one of us thinks so."

        Frank did think so, and he was sure he had a blush that matched Gerard's.

        Cleo's birthday party was nothing short of perfect. Frank expected such since Gerard would only have the absolute best for her, even if that meant a giant piñata, too many fancy sweets, twenty children running around, and a bouncy house in the backyard. Frank had no idea how the hell he was keeping up with all of it. 

        He slipped around through the back gate, sliding through the crowd of parents to set his gift on the table already stacked with presents. Cleo was going to have a ton of things to keep her busy in the weeks to come, it seemed. 

        The yard was overly decorated with streamers and balloons. There were tables stacked full of snacks, kids weaving around them, and close to tumbling into them.  

        The adults stood off to the side near the wooden fence, red solo cups in hand, and chatting with one another. 

        He felt out of place. There weren't any familiar faces in the crowd, of course. Unlike most of the others there, he wasn't a parent dragged there by their kid. He wasn't a parent at all. That thought never really bothered him before, but this time it was followed by an indescribable hollowness that he didn't understand.

        "Frank!" Cleo screamed, running into him with full force and wrapping her small arms around his waist. "You're here!"

        "Hey, happy birthday, Cleo," Frank greeted and hugged her tightly. 

        She wore the sparkly pink dress she was so excited about, poofy and long, so it made her look like a princess. Her hair was pulled back into two tight pigtail braids. Did Gerard know how to braid hair? 

        "Uncle Mikey said he really wants to meet you. Come on!" 

        Mikey. Gerard mentioned having a brother, but Frank knew little about him. It might have been only the second time he had even heard his name.

        Frank didn't get a chance for a rebuttal before Cleo's little hand pulled at his wrist, leading him across the backyard to the side of the house. In the shade of the house, leaning against the siding, was a tall, thin blonde who Frank was sure he had seen before. Maybe he saw a picture of him somewhere in Gerard's home before, and there was no mistaking the resemblance between them. 

        "Uncle Mikey, this is Frank," Cleo introduced, sounding all professional.

        Mikey gave a half-smile, and Frank tried his best to smile back. He hoped his nervousness wasn't obvious, and even though Mikey wasn't intimidating, his palms were still sweating. He also felt anxious about the entire situation, the large crowd, and screaming children around them.

        What did Gerard say about Frank to his brother? From an outsider's perspective, Frank could appear as some stranger who forced himself into their family. Gerard asked him to give his daughter lessons, nothing more. Not to stay late and help watch Cleo. Not to stay for dinner or go places with them. Not to be friends. 

        Maybe Frank had overstepped his boundaries—since a long ass time ago—but Gerard happily let him, so surely that meant something.

        Frank's mouth felt dry as he spoke, trying to sound casual. "Hey, it's nice to meet you."

        "Likewise," Mikey returned. His expression and neutral tone didn't give anything away.

        Cleo took off after someone called her name, running through the crowd while somehow managing not to knock anyone over. He watched her do a cute little dance as another girl placed a tiara on her head. 

        "I've heard a ton about you," Mikey stated.

        He was watching Frank, almost in a judgmental way, except Mikey kept this small, amused smile, like he knew something Frank didn't. 

        "I didn't know Cleo talked about me that much," Frank replied.  

        "Oh, not Cleo. It's Gerard who talks about you nonstop."

        Frank's stomach did a small flip. Gerard talked about him to his brother? A lot? He didn't think Gerard gushed over him like Mikey made it sound, although he would kind of like it if he did.

        He awkwardly giggled. "Oh, really?"

        Mikey nodded. "He says Cleo loves you. And I have to thank you for helping Gee out. He never admits that he needs it sometimes."

        Now that Frank thinks about it, Gerard never specifically asked for his help—he just always did. A heavy feeling weighed in his stomach because, briefly, he thought maybe all this time Gerard didn't want his help, and he was getting in the way. But Gerard always made sure to thank him, so surely he didn't mind Frank being around, right?

        "Yeah, I can see that. Gerard and Cleo are both great, though. I don't mind helping."

        In fact, he looked forward to helping, genuinely wanted to. 

        "Speaking of helping," Mikey started. "I think Gee is getting ready to bring out the cupcakes. He wanted you to be here before we sang Happy Birthday."

        Frank didn't let his thoughts linger on the fact that Gerard waited for him. "Yeah, sure."

        He followed Mikey through the back door to the mostly empty house, where Frank could calm his nerves. In the kitchen, Gerard stood with his back to them, facing the counter and organizing a careful stack of cupcakes on a tiered tray. It looked like there was at least one cupcake of every flavor. Cleo really was spoiled. Not that Frank was judging. She deserved it. 

        "Gee, guess who's here?" Mikey yelled, loud enough to make his brother jolt and almost knock over the cupcakes. 

        "Jesus, Mikey. Do you have to yell?" Gerard sighed before turning around, revealing rainbow and star stickers scattered on his cheeks. He beamed when he saw Frank, and just that look made the fluttering feeling in his stomach spread. "You made it."

        "Cleo would never forgive me if I missed it. I like your stickers," Frank commented.

        "Cleo insisted on princess-themed everything."

        "I'm surprised you're not in a princess dress, to be honest," Mikey mused. 

        "They didn't have any in my size," Gerard said with a pout.

        Frank giggled at that. He reached over just in time to stabilize the cupcake stand before it tipped from Gerard's movements. 

        "Fuck," Gerard swore, wincing when a glob of icing stuck to his arm. "I think I'm already tired of birthday parties."

        "Don't worry, you only have about ten more left until she moves out," Mikey quipped. 

        Gerard shot him a glare. "Don't remind me. About parties or moving out." 

        Frank laughed again and helped rearrange the cupcakes. "I got this, okay?"

        Gerard raised his eyebrows. "You sure?"

        Frank smiled. "I'm sure. This way, the cupcakes stay in one piece with all their icing."

        Gerard squinted at him like he tried to be angry, but a smile curled on his lips and gave him away. "Thanks, Frankie."

        Frankie. A nickname he sometimes hated, but not when Gerard said it. 

        Gerard licked the small bit of icing off the side of his wrist, his pink tongue barely peeking out between his lips. It was a small, quick movement, but Frank couldn't look away.

        His heart skipped a beat, and he focused on not repeating Gerard's mistake of ruining any cupcakes.

        After another two hours, the party was over, and Cleo took a post-party nap. Frank stayed to clean up despite Gerard's insistence that he didn't have to, but Frank would have felt guilty leaving with such a giant mess still there.

        He walked around with a trash bag, picking up empty paper cups and plates. Across the yard, he watched Gerard smash a cupcake in Mikey's face, leaving a giant white glob on his nose.

        "Gee, you asshole!" Mikey screeched.

        Mikey was already retaliating, grabbing a cupcake and shoving it in his brother's face, putting an end to Gerard's laughter. 

        Frank laughed, too, and made sure to keep his distance so he didn't get caught in the crossfire of their cupcake war. For a moment, Frank wished he had a sibling. Maybe he was just desperate to have a semblance of family. He felt like an outsider looking in, once again observing something he didn't have and maybe never will.

        Cleo was determined to practice extra before her recital that Friday, so much so that Frank was concerned for her little, calloused fingers. Still, she seemed upbeat and confident while playing her part over and over again. By the end of the week, Frank was sure he had it memorized, too. 

        Frank stayed later that night while Gerard dedicated the extra time to finishing his projects for an upcoming deadline. Cleo fell asleep on the couch halfway through Toy Story with an open package of Skittles in her lap that he carefully moved before they spilled all over the floor. 

        Gerard came down the stairs a few minutes later in sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, his hair dripping wet. It was the first time Frank really saw him dressed so casually, not in his usual jeans and long-sleeved shirts. It almost felt invasive, like Frank wasn't acquainted enough—didn't deserve—to see Gerard that way. 

        "Sorry. I, uh, had a paint mishap," Gerard apologized with a shy smile. "Thanks for staying."

        "Yeah, of course," Frank whispered, low enough not to disturb Cleo. He carefully stood from the couch, trying not to jostle the cushions and pillows too much. Cleo stayed asleep, despite usually being the world's lightest sleeper. "I think she's out for the night anyway."

        Frank's eyes were drawn to a small water drop slipping down the curve of Gerard's jaw. A few more drops fell when he pushed back his wet bangs, landing gracefully on the pale skin of his throat. 

        Frank licked his dry lips and looked away. 

        "I just, um, wanted to let you know that if you ever need anything, you can call anytime," Gerard said warmly, biting his bottom lip for a short moment. "You do so much for us. I want to return the favor."

        Frank's heart lurched in his chest. Just a little bit. It wasn't a big deal, the same words he heard from all his friends and bandmates, but it was different coming from Gerard somehow. He already considered Gerard a friend, which was a rare occurrence since he wasn't a fan of most people, especially this quickly. Maybe the feeling was simply because it meant Gerard officially considered them friends, too. Maybe it was just because he was lonely. Whatever that tight feeling in his chest was... Frank was going to ignore it. 

        "Thank you for that. I, um, I appreciate it. You can always do the same."

        Gerard smiled, and that tightness in Frank's chest only got worse.

        When Frank got home, he scrolled to Gerard's contact, skimming through their messages to realize their conversations sounded more like childcare business partners than friends. Gerard let him know if they needed to reschedule, or talked about Cleo's progress, or occasionally sent pictures of Cleo being candidly adorable. They never talked about... well, anything else. At least, not over text. 

        They talked about other things when Frank came over for dinners or when he was about to leave after staying late for Cleo's lessons. That just didn't seem like enough to Frank. He wanted to know Gerard. He wanted to know everything about him, from his darkest fears to his favorite color. 

        It was strange just how much he wanted to know. Frank had plenty of friends, wasn't desperate for one, and yet when it came to Gerard, he was aching to get close to him, learn about him, or simply be near him. 

        Frank stared at his phone screen while his thumbs hovered over the keyboard. He wanted to type a simple message, ask Gerard to hang out. Did adults still call it "hanging out"? What would he even ask him to do? Wouldn't it be pathetic if Frank texted him just to say he wanted to talk with no excuse? The message would say something stupid like, Hey, I think you're one of the most amazing people I've ever met, and I want to get to know you better, but I'm always too afraid to ask, so I settled for texting you all this instead?

        Frank wanted to, but he didn't. 

        He sighed, shut off his phone, and made a poor attempt to sleep. 

        It was their last lesson before Cleo's recital, and Frank showed up a little earlier than usual with a hot, paper cup of coffee in his free hand. 

        It just so happened he had to meet with someone from their label early that morning, and also just so happened he drove right past his favorite local coffee shop. He didn't stop just because he knew Gerard loved coffee—Frank saw the half-empty coffee cups littered around his studio and saw him drink it to stay up late while working. It wasn't just because he wanted to bring Gerard something... Okay, fine. Frank didn't get anything for himself, just a sugary latte he thought Gerard would enjoy because he once watched him stir in heaping spoonfuls of sugar into his morning cup of coffee. 

        So, maybe he did care a little bit too much. Maybe he was sweating a little bit when Gerard opened the door and smiled at him just as brightly as usual. 

        "Hey, Frankie."

        'Frankie' was still a new development. Every time Gerard said his nickname, Frank felt all warm inside.

        "I, uh, was getting coffee this morning and thought I'd get something for you, too. If you like pistachio lattes?" Frank offered with an unsure tone as he stepped inside and set down his guitar case. 

        Gerard's eyes lit up. "Yeah, I'd love one! Thanks."

        Gerard took the cup from his hand, and his fingers brushed against the back of Frank's hand as he took the cup, making his skin tingle like static. Frank felt like the touch lingered longer than it should have. No, definitely longer than it should have. Even after he pulled away, Frank felt like Gerard's warm fingers left an imprint on him. Did he... want them to still be there? Feel his touch again?

