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I will continue posting my Jekyll fic from here on out to Archive Of Our Own: http://archiveofourown.org/works/658476

Jekyll Chapter Four

Title: Jekyll
Author: notlosingmyself
Betas: shoved2agree  and partyghoul
Pairing: Frank/Gerard and side ships such as Ryan/Brendon and so on.
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Language, sexual content
Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own them, and none of this is real.
Summary: Frankie had been diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder (Multiple Personality Disorder) but both he and Gerard think it's something much more.
Chapter Word Count: 4,500+




A/N: Thank you to everyone who has commented, sent me a message, or tweeted me so far! It really does mean so much to me.




Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three




Identity Is Theft Of The Self 




Frank's eyes shoot open. He's alive, and he's in control.




He gets out of bed and manages to get dressed in record time. He looks back at the bed he just came from and scoffs, "Oh how pathetic they both are."




Frank hates the way the clothes feel on him; too tight and the pants are slightly too short. He quickly changes out of them and into a set of clothes that Gerard has laying around. This is the only time he's actually been comfortable in such restricting clothes.




He strolls out of the building, an arrogant smile plastered on his face, his stride is unique and exact, almost like a prowl. He looks around at all of the pitiful humans surrounding him and bites back a laugh; he doesn't understand them. They're so emotional, so attached to people and material objects. Always trying to impress one another. So revolting. Completely human.




He wishes that people would see life and live it like he does. But then again, no one really could live the life he has. He knows he's one of a kind, and the small amount of time that he is Awake, he loves to spend it luxuriously and sometimes even dangerously.




He can do pretty much anything and everything he pleases. His charm and wit can help him obtain his desires, but his enormous ego tends to get him into a bit of trouble. Not like it matters though; his agility, strength, and intelligence far surpasses that of any human being. Although he is brilliant in his own mind, he isn't quite sure what he is exactly, or how he came to be, he's just always been there, lying dormant in the mind of someone who is so weak in comparison until he finally broke free and catapulted himself into reality.




Since then it's been a wonderful life for him; he has no drive to get a job and live a normal life, all he wants is to indulge himself in every way possible.




He pulls out Frankie's wallet that he snatched from his jeans and checks to see how much cash he has on him; not too much, but that only means he'll have to go by other means to obtain money.




He's not too far from New York City and only after a few visits, he knows that this is his favourite place to go. Besides, he has places to be, people to meet.




Frank hails a taxi and takes the half hour ride up to the Big Apple.




It's still pretty early in the day, not too much fun to be had at three p.m. in Frank's mind.




He walks through the constantly crowded sidewalks until he gets to the heart of the city where he knows the big money will be.




Frank quickly surveys the the area, trying to find the perfect victim. He spots a man walking quickly, head up, cockiness apparent in an expensive tailored suit, hair perfectly in place, the picture perfect CEO of one of many businesses to be found.




Frank walks towards the man, already knowing exactly what he has to do. Frank halfway slams into the front of the man, his hand slipping into the jacket and quickly sliding out with his winnings. The man pushes him away and makes a crude remark about the tattooed freaks polluting the city.




Frank knows by the man's reaction that he is completely unaware that he's been robbed. Frank opens the rich, black-leather billfold and checks to see how much is there; only a few hundred dollars, much less than he expected. Usually men like that would carry plenty of money on them to be showy whenever buying something around anyone. It doesn't matter though, he can always pocket another wallet later if needed.




He folds the money, slides it into his front pant pocket, and tosses the expensive wallet into the road drain next to him.




Something catches his ear, he looks down the alley where he thinks the sound came from. As he beings to step down the alley, the sound becomes louder, eventually forming into the unmistakeable cry of a woman.




Two moderately large men are at the end of the alley, hovering over the crying woman, threatening her. They clearly don't fit into this area of town, but Frank lets that pass.




Frank doesn't like to help people, except for himself. And surely he isn't a hero, but he does love to pick fights. This gives him the perfect opportunity for one.




"Picking on someone so weak? That's quite pathetic," Frank says, drawing the attention of the two men.




They both turn to him. The taller one has a blade in hand, he speaks first. "Fuck off little man. You don't want to get ya'self hurt," he says with a thick Bronx accent.




"Don't worry about me, I'll be just fine." He says as he plots the next few moments.




In a blink of an eye, Frank runs towards the smaller of the two and simply pushes him. He flies about ten feet back, not even expecting it. The bone crushing crash echos through the disgusting alley.




The man holding the knife gapes in disbelief, he holds the knife up, swinging it at Frank. "Stay the fuck away from me!" he yells.




Before he can even take a step back, Frank is there, snapping the man's hand back, breaking his wrist, sending the knife crashing to the ground.




The man's scream rings in Frank's ears as he kicks him to the ground. He hovers over the man, ready to beat him bloody when he suddenly hears someone calling his name.




"I thought you said it was pathetic to pick on the weak, Frank." A man behind him says.




Frank turns around, already knowing who is behind him. He walks forward cautiously. "I already told you two no."




A man in the red tie walks forward. "See, you didn't even give us time to tell you what we have to offer." Frank hears the two thugs behind him rush away, both fleeing for their lives.




"I don't want or need what you have to offer. I already can get everything I want." He says as he straightens out his clothes.




"But, see, the problem is, the people we work for don't take no for an answer," Mr. Red Tie confesses.




"Well that's intimidating," Frank says sarcastically. "What are you going to do? Have Bubba over there drag me off?" Frank gestures to the large man behind the Mr. Red Tie. "You must have missed what I did to those two back there. And that was just me playing around. I assure you that you don't want to see me actually angry and fighting."




"We're well aware of what you can do, Mr. Iero. We'll give you more time to think about it, but, if you do not comply soon, we will take action."




"Oooh spooky. Good luck with that," Frank says as he turns his back and walks away.




"You sure you don't want to know how you can life your own life?" The man calls to Frank.




"It can't be done," Frank calls over his shoulder as he continues to walk. He knows those jokes of intimidation can't do anything to help him live a separate life. It's all just somthing to lure him in.




* * *




Gerard rolls over and pats the space next to him. His eyes fly open, Frankie isn't there.




He sits up and glances around the room. He spots Frankie's jeans and t-shirt so he calls out his name. He must be around here somewhere.




Gerard climbs out of bed and trots around the apartment, looking for Frankie.




Gerard is left dumbfounded; Frankie's clothes are still there but he's nowhere to be found.




He picks up his phone and calls Frankie's cell. Gerard hears the sound of vibrations almost instantly. He picks up Frankie's pants and fishes out the phone, then tosses it onto the bed.




He checks for Frankie's car keys, oddly enough, they're still in his pocket, but his wallet isn't.




