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Halloween always made Gerard feel like he could be a little more like the others. For once, everyone wore masks, just like he did every day.
Too bad that his favourite night of the year since he was a kid had turned into one for nostalgic reflection: too old for trick or treating, too lonely to have friends to plan something with, too tired to go out by himself, too poor to go visit his brother, who had moved to the other side of the country with his wife and kids, too workaholic to have some free time, anyway.
He stayed late again at the studio, long after the others left for costume parties or bar crawls. Not that they had invited him, therefore, there wasn’t much more waiting for him than his cat, a movie and sulking with the chocolate chip cookies his elderly neighbour had brought over that very morning. He sighed and looked at his monitor, where half-finished frames of a cartoon bat looped endlessly through the same four seconds of flight. The open space was empty and silent, except for the faint ghost of burnt coffee and the music coming from his computer.
Outside the window next to him, the world was orange and black. Jack-o’-lanterns grinned in office windows across the street, and even if the office was in an area that didn’t offer much nightlife, there were a few passersby in costume, going God knows where. Fuck. It was his favorite night of the year, and he was still at the office, still alone, still… yeah. You know what? Fuck it. A movie with Torosaurus purring next to him was much better than this.
As he did the usual routine - turning off the computer, packing the stuff lying around the desk, turning off the lights and making sure all the windows were closed before heading out - he kept telling himself he didn’t mind. He was a grown-up and this Halloween fixation made no sense. He was thirty-something. He was doing… okay. He had a career he didn’t really mind - at least it was kind of creative, a nice apartment, a cat he loved very much, a routine he could stick to. It was just that sometimes, on nights like this, he felt like he’d made a quiet wrong turn a long time ago and never found the exit.
When he was a teen, he’d often walk around the city in the rain, a cigarette in his hand, just to think about the shit teenagers think of. At school, he had to go outside and hide to get his hourly dose, so right now, underneath the bus shelter and with the gentle tapping of rain against its glass and his hands cold, it felt like a Pavlovian calling to light up one. Shit, he really craved it, but in the last month, he kept the pack at home, in the hopes of cutting out.
He decided to pass the time and get his hands busy by reading the comic he had bought during lunch break, nestled safely against the glass. There were no signs of the bus coming and he was lost in the first pages, when some voices cut through the quiet.
Gerard looked up. Three figures in hoodies and skeleton masks were coming down the sidewalk. They were intoxicated, from the way they were moving around - the tallest one kicked an empty can so it clattered against the curb, the sound too loud in the wet night.
“Whatchu got there?” one of them slurred, getting close to Gerard and peeking at the comic.
Gerard tried to smile and to make himself small by hiding his face as much as he could behind his striped scarf. Before he could react, a hand snatched the comic from his hands. Pages bent, the cover creased.
“Aw, look at this. Little kid stuff!” the guy exclaimed, showing the pages to his friends, “Are you one of those weirdos luring kids? You do look like a creep, uh.”
“Please, just give it back, it’s -” Gerard said, voice thin.
“It’s what?”
“It’s a…” Gerard tried to stop himself, but something inside him gave in, “It’s a collector’s edition, with a variant cover, and the spine wasn’t broken until you took it, you fucking asshole -”
As soon as he finished talking, he felt his face burn and the last words dying in his mouth. Oh, no. He did it again. Like he used to do as a kid when bullies would make fun of his interests. Instead of shutting the fuck up, he overdid it.
The shove came hard, knocking Gerard off balance. His back hit the glass of the bus shelter, a sharp pain stopping his breath for a few seconds. All he could hear was his pulse hissing in his ears and the passing cars that didn’t stop but splashed into the puddles in front of them.
“All of this for a fucking comic,” the tall one said, flipping it upside down, “What, you jerkin’ off to this stuff or something?”
“C’mon, man, let’s go,” one said, though he didn’t sound sorry, just bored, “I don’t wanna get to the party too late or the girls are all gonna be taken.”