        Gerard smirked at him—Frank couldn't tell what it meant—before taking a quick sip of his coffee. 

        "Cleo's excited for her recital. She's practiced every day," Gerard said. 

        He said something else, but Frank could only focus on Gerard licking some white foam from his top lip. He hoped Gerard hadn't asked him a question and replied, "Yeah, I'm excited to watch her play."

        Gerard looked down at the cup in his hand, fiddling with the cardboard sleeve. "Thank you for coming with us. I've been going to these kinds of things alone for so long, it's just nice to have someone else there, you know?" Gerard's cheeks flushed pink, and Frank wondered if it was from something other than the hot coffee. "For her, I mean."

        Frank wasn't oblivious, and the look Gerard gave him told him everything he wasn't saying. He didn't know why he wanted so badly for Gerard to say it plainly. Say that he wanted him there. Say how he really felt. If he felt anything more at all. 

        He didn't know why it suddenly mattered. Why did it matter? Frank didn't care—shouldn't care—because even if Gerard felt anything for him, Frank wouldn't reciprocate. 

        But he wanted to tell Gerard that he wanted to be there for him always. 

        He listened to Gerard talk about the plans for Cleo's recital, the whole time thinking about how Gerard's touch felt on his skin. 

        Cleo perfected her part to the point where Frank had nothing to critique. She was more than ready for her recital, and she knew it, too. 

        "I'm so excited!" Cleo squealed as she led Frank back downstairs. "You and Dad will be right in front, right?" 

        "As close as we can get. Promise," Frank assured.

        Cleo beamed, her bright eyes and cute scrunched-up nose reminding him of Gerard's. 

        An uneasy feeling bubbled in his gut at the thought of sitting next to Gerard at the recital, watching Cleo together. From another perspective, it might look like they were more than just friends.

        Frank pulled up just in time to meet Gerard and Cleo outside their car in the parking lot. Cleo insisted on carrying her own guitar case even though it was over half her size. 

        Gerard closed the trunk and anxiously watched her as she wobbled with the guitar case in her right hand, still grinning the entire time.

        Frank smiled as he approached them, and Cleo was the first to notice him, tugging on her dad's sleeve to get his attention. 

        "Frank is here!" she exclaimed. She carefully set down her guitar case and ran forward to hug him, her head pressing against his waist. 

        "Of course I am. I had to come see my favorite maestro perform," Frank enthused. 

        He felt honored that Cleo was so excited about his presence. Not only was it heartwarming, but it made him feel accepted, like he wasn't invited out of pity.

        Cleo grabbed her guitar again once she pulled away. "Come on, let's go!"

        Frank looked over to see Gerard already watching him, a small smile on his lips. Frank couldn't help but notice how nice he looked, dressed in tight black jeans and a black button-up shirt, but different from the casual clothes he wore at home.

        "Thank you for coming," Gerard said softly, sounding truly appreciative. 

        "As if I'd ever miss it."

        He walked alongside Gerard, closely following Cleo, who was skipping along in her purple dress with guitar in hand. Frank couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and joy. That kid had really worked her way into his heart.

        The auditorium was surprisingly full, but they managed to find two seats in the second row, hopefully close enough to fulfill Cleo's wish. He read over the front and back of the pamphlet, seeing Cleo Way listed as playing in every song that night. 

        "She's been looking forward to this. And practicing nonstop," Gerard said. 

        Frank nervously thumbed the pages in the pamphlet, just noticing how crowded the auditorium was. He was used to crowds, but in a much different context, and this was new to him. It didn't help that the room was entirely too warm for the long-sleeve shirt and jeans he wore. He was also hyperaware of how close the uncomfortable seats were together and how close Gerard's leg was to his own. 

        "Yeah, I'm proud of her. She's really good, you know?" 

        Gerard nodded, and Frank thought he looked a little anxious, too. Gerard didn't seem like the type who would be comfortable in large crowds.

        "I think that's just because she has a good teacher," Gerard whispered with a smile. He was so close that Frank could still hear him over the chatter of the crowd.

        Frank didn't mind compliments and was confident enough to accept them without a problem. It was one simple compliment, but coming from Gerard, it made him tongue-tied. He could feel his cheeks turning pink, which only made things worse. He was embarrassed for being embarrassed over nothing. 

        Frank shook his head. "I don't think I'm that great."

        "You are, though," Gerard insisted. "And Cleo likes you. That speaks for itself. She's way too picky."

        "Just like her dad."

        Gerard snorted and rolled his eyes. His smile revealed he wasn't offended, and he couldn't be because it was true. Frank had known him to be especially picky over people, and honestly, he felt flattered that both Gerard and Cleo liked him. That said a lot.

        Before Gerard could say anything back, the lights darkened, the chatter quieted, and the red curtains in front of the stage slowly peeled back. He couldn't help but grin when he saw Cleo on stage, looking directly at them with joy from the corner of the stage. In the corner of his vision, he saw Gerard's proud, sweet smile.

        Halfway through the show, Gerard shuffled slightly in his seat, just enough so that his arm pressed right against Frank's on the armrest. 

        After a few seconds, it was evident Gerard wasn't pulling away, and Frank didn't either. That would have been weird, right? Instead, he stayed still and stared ahead, but it was hard to focus when he felt the heat from Gerard's arm against his through their sleeves. 

        Frank looked at him—trying not to turn his head too much and be obvious—only to see Gerard's gaze set forward. It was as if he thought nothing of it or didn't notice. As if he wasn't having a total internal war like Frank was. 

        Truthfully, the simple touch was... nice. Comforting. He wanted to lean into it, slide a little closer to Gerard to feel more of his warmth.

        He knew it had been a long time since he felt someone else's touch, but this was sad even for him. Was he really so touch-starved that he was freaking out over this? Or maybe it wasn't just that, but the fact that this was Gerard. 

        Frank took a deep breath and watched the recital, trying and failing to pay no mind to the fact that Gerard was touching him. Paying no mind to the fact that he liked it and wasn't pulling away. 

        Cleo was, just as they suspected, perfect. She bowed along with the other kids at the end of the last song, grinning adorably as the sound of applause filled the auditorium.

        In a way, it was weird. Frank never experienced this or even imagined he would—feeling something similar to being a parent. Then, there was Gerard beside him, who looked just as happy and proud, and for just a moment, Frank felt like his life was full again. Like he had something to fill that lonely void in his chest for once. Some concept of a family. Or maybe something else—he didn't even know anymore—because he felt these little butterflies in his stomach as he saw Gerard happy. 

        After the recital was officially announced as over, they attempted to shuffle through the hectic crowd to the door. They didn’t make it far before a young woman stopped them. She was petite with red, curly hair, and judging by her eager demeanor, she knew Gerard fairly well.

        "Gerard!" she greeted, a high-pitched tone that made Frank recoil slightly. Her gaze flickered back and forth between them with a playful smirk. "I can't believe you didn't tell me you were seeing someone! Especially someone so cute."

        Oh God. Frank felt like he was sinking into the floor.

        Gerard was taken aback, stuttering over his words as his cheeks flushed. "Shana, this is, um, Frank, and it's not—he's not, uh—"

        "I'm just Cleo's guitar teacher, actually," Frank jumped in, attempting to calm Gerard's flustered state despite how cute he found it. 

        Shana's inquisitive stare turned into one of horror. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry. I made things weird there, didn't I?" 

        "No, it's fine," Gerard assured with a tight-lipped smile. He looked at Frank nervously, still blushing, when he continued, "Cleo adores Frank. He's a great teacher."

        Frank felt the flapping of wings in his stomach again as Gerard gave him a small smile, one like they were exchanging a secret. 

        "Clearly, she's learned a lot. She played great tonight. It's nice to meet the one responsible for her gift," Shana said. 

        Frank politely smiled at her but didn't know what to say.

        "Milo did great tonight, too," Gerard complimented. Shana was a fellow parent then. 

        "He did, didn't he?" She said with pride. "He was practicing his clarinet every day. I have to admit, I'm glad I don't have to hear those same songs over and over again."

        Gerard giggled. "Me too."

        Shana looked between them again, like she was trying to tell if they really were just friends. "Well, I should get going. It was nice to meet you, Frank."

        "You too," Frank returned.

        She gave a small wave as she turned away, leaving the two of them in an awkward silence. 

        "We should, uh, go find Cleo," Gerard said, sparing Frank only a quick glance before they left the auditorium. 

        Gerard convinced him to come over for dinner, and Cleo gave him her biggest puppy dog eyes until he agreed to stay for a movie after that. After a veggie burger, one of Cleo's famous cupcakes (only slightly underbaked), and two glasses of wine, he barely managed to stay awake through Homeward Bound. And no, he did not tear up at the end of the movie because he knew Shadow would get back up, and he knew he would go home in the end. It didn't make it any less of an emotional moment, okay?

        He peered over at Gerard, whose eyes also looked a little shiny, lit up by the bright colors on the TV. Cleo sat criss-crossed between them, sniffling and wiping her eyes over her bag of sour candy. 

        His heart swelled in his chest, but there was also this small sting. A sting because of what, he didn’t know.

        He realized how nice this was—a simple, sweet moment that he never got to experience. Maybe it just hit him that he missed his chance if he wanted a family of his own, that he would continue going home alone to his empty house every night for the rest of his life. He couldn't live in this little family fantasy with Gerard and Cleo forever. 

        He watched Chance, Sassy, and Shadow crawl over the hill to reunite with their family, and the stinging only felt worse. His eyes started watering again. This fucking movie. 

        His eyelids were drooping, and he dreaded the short drive home. He couldn't stop the yawn that left him, and Gerard was quick to notice his tired state. 

        "You can stay here tonight," Gerard offered. "It's late."

        "I, um, don't want to impose or anything," Frank said. Though he wouldn't mind sleeping on the couch if it meant not crashing his car from drowsiness.

        "You should stay! Dad won't mind!" Cleo shouted with way too much energy for the late-night hour. "He likes you. He said he thinks you're cute and—"

        "Okay! Time for bed!" Gerard interrupted, standing up and shuffling Cleo towards the stairs. 

        Frank felt a happy flitter in his chest, and his lips curled up in an involuntary smile.

        "But I'm not even tired!" She denied, despite the yawn that shortly followed. 

        "Come on. Bed." 

        Cleo went into a fit of giggles when Gerard picked her up to carry her up the stairs.

        Frank made himself comfortable on the couch, smiling to himself. Cute. Gerard thought he was cute. 

        "I think I need more wine," Gerard announced when he returned. 

        He grabbed the open bottle from the kitchen table and their two glasses, coming back to set them on the coffee table and pour them both a new glass. 

        Frank couldn't help smirking as he asked, "So... cute, huh?"

        Gerard was totally blushing, and Frank felt too much pride about that. 

        "Kids come up with the craziest things, right?"

        "I think they just repeat everything they hear," Frank countered.

        Gerard handed him his glass, smiling shyly as he brushed Frank's fingers. "I should make sure she's not in the room when I'm on the phone with Mikey from now on."

        Frank's smile grew even wider. Gerard talked to his brother about him, even told him he thought he was cute? He was worthy enough to warrant being the topic of conversation with Mikey? Why did that fact make him elated? It wasn't a personal thing but a natural reaction; everyone wanted to be liked or appreciated.

        Frank took a slow sip of wine, savoring the tangy, fruity taste. He didn't drink much anymore because if he did, he would be drinking at home alone, which was too depressing. Drinking wine was an occasion he only partook in with Gerard.

        "So, how's work been?" Frank questioned. 