Gerard doesn't know what to think of this. He decides that he needs to go off and find Frankie. He tries to find his favourite pair of jeans. He goes through the cluttered mess on the floor, but they're no where to be found.




and finds it empty, but notices. Note on the door. He opens it up and all it says is i know your secret.




Gerard just stares at the note. He doesn't know what to make of it. He has no secret, that he can think of, that's worth any form of intimidation.




Then it hits him. Frank.




"He must be fucking with me." Gerard says under his breath.




He thinks about it and it's the only logical explanation; that's why the jeans, wallet and Frankie are all gone.




Gerard quickly gets dressed and heads to Frankie's apartment in hopes of finding him there.




* * *




Frankie wakes up on a cold tile floor. His vision is blurred and he can feel the alcohol pumping through his veins. He already feels the effects of a hangover coming. He head throbs and his vision and hearing is hypersensitive.




He sits up and realizes that he's in a bathroom. This has happened more times than Frankie is willing to admit. He looks around. At least this one is actually very clean and elegant compared to the other bathrooms he's woken up in.




He rubs the back of his head and stumbles out of the bathroom. He has to grab his pants as they sag, making him realize that they aren't even his.




He walks out into the restaurant and looks around, confused.




A waitress approaches him. "She left. She said it was an emergency," The waitress whose name tag reads "ANDREA" says.




"Wait, who?" Frankie asks, completely confused.




"The woman you were with." She says, almost rudely.




"Where was she sitting?" Frankie asks, still confused.




Andrea points to the corner with an empty table in it.




Frankie looks at the table, hoping for some clue as to who he was with.




All that's on the table is a glass that was obviously Frank's and a long, skinny cigarette with a purple band around it still burning in the ashtray.




Frankie calls over Andrea and asks for the bill but she says, "She covered it," and walks away again.




Frankie just lets it go. Who knows? Maybe Frank had a friend or girlfriend of some sort.




The thought does disturb him though. Frankie doesn't want to think about Frank actually having a life. It makes him seem too weird, too normal.




He tries to shake his head clear of those thoughts. Frankie quickly pats down his pockets for his phone, but all he has is his wallet. He curses to himself and walks out of the restaurant.




It doesn't take a lot of walking before he comes up to a row of three pay phones. He pulls out a few coins, inserts them into the machine, and dials Ryan's number.




The phone rings six times before Ryan's annoying automated answering machine picks up.




Frankie could easily get a cab, this is New York after all, but he absolutely hates them and the fare would be astronomical.




As he digs in his pockets for more change, Frankie decides that if Ryan doesn't pick up this time, he'll have to try calling Gerard. He really doesn't want to be bothersome; but he knows that he's probably worried about him disappearing on him again, and of course he's probably missing the clothes that are sagging on Frankie now.




This time the call goes straight to voicemail. Frankie slams the phone onto the receiver. It's so strange, Ryan never misses a call, especially from Frankie. You can never catch Ryan without his phone on him.




Frankie takes a deep breath and feeds the machine his last few quarters.




The phone rings five times and Frankie is ready to just give up before he suddenly hears someone pick up.




"Hello?" The unfamiliar voice asks.




Frankie kicks the pole holding up the phone.




"God damn it. I have the wrong number. Fuck. Sorry man." Frankie goes to hang up the phone.




"Wait!" he hears the guy on the other line call out. "Is this Frankie?"




"Uhh yeah. How do you know me?" Frankie's confusion only continues.




He hears the man call out to someone with him.




"Frankie?" He hears Gerard ask, half out of breath.




"Fuck, I'm sorry, Gerard. Frank-" Frankie begins.




Gerard just cuts him off, "No, it's okay, I know. Where are you?"




Frankie looks around for road signs. "I'm in New York, off Fifty-Second and Main."




"I'll be there as soon as I can. Just stay where you're at." Gerard asks. To Frankie it sounds like he's already on the move.




Frankie let's out a sigh of relief and says, "I'll be at the little bakery on the corner. Would you mind bringing my car and all my stuff with you? I have to fucking work in the morning."




"Of course, no problem. I'll see you soon," Gerard says before hanging up.




Frankie thanks every existent and non-existent god out there as he walks into the small bakery. Not only is Gerard willing to come get him, but for once, it isn't in the middle of the fucking night when he wakes up somewhere he's unfamiliar with.




Compared to some of the places he's woken up in, this one is quite nice; not trashy, grimy, or filthy.




As Frankie sits there nibbling on a banana muffin and sipping his coffee. He thinks about who Frank could possibly be having breakfast with. It just didn't seem like Frank would be one to sit down and eat with someone. But, then again, how well did Frankie know his alternative self?




The bakery was quite cozy actually, the few people shuffling through seem very happy and definitely from the upper half of the economic scale.




Frankie almost feels like he doesn't blend in well here, and he's right. His tattoos, piercings, and baggy clothes stick out in the room of suits and soccer moms. It doesn't bother him though, there was always something different about him. He never was one to fit in, and he's just learned to embrace it.




After finishing his muffin and two cups of coffee, Frankie rests his head on the table. The cold, hard surface does help his burning forehead cool off a bit. He feels as if he's been struck with a minor cold after every Change, but he keeps moving on. Being sick is nothing new to him after all.




He hears the bells on the door chime as someone walks in, he looks up hopefully to see Gerard. And for the first time that night, something goes in his favour.




He stands up and hugs Gerard tightly. "Jesus Christ. I'm glad you're safe." Gerard breathes out.




Frankie pulls away, "How long have I been gone?"




"Since late last night. I didn't know where you were. I was really worried."




Frankie looks down, sad and apologetically, "I'm sorry. I didn't know he could take over for so long."




"It's okay, it's not your fault." Gerard turns a ushers Frankie out to his car.




After the short trip, they finally arrive back at Frankie's. The ride really didn't consist of too much talking, Frankie is worn out and just wants to sleep.




All Frankie wants to do is crawl into bed and sleep forever, but he doesn't want to just leave Gerard. It still is early in the morning.




"I'm going to go change out of your clothes, I'll be right back." Frankie quickly changes and returns to the livingroom to see Gerard half asleep on the couch.




Frankie shakes him and asks, "You didn't sleep at all last night, did you?"




"No, I was really worried about you." Gerard confesses.




Frankie feels really bad about that but he feels a warmth inside because he knows that at least someone worries for him.




"Come on, let's go to bed." Frankie says and pulls Gerard up.




* * *




Frankie wakes up to the warmth of someone else. Their chest softly rising and falling under his head after each breath taken.




Frankie's eyes fight to stay open, he's tired, and he would much rather fall back asleep, but he knows he can't. Besides, sleeping on the couch is completely uncomfortable. He and Gerard fell asleep there the night before while watching some terrible movie on late night television.