“Just wait a fucking moment, you and your fucking dick,” the tall one shot back, “Guy’s gotta learn not to mouth off.”
“Just give it back and go -” Gerard stammered, feeling like the kid he had been, all over again. He hated it. These fuckers were at least ten years younger than him, yet they made him feel small and insignificant. Scared.
Gerard’s throat went dry. He couldn’t always be like that. He had to react. He bent to grab the comic from his hand, but a sneaker came down on his back with its full weight, forcing him to fall face down on the floor. He stayed still, very fucking still.
Then everything changed.
The wind that had been nudging at the bus shelter suddenly died, and in the silence came a faint buzz, like power lines waking up. Light flickered, and the rain stopped falling - only around the bus shelter. From the floor, Gerard could see the rain vibrate like a hail of bullets, still yet shaking, around a sort of invisible spherical dome above them.
“The fuck?” one of the guys said.
The tall one glanced over his shoulder, oblivious of what was going on.
“What?”
Before anyone could answer, the streetlight above them flared so bright it turned the puddles white. The buzz grew deeper, just like a pressure in their chests.
“Let’s get the hell outta here,” someone muttered.
“Too fucking late, dickheads,” a voice echoed in all their heads.
A sudden gust slammed through, so sharp it bent the bus sign and sent leaves spiralling upward like a reversed waterfall. The tallest one yelped, stumbling backwards, and the others followed, tripping over the curb in their rush.
Something moved through the light.
It was sudden, almost unreal. The white shadow was there, then closer, then surrounding the tall guy with some kind of presence Gerard couldn’t name. He saw him being lifted above the ground as if someone had grabbed him, with all their strength, from the throat. The tall guy gasped, reaching for air, and muttered “I’m sorry” before being let go. With bloodshot eyes and a dark patch on his pants - he probably had pissed himself - he looked at Gerard and stumbled against the streetlamp.
“Fucking run!” one of the smaller thugs yelled, and bolted, followed by the others, taller one included, who stood up in a rush trying to get as far from the bus shelter as possible.
Suddenly, the air settled again. The hum disappeared into the familiar sound of falling rain, now wetting the concrete again.
Gerard stayed on his knees for a moment, palms pressed to the cold concrete, trying to make sense of what he’d seen. Then, from the glow of the streetlight, a shape began to take form. Not as blinding or monstrous as what just happened would have suggested. Just a young man, stepping out of the light like it was a curtain he’d been waiting behind.
He was wearing a skeleton hoodie with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and skeleton gloves. His damp hair fell into his eyes on one side, while on the other he sported a buzzcut. Gerard noticed his arms were covered with tattoos, not something demonic like weird runes or sigils or whatever. He looked solid, but the rain seemed to bend around him. Maybe Gerard was still not okay after hitting his back.
“Are you okay?” the man asked, voice quiet but clear.
Gerard nodded automatically, still staring, and as he tried to stand up, the other offered a hand. Doubtful, Gerard ignored the hand and stood up, slightly wobbly.
The tattooed guy sighed and picked the comic book from the floor, trying to brush the dirt off it, but it was clearly irreparably damaged.
“I’m sorry about your comic,” he said, checking it, “Dope. I loved this artist.”
Gerard nodded automatically, still staring, confused.
“Yeah, me too, but - what was that? Did you see it?”
The man just gave a small shrug, offering the ruined comic back to its owner.
“They were asking for it, and this is the right night to get what you ask for,” he looked down the street where the thugs had vanished.
Before Gerard could answer, headlights swung around the corner. The bus. Gerard waved to the driver, and the bus stopped, the doors hissing open. Gerard climbed aboard on autopilot, still shaking, and was surprised when the other man followed, dropping into the seat across from him like he’d done it a thousand times.
The bus was nearly empty. Streetlights smeared the windows in streaks of orange. For a while, neither spoke. Gerard kept stealing glances, trying to decide if the man was even real. He looked real. Too real, honestly. As if someone had sketched him for Gerard’s own liking.