        Gerard sat down beside him—only leaving a small space between them—and seemed thankful for the change in subject. "Good. I mean, busy. I still have deadlines for my comic pages, but I've had to work on everything for the showing. Both at once is just... a lot."

        Gerard ran a hand through his hair, looking stressed just from the reminder of work. Frank felt guilty for taking up so much of his time. It was a night he could have spent working, catching up on his deadlines, but instead, he was there talking to Frank as if he were more important. 

        He remembered Gerard mentioning his showing a few times. He spent a lot of nights painting giant canvases and coming downstairs in paint-covered clothes. Frank didn’t get to see the paintings. Not from lack of trying, because he did ask, but Gerard said he wanted them to remain mysterious.

        Frank leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "When is your showing?"

        "Only a few more weeks. I think I'll be relieved once it's over," Gerard answered. 

        "So, is it just a bunch of fancy art snobs looking to buy your art?"

        Gerard huffed out a laugh. "You're not wrong. God, they always look like they're going to eat me alive. I'm kind of nervous about it. It'll suck if they hate everything, and they will definitely let everyone know if they do, and I wasted all that time for nothing."

        "You don't have anything to worry about. Your art is amazing."

        "You haven't even seen it," Gerard pointed out.

        "Yeah, but I've seen some of your other stuff, and it's awesome. I also just know it's going to be amazing because you're amazing."

        Frank thought maybe Gerard was blushing again, but the other man took a slow sip from his glass, hiding the color on his cheeks. 

        Frank felt like he had gone too far with his words. It was a lot, and he didn't mean for it to just come out like that, even if it was true. Gerard was amazing. And so much more. 

        "Do I get to see your work?" Frank said. He knew Gerard was going to say no, but the question was more to break the awkward tension. 

        Gerard bit his lip, his gaze flickering between Frank and his glass of wine. "I actually wanted to talk to you about that. Well, about the showing night and..."

        "Do you need me to watch Cleo?" Frank finished when Gerard trailed off.

        "No, um. I wanted to ask if you would come? To my showing with me?"

        Frank had a surge of panic rise in his chest. Because what did this mean? What did Gerard expect from him? What if something went horribly wrong?

        But he couldn't let those thoughts get to him and gave his answer without much hesitation. "Of course, Gee. I'd love to."

        Gerard let out a shaky breath in relief. It was strange that he seemed nervous to even ask, but then, Frank realized that was the first time Gerard ever really asked him for anything. Even when it came to Cleo, Frank always offered to help; Gerard didn't have to ask, and he wasn't the type to ask for help even when he did need it, just like Mikey had said. 

        All Frank wanted to do was help him. All he wanted was to be beside him. All he wanted was...

        What did he want? 

        He was only more confused when he looked at Gerard beside him, a small smile on his lips and eyes full of endearment. Frank had to take another drink of wine, swallowing it down so fast it burned. 

        "I know I've said it before, but I really appreciate everything you do for Cleo. Everything you do for both of us. I feel like sometimes I'm not... like I'm not good enough for her, you know? Just by myself," Gerard admitted in a small, sad voice.

        It hurt Frank to hear him talk about himself like that. "You're a great dad, Gee. And Cleo loves you. You should hear how she talks about you."

        Gerard let out a long breath. "I know, but sometimes I worry she thinks it's not fair that others have two parents instead of one. She asked me for the first time if she would ever have a mom or another dad."

        Frank set down his empty wine glass on the coffee table. He wasn't expecting Gerard to pour him yet another glass, but he didn't stop him when he did. 

        "What did you tell her?"

        Gerard shrugged. "That I didn't know."

        Frank's usual self-control had tampered, and the question left his mouth without permission. "Do you want to be with someone?"

        Frank picked up his wine glass again to keep his twitchy hands busy. Of course, he had wondered how open Gerard was to a relationship. He wondered if he felt the same longing for someone like Frank did sometimes. But thinking about these things was far different from fucking asking.

        "Doesn't everyone?" Gerard answered easily. "Being alone sucks sometimes, but I just... I want what's best for Cleo. I don't want to bring just anyone around her."

        "You don't have to be alone. You deserve to be happy, and I think seeing you happy would make Cleo happy too."

        Gerard fiddled with the stem of his almost-empty wine glass. "I never have the time, and dating is..." Gerard paused and gave a look of disgust. "Exhausting."

        Frank chuckled. "Yeah, I don't think I even remember how dating works."

        "Have you been seeing anyone?" Gerard's voice wavered as he asked. He seemed antsy from all the wine. 

        Frank shook his head because his love life was a major joke. He hadn't even tried to get back out there after the divorce, and even if he had, he was pretty sure it wouldn't go well anyway. He didn't want to waste time on failed date after failed date and take a major bruise to his ego. Being lonely was easier than that. 

        "No. I haven't even tried after the divorce. Sad, I know."

        Gerard snorted. "Can't be sadder than my love life."

        Frank thought his love life was far more tragic than Gerard's. Because Gerard had Cleo, had his shit together, was an amazing dad, and so much better of a person than Frank could ever hope to be. 

        He didn't know what came over him, but his guard dropped so far that the words came out against his will. "It does suck being alone sometimes. I'm still not used to going home with no one there. It's lonely, and I just—I'm glad to have you and Cleo."

        That was the first time in a long time Frank had opened up to someone like that. It terrified him. He had no idea how Gerard would interpret it, either, or if he crossed some sort of line.

        Gerard's eyes searched his own for what felt like ages. Looking for what, Frank didn't know. He shifted under his gaze and worried that Gerard was pitying him or was uncomfortable from his confession. Frank polished off his wine in an attempt to calm himself, but he was pretty sure it wouldn't work. Gerard carefully took the glass out of his hand and set it down on the table along with his own.

        And then, Gerard moved just the smallest bit closer, his voice so soft and benevolent. "We're glad to have you. I'm glad to have you."

        Frank's next breath got stuck in his throat, and he felt hot all over. Not only from what he said, but from the way Gerard's gaze slowly lowered to his lips. 

        It all happened so fast. Gerard leaned in and kissed him, his lips pressing against his, clumsy and a little off-center. 

        Frank couldn't breathe, couldn't think. At least, not anything other than those are Gerard's lips. Gerard. 

        This icy feeling started in his stomach, even though Gerard was so warm and so close. Gerard's lips were so soft, barely moving, and Frank was still in too much shock to react.

        It was brief, barely lasting a few seconds before Gerard pulled back with his eyes wide and full of fear. He looked like just had the biggest regret of his life.

        Gerard started to apologize. "Fuck, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

        But Frank didn't let him finish.

        He didn't think about consequences. He didn't really think at all, just moved on instinct. His voice of reason was so quiet, an echo in his head that was a million miles away, while this feeling of want was so much louder.

        Frank placed his hand under the other man's jaw and guided him back in to press their lips together again.

        This time, when Gerard's lips touched his, that icy feeling inside of him melted. He wanted to take advantage of this moment, take whatever Gerard would give.

        Gerard didn't hesitate to kiss back, but he moved so careful and slow as if he was afraid of frightening him away otherwise. Frank let him lead, staying slow and gentle until Gerard made a little whimpering noise against his lips that only spurred him on. He kissed harder, and Gerard finally stopped holding back. One of Gerard's hands slid up to the back of his neck, fingers weaving in his hair. When Gerard's tongue swiped against his bottom lip, Frank parted his lips, letting him in so his tongue could stroke his own. He could taste the sweet wine on his lips and tongue, feel Gerard's hands trembling, and Frank felt like he was getting even more drunk off of it.

        Frank's heart pounded in his chest, and when Gerard's fingers lightly grazed up his waist, he quivered under his touch, but not because he didn't like it. In fact, he liked it too much. It made his skin tingle, heat bursting everywhere he touched. 

        Frank couldn't remember the last time he had a kiss like this.

        It was such a rush, new and exciting. It was all unfamiliar—a man's hands touching him and the feeling of someone bigger and stronger against him—but he wanted more of it. Fuck, he needed it. And he was too addled from wine and adrenaline to deny it.

        The kiss grew deeper quickly, and when Gerard pushed him back against the couch, Frank didn't fight it. Gerard crawled over him, his body hovering over his, and Frank was easily lost in it. He wrapped his arms around Gerard's waist, desperately held on so he didn't pull away, and kissed him back hungrily. 

        Gerard's hands so slowly slipped up the bottom of his shirt, making Frank shiver once again. It was frightening and at the same time, electrifying. He never did anything with a man before, and this was all so new to him. He needed more time to get himself together, figure out what the hell he was doing—because he wasn't even into men, right?—but he didn't stop.

        Gerard's kisses moved from his lips to his jaw, and then to his neck, making goosebumps rise on Frank's skin. He gasped as Gerard's kissing turned to licking and sucking.

        Frank laid his head back against the cushions, closing his eyes and just feeling. He felt overheated as Gerard's body pressed closer against him, and Frank held onto Gerard's waist tighter. He bit his lip, trying to hold back any noises, but some quiet and strained moans still slipped out. 

        Gerard responded with his own quiet moan, and God, if Frank didn't fucking love that sound. It sent a buzzing feeling down his spine. 

        Gerard's fingers traced a line down his sides until he reached the waistband, his touch so close to the button of his jeans, so close to slipping inside. 

        Frank had to stop this before it went too far. But why couldn't he? Why was he letting this happen? 

        He wasn't sure how far he would go or if he would ever find the strength to stop. Would he let Gerard keep going and take whatever he wanted? Would that be so bad? If Gerard's hands kept going, sliding lower and lower as his mouth and tongue moved on his neck...

        He couldn't think about what it meant, but what if he didn't want to? What if he just wanted to enjoy this? So what if he was growing desperate, grasping at Gerard's shirt. So what if he arched his back to feel more of Gerard's body and to hear him moan again? So what if his pants were starting to feel tight?

        Gerard kissed his lips again, rough and wanton. 

        Just when Gerard's hand slipped an inch lower, his fingertips so close to his zipper, the sound of small thumps carried into the room from the stairs. 

        Cleo's voice followed shortly after. "Daddy?" 

        Frank felt like a cold bucket of water had just spilled over him, drowning him in reality.

        Gerard jolted away from him, retreating to the complete opposite side of the couch. He looked frazzled, hair a mess, his face flushed, and his lips swollen and red.

        Frank sat up just in time as Cleo rounded the corner into the living room. She was in her matching set of cat pajamas and one of her stuffed bears wrapped in her arms. 

        She didn't look at them closely, didn't seem to think anything was off. Frank was thankful she was young enough not to catch on. 

        "Yes, sweetheart?" Gerard said, his voice hoarse and breathless. 

        "I had a nightmare," Cleo stated. "I'm scared."

        Gerard looked at her sympathetically, stood up, and picked her up when she reached up to him. 

        He kissed the top of her head. "Okay, sweetie. I'll come upstairs to keep you safe."

        Gerard looked over at him, and Frank's heart pounded again. Now that Gerard wasn't kissing him, touching him, all over him, the fog cleared from his mind. Now, there was clarity. 

        What the fuck just happened? 

        "Are you staying tonight?" Gerard asked him. It sounded more like a plea. Gerard wanted him to stay.

        But he just couldn't do that. 

        "I, um, I should go home," Frank muttered. 

        He felt guilty when he saw how Gerard's face fell. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

        "I'll... see you later?" Frank didn't know when later would be. He was freaking out and trying his hardest not to show it. 

        Gerard nodded and gave him a shaky smile. "You too. Goodnight."

        "Goodnight, Frank," Cleo chimed in. She looked as if she was about to fall asleep in Gerard's arms. 

        "Goodnight."

        Gerard lingered a little longer, as if giving him time to change his mind, before taking Cleo upstairs, and Frank left out the front door quickly. 

        He somehow held himself together during the drive home, but he broke the second he stepped through his front door and threw his car keys onto the table. 