Gerard just decided to stick around, and Frankie really doesn't mind. What surprises him is not the fact that Gerard is just always around and there for him the last few weeks. But what is shocking is how familiar it is. How comfortable it is. Normally Frankie doesn't feel this comfortable with anyone but Ryan. Not even Pete or Adam; and he's known them for years.




He tries to get up without waking Gerard but Gerard's arm is wrapped tightly around his waist. Holding him in place.




"Gee, let me up. I have to get ready for work." Gerard groans a little bit and pulls Frankie in tighter. "Not all of us work on our own schedule. Please, Gerard."




Frankie pushes on Gerard's stubborn arm and when he's finally let go, he accidentally crashes to the floor.




"Fuck!" Frankie exclaims as he lays flatly on the floor.




"It's your fault," Gerard mumbles before turning around and going back to sleep.




Frankie quickly jumps into the shower and rinses off before getting dressed. He just stops and looks in the mirror; he thinks he looks a lot less stressed and much more awake. It's almost been four days since Frank's last visit into New York and Frankie feels like there is something off. Something wrong.




Frank would come around about once every two weeks in the beginning, but in the recent months, he's been showing up almost every other day. Sometimes it would only be for an hour or two but other visits would take up almost the entire day.




Frankie just counts it as a blessing and hopes Frank won't return, but he knows it's inevitable.




Frankie is lacing up his shoes as he hears a faint knocking sound on his front door.




"Fuck, Gerard did you lock yourself out, again?" Frankie calls out.




"No, stop yelling! I'm trying to sleep," Gerard whines.




Frankie walks to the door and looks through the peephole. No one is there. He opens the door to check down the hall and he steps on a large envelope.




He picks it up and looks at it. It's not marked, it's perfect with no wrinkles or creases, and it's sealed.




He takes the envelope and brings it into the kitchen to open it.




Frankie rips open the sealed flap and pulls out the contents. It's a small stack of 8X10 inch photographs. A small white paper falls to the ground as he sets the stack down. He picks it up and in simple messy handwriting it reads 'we know your secret'.




Frankie shuffled through the pictures and it's multiple pictures of him and then of Frank.




He drops the pictures-- knowing that the person who delivered them is long gone-- and wakes up Gerard.




"Gerard get up," he says as he shakes him awake.




"No. I'm sleeping." Gerard mumbles.




"Fucking get your ass up. Someone just left me a message saying they know about Frank." He shakes Gerard a bit more.




Gerard quickly wakes up and looks at him.




He shuffles through the pictures and looks at the note closely. "What the fuck? How do they know?" He asks, completely astounded.




"I have no idea, but look at all of these, there are so many of them," Frankie says, gesturing at the pile before them.




"Have you told anyone other than Ryan and I?" Gerard asks.




"No. I didn't want anyone knowing." Frankie says, trying to think.




Gerard closely examines the photographs. He flips one over and makes a conclusive sound. "They aren't home printed. They're from a photography company. I'm pretty sure I've seen it before. Downtown. They might not be the ones who actually took these, but they at least printed them. They may know who took them."




"Do you think they'll tell us?" Frankie asks, very hopeful.




"I don't know, it's worth a shot." Gerard says.




"I'll go right after work." He states, as he picks up all of the pictures and slides them into the large envelope again.




Frankie hands him the note, "This was in there too."




Gerard looks at it and instantly recognizes the handwriting. "Wait did Frank have this delivered?"




Frankie looks confused and says "I don't think so. Why?"




"The handwriting, it looks like a note that I thought he left me the other day." Gerard examines it closely.




"What did it say?"




"Pretty much the same thing. I don't know why I forgot about it."




Frankie lets out a deep breath, "I don't think Frank was taking pictures of himself, Gerard. It doesn't matter, I have to go to work right now."




"Oh, no no no, you're not just going off to work like everything is fine. They know about you. They obviously want somthing. They could hurt you." Gerard says, evidently worried.




"Gerard, they've been following me for a long while now, they've had many chances to do it. I'll be okay."




"But-" Gerard tries to contest.




"Look, I'm trying to keep just a bit of normalcy. I'm going to work and then I'll go check them out." Frankie says as he goes back to tying his shoes.




"How about you go to work and I go see them." Gerard offers.




"No, you're not going by yourself. We go together." Frankie stands up and gives in.




"Fine," Gerard agrees. "I'll come to get you during your lunch break. We can go then, it's not too far from there."




* * *




Frankie tries to focus as he needles in the final designs of a tattoo onto his customers wrist.




He's been nervous all day. He didn't know what he was going to find come lunch hour.




He hears the faint sound of the door bells chime as someone comes in.




"Hey, Frankie, you've got a visitor," Haylie calls out.




Without a response, she sends his visitor to the doorway of the back.




Frankie looks up to see Gerard. "Oh, you're early, you can come back here and watch. I'm almost done."




"Uhh I think I'll just wait in the front," Gerard says nervously. He looks almost sick to Frankie. Gerard turns around, leaving the door open and sits in the front room.




"Who's that?" Pete asks from behind him. Pete hadn't had much to do that day but there was always a few walk-ins wanting something pierced so he was almost always there.




"That's Gerard." Frankie says passively.




"Oh. The Tight Jeaned Artist? That Gerard?" Pete jokes.




"Fucking hell. You and Ross will be the end of me. Yes, that Gerard. Because I just know so many Gerards." Frankie says as he tries to go back to the inking.




"I'm going to go talk to him." Before Frankie could even protest, Pete was up and leaving the room. All he hears is "You must be the Tight-" before the door separating the front and back room shuts.




He quickly finishes up the girl's tattoo and dresses it up in gauze. She smiles as she walks away, excited about her new tattoo.




Frankie walks into the front room, expecting to find Gerard in the corner rocking back and forth crying because of Pete. Instead, he finds them talking and even laughing.




Neither of them even look up so Frankie says, "Hey, Gerard, ready to go?"




"Yeah, let's go," he says before saying goodbye and walking out with Frankie.




The walk out of the shop; the air is thick with humidity and it's icy cold. The typical weather that comes right before the rain.




They climb into Gerard's nicely warm car and Frankie's goose flesh skin settles.




"Why did Pete call me-" Gerard begins to say.




"Don't even ask. You'll probably find out when you meet Ryan." Frankie says.




The thought of Ryan pops into his head. Ryan really hasn't been around lately. Frankie barely gets a text message back from him nowadays. Frankie just guesses that Ryan's just spending more time with Brendon and writes it off.




Gerard pulls up to the shop that Frankie assumes is the photography shop. His stomach turns as he thinks about what may happen now.