Finally, Gerard decided to talk.
“I’m Gerard.”
“Frank,” the other said, smiling faintly, “Nice to meet you, Gerard.”
Another silence, then Gerard couldn’t help himself.
“You really showed up out of nowhere.”
“Yeah, that happens.” Frank leaned his head back against the seat, watching the dark city slide by.
Gerard gave a nervous laugh.
“What are you, like - Batman?”
“More like the opposite,” Frank said,“I don’t save cities. Just wander through them, and sometimes I’m the one scaring the shit out of people.”
He turned his gaze on Gerard, who was now wondering if the guy was just some batshit crazy case or if there was something more behind it. He held onto the length of his scarf.
“Are you a serial killer?”
Frank looked at him dead in the eyes, and his eyes were piercing right through his soul. There was something about them - glassy, greenish, circled in dark red eye bags - that looked out of this world.
“Yes. This is the skin of a serial killer, Bella.”
The initial anxiety Gerard was feeling disappeared, and he snorted.
“Fuck off.”
Frank burst into laughter, a crystalline, clear one that warmed up Gerard’s chest.
“Man, you should have seen your face,” Frank giggled, “Now I feel like I can tell you the truth.”
Gerard shook his head, smiling.
“I’m not falling for your lies anymore.”
“Good, because this is the truth, I fucking swear, cross my heart.”
“All right.”
Frank leaned back against the seat, stretching his legs into the aisle. The bus lulled them, the sound of rain on the roof fading as they passed under streetlights. He stared out the window for a long moment before speaking again.
“I wasn’t kidding, you know,” he said. “About scaring the shit out of people.”
Gerard gave him a sidelong look, half-expecting another punch line. Frank smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time.
“And it’s not because of my looks, not anymore at least. I used to be the kid parents didn’t want around their own kids. I used to be the one bullied for being a weirdo, just like you,” Frank looked at Gerard, knowingly, and he nodded.
“Now it’s because I’m dead. I’m a ghost.”
The joke Gerard had been about to make died in his throat. Frank’s voice wasn’t teasing now; it had a softness to it, like a memory being handled carefully. Of course, he was fucking with Gerard again. But maybe he was using the silly lie to uncover something real he felt.
As if Frank had known what he was thinking, he turned his head towards the window.
“Look for my reflection in the glass,” he invited the other.
“The ones without reflection are the vampires, Frank,” he said, yet did what the other asked for, anyway. To be fair, his reflection was nowhere to be seen, but it had to be because of how the light fell on the glass or some shit like that. Right? Gerard quickly checked his own reflection, very much there, and when he looked back at the seat in front of him, Frank wasn’t there anymore, but in the empty seat next to him.
“What the fuck.”
“I’ve been dead since 2007, or something. What year is it now?” Frank asked, looking at Gerard with a confused look.
“It’s 2025,” Gerard babbled, as Frank’s eyes darkened.
The lights of the bus suddenly flickered, as well as the street lamps on the road they were driving through.
“It’s been eighteen years, then.”
“Eighteen years?” Gerard said quietly, trying to be reasonable, “You don’t look a day over twenty-five.”
“That’s the trick,” Frank said, a sad smile, “You stop ageing when you stop living. You stop doing a lot of things, actually.”
Gerard studied him. Frank raised his gloved hand in front of Gerard’s face, and closing his eyes, he slowly made it fade. Gerard’s grip against his scarf got softer, and he raised his own hand.
“Can I - ?” he asked, reverently.
Frank nodded, opening his eyes, and Gerard tried to get his own palm to touch the half-there hand of the other. It felt - like it both was there and was not. As if the air was filled, but not really. As if there was a sort of resistance in the fabric of the space the hand was in, that Gerard could break through, if he wanted to.
“So,” Gerard said finally, looking at Frank, his heart breaking his ribcage, “you’re telling me you’re a ghost.”