        Even his dogs knew something was wrong with him and tried to comfort him, bumping his thighs with their cute noses. 

        Frank struggled to breathe. God, what did he do? What was he thinking? What was he even feeling? 

        He felt a tear of frustration roll down his cheek and hurriedly wiped it away. He thought about sleeping, but there was no way he would do anything other than lie awake and overthink. Instead, he turned on the TV and cranked up the volume to cancel out his thoughts, cuddling close to his dogs on the couch. 

        Frank knew it wasn't healthy to stay locked up in his house alone any longer. It had been over two weeks since he last spoke to Gerard. He made the excuse that he would be away for work and wouldn't be able to show up for lessons for a while; he didn't give an exact amount of time because he didn't want to make false promises—he didn't know when he would be able to meet Gerard's eyes again.

        It wasn't fair to Cleo to leave and never return without an explanation, and Frank felt horrible about that. He just didn't know what else to do. Gerard kissed him, and Frank kissed back. Why did he kiss back? Why the fuck did he like it?

        He blamed it on his loneliness because he hadn't been with anyone in so long. He hadn't adjusted to being alone yet. He blamed it on a bit too much wine—even though he knew damn well he wasn't that drunk—or maybe he was so caught off guard he didn't know how else to react. He didn't want to reject Gerard and hurt his feelings.

        Frank wasn't interested in him like that. Gerard was a friend, one of the best friends he had in a long time. He hated to lose that friendship, but how could he look at Gerard the same after this? He wasn't angry with Gerard and didn't blame him for what happened because Frank led him on. He didn't stop him. 

        The only person he was upset with was himself. He wasn't gay, and he only hurt Gerard by doing what he did, the very thing he was trying to avoid.

        Strangely, he felt disappointed because Gerard was great, and anyone would be fucking blessed to be with him. That person just wasn't Frank. 

        Frank couldn't take much more of wallowing in self-pity. He called Tom, who was just as awesome a friend as he was a bass player. They'd known each other for a decade, and if there was anyone he could spill his pathetic guts to, it was him.

        Tom showed up only an hour after his phone call, all four of his dogs barking to alert him of his presence. They liked Tom, though, and quickly exchanged their snappy attitudes for tail-wagging and jumping. 

        Tom was dressed in sweatpants and a loose t-shirt and had clearly been at home enjoying their break from recording and touring. He wasn't planning on going anywhere, but still agreed to come over when Frank asked. Frank felt a little bad for dragging him into his bullshit.

        Tom set a bag of fast food from his favorite vegan restaurant on the coffee table, along with a coffee, exactly what Frank needed. 

        "So, what's up? You look like a mess, dude. No offense," Tom said honestly. He sat down on Frank's couch, making himself comfortable and taking one of the bags of fries. 

        Where did Frank even start?

        "Yeah, it's, um, kind of weird. I guess I just need a voice of reason."

        "What about?" Tom questioned through a mouthful of fries. 

        Frank sighed and sat down on the other end of the couch. His hands were figeting, and his stomach all twisted. He was glad Tom brought food because Frank realized he hadn't eaten at all that day. He was too anxious to eat now, though, and he hated how just the thought of this conversation made him queasy.

        "So, it's about this guy," Frank began. 

        Tom's shoulders slumped, and he gave him a disappointed look. He sighed. "Did you get in another fight?"

        "No. I don't get in fights," Frank said. Tom gave him another scowl. "Well... not anymore."

        Tom rolled his eyes, not completely convinced. "Sure, sure. What is it about this guy, then?" 

        Frank took a deep breath. "So, I, uh, gave his daughter guitar lessons."

        "You teaching? A kid?" Tom marveled before diving back into his fries.

        "I know. Doesn't sound like me, but she really is a great kid. I just started kind of spending time with them, I guess, and I offered to help out because he's a single dad. He's great. But..."

        Tom cocked his head when Frank didn't finish his sentence. "But, what?"

        Frank looked down and nervously picked at his nails. "He kissed me, and I freaked out about it. I don't know, I just—It's complicated."

        Tom blinked, quiet for a few moments as he processed his words. He sounded shockingly calm as he asked, "What do you like about him?"

        Frank wasn't prepared for that question. He sputtered for a moment, trying to think of how to avoid the topic. In the end, he decided to be honest because he invited Tom over to help after all, and he couldn't help if Frank shut down.

        "He's one of the sweetest people I've ever met, I think. He's creative and funny and a great dad. His daughter is... something else. In a good way. Around him, I just felt whole." Frank smiled just thinking about it. 

        "So, what's wrong with him?"

        "Nothing, I guess." That was what was so infuriating. Gerard just had to be perfect. 

        "So why are you freaking out then?"

        Frank paused. He didn't know if it was possible to put his feelings into words. His many, many different feelings.

        "I'm not gay​​​​. You know that."

        He thought Gerard was interesting and liked him as a friend. Sure, maybe he was a little too captivated by him, but that didn't mean he liked him romantically, didn't mean he was gay.

        Tom smirked. "I mean, kinda sounds like maybe you are?"

        "I like women."

        Frank was married to a woman for fifteen years, for Christ's sake. He was pretty confident in his sexuality and pretty confident that he never thought twice about being with men. Sure, he kissed one guy in college for experimentation, but didn't everyone?

        "Are we pretending like bisexuality doesn't exist? Be honest. Are you attracted to the guy even a little bit?" Tom continued.

        Frank thought about Gerard's adorable smile, sharp jawline, and pretty eyes. He could see him so clearly in his mind, like he had never forgotten a single detail.  He thought about how his face lit up when he talked about his passions or saw Cleo get excited. He thought about how Gerard's soft lips felt and how his hands moved against his skin. Truthfully, he liked all of those things.

        "I don't know," Frank replied. His mind was whirling. "He's attractive, but I don't know if physically I could... You know."

        When Gerard kissed him, though, it was mind-blowing. He wondered if Gerard took it a step further, if he kept going, would he have stopped him? What would it have felt like? If he stopped lying to himself, the idea enticed him just as much as it terrified him. 

        "I think you're focusing on all the wrong things here, Frank." Tom set down his empty fry container and sat up straight. "For a second, let's just pretend this guy isn't... well, a guy. You clearly like him for who he is, beyond physical attraction. So, maybe you should give it a shot. Sure, sex is important too, but that doesn't have to be everything. Just figure out the first part, and maybe the physical part comes later."

        He thought about all the dinners they had together, sitting on the couch watching movies, and all the time spent with both Gerard and Cleo. He thought about all the times he made Gerard laugh and how easy it became to talk with him because they had so much in common. What if they went back to that? What if they did all the things they did before, just with kissing, too? Could it really be that easy? 

        "You're right." Frank hated that he was right, but he was.

        The idea of facing Gerard again was scary. Well, more the idea of confronting his denial than seeing Gerard, because he did want to see him again. He knew that even if they restarted their friendship and pretended like the whole thing didn't happen, Frank wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it. He couldn't forget that moment they shared because he wanted it to happen again, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

        "Who is this guy anyway? What does he look like?" Tom asked, like a teenage girl gossiping at a slumber party. 

        Frank felt like it was an invasion of privacy to say Gerard's name, but if anything happened, it would be public knowledge soon enough. Tom was a trustworthy guy, too.

        "Do you know who Gerard Way is?"

        Tom looked off thoughtfully for a moment. "It rings a bell, but I'm not sure."

        Instead of explaining, Frank pulled out his phone and typed in his name before handing it to Tom. 

        "Oh yeah, the comic book guy! I think I've read some of these." Tom scrolled down a little further and gasped loudly, nearly giving Frank a heart attack. "Holy shit, dude! You're seriously telling me you're not ​​​​​thinking about boning him? I mean, I'm a married straight guy, but—"

        "Jesus, Tom," Frank laughed and yanked back his phone.

        Tom leaned back against the couch and crossed his arms. "You are extremely in denial," he said in an accusatory tone. 

        Frank sighed. "I know."

        Tom told him what he needed to hear, despite him not wanting to hear it. Somehow, he did feel a lot better. 

        "So... how was it? Is he a good kisser?" Tom teased.

        Frank rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smile. "Honestly? It was fucking amazing."

        That was one thing he was sure about. Gerard was a fantastic kisser, and just the memory was enough to make Frank blush. 

        "Yep. One hundred percent in denial," Tom confirmed.

        I'm coming over. 

        That text was the only warning he received before Gerard knocked on his front door ten minutes later. Frank was not fucking ready for that. 

        It was only a matter of time before Gerard got sick of his bullshit—apparently, two and a half weeks—and Frank maybe ignored his last few texts, only prolonging the problem. Frank just wasn't ready to face it yet, but now he didn't have a choice. He knew there was no way of talking Gerard out of it because he would know Frank was home, and Frank seriously needed to get over himself and be an adult about this.

        He hurriedly threw away the fast food wrappers left over from Tom's visit and attempted to make the living room look like he hadn't had a two-week-long mental breakdown. He changed clothes and brushed his hair and teeth, looking more human than he had in days. 

        When he answered the door, Gerard looked shocked as if he didn't think Frank would actually answer. 

        What the fuck did he do now? He didn't exactly have a plan for Gerard randomly showing up on his front porch. 

        His chest ached as a flood of uncertainty, anxiety, and... something else washed over him. Fuck, he missed Gerard like crazy.

        To make things more difficult, Gerard was dressed up again in tight jeans and his hair a clean, hot mess that Frank wanted to run his fingers through. He wondered if he actually left his house that day, maybe for work or whatever. 

        "Hey," Gerard greeted flatly.

        Frank recoiled at his tone; it was like the one he used with Cleo when she did something she wasn't supposed to. Not an angry one, but close to it.

        "Hey." Frank noticed he was being pretty rude, leaving Gerard on his doorstep. "Um, come in."

        Gerard looked around his living room—his house wasn't nearly as nice as Gerard's, but what else do you expect from a divorced bachelor?—and if he was judging him for it, he didn't say anything about it.

        "How have you been?" Gerard asked. His arms were crossed over his chest while standing in the middle of the room, blankly staring at Frank. 

        "Good. Um, I mean fine."

        Frank had been anything but fine. 

        "Busy, right?" Gerard retorted coldly. He knew Frank wasn't busy, knew well that was just an excuse for Frank to avoid him. So, maybe he knew a bit of the truth anyway.

        Frank's stomach churned. 

        He had an apology on the tip of his tongue, but Gerard spoke before he could say it. "Listen, I'm sorry, okay. I shouldn't have—shouldn't have done that to you." Gerard's voice sounded more defeated than angry now. "Just please don't do this to Cleo. It's not fair, and I can't let her go through this just because I fucked up."

        Frank was quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry." What else could he say? 

        "She doesn't understand that it's not her fault, and she thinks she did something wrong. But how am I supposed to tell her that it's all because her dad made a dumb fucking move on her guitar teacher?"

        Fuck, now Frank felt even worse. He never thought Cleo would blame herself. She was a smart kid, and Frank should have known she would figure out something was up.  

        "You don't have to forgive me or anything," Gerard went on. "But Cleo misses you. Just... come back for her? Even if you don't want to talk to me again."

        It wasn't that easy, but Frank didn't want to hurt Cleo. Honestly, he missed her too. He missed feeling like a part of their family, and the longer he was away, the more the empty void inside him grew.

        The problem was that if he went back, he couldn't pretend nothing ever happened because he couldn't pretend he didn't feel anything when he looked at Gerard. Gerard didn't just make a move on him; Frank made a move back and fucking liked it. He couldn't pretend that he felt nothing in that kiss or wasn't thinking about that kiss constantly. He couldn't be near Gerard without wondering what it would be like to do it again. 