They both climb out into the muggy weather and Frankie walks closely next to Gerard.




The door to the shop bears the same symbol on the back of the photographs and the sign reads that they are open.




They walk in and a sensor dings to notify the workers that someone has entered.




Frankie and Gerard take in the sight before them. The photography shop is in an apocalyptical state; files, papers, and pictures are everywhere.




Gerard walks up to the hippie looking guy behind the first desk he sees. "Hey, can you help us with something?"




"No, we're closing up," he says nonchalantly as he packs up his things.




"What do you mean closing up?" Gerard asks, confused.




"Owner's great uncle died or somthing. Big inheritance or some shit," he says and then under his breath, "I wish I had a great rich dead uncle."




"Can you at least help us before you close?" Frankie asks.




"Sorry, but no. We're closed for business we're not taking on any new customers." He says as he pulls another box onto his desk.




"But we just need to know where these photos came from," Frankie pleads, and hands the man the large envelope.




He takes them and glances at the photos. "Sorry, I can't even do that. Strick business-customer confidentiality agreement."




"This is a fucking photography business! Not a doctors office. That's bullshit," Gerard yells, getting quite irritated. He wanted to stay calm and collective but this guy was giving him nothing.




"Oh, that's what you think we are? This is a private investigative service. Not some photography business. You can leave now." The man says as he shoves the envelope back into Frankie's hands.




"Look, you can sit your ass down, get on that computer of yours and tell us who sent us these," Gerard says, visibly angry.




"Is there a problem?" Asks a man with a bit of an afro.




"Yeah, there is," Gerard says. "We want some answers as to why this was sent to us, and who they are from." He hands the envelope to the man.




"Can't help you. Andy, can you show them out?" he asks.




"No! We want to know what's going on," Gerard practically yells.




Andy, the man behind the desk starts to push Gerard and Frankie out the door. He quickly slips a paper into Frankie's pocket and says quietly, "Lose your tail and you'll have all your answers soon enough." And before Gerard and Frankie know it they're out on the street with the door locked behind them.




A/N: Please leave a comment telling me what you think! Also I'm so sorry that it's taken months for an update.












Jekyll Chapter Three

Title: Jekyll
Author: notlosingmyself
Betas: shoved2agree and partyghoul
Pairing: Frank/Gerard and side ships such as Ryan/Brendon and so on.
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Language, sexual content
Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own them, and none of this is real.
Summary: Frankie had been diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder (Multiple Personality Disorder) but both he and Gerard think it's something much more.
Chapter Word Count: about 6,000.


A/N: Thank you to everyone who has commented, sent me a message, or tweeted me so far! It really does mean so much to me.


Chapter One // Chapter Two


"The identity of one changes with how one percieves reality." -Vithu Jeyaloganathan


Frankie's bed shakes as Ryan jumps on it. "Wakey wakey, Frankie!" Frankie gowns as he pulls the comforter over his head.


"Fuck off, Ryan. It's too early." He bats Ryan away.


Ryan checks his watch. "Nine forty-seven isn't early, sunshine. Get your ass up." Ryan yells and pushes at him.


"Ugh. I really need to take that key back from you." Frankie takes a pillow and covers his face with it, trying to block out the light. And Ryan.


"Won't help, I'll just use the secret hidden spare. Who would ever think to look under the mat?" Ryan says dramatically.


"What are you doing here, Ryan?" Frankie asks, peeking his head out.


"Well, I would have shown up earlier, but I didn't want to run into anyone on my way in... Actually, that's exactly what I wanted to do, but I got caught up this morning."


"No one stayed the night, Ryan. Okay, you've heard what you came to hear, you can let me go back to sleep now." Frankie turns to lay on his side so that his back is to Ryan.


"You have to tell me every detail- First off, who was it? Was it that one dude that you did with that devil thing on his arm last week? He was pretty hot, you know, if you are into dudes covered in tattoos. Well, dudes like you. No, that's not it..." Ryan trails off, "Was it the guy from that party I took you to? Wait, I know who it is, it's Jon, isn't it? That's why you aren't telling me. You don't want me to know about you and my friend getting it on." Ryan waits for a response, but only for about half a second. "Oh my god, you're fucking Jon! That's so weird. Don't tell me anything. No, never mind, tell me every kinky detail." Ryan speaks as if he's drank his weight in coffee, which isn't that unlikely. It is Ryan Ross, afterall.


"Holy hell! I'm not fucking Jon! I'm not fucking any of those guys! I'm not fucking anyone." He throws a pillow at Ryan and sits up.


"That's why you're in such a bad mood then." Ryan says, sitting the pillow back in it's rightful place.


"Ryan,I am going to kill you." Frankie says, only half joking.


"Well, as my last request, I want to know who it was." Ryan finally sits down, cross legged, on the bed.


"Oh my God- It was Gerard." Frankie finally admits.


"Ooooh... I see, it was the tight jeaned artist. How'd it go? Obviously he didn't stay the night, so..."


"It went fine. I made him dinner, we watched a movie, and we talked." Frankie states and leaves it.


"What did you talk about?" Ryan asks, being his normal nosey self. Frankie thinks and can only remember the long conversation about Frank.


"You know, life..." He tries to think of something that will please Ryan enough to stop prying. "Oh yeah, and this art show thing..."


Ryan's curiosity is peaked. He asks, "What's art show?"


"I have no idea, I it's in a few weeks." Shrugging as he stretches out a bit.


Sounding a bit disappointed Ryan says,"Oh, another one of his art shows. Haven't you seen all of his work by now?"


"It's not his, though. It's his friends, and he needed to fill his plus one." Frankie says, hoping that it will finally satisfy Ryan's need to know everything going on in Frankie's life.


Like an teasing middle schooler Ryan says, "Ooooh, Frankie's got himself a date!"


"Ryan, I'm twenty-two now. I'm not in high school, it's not that big of a deal." Ryan ignores him.


"You know what's going to be awesome?"


Not with that much anticipation Frankie asks, "No, what?"


"I'm going to an art show in a few weeks. Probably the same one." A mischievous smile creeps onto Ryan's face.


"No you're not. You're lying, you hate those things." Hoping that Ryan really is just messing with him.


"I know I hate them, but Brendon is making me come along with him. It's like his best friend's or something. All I know is that there better be some strong wine, or I'm not gonna be able to make it through a night of canvasses splashed with paint."


"You're such an art enthusiast."


"You shouldn't be talking. Art shows are so boring. The only art shows you have been to in the past few years have been Gerard's."


"Hey! That's because I like his style, that's all." Frankie glares at Ryan.


"Uh huh. Sure, it has nothing to do with liking his ass. No, can't be."