        Even now...

        It was a problem that would never go away unless Frank confronted it. He needed to fucking fix it because he broke it, and he wanted it back.

        "I'm sorry I freaked out," Frank apologized. His throat felt tight as he tried to force out the words. "It wasn't—it wasn't a dumb move. I don't regret what happened."

        Gerard gave him a look like a startled small animal. "You... really?"

        "I just needed time to figure it out, and now I have."

        It took days of panicking and a long talk with Tom, but he did know now. Even if he still didn't fully understand himself, he was certain of what he wanted, something he'd been pushing deep down for months now.

        Gerard didn't move when Frank stepped closer. Gerard watched him cautiously as if he didn't know whether Frank would kiss him or hit him.

        "And what did you figure out?" Gerard whispered. 

        Gerard looked so pretty, and Frank missed seeing his face. 

        "Did I miss your showing?"

        Gerard looked confused by the sudden change in subject. "No. It's Thursday."

        Frank had to remind himself to breathe because he couldn't take this back. But he would never forgive himself if he didn't voice what he honestly wanted.

        "What if I came with you, but like... as your date?"

        Gerard's mouth fell open a bit, and it looked like he was having trouble finding the words. "As my—you want to be my date?" 

        Frank nodded and smiled as Gerard's reaction changed from one of realization to pure happiness. "Yeah, I really do."

        Frank wasn't at all sure what he was doing—this kind of thing was so much harder stone cold sober—but it was awkward just standing there still. He moved even closer and took Gerard's hand in his, the other man's fingers weaving between his instantly. The touch made pricks of heat spread over his skin. Just the act of holding hands made him feel elated, like a fucking teenager all over again. 

        "I'm not going to lie and say I know what I'm doing because I really fucking don't," Frank confessed. "But I want to try. If you'll let me?"

        Gerard let out a weak chuckle. "Of course I'll fucking let you."

        This was actually happening, and Frank only felt excited. Truly happy, like he was floating. The lingering uncertainty and fear couldn't even dampen it. 

        "We can take it slow? Like real fucking slow?" Frank suggested.

        Gerard's thumb gently rubbed over the back of his knuckles. "As slow as you need."

        Frank didn't know what he did to deserve Gerard's patience and earn his look of adoration. He placed his hand on Gerard's waist, leaning in just a little closer, and it felt so right. So warm and safe, like he belonged there.

        Gerard held him back, their faces only inches apart when he said lowly, "So, is kissing off the table?"

        Frank grinned. "No. That is definitely on the table."

        When they kissed, Frank had no fucking idea what he was so afraid of because this was perfection. 

        "Frank, you're back!" Cleo screamed. She ran up to him and almost knocked him over with the force of her hug. She was stronger than she looked.

        "I am. I'm sorry I was gone so long," Frank said as he hugged her back.

        "I'll forgive you as long as you promise never to leave for that long again," she snapped. Her hands were on her hips like a stern mother. 

        Frank giggled. "I promise."

        It was a promise he intended to keep. 

        "Pinky promise?"

        "Pinky promise," he repeated and wrapped his pinky around Cleo's. 

        Gerard walked around the corner, wearing an apron once again covered in flour. Frank really wanted to fucking kiss him, but that was something Cleo's little eyes didn't need to witness. 

        "What are you cooking?" Frank asked.

        "We were going to make our own pizza!" Cleo answered. "The dough and everything!"

        Frank turned to Gerard. "And how's that going?"

        Gerard brushed a hand through his already disheveled hair. "Like it might turn into Chinese takeout."

        Frank let Cleo drag him into the kitchen in an attempt to save their pizza efforts, but Frank wasn't too much help. He was too distracted, staring at Gerard the whole time. 

        Frank went home after dinner, but it wasn't because he didn't want to stay. He wanted more than anything to stay the night and curl up next to Gerard in his bed, but that wasn't taking it slow. Even if they didn't do anything, it would still be too much and far too confusing. Frank didn't just need to take things slow; he needed an incremental snail's pace.

        It wouldn't be fair to Gerard to give off the impression that Frank was more comfortable than he was. He didn't want to give off the impression that there was even a slight possibility of more happening that night, although he knew Gerard would never push him like that.

        Frank still got a lengthy goodnight kiss on the front porch, one that had him smiling the entire drive home.

        Frank felt like he was suffocating in his suit. When was the last time he wore a tux? Why did they have so many fucking layers? 

        At least he tried to blend in with the crowd—a gallery full of middle-aged art snobs all dressed to the nines. But he was the only one covered in tattoos, and his black hair was styled messily because it refused to style any other way. He was sure this kind of crowd could smell his fear, and it was a stark contrast to the sweaty and dirty band crowds he was used to. 

        His hands were already clammy. He did not do well in these kinds of crowds, but to his relief, everyone seemed much more interested in the artwork than him. 

        As they should, because the art was beautiful and bright and intriguing. 

        Frank, though, was more captivated by the artist.

        "You okay?" Frank asked.

        Gerard nodded and gave him a comforting smile. "Are you? You look a little scared."

        "I don't think I fit in, but I'll be okay."

        Gerard leaned in closer, his nose brushing against his neck and his hair tickling his cheek. His warm breath made goosebumps rise on Frank's neck. 

        "Well, you are the hottest guy here," Gerard whispered in his ear.

        Frank bit his lip and tried not to shiver. Fuck, Gerard's voice was enough to bring him to his knees right there in a massive room full of people. 

        "The second hottest," Frank remarked, glancing up and down Gerard's body.

        It was the first time he had seen Gerard in a suit, and he looked fucking good. He managed to control his hair a little bit, his black bangs neatly framing his face. Frank couldn't stop staring at him in the car or when they walked into the gallery together. Some questions about his sexuality were answered that night. He confirmed that, yes, he was pretty gay after all. 

        Gerard hummed softly before pressing a light, swift kiss underneath his ear. The asshole was smirking when he stepped away, knowing he was driving Frank insane with such simple actions. 

        "Walk around with me?" Gerard offered, holding out his hand. 

        Frank swallowed the lump in his throat. The idea of wading around through the crowd wasn't appealing, but he knew he would be okay if Gerard was beside him. Still, he felt sweat prickling on his neck all the same.

        "You sure?"

        "I'm not missing the chance to show you off," Gerard proclaimed.

        Frank took Gerard's hand and blushed like some sort of damsel. 

        Gerard didn't seem to have any shame walking around with Frank at his side, like he didn't worry about what other people thought. Given the crowd, Frank assumed there were bound to be some judgmental homophobes, but they were only greeted with eager smiles and handshakes. They didn't even get any passing dirty looks (not that he noticed anyway). They were more accepting than he expected. They were in a group of artists after all.

        Mikey showed up a while later, giving Frank a distraction while Gerard left to have a business conversation with the gallery owner. Well, Frank was pretty sure that's who he was. He'd met so many people that night he couldn't remember, but the guy looked important.

        "You hate these things as much as I do?" Mikey asked. "I always go to support him, but Jesus, these people are so stiff."

        "I don't know, it's not as bad as I thought. I expected them to be more like vultures, honestly. And judgmental," Frank replied. 

        Some things were as awful as he thought—the bright lights, large crowd, and having to wear a stupid suit—but it was much better when he got to hear Gerard introduce him as his date repeatedly. 

        "Oh, they're definitely judgmental. They just keep it on the down low."

        Mikey stopped a waitress passing by and took two flutes of champagne from her tray. There was actual champagne at these things, like the portrayal of art galleries in the movies.

        He gladly took the glass Mikey offered him. Why hadn't he started drinking earlier? Even just a glass or two would have helped with his anxiety. Once he took a sip, he winced at the strong, sour flavor. Maybe he would only have one drink tonight after all.

        Mikey laughed. "Sorry, the champagne is never good at these things."

        Frank shrugged and took another sip anyway as he watched Gerard passionately talk about his art. Frank could always tell when he was genuinely excited about it, making wild gestures and his eyebrows scrunching together in seriousness.

        "He really likes you, you know," Mikey stated. "If his ranting phone calls are anything to go by."

        "Yeah, I heard about some of those," Frank said with a giggle. Gerard confessed to the numerous phone calls he made to Mikey about him, on top of Cleo ratting him out when Gerard called Frank cute.

        There was a beat of silence. 

        "So, are you going to give me a 'don't hurt my brother speech'?" Frank asked.

        Mikey snorted. "No. Cleo likes you, and she's the toughest judge. That's good enough for me."

        Frank chuckled. Cleo was very picky, and he was always flattered that she liked him so much. Maybe they should buy her a judge costume for Halloween because it would match her perfectly.

        Mikey continued, "Kristin and I are watching Cleo tonight, by the way. You're welcome."

        Frank's stomach swooped. The plan was to go to Gerard's place that night, but... Now, they would be alone. Together. 

        He knew Gerard would never force him into anything, but the idea would still be there—the idea of what every couple did when they were alone together. 

        "You're sure?" He knew that Mikey wouldn't change his mind, but he secretly hoped he would make the decision easier for him. 

        "Duh. Gerard needs a fucking break. And I know I give him a lot of shit, but I'm not going to be the brother who cockblocks him. That's just like sibling code or some shit."

        Frank laughed at that. He always thought Mikey was a great brother.

        He peered over to see Gerard talking to someone else now, smiling and laughing and looking stunning.

        Maybe the physical part will come later. 

        Frank had avoided the thought of sex, taking Tom's advice, because he had enough to figure out with his sexuality already. He never fantasized about men, and maybe that was because he never allowed himself to imagine it. He grew up Catholic, met his wife when he was young, and that thought never really crossed his mind. 

        He knew he liked Gerard as more than a friend, and he was sure of that fact; already fought that internal battle. He knew he liked kissing him, but enjoying a kiss was far different from wanting to fuck someone. His thoughts on sex had been in limbo, and Gerard understood that, taking things so slow until Frank caught up. The past few days were nothing more than sneaky chaste kisses when Cleo wasn't looking. 

        But now... that problem was brought to the forefront of his mind because they would be alone tonight. That was a rare occasion in itself, and he felt obligated to take advantage of it. There were just still so many things he didn't know.

        Frank didn't know how he was supposed to figure out if he wanted sex with a man. It was frustrating because he thought that was something people just knew and didn't have to think about it like a damn algebra equation. 

        Frank mostly avoided thinking about it because it overwhelmed him. He didn't expect the revelation to suddenly fall into his lap.

        Gerard just looked so good in his suit, and his pants hugged his hips and thighs beautifully. Not to mention his ass... Frank couldn't stop staring.

        And Gerard caught him staring, giving him a knowing smirk over his shoulder before getting pulled into another conversation with someone else. Frank loved that smirk and that twinkle in his hazel eyes. 

        He didn't know how he'd been such an idiot. Of course, he knew Gerard was attractive, but he just didn't know if it was the right kind of attraction. But how could he not be sexually attracted to him?

        If Frank imagined having sex with Gerard, the idea wasn't repulsive. It wasn't scary like it had once been. Not one bit. Now, he was picturing pulling Gerard into the bathroom and bending him over the counter. 

        Frank took a deep, shaky breath. 

        He couldn't wait to get Gerard home. 

        Frank was proud of keeping his hands to himself the whole night. It was the biggest testament to his self-control because once Frank thought about it, he couldn't stop thinking about it. As nice as Gerard looked in his suit, Frank desperately wanted to take it off and see what was underneath. 

        He could blame his dirty thoughts on not getting laid for eight months—who was counting, though, right?—but he knew there was more to it than that. It was tempting because it was Gerard, and Frank hadn't even seen him in anything more revealing than a t-shirt, let alone naked. He couldn't help but be curious. 

        And it all would be so new and exciting, despite his reservations about never having done this kind of thing before. 

        "I'm surprised it went so well. Only that one guy was a major asshole," Gerard said, kicking his shoes off in front of the door. "I guess I shouldn't complain because he did offer a lot of money for me to commission something, but he wanted it in three weeks. He was pissed when I told him no, but like that was even possible."

        Frank did try to pay attention to what he was saying, but it wasn't his fault Gerard was so damn hot. 

        Gerard quirked an eyebrow at him when he noticed his silence. "What?"

        Frank had been so patient, so fucking patient.

        Without another word, Frank grabbed the front of Gerard's jacket and pulled him in, meeting his lips in a messy kiss. 

        Gerard let out a surprised yelp, but it didn't take long until his hands were tangled in Frank's hair as he kissed back. His tongue brushed over his bottom lip before sucking and biting just hard enough to make Frank gasp. Gerard took advantage of that and slipped his tongue between his parted lips, his tongue caressing his own thoroughly like he wanted to taste him.

        Frank's legs felt weak. Fuck, he was such a good kisser, and Frank couldn't get enough. It wasn't enough. 

        He needed him closer, needed to feel more of him. Without another thought, Frank walked Gerard backward until he hit the wall and their bodies smashed together.

        Gerard was panting, but he didn't stop kissing him in spite of needing to breathe. He grasped at Frank's jacket and started to push it off his shoulders before he stopped suddenly, his hands frozen in mid-air. 

        Gerard broke the kiss, finally taking the breath he needed. His lips were red and shining, and his eyes hazy. Frank could see the want in his eyes, could practically feel it radiating off of him, and it made him dizzy.

        "We don't have to do anything," Gerard panted. "I don't want to rush you."

        Gerard being so caring, so considerate, only ensured him further. He wanted Gerard not only for physical attraction alone, but because he made him feel safe, cared for, and... loved. 

        "You're not rushing me."

        Gerard bit his lip nervously, looking extremely sexy at the same time. "You don't have to feel obligated, you know? We can just... do whatever you want?"

        Frank almost laughed. Oh, he knew what he wanted. He was finally going to let himself have this and wouldn't waste the opportunity while they were alone together. As long as Gerard would let him take it.

        "I think I know what I want," Frank whispered. 

        He grabbed Gerard's hips and pushed forward, rubbing against his thigh and showing Gerard just how much he wanted it. How much he wanted him. 

        Gerard closed his eyes as he leaned his head back against the wall and gasped quietly. Frank liked how such a small action seemed to affect him, and it was proof that Gerard wanted this just as much. 

        "What happened to taking it slow?"

        Fuck taking it slow, Frank thought. 

        "I can fuck you slow if that's what you want?"

        Gerard's eyes widened, and he let out a shaky breath. "Holy fucking shit."

        Just like that, Gerard's resolve was gone. His hands were on Frank's waist again as he tugged him close to kiss him even dirtier than before. Frank could faintly taste the bitter champagne they had drunk earlier in the night. Gerard was so warm against him with lips so soft and his tongue licking into his mouth slowly, like he was mapping him out.

        Frank pulled at the bottom of Gerard's shirt, untucking it from his pants, and slipping his hands underneath to feel his bare skin. So smooth and warm and soft. 

        Gerard took in a sharp breath, shuddering under Frank's touch. Frank was already obsessed with how reactive he was, and he wanted to discover what other sounds Gerard made, what else made him quiver. He wanted to know what to do, where to touch, that would drive him crazy. 

        Frank started mouthing at the other man's neck, and after Gerard let out a loud moan, he gained confidence, exchanging kissing for sucking and nipping. Gerard was no doubt enjoying it. He showed him that by thrusting forward, rubbing his hard cock against Frank's hip and making him hiss. 

        Frank expected to be more hesitant, a little uncomfortable, when it came to Gerard's dick. He had never touched another dick except his own, obviously. Secretly, he worried it would be a turn off, the moment when he realized that he couldn't do this after all. 

        But there was nothing about this that could possibly make him stop. Feeling Gerard hard against him made his own cock twitch. He made Gerard hard, and he loved knowing he was the one who turned him on so much. 

        "Frankie, fuck. I want—want you to fuck my mouth. Please."

        Frank groaned. Yeah, he could do that. 

        Frank wasn't sure he even remembered how to speak, so he just nodded rapidly. He finally took off his stupid suit jacket, carelessly throwing it to the floor, and before he could reach to undo his pants, Gerard was already dropping to his knees and undoing them for him. Frank's brain was short-circuiting. Gerard was eager, like this was just as much a treat for him as it was for Frank. 

        And fuck, when he looked up at him with wide, hungry eyes... Frank was sure he'd never seen anything hotter. Frank kicked off his pants once they dropped around his ankles, and Gerard instantly leaned in, licking over his hard cock through the black cotton briefs. Frank trembled. 

        He sucked over his tip where there was already a wet patch of precum seeping through the fabric. Gerard was moaning and seemed more than willing to take his time just doing this. Frank, though, couldn't handle much more teasing, not after it had been so long since he'd done this. Not after he'd been thinking about fucking Gerard for hours. 

        "Gee, please. Please," he begged. 

        Gerard gazed up at him, his hands stilling on his waistband. "Yeah?" 

        Frank realized Gerard was waiting for one last confirmation. "Yeah."

        Gerard took off his briefs, stopping just to stare at him. He ran his hands up Frank's legs, slowly tracing up his calves, his thighs, and then holding his hips.

        "Fuck, you look so good. I can't believe I finally get to see you like this," Gerard rasped.

        Gerard's eyes raked over his bare legs like he couldn't believe it, like he was looking at a piece of art. It was all too clear that Gerard had imagined something like this before.

        "You've thought about this a lot?"

        Gerard smiled bashfully. "Way too much."

        Frank thought that was endearing. He wondered how many times Gerard secretly fantasized about this while Frank was in the room and how many times he went to bed thinking about him. Frank felt bad that it took him so long to figure this out, while Gerard knew from the beginning. 

        Gerard gave him no warning before taking him into his mouth, sucking at the tip, and moaning at the taste of precum. Frank let out an awkward yelp because he was not ready for that and holy fucking shit. Gerard opened wider and sank down until he was fully engulfed in tight wet heat.

        Frank had to brace himself with a hand on the wall, afraid he would collapse because of Gerard's tongue, and how he swallowed around him, and how fucking good he looked like that—lips stretched around him, spit dripping down his chin, and hooded eyes staring up at him. 

        Gerard repositioned himself, staying perfectly still as he dropped his jaw, and Frank remembered what he was waiting for. He tangled his fingers in Gerard's hair and thrust forward slowly, restraining himself because the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Gerard. 

        But Gerard didn't seem to want that. He whined—a muffled noise around Frank's cock—as he grabbed Frank's hips to make him move faster, harder. 

        Frank hesitantly built up a rhythm, quickening his pace little by little. He watched intently as his cock slipped in and out between Gerard's lips. He tested his limits by snapping his hips forward, pushing in deeper, and hitting the back of his throat. 

        Gerard let out a choked-off moan, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Fuck, Gerard really was into this. He wanted this. 

        And why shouldn't Frank give him what he wanted? 

        He kept going, fucking Gerard's mouth and shaking from pleasure. He never imagined that he would be able to do this with someone because, as hot as the idea was, most partners weren't so willing to be used. Gerard, though, fucking liked it. And Frank really fucking liked it. 

        "Fuck, Gee, you're fucking mouth. So fucking hot," Frank moaned. 

        Gerard pushed his head up into Frank's hand, like an animal begging for attention. Frank tightened his grip and gave a soft tug on his hair, hoping he correctly interpreted what Gerard wanted. 

        It was clear he had when Gerard's nails dug harder into his hips and his eyelids fluttered. So, Frank pulled harder. 

        He should have known Gerard had a hair-pulling kink. He had long hair in every picture he saw, and even now, it was slightly overgrown, just enough to grab onto. 

        Frank was embarrassed by just how close he was already. The thought of coming down Gerard's throat was tempting, but Frank wanted to give him so much more than that. Not to mention, if Gerard could make him feel this way with just his mouth, what else could he do? 

        Gerard whined in disappointment when Frank pulled away and let go of his hair. 

        Frank smiled fondly. He cupped Gerard's jaw, brushing his thumb over his red, wet lips. He looked absolutely wrecked, and so, so pretty. 

        "I want to take you to bed," Frank said, his voice shockingly deep even to his own ears. 

        Gerard was shaky as Frank helped him up from his knees. He wiped his chin, and then, was smiling mockingly. "Was that good?" He asked, voice hoarse and cracking. The cocky asshole. 

        Frank attempted to laugh, but he couldn't catch his breath. "Like you even need to ask. So fucking good."

        Frank kissed him, tasting himself on his lips, but not put off by it.

        Gerard led him upstairs to his bedroom, the one room in his house he hadn't seen yet. It wasn't surprising to see he had even more comic books in his room, several shelves full of them. His bed was unmade, but the white sheets and thick duvet were clean. There was some clutter stacked on the nightstands and a few t-shirts strewn along the floor. Frank wondered if Gerard thought he wouldn't be setting foot in there any time soon. 

        Frank realized how ridiculous he must look, still wearing his long dress shirt but bare from the waist down. He hurriedly unbuttoned it and dropped it to the floor, kicking off his socks along with it. He was completely naked in Gerard's bedroom. That was something he thought wouldn't be happening so soon. Not that he was complaining.

        Gerard had taken off his jacket and loosened his tie. Frank could see how hard he was, a vulgar bulge in his slacks that he found himself drawn to. 

        Gerard was staring at him again and biting his lip. He would have felt self-conscious if it weren't for the hungry look in his eyes. "God, you're so fucking hot."

        Frank took a step closer. He felt too exposed when Gerard was in front of him, still dressed from head to toe. Frank had to take it off as fast as possible. 

        "So are you. You look so good. I was thinking about undressing you all fucking night," Frank growled as he fumbled to unbutton the front of Gerard's shirt. His heart raced with every newly revealed inch of his pale chest.

        "Really?" Gerard sounded in genuine disbelief.

        "Yeah, I was going fucking crazy. I thought about..." Frank swallowed hard. "I thought about taking you to the bathroom and bending you over the counter, fucking you hard."

        He was ashamed of his own words, his own dirty thoughts, but Gerard didn't give him time to doubt himself.

        "Fuck, please. Please fuck me hard. Fuck me senseless," Gerard begged before smashing their lips together. 

        By some miracle, Frank managed to unbutton the last button on Gerard's shirt and slide his hands up his chest. Gerard finished slipping off his shirt before taking off his pants too, breaking their kiss for a moment to kick them aside.

        And then, Gerard was in front of him, naked except for the tight briefs that did nothing to conceal his hard-on. Frank could see the thick outline very clearly and a damp patch near the tip, revealing just how much he was leaking. Frank felt a spike of heat run through him, knowing that he made Gerard so worked up. 

        Gerard took his time staring at him, so it was only fair that Frank did the same. And Gerard was absolutely beautiful—so pale with smooth skin and soft edges that Frank wanted to hold onto. Even with his curiosity, Frank was thankful that Gerard hadn't taken off his briefs yet. He was already so overwhelmed by just looking at the rest of him, subconsciously comparing how different this was from all his prior experiences.

        Gerard was bigger, more rigid in some places than curvy, and a thin, fine trail of black hair above his waistband. It was so unfamiliar to see a man like this, intimidating even. 

        He blushed when he caught sight of Gerard's amused look. How long had he been staring? 

        "Are you finished?" Gerard teased. He didn't look the slightest bit anxious from Frank's staring. Not that he needed to be. Gerard was gorgeous.

        "For now."