"Screw you."


"Wrong person, Frankie. You're screwing Gerard, not me." Ryan smiles obnoxiously.


"Ryan,for the last time, I. Am. Not. Sleeping. With. Gerard." Frankie says, quite irritated.


"Not right now, you mean. It won't be too long before you won't be able to say that anymore." Ryan doesn't give Frankie time to respond before jumping up and running to the closet. "What are you planning on wearing?"


"I don't know, button up and pants. Why?" Frankie doesn't really care what he wears. Of course he wouldn't show up in torn jeans and a stained shirt but being 'stylish' really isn't his thing.


"Because that won't do. You need a nice new suit. Something amazing.What about black slacks with accentuating, off-white, pinstripes? You must be impressive if you're going on a date." Ryan's eyes sparkle at the idea of clothes shopping.


"I don't need a new suit, and I know I don't have the money to spare for one."


"Frankie, you act like you're broke. I know you have a jar of money saved up, and it's not like you have a life that you spend it on." Ryan says, turning back to the closet. He is always so disappointed in Frankie's attire. He wishes he had at least one fashionable cell in his body.


"I have no life? I am going out soon, thank you very much."


"In a few weeks, wow, oh-so amazing." Ryan dramatically rolls his eyes.


"I'm very sure that we'll see each other before then. And besides, I have no time for a life, you're always clung to me."


"I cling? Puh-lease," Ryan says, a flicks his wrist, "Now, get up. We have to go shopping for a new suit and tie."


Frankie pulls the covers over his head again, like a child not wanting to wake early for school. "I don't wanna go!" He whines.




Tuesday quickly rolls around and Frankie almost kicks himself, he still hasn't picked up his car from the Art gallery, it's not like he had any use for it. He quickly dials Ryan's number and asks from him to come pick him up and take him to work. Within fifteen minutes Ryan is there, waiting for Frankie. "What would you do without me, Iero? You seriously can't live without me and my car," Ryan says smugly.


"Shut up, I forgot to pick mine up yesterday because you were dragging me around store to store, trying to find a stupid suit," Frankie retorts, regretting spending the day with Ryan at the mall.


"Well don't you want to look dashing on your date with the Tight Jeaned-" Frankie glares at Ryan, "I mean Gerard?"


"I don't want to look 'dashing', I don't think anyone even uses that word anymore." Frankie shakes his head.


"I do," Ryan states.


"My point exactly." Ryan just rolls his eyes and pulls out of Frankie's parking lot.




They pull up to Lazzara's Inkand Frankie climbs out of the low set car, "Can you possibly pick me up and take me to the Art Gallery after work? Please?"


Ryan dramatically sighs, "I must do everything for you, don't I?"


"Please?" Frankie half-way pleads.


"Fine, but it'll have to be quick, I have plans with Brendon tonight."


"Okay, thanks! Come back around four!" he yells out as he runs up to the door.


"Oh wow, is that Frankie Iero? Is he actually early to work for once?" Haylie says sarcastically from the front desk. She's been working there since the opening of Adam's shop, along with Pete and Frankie. They had all become quite close friends over the past two years. "I know, surprise, surprise, I'm here early."


"You trying to make up for skipping out on Austin on Sunday? Adam did seem pretty pissed off." She says as she twirls the pen between her ink covered fingers.


"No, Ross drove me here this morning. And was Adam really that angry?" Frankie asks, honestly worried.


"Nah, he was a little frustrated but I'm sure he's already over it. You know him, he can't be angry for too long."


"That's true, I suppose. So who's on my schedule today?" Frankie asks as he walks up to the counter and slumps onto it.


Haylie puts her pen down and opens up the schedule book, "You have three meetings all between nine and one. Then two inkings between two and four, and I think Pete may call in a favor so you may need to make time for that."


"Fuck, what is he wanting this time?" Frankie dreads the answer.


"I have no idea, it's Pete, it could be anything." It's true, there really is no guessing when it comes to Pete.


"True, well I guess I'll go back and set up." Frankie waves behind him and walks through the doorway to where all of the chairs are set up. He never quite understood the setup of the place, it's very closed off and dark, if he had a tattoo shop he would probably have it much more open and full of bright color but Adam insisted on having as little distractions as possible so this is what has come of it. Frankie is busy sanitizing needles when Pete walks in.


"Frankie!" Pete exclaims and smacks him on the back. Frankie turns to look at Pete and he's grinning ear to ear. "What's got you so happy?" Frankie asks. Pete drops down into one of the chairs and takes a quick spin.


"I met someone last Saturday at this party and I ran into him last night. Let's just say that I'm probably the best he's ever had." Pete says, enormous ego showing through his words.


"Hold on as I choke on your ego," Frankie jokes and puts the antiseptics back into the closet.


"Funny, because that's what he was doing too." Pete laughs at his own poor joke.


"Wow Pete, just wow. I really didn't ask for that. What happened to that chick you were with anyway?" Frankie asks as he takes a seat in his own comfortable chair.


"Who? Ashley? She wasn't worth the time I wasted on her," Pete says as he gets up and starts cleaning his needles himself.


"That was so quick though." Frankie says, shocked.


"Yeah, but, oh well, there's plenty of fish in the sea and I plan on catching them all." Pete says, not even joking.


"Now what happens if someone just so happens to blow you off or turn you down?"


"Well, then they don't know what they're missing." Pete says, sounding passive.


"Well who is this new guy anyway? Is he going to be your next Ashley?"


"Oh hell no, Gabe isn't going to last as long as Ashley. One month with one person is far too long. I think he was just a two night go." Pete states as if Frankie was insane for even asking something so preposterous.


Frankie sighs and says, "And you honestly wonder why people label you as a man-whore?"


"I do actually. I'm not a whore. Whores fuck anyone they can. I only fuck what I want." Pete says, quite full of himself.


"Oh, so, what does that make you?" Frankie says, one eyebrow challengingly going up.


"Experienced. Happy. Better than you." Pete smirks at Frankie.


"How are you better than me?" Frankie asks almost offended. "I don't go off and sleep with someone different every night, how does that make you better than me?"


"Well, I take advantage of what I have, I exploit it. I'm sure you could have any guy you wanted but you don't open your mouth and do anything about it." Pete states.


"Well, maybe that's because I don't want just anyone, okay?" Frankie says irritated.


"Well, if you don't want just anyone, who do you want?" Pete asks curiously.


"None of your damn business-"


Adam walks in and cuts them off. "Okay princesses, it's time to work." He looks directly at Frankie and says, "Frankie your first customers are here."


The day drones on and on for Frankie, he just wants to go home, crawl into a ball and sleep for days but he has to pick up is car first.


Ryan barley talks the whole ride to the Art Gallery, he obviously knows that Frankie is not in the talking or joking mood. The day has been pretty shitty in general.


* * *


Gerard steps back, looking at his newly finished painting. He had a rush of inspiration to finish some of his old works for the past few days, he's been pretty impressed with the outcome. He looks at the time and decides that he's done enough for the day and he pulls on his black leather jacket and locks the door to his studio behind him.


Gerard's coffee addiction has been getting out of hand recently with his late nights, shows, and over use of his creative outlet. He crosses the practically deserted street to a small café that he loves to go to every morning.


The bells on the door ring as he enters the small shop. He looks around, not many people are there, just a serious man in a suit, a woman with her baby boy, and someone sitting in the corner, his back to the door.


Gerard takes another look at the guy in the corner and suddenly realizes who he is, he quickly orders his normal black House Blend and slides a few dollars into the tip jar.


It's nice have a bit of money to spare now, instead of being a 'starving artist.' he thinks to himself.


He takes his coffee from the cheery barista. He decides to walk up to the table and slides into the corner booth seat opposite to Frankie. "Hey," Gerard greets with a warm smile.


"Hi." Gerard can tell it's been a long day for Frankie just by looking at him.


"You here with someone?" Gerard asks, really hoping that he's not intruding or interrupting something.


"Nah, just me." Frankie says, quietly and a bit distant.


"Oh, okay. Long day?" Gerard asks a bit worried. He hasn't really seen Frankie like this that often.


"Is it that obvious?" Frankie asks as he studies his coffee cup intensely.


"Yeah, you look a little wrung out." Gerard shrugs.


"Well, I haven't been sleeping well, and work is just tedious lately. Nothing exciting." Frankie confesses.


"I figured you would be good with a little bit of normalcy and familiarity." Gerard says and instantly kind of regrets it.


Frankie gives Gerard a look he can't quite decipher, "Well other that,there's not anything interesting going on."


"Ha, you would think that that's the only excitement you need in your life." Gerard pauses and takes a sip of his coffee before continuing. "Well, l maybe you know a certain somebody that could add a little excitement?"


Frankie perks up a bit. "Well, what does this 'someone' have in mind?"


"Well... To be honest, I have no idea." Gerard thinks for a second, "I think my life is even less eventful than yours."


"Oh, come on, it must be exciting being a successful artist."


"I'm not that successful. Plus, it's not all it's cracked up to be; most of the time I'm locked up in my studio or at home wishing I was locked up in my studio." Gerard speaks quickly, using a lot of hand motions.


"I see how that may get kind of boring, but don't you enjoy doing what you love? You do love it, right?" Frankie asks.


"Of course I do! I just think I need to get out sometimes. Y'know, do something different." Gerard says looking thoughtful.


"Well this is actually me getting out," Frankie adds, "I probably wouldn't be here though, if I hadn't left my car here last Friday." He twists the cup between his palms as he looks down at the coffee stained table.


"It's Tuesday, how did you even get home?" Gerard asks, completely confused.


"My friend Ryan, he's my personal car service." Frankie says jokingly.


Gerard laughs, baring his stubish, but adorable teeth, "Nice." He tries to not let his mind slip to last Friday night, it's still weird for him to think of Frankie and Frank as two different people, it doesn't seem like something someone can just get used to. Especially so quickly.


"So, since you spend so much time in your studio, it must be filled with plenty of your pieces, right?" Frankie asks, fishing for a possible invite.


"More like overflowing with the shittiest things I've done," Gerard says uncomfortably.
Frankie just rolls his eyes. "I highly doubt that. I've seen what you can do."


Gerard tries his hardest not to blush but he fails, "If you have time, you can come see it, it's just across the street." He gnaws on his lower lip and adds, "Y'know, if you want to."


Frankie smiles assuringly and says, "Sure, I've got plenty of time, let's go over there now."


* * *


Gerard walks Frankie up to the second story of the small, run down building. Technically, it's a small apartment, but Gerard found it cheap and so close to the gallery that he couldn't help but buy it.


"I had wanted to have a studio in my apartment, but I really didn't have that much room to spare," Gerard says as he flicks the lights on.


Frankie looks around, papers, paints, brushes, pencils, new, incomplete and finished canvass scatter through out the room. It looks like an art supply store coughed up all of its merchandise into one room. The walls are surprisingly white and bare, there's a small table and chair in one corner near a large window where Gerard does most of his sketches. A few easels of various sizes are set out with a variety of different things.


"Wow. I was not expecting there to be this much here." Frankie says, astonished. He sets his coffee cup onto the side table near the couch and Gerard follows in his suit.


"Well, this is my entire life and I've been working on this collection for years now." Gerard says, trying to down play it slightly.


"It's all so amazing. How can you do so much?" Frankie practically gapes as he takes in all of the artwork.


"It's not that much." Frankie's head turns to look at Gerard as he speaks, "Besides, you probably do as much as I do on a daily basis."


"What do you mean?" Frankie asks, almost awestruck, "I tattoo people. There's no creativity there, I just do as I'm told."


"Well you have to draw out designs for them to begin with, don't you?" Gerard goes on, "Then you have to follow through with the design. You were hired for a reason, I'm sure it's because you were extremely impressive."


"Ehh I was hired by a friend from high school, and I know I don't do a bad job, I just don't feel like I'm doing anything original, and isn't originality half of what art is?" Frankie asks rhetorically.


Gerard doesn't catch that it was all just rhetorical and responds with, "No, art is creation, anything you create is art. I could paint a straight line on that canvas over there," he points to a blank canvas on the ground, "and call it art, but it doesn't mean anyone will buy it. People come to you all of the time wanting you to permanently mark them with your artwork. There are plenty of other tattoo places that they could go to, but they come to you." Gerard talks with his hands as if he wouldn't be able to speak if they were tied behind his back.


"Well, when you say it that way, I do sound pretty damn amazing, don't I?" Frankie asks jokingly. Frankie continues to look around, picking up different canvases and looking at them intently. He never understood why some people could spend days just staring at art but he feels as if he could be happy here for hours upon hours just looking at what Gerard had created.


"What got you into tattooing?" Gerard asks, pulling Frankie out of his reverie.


"I really don't know. I had always wanted to have tattoos and I wasn't half bad at drawing and sketching, so why not try to expand on the little talent I had?" Frankie shrugs, "My parents weren't too happy about it, but seeing that they couldn't have kids and they did so much to get me. They supported everything I did."


"So you were that spoiled little child then?" Gerard asks, half joking, half curious.


"Kind of, not that bad, I didn't ask for endless amounts of things even though I could. I was so used to having barely anything at the adoption center that when I finally was adopted out I was fine with close to nothing." Frankie says and the confesses, "They did try to spoil me though."