        Frank's entire body felt hot as he reached out and lightly ran his fingers down Gerard's waist and hips, feeling the goosebumps rise under his fingers. He purposefully kept his touch above his briefs, not because he was trying to tease, but because of his anxiety. He hated that he was nervous to touch Gerard like that. 

        "We can stop if you want? Whenever you want," Gerard assured. He must have sensed Frank's hesitation, but he didn't seem upset about it. Instead, he gave him a small, patient smile. 

        Frank had a sinking feeling. Gerard deserved someone who was sure. He deserved someone who had done this before and knew what they wanted. He deserved someone who knew how to make him feel ecstasy. Frank wasn't any of that, no matter how badly he wanted to be.

        "I just have no idea what I'm doing, really," Frank confessed. He couldn't be too embarrassed about that fact since Gerard already knew he'd never been with a man before, but restating the truth took a weight off his shoulders. 

        "And that's okay. I want to show you," Gerard comforted before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 

        The tender kiss and Gerard's soft touch on his waist made his heart flutter. It was a small reminder that this wasn't all about lust. There was another meaning underneath it all, another feeling that Frank was too scared to put a name to yet.

        With slow, careful movements, Gerard guided them down onto the bed. He lay underneath him, black hair splayed out on the pillowcase and looking up at him with dark eyes. He stayed like that, still and trusting, and waited for Frank to make the next move. 

        Gerard's bare skin was all there for him, so close to his own, and Frank had to feel him. He relaxed into him, feeling heat rush across his skin everywhere they touched. 

        He wanted to find the sensitive spots that would drive Gerard crazy. He started at his chest, kissing and sucking, and when his lips brushed over one of his nipples, Gerard whined. 

        Frank kept sucking faint bruises across his chest as he slipped one hand into Gerard's hair and pulled. Gerard's reaction wasn't surprising—a pleased gasp and a strong shiver—but it sent sparks down his spine. And when he pulled again, Gerard moaned and arched up into him, his hard cock brushing against his own. 

        Frank grinded down without even thinking, and fuck, the friction was just enough to take the edge off. The cotton of Gerard's briefs was rough against his skin, and he imagined how it would feel without them in the way. 

        Frank shakily traced his hands down to Gerard's hips and stopped, hooking his fingers under the last garment of clothes between them. 

        Gerard looked just as nervous as Frank felt, but he didn't say anything. He didn't have to because he lifted his hips just slightly, giving him clear permission to remove them.

        Slowly and carefully, Frank slid them off, taking the opportunity to run his fingers down Gerard's thighs. Frank didn't let his gaze linger, still anxious to look between his legs. It only made his stomach churn with guilt because Gerard was insanely beautiful, and yet, Frank was still too scared to touch his cock.

        He kissed Gerard one more time to find some sort of solace that made it easier to keep going. 

        And after that, Frank finally looked down—really looked this time. 

        It wasn't as startling as he expected, even if it was his first time seeing another man like this. Just like everywhere else, Gerard was pale and soft and undeniably hot. 

        His cock rested heavy on his stomach, hard and flushed and thick. Frank couldn't do anything but stare. 

        But despite his previous worries... he did want to touch. He was just reluctant to go straight in, and instead, he started at Gerard's hips, lightly pinching and scratching the soft skin. 

        Gerard shuddered below him, biting his lip and looking at him with pleading eyes that drove Frank wild. He squeezed his hips a little harder, and a sound did slip from Gerard's lips then. 

        At the same time, he noticed his cock twitch, and Frank's breath hitched. Gerard reacted to the littlest touches, and Frank was high off of it. Just from digging his nails into his hips a little harder, Gerard was moaning. 

        And if Gerard was so worked up just from this...

        Frank slowly wrapped his fingers around his cock, ignoring every logical, anxious thought and improvising instead. Gerard was warm and thick in his hand, slick with precum that made it easy to find a slow rhythm and stroke him. 

        It didn't feel all too strange. After all, he knew what he liked on himself, but there were differences. Like Gerard's hips bucking underneath him and the small, breathy noises he made. Like the way his cock throbbed in Frank's hand when he squeezed just a slight tighter. 

        Gerard was fucking stunning, panting, and flushed, and the most enticing thing he had seen in his entire life.

        "Frank, please," Gerard whined.

        Frank didn't truly know what Gerard was asking for, but he wanted to give it to him. He wanted to give him everything. 

        "What should—what do you need?" Frank took his hand away, settling it on his thigh instead so Gerard could focus, but the other man still looked just as glazed over. 

        Gerard blinked a few times, as if he himself had forgotten how this worked, before he blindly reached over to pull open the nightstand drawer. He hastily felt around until he found a small bottle of lube.

        Frank racked his brain as if he were going to find any clue as to what should happen next. He really should have attempted to prepare himself and do some sort of research, but he didn't think this would happen so soon or that he would want it so soon. How incredibly wrong he had been.

        Gerard smirked up at him before giving him a quick kiss and slightly shifting positions. Frank sat back on his heels, giving Gerard the space he needed, and watched as he flicked open the cap to spread lube on his own fingers. 

        Gerard widened his legs further, giving Frank a lovely view. "I prefer to do this part myself anyway, but I want you to watch."

        Frank would gladly do just that. He was already captivated by Gerard reaching between his legs and rubbing one slick finger over his hole. He pushed one finger into himself so slowly, his breath staggering from the intrusion. He stilled for a moment, relaxing to get used to the feeling before slipping in another finger alongside the first. 

        He let out a small gasp as his eyes slipped shut, his body slowly relaxing back against the bed. He watched the pleasured look on his face as he moved his fingers slightly.

        Frank felt a little useless and left out. It was too tantalizing to see Gerard like this and not touch him. He had the overwhelming need to give him pleasure. 

        "Fuck, you look so good," Frank murmured and kissed along the inside of his spread thighs. He loved how soft his skin felt against his lips.

        Gerard whimpered and began to move faster, full on fucking himself with his fingers. From up close, he watched Gerard's fingers thrust in and out of himself easily, his hole stretched and shining with lube. Frank couldn't fucking breathe. 

        "I need you. Please." Gerard's voice was high-pitched and thin. 

        He hurriedly pulled out his fingers and pulled Frank closer to bring their lips together, somehow managing to distractingly pull a condom from the drawer at the same time.

        Frank knew they were both getting impatient, and he moved quickly because he wanted to see Gerard lose it even more than he already had. He made quick work of the condom wrapper before rolling it on and coating himself with lube, probably way more than needed.

        Frank still felt in a daze, watching Gerard bite his lip and try so hard to stay still and be patient. Frank ran a finger between his cheeks, and when he brushed over his hole, Gerard shook violently. 

        He imagined how long it had been for Gerard, and he didn't want to risk giving him even a second of pain. He had to do this right. And maybe he was just a little curious.

        He pushed the tip of one finger in and watched, felt​​​​, the muscles constrict then loosen around it. He pushed the rest of the way in easily, slick and pliant but still so tight. Frank just knew it was going to feel so fucking good around his cock. 

        Gerard whined again, a sound that Frank was already in love with, and he was straining to hold still.

        "You sure you're ready?" Frank asked. One part of him was asking to be absolutely certain, and one part was just to be a tease. 

        Gerard groaned. "Yes. I'm so sure. So fucking sure."

        Frank felt this wave of affection while looking down at the eager, beautiful man below him. He moved in closer, and now that he was in this position, hovering over Gerard in bed with both of them completely ready and exposed, it felt real. Too real. The anxiety started clawing at him again. There was no going back from this. What if he completely fucked things up—now or in the future? 

        "I can turn around if that's, um, easier," Gerard said quietly, his gaze falling to the sheets.

        Frank thought about the logistics and didn't really see much of a difference between positions. Then, he understood why Gerard seemed a little disappointed. He didn't mean to make things easier in general; he meant to make things easier for Frank. He probably thought Frank had changed his mind, or it would be easier not to see him while they fucked. 

        He hated the insecure look on Gerard's usually confident face and hated even more that he thought Frank would consider that. He wanted to see Gerard's face, see the expressions he made when he went over the edge. He wanted to watch his reactions and know when something felt good for Gerard, so he could keep doing it. Especially for their first time. 

        "No, I want to see you," Frank assured. Gerard still looked uncertain, and Frank wouldn't let them go on with any doubts. "I'm not having second thoughts, you know."

        "I understand if you are. It's okay. I—"

        Frank shut him up by kissing him, a tender one that turned heated instantly. Gerard's body arched against him and reminded him of how badly he wanted this. 

        "I'm not. Honestly. And I really, really want to fuck you through the mattress right now."

        Gerard giggled, and that seemed to be enough to convince him. He pulled up his legs, completely leaving himself open for Frank. 

        "Do it then."

        Fuck, if that wasn't a beautiful invitation. Frank took a deep breath and lined himself up, taking just a moment before beginning to push in so slowly. He kept his eyes on Gerard, watching his expression for any hint of pain, but Gerard's face was relaxed, his eyes closed, and his lips slightly parted. 

        Frank groaned when he was all the way in, his hips fully against the back of Gerard's thighs, and fuck... Frank was lightheaded. He was so fucking hot and tight around him, his muscles fluttering around him as if trying to pull him in. 

        Gerard was so perfect beneath him, relaxed and open, and alluring. He saw a small squint between Gerard's brows and leaned down to press a kiss there. 

        "Does it hurt?" Frank worried. 

        "No, it's just been so long. Fuck, it feels... feels so good," Gerard said and let out a small, breathy moan. 

        Gerard laid his head back, exposing the pale column of his throat. Frank had to kiss there and leave little bites, the faintest marks that only they would notice. It was a distraction for both of them. He had to give Gerard more time to adjust, and Frank had to try his hardest to hold back because Gerard felt fucking amazing around him. 

        Gerard's hands slipped around his waist and gently pulled him forward, an encouragement for Frank to move. He went slow, focusing more on Gerard to make sure this was good for him. He liked to consider himself a generous lover. He wanted to focus on Gerard's pleasure over his own because it was so much hotter to see him enjoying himself like this. 

        When Gerard tangled his fingers in his hair and pulled him down for a kiss, he felt his soft whimpers and moans against his lips. Frank took that as a good sign and went a little faster but still carefully, not pushing in all the way, despite how badly he wanted to do as he said and just fuck him senseless. He would do whatever Gerard desired. If it was too much, and he wanted to stay slow like this, Frank would do that, too. It already felt good like this, enough to have Frank returning Gerard's moans.

        Gerard pulled away from the kiss, groaning. "Frank, fuck, harder. Please harder!"

        Oh fucking hell. Frank could do that, too. 

        Frank thrust harder and deeper, and Gerard cried out. Frank never expected him to be so vocal in bed. Not just vocal, loud enough to wake up the entire fucking neighborhood, but Frank would be lying if he said he didn't find it extremely hot. 

        He knew he had found the right spot when Gerard's body spasmed, his thighs tensed around his waist, and he mewled. Frank knew what he needed to do now, and he'd do it like a fucking mission. He kept his hips in the same position and slammed in at the same angle, watching Gerard fall apart.

        Frank felt so lucky to see him this way. This was all for him. All of Gerard's skin, the loud noises he made, and the expressions of bliss.

        His blunt nails dug into Frank's back as he arched his body upward, finding friction and dragging his cock against Frank's belly. He kept grinding against him as Frank fucked him, and fuck, if it wasn't the hottest thing Frank had witnessed—the fact that Gerard was so into this and so desperate for him. 

        Just like himself, Gerard was deprived. How long had it been since he last enjoyed himself like this? Hell, his dry spell may have been longer than Frank's. 

        Frank leaned down closer, holding himself up by his elbows now, so Gerard could rut against him harder, skin slick with sweat and precum. He could tell Gerard was close, his body shaking with it. And Frank was just as close, but he had to make Gerard come undone first. He wanted to see and feel him come just like this, and Gerard fucking deserved to. He deserved to be taken care of. He deserved to be absolutely spoiled.

        Frank twisted his fingers in Gerard's hair and pulled hard. Gerard cried out again as his thighs squeezed around Frank's hips, and his nails scratched harder down his back. So suddenly, Gerard was coming between them, clenching tighter around his cock and making it near impossible for him to keep up his rapid pace. Frank felt Gerard's come, hot and wet, spill between them, and there was a look of pure ecstasy on Gerard's face. 

        Frank knew he couldn't hold on much longer after that, focusing on his own pleasure now and fucking him deep and hard. With only a few more thrusts, he was coming and coming hard while moaning Gerard's name. The pleasure raking through him made his whole body tremor and toes curl, and fuck, Gerard looked at him with this lazy, satisfied smirk that drove him crazy. It felt like he came for so long, spilling continuously into the condom. 

        The aftershocks hit him quickly after, and Frank felt weak as he collapsed against Gerard's chest. He stayed there, both of them breathing heavily, and Gerard gently stroking his back over the angry red lines he left there. 

        When Frank came back to Earth, he realized he was being a complete deadweight and hadn't even pulled out yet. The come sticking and drying between them wasn't pleasant either. 

        Frank forced himself to move, whimpering when he finally did pull out. When he sat up, Gerard whined in dismay, still trying to hold him close. 

        Frank chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "I'll be right back, okay?" 

        Gerard pouted at first—an adorable look on him—but seemed too exhausted to fight it and just nodded sleepily.

        Frank went to the bathroom and took care of the condom and cleaned himself before bringing a towel back into the bedroom to clean Gerard off, too. 

        When Frank got back in bed, Gerard cuddled up to him, draping an arm over his waist and nuzzling into his neck as he let out a satisfied sigh. Frank closed his eyes and appreciated the warm skin-on-skin touch. It was sad to admit how long it had been since he got to enjoy physical touch like this. 

        "That was fucking amazing," Gerard mumbled. Frank felt his lips curl up in a smile against his neck. 

        "It really fucking was." Frank kissed Gerard's forehead, feeling overcome with affection. "I didn't expect you to be so loud. Or... scratchy."

        Frank could feel the scratches burning where they pressed against the sheets. They weren't bleeding, but he was certain the marks would last for days. 

        "Sorry." Gerard didn’t sound sorry at all. 

        "I never said I didn't like it."

        Gerard's smile grew.

        It was quiet for a moment, and Frank could already feel his eyelids growing heavy. 

        "Will you stay tonight?" Gerard whispered.

        They hadn't fully discussed arrangements beforehand, but Frank was sure he wouldn't leave even if Gerard tried to force him to. 

        "I'm definitely not moving."

        Gerard hummed happily. "Good."

        When Frank woke up, the bed beside him was empty and cold. He instantly felt a heavy disappointment settle over him, which was ridiculous. It's not like Gerard left him—this was his house after all—but there was always an anxious feeling that came with waking up alone after sleeping with someone. 

        He sat up and pulled on his discarded boxers on the floor before realizing he didn't have a change of clothes, unless he wanted to put his suit back on. That was not happening. 

        He was ready to walk around half-naked, but he saw a clean, folded pair of gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt on the corner of the bed. He smiled, so happy with the small gesture.

        That familiar nagging anxiety still swam in his mind as he went downstairs. He knew he was in deep now. He was, without a doubt, fucking crazy for Gerard. There was a small voice in the back of his mind, worried that Gerard didn't feel the same or that maybe something had changed after last night. Maybe the reason he got out of bed was because he changed his mind. Maybe he was waiting for Frank to wake up to break the news that he didn't want a relationship after all. 

        And Frank should have known better than to let those thoughts get to him. Especially when he found Gerard in the kitchen, quietly singing to himself while flipping pancakes on the stove. 

        He grinned. He really should have known.

        Frank walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around him, resting his chin on Gerard's shoulder. "Hey."

        Gerard turned his head to press a soft kiss on his cheek. "Hi."

        "I can't believe you're making me pancakes."

        Gerard giggled, and the sound made Frank's heart flutter. "After last night, I think you earned it."

        Yeah, Frank had nothing to worry about. Gerard, amazing Gerard, was making him fucking pancakes of all things, the morning after they had amazing sex. It gave him whiplash knowing this sweet man was the same man who begged to choke on Frank's cock last night.

        "We should go pick up Cleo after breakfast," Gerard said as he turned off the stove and dumped the last pancake onto a plate with the others. He turned around in Frank's arms so they were face-to-face.

        Frank didn't know why he loved the word we so much.

        He couldn't control himself because Gerard looked so sexy with his messy hair and pretty pink lips. When he kissed him, Gerard responded readily and deepened the kiss quickly, his hands clutching at Frank's waist. He shivered when Gerard's teeth clamped around his bottom lip, his tongue swiping across it after. 

        "I'm sure Mikey won't mind watching her a little longer," Frank murmured. He slipped his thigh between Gerard's and felt his cock twitch through the layers of clothes. 

        "Yeah... Yeah, he can wait," Gerard breathed before putting their lips together again. 

        Cleo was excited to see both of them, and in the car, she told them all about her slumber party at Uncle Mikey's. 

        She was still bouncing with energy when they walked through the front door, kicking off her shoes and dropping her bag in the middle of the floor.

        She scrunched her eyebrows when she noticed Frank taking off his shoes. "Are you staying with us, Frankie?"

        He peered over at Gerard for some advice, but the other man just smirked unhelpfully. Frank knew it was best to be honest with Cleo, but they couldn't tell her everything right away. They still had to figure these things out themselves. 

        Oh God, he was not trained for this sort of thing. 

        "Yeah, I think I'll, uh, be coming over a lot more. Like for sleepovers," Frank worded delicately. 

        Cleo beamed. "Really! We can do so much fun stuff, right?" She turned to her dad as if asking for confirmation.

        Gerard smiled back at her and brushed her messy hair out of her eyes. "Right. As long as you promise to share. I want to spend time with him, too."

        Cleo looked a little confused, but thankfully didn't ask questions. "Promise."

        "Go put your stuff away, then we'll do something fun."

        "Okay!" Cleo didn't hesitate to grab her bag and bound upstairs to her room. 

        Frank waited until Cleo was out of earshot. "She's definitely going to start asking us questions any day now."

        Gerard sighed. "Yep. She's too smart for her own good. We'll find a way to tell her. Eventually."

        "I do have to go pick some stuff up from my house, though."

        Gerard gently cupped Frank's jaw, brushing his fingers across his cheek. "You can stay as long as you'd like, you know. Even if that's a really long time." Gerard bit his lip, and a blush started on his cheeks. "Even... permanently?"

        Frank's heartbeat doubled. They hadn't discussed the future yet, so it was nice to have the small reassurance that Gerard wanted him there. And not just for Cleo's guitar lessons or friendly dinners. No, he wanted him to stay for so much more than that. 

        Frank leaned into Gerard's touch. "Maybe now is a good time to tell you I have four dogs."

        Gerard gaped and dropped his hand. "F—four dogs. Four?"

        "Four dogs," Frank confirmed. 

        Cleo's squeal joined the sound of her rapid footsteps. "Dogs! Can we see the dogs, Daddy? Please?"

        Gerard looked between them and sighed. "I guess I'm outnumbered."

        Frank grinned and felt like he was right where he was meant to be. 

~ 4 months later ~

        Frank was sweating and panting, still pumped full of adrenaline as he walked off the stage. He handed off his guitar and wiped his sweaty palms on his ripped jeans—that weren't ripped until he decided to flail around a little too much during the show. Their first show of the tour had been energetic with a great crowd. It felt like fucking magic, and nothing could match that feeling.

        Except Gerard and Cleo smiling and waving at him from the side stage. Gerard looked so beautiful with his wind-blown hair and tight jeans. Cleo was bouncing up and down on her toes, looking like she was about to burst. She was excited—persistent, actually—to spend part of her summer going to the band's shows and watching from the sidelines. She still practiced guitar almost every day, and told him she would love to be in a band someday, which, of course, they were supportive of. 

        Frank was more than aware he was dirty and gross, but Gerard didn't care about that, pulling him into a hug as soon as he was within reaching distance. Frank nuzzled his neck, making his boyfriend giggle, and he still hadn't gotten over how fucking cute it sounded. 

        "That was so cool!" Cleo yelled, her voice louder when she had the big, pink headphones over her ears. She gazed up at him in amazement, and Frank smiled at her, half of it hidden against Gerard's shoulder. 

        When he pulled back, he felt a strong pat on the back of his shoulder, and turned around to see Tom grinning at him. He didn't look nearly as much of a sweaty mess as Frank did, but then again, none of his bandmates were throwing themselves around on stage as much as he did.

        "Proud of you, man," Tom spoke loudly so Frank could hear it over the ringing in his ears.

        Frank returned his wide grin, and he knew exactly what Tom meant. "Thanks."

        "Yeah, he played great tonight," Gerard complimented, his fingers sliding down his arm in a loving touch. 

        "Oh, I don't mean the show." Tom glanced back and forth between them with a smirk, and Frank let out a sarcastic laugh. "Nice to meet you, Gerard. And little Cleo." 

        He gave them both a small wave before walking off to greet his own family. 

        Gerard raised an eyebrow, and Frank really didn't want to explain himself. He was thankful he was already so hot and flushed, or else his blush would have been obvious.

        "I'll, uh, tell you later," Frank promised.

        He leaned forward to peck Gerard's lips in an innocent kiss, and although he would love for it to last longer, he didn't feel comfortable with the tons of eyes around. 

        He heard Cleo make a small "yuck" beside them, and he chuckled. Despite Cleo's acceptance, her small nose still wrinkled up when they kissed.  

        It didn't take any time at all for Cleo to adjust to Frank moving in. That happened two months ago, and maybe they hadn't been together long, but they were going their own pace because it felt right. They said 'I love you' three weeks into their relationship—Gerard blurted it out randomly while they were laughing over burnt grilled cheese sandwiches, and Frank was quick to say it back. And both of them meant it, so why waste time when they just knew​?

        And when they were serious, they had to be honest with Cleo. It was nerve-racking explaining to a nine-year-old that her guitar teacher started dating her dad, but to his surprise, Cleo's only reaction was enthusiasm. She wanted to have Frank around more, and especially his four dogs. She had already asked if Frank was going to be her dad, too, and God, he was petrified of that conversation. But Gerard doubtlessly said yes, like he didn't even have to think about it. Just like that.

        After that, everything felt natural, easy. They had a disgustingly domestic routine, and Frank loved it. He had a family again, and every empty nook and cranny that he once had inside of him was full now. He was... happy. So fucking happy. 

        Frank's skin was still buzzing with the post-show high. He thought of one way he would love to burn off that excess energy and stared at Gerard's lips for just a little too long. 

        Gerard smirked and squeezed his hand before linking their fingers together. He definitely knew what Frank was thinking. 

        He would feel bad for once again asking Mikey to watch Cleo. He already watched her a few nights a month to give them much-needed alone time. Still, he was pretty fucking desperate right now. Sure, sometimes they could be quick and quiet after Cleo was asleep. At those times, Gerard had to be gagged because he could never stay quiet, but fuck, it was one of the hottest things Frank ever witnessed. But it was even hotter when they had nights alone, and he could hear Gerard moan and scream. 

        Gerard pulled him a little closer and leaned in close to his ear. "Let's go home, yeah?"

        Frank's heart still jumped at the word. Home.

        They each took one of Cleo's hands, and she skipped between them as they walked off from the back of the stage. 

        Home.