"How old were you?" Gerard asks, hoping he isn't prying too much.


"I was eight. It wasn't too bad living with all of the other kids though. What was nice was that I didn't have to move schools or anything when they took me in. I could still be friends with Ryan and be around his friends. It was pretty nice."


"Who's Ryan? You've mentioned him a few times." Gerard asks, still clueless as to who he is.


"He's my best friend, I've known him since I was little. His parents loved me and had me over all of the time. I'm surprised they didn't adopt me themselves."


"That's nice that you guys are still friends."


"Yeah, you wouldn't guess that we were friends if you saw him though."


Confused, Gerard asks, "What do you mean?"


"He's just a very different kind of person with a very umm, flamboyant personality." Frankie says, not too sure how to describe Ryan.


Gerard laughs, "Ahhh I see."


"So what made you do all of this then?" Frankie suddenly asks.


"Do what?" Gerard asks, confused.


Frankie gestures all around him. "Art."


"Oh, well, I always loved to draw, paint and just create in general. It was probably the easiest choice I ever made." Says Gerard, my giving it too much thought.


"You definitely have the talent. I really was terrible, even after art school, but I've seriously improved over the years." Frankie says.


"Well, I know I'm better now, compared to my year one portfolio. It's day and night." Gerard says and finally let's his hands rest by his sides.


"It was not that bad. I've seen your work in class," Frank counters.


"Fine, I'll get my year one sketch book out then." Gerard waves his hand towards the couch. "Just sit down and I'll find it." Frankie watches from the comfortable couch as Gerard looks through the room. Frankie does have to admit that Gerard does earn the nickname of "tight jeaned fag artist", he makes it work for him. Gerard's back is to Frankie as he bends down to check a box on the floor and Frankie feels like a hormonal teenager as he checks out Gerard, but as soon as Gerard turns around, Frankie instantly feels like a deer in the headlights.


To Frankie, it doesn't seem like Gerard notices, but he really does, he's quite flattered, but he still feels awkward with Frankie. He feels like he's closer to him because of their recent time they've spent together, but then he has to remind himself he's never actually slept with Frankie, but actually his strange alter ego, Frank. He has no idea where they stand. Gerard just doesn't really know what to do with himself.


He sits down close to Frankie, thighs pressed together and he opens the book up between them. "It's organized by date, so you can kind of see me progressively get better." Gerard begins to explain each drawing, why he chose it, what it was for, and what it means. Frankie soaks in every word, usually this kind of thing would bore him. Yes, he did love art, but lectures and learning endless information on one piece seemed tedious to him, but when Gerard spoke, it was like the most interesting thing in the world.


Gerard is about halfway through the portfolio when he turns the page and he freezes, "Umm..." he pauses.


"Is that me?" Frank asks, kind of shocked. It looked like a rough sketch of him sitting at his desk, back slightly angled towards the point of view.


"Yeah... We had to draw something from memory that day and... well, I had just come from one of our classes together and well, this is what came of it." Gerard says awkwardly.


"You drew this from memory?" Frankie looks closer. There is no way he himself could draw something so detailed from memory. Everything from the tattoo on his neck to the kind of shoes he was wearing is exactly the way it was in real life. It was amazingly done.


"Yeah... It's kind of terrible, I know," Gerard says meekly.


"No, it's not. It looks fucking amazing! I would never be able to something so beautiful." Frankie admits.


"Well, the muse is pretty perfect, I guess. I really couldn't go wrong." Frankie can feel his face flush red and he felt uncomfortably warm. The heat radiating from Gerard wasn't helping. He really didn't know what to say, but he could feel Gerard's hot breath on his neck and cheek. He knows Gerard is looking at him; he knows Gerard has done that many times before, and he's done the same.


Frankie turns to look at Gerard and they are so close he just wants to lean in and press his lips to Gerard's. Frankie's bottom lip is pulled into his mouth and he watches as Gerard brings his hand up to his face and Gerard's thumb gently pulls out Frankie's bottom lip and he leans in and starts to kiss him slowly. Frankie pushes the portfolio to the ground and leans into the kiss.


Gerard nips at Frankie's lip and he opens his mouth slightly, letting Gerard's tongue slip in. Gerard could taste the lingering flavor of Frankie's forgotten coffee, with a hint of cigarette setting it off.


Frankie's hands slide into Gerard's hair and he can instantly tell by the sound that Gerard makes that his hair is a very sensitive turn on. Frankie tugs at Gerard's hair and he lets out a smothered moan before he pushes Frankie onto his back and straddles him. Gerard kisses down Frankie's jaw and his tongue traces the scorpion going down his neck and Frankie's whole body shivers.


Gerard bites down on the scorpion and starts to suck over the bite. Frankie moans despite himself and grinds up into Gerard's hips.


Gerard starts to pull up Frankie's tight black v-neck. "It's so different being with you," he says, half out of breath. "I'm not used to being the girl in bed."


Frankie’s eyes shoot open and he pushes Gerard away from him a little, "What are you even talking about?" He's completely confused.


"Well, I never bottom with anyone. But with you, it's different I guess." Gerard's voice is deep and his breath is heavy.


"For fucks sake." Frankie pushes Gerard off of him. "I've never slept with you, Gerard. That wasn't me, we're completely different people."Frankie is obviously getting angry and emotional.


"Frankie I'm so sorry, it's just hard to get used to it. I only was told a few days ago, you have to show me some leniency. I just got lost in the moment." Gerard stands up and tries to straighten himself up.


"Maybe I should leave," Frankie says as he pulls his jacket back on and pulls down his shirt.


"Do you want me to walk you to the gallery? It's on my way home. Kind of." Gerard asks, trying to make up for his mistake.


Frankie sighs, but reluctantly agrees. "That's fine." They both go down the stairs, Gerard leading the way. Gerard looking like a complete idiot with his hair pointing in every direction. Frankie trying to walk comfortably while half-hard, walking with the person that made him like that.


They continue walking in silence, but once they get to the pavement Gerard says, "Look, I'm really sorry. You have to give me time to get used to this. It's not like any other relationship I've been in, which isn't saying much, but still."


"It's okay, I shouldn't get so pissy. I just hate this. I'm not the same as Frank, and I'm sorry that you've even been exposed to him. I don't think anyone really understands how difficult dealing with this is. Fuck, I don't know if anyone else has had this issue. For all I know, I could be fucking insane and making the entire thing up."


"Don't say that. We both know that's not true. It's just some freak phenomena, but we'll figure it out eventually, don't worry." Frankie notes that Gerard had said 'we'll' and not 'you'll', it gave him a little bit of comfort knowing that maybe Gerard would help him figure this mess out.


Gerard purposely bumps into Frankie, setting him off kilter and he laughs a bit, "So, when is your next day off?" Gerard asks curiously, trying to lighten the serious subject.


"Tomorrow, actually. My entire work schedule depends on if I have any appointments on what days. When I don't have any, I get the day off. I try to get Wednesdays, Thursdays and Sundays off but sometimes it doesn't work out that exact way." Frankie says, hoping to be able to hang out with Gerard some more.


"That must be nice. We should do something then," Gerard suggests.


"What do you have in mind?" Frankie asks, excited.


"I don't know, just hang out, have some fun, something like tonight, minus me royally fucking up." Gerard smiles brightly at Frankie.


"Sure, sounds good." They walk down the alley way to Frankie's car and he leans up against the driver’s door.


"What time do you want me to come over?" Frankie asks, not really wanting to leave but still wanting to come back.


"Doesn't matter, whenever I suppose." Frankie looks at Gerard, he looks slightly disappointed and guilty about what happened. I can't really blame him, he just found out, Frankie thinks. Everyone makes small mistakes. Frankie straightens up, leans forward, and kisses Gerard again. It catches Gerard by surprise, but he quickly reciprocates and wraps his arms around Frankie's waist and pulls him closer. Frankie deepens the kiss as Gerard thumbs at the exposed skin on Frankie's hip.


"Fuck, I'm never going to get home tonight, am I?" Frankie asks after he pulls back slightly. Gerard's lips are red and swollen and Frankie watches them as Gerard talks.


"Well, we can just go to my place, you know it's not far from here." Frankie quickly nods and they hop into his car and drive the short distance to Gerard's apartment.


Frankie is surprised they're both as cool and collective as they are when they walk through the lobby and wait in the elevator, along with an elderly lady with a grotesque hairless dog.


As soon as the apartment door closes behind them, Gerard is pushing Frankie up against the wall, being much more forceful than he had been before. They knock over a few things as the make it to the bedroom. Both of their jackets and shirts are discarded as Gerard starts to undo Frankie's belt.


Quickly, Gerard takes off the belt, pops open the button and unzips Frankie's zipper. Frankie goes to undo Gerard pants, but Gerard suddenly sinks to his knees.


Frankie's stomach ties up in knots and flips uncontrollably, his half-hard cock instantly completely hardens as Gerard pulls down his pants and drags down his boxers. Gerard slides his tongue on the underside of Frankie's cock, causing his eyes to instantly roll back as he tangled his fingers into Gerard's hair. Gerard kisses the head of Frankie's cock before he slides it into his mouth. Frankie tries not to buck his hips forward as he hits the back of Gerard's throat. He thrusts a little, but instead of choking or gagging noises, Gerard moans, then slowly drags his teeth down the length and Frankie let's out a long drawn out, "Fuck."


Gerard moves forward again, taking Frankie completely in. Frankie looks down at Gerard and sees him looking up at him as he makes a swallowing motion that make every nerve in Frankie's body explode. Gerard pulls back and tongues the slit and Frankie's knees almost give way. Frankie experimentally bucks his hips forward again, just to see what Gerard would do. Gerard definitely doesn't disappoint, he moans loudly again, making vibrations go straight through Frankie's cock.


He does it again, a little more forceful this time, but Gerard willing takes it. Frankie's stomach is in knots and his balls tighten, he knows what's coming. "Gerard I'm going to come," he warns him so that he can move, but Gerard doesn't, he just starts bobbing his head when Frankie stops pushing and swallows as Frankie comes down his throat.


Frankie's vision goes stark white and then he sees stars as he falls back onto the bed. Gerard takes off his pants and crawls on top of Frankie. He begins to kiss Frankie with all the energy he can muster. Frankie can taste himself on Gerard's tongue; he isn't sure how to feel about that, he just continues to kiss Gerard. Frankie's a little distracted seeing that Gerard's cock is making it's presence obvious by digging into his hip. "Gerard, please, just fuck me." Frankie let's out as he comes back to earth.


"What will you do if I do?" Gerard asks in a husky tone, right into Frankie's ear.


"Anything, fuck. Gerard, just do it, please," Frankie pleads. He's a little shocked that Gerard just went from being on his knees getting his mouth fucked to being the one making him beg. He doesn't care though, he just needs Gerard right fucking now. Gerard grabs a bottle of lube and a condom. He slicks up two fingers before sliding them into Frankie, stretching him, causing him to make soft whining noises as he pushes himself onto Gerard's fingers, begging for more.


Gerard rolls the condom on and pushes into Frankie. Frankie arches up and let's out a mix of curses and moans along with Gerard's name. Gerard pulls out and pushes in again. Frankie's neck is exposed and stretched out, Gerard takes the opportunity to bite into it as he thrusts in and out of Frankie. If Frankie hadn't just came he'd be coming now, every precise movement Gerard is making is filling Frankie with pure ecstasy.


Gerard continues to change pace and force. Every time he hits Frankie's prostate, he bucks up and moans inaudible things. Frankie is already getting hard again, and Gerard knows he can last much longer.


Gerard starts thrusting deeper and harder as he tries to get Frankie off for the second time that night.


He watches Frankie with all of his twisted expressions, his hands are clenching the bed sheets, his chest and forehead are glistening in sweat.


Almost simultaneously, they both come in long spurts. Gerard thrusts in and out as much as he can before finally pulling out. Gerard tosses the used condom into the small trash bin next to his bed and gives Frankie an old t-shirt to wipe himself off with.
They both collapse into bed, and fall into a blissful sleep.


Next Chapter


A/N: Please leave a comment telling me what you think!





Jekyll Chapter Two

Title: Jekyll
Author: notlosingmyself
Betas: shoved2agree and partyghoul
Pairing: Frank/Gerard and side ships such as Ryan/Brendon and so on.
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Language, sexual content
Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own them, and none of this is real.
Summary: Frankie had been diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder (Multiple Personality Disorder) but both he and Gerard think it's something much more.
Chapter Word Count: about 4,300

"A man's true secrets are more secret to himself than they are to others." - Paul Valery
Read MoreCollapse )

Jekyll Chapter One

Title: Jekyll
Author: notlosingmyself
Betas: shoved2agree and partyghoul
Pairing: Frank/Gerard and side ships such as Ryan/Brendon and so on.
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Language, sexual content
Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own them, and none of this is real. (Chapter title taken from a quote by Paul Valery )
Summary: Frankie had been diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder (Multiple Personality Disorder) but both he and Gerard think it's something much more.
Chapter Word Count: about 2,500

Two Dangers Constantly Threaten The World: Order & Disorder Read more...Collapse )