“Yeah,” Frank said simply, “Halloween’s the only night I get to walk around and interact with others. Because the veil between our worlds is thin enough for me to do this or some shit like this. The rest of the year, I’m - wherever it is dead people go. Like… a radio between stations. Can’t touch anything, can’t talk to anyone, but I see, I feel, I think, I am.”
Gerard tried to picture it, and a chill slid down his spine. It felt like… his own life felt, too, a lot of times. He tried to hold back the tears that were burning his eyes.
“That sounds… lonely. I - I know how that is.”
Frank’s smile was small, almost apologetic.
“Yeah. It is. I’m sorry you understand this, even if you’re alive.”
Gerard noticed their hands were still one against the other, and it seemed like now Frank’s hand was fully present, he could feel a sort of energy - not warmth exactly, but some kind of powerful static - radiate from it. Without even thinking, he folded his fingers over Frank’s, sealing them together. He felt a buzz going through him, and for the first time, Frank seemed fully human. His eyes softened, and he lowered their hands, letting them rest in the space between their two seats.
They rode in silence for a while, the city sliding past in a blurred dream. Gerard found himself watching his own reflection in the window, highlighted by the rain-smeared lights.
“Must be weird,” Gerard said, “Coming back every year just to see how much worse things got.”
“Yeah. I mean, things were not that great back then. And it’s not like during the rest of the year I can’t see - it’s more like, the rest of you cannot. But yeah. Time moves. Every year, this city is a little less familiar. New buildings, new faces. It’s like watching a movie that keeps getting remade worse. Fucking reboots.”
That got a small laugh out of Gerard.
“Sounds about right.”
“And you? You look like someone who doesn’t get much out of being alive.”
Gerard opened his mouth to protest, but the words didn’t come.
“Yeah,” he sighed, “Maybe I’m stuck too. Different kind of dead, I guess. Dead-end job, no friends, my family’s far from me, no partner, no nothing. I could be doing worse, to be honest, I shouldn’t even complain. Especially to you. I mean…”
Frank shrugged.
“Bitch, I’m dead, but that doesn’t mean your own pain shouldn’t be acknowledged. Or something like a therapist would say.”
Gerard felt Frank’s hand tighten its grip around his.
“Halloween’s the only night I can walk around, talk to people, be seen, perceived - in a way that doesn’t scare the shit out of those around me, if I want to, of course. I love to feel the rain, breathe air, eat chocolate until I feel nauseous. Sometimes I try to look for the people I knew. The people I loved. But I’m stuck in a loop of 24 hours, and by the time I come back the following year, things have changed again. Phone numbers are not working anymore. People who moved out. People who died.”
“I’m sorry. It’s… fuck, I don’t know how I can empathise correctly with a dead person. I’m not in this position. But yeah. Can you… can you meet other dead people? Other ghosts? Maybe -”
Frank shook his head.
“Never did. I don’t think I can. It’s like each one of us is on a different TV channel, like, on a different frequency, and only living people can tune into it. It’s weird. I woke up one day, and no one could see me, talk to me, or perceive me except for when I put a real, real effort into it. When I understood how, they could feel my presence but not clearly. It took me a while to find out that Halloween allowed me to do this, and it took me more to understand how to make myself more - mmh. Perceivable, if that’s a world. To tune into the living world more and interact with it.”
“So you woke up and didn’t know you were dead? Didn’t remember what happened?”
“Nah. Don’t remember at all. At the beginning, I thought it was better that way. But as the time passed, I changed my mind. I would like to find out what happened to me. I just couldn’t really figure out how.”
Gerard nodded slowly, his thumb unconsciously brushing against Frank’s hand. The bus rattled over a pothole, and both of them swayed slightly, their palms still pressed together. The motion felt oddly grounding.
Outside the window, familiar streets started to appear: his stop was coming up. The neon from the convenience store he knew like a second home bled across the wet asphalt.
He cleared his throat.
“That’s my stop, coming up.”
“Oh yeah?” Frank turned to look out, then back at him.
“Yeah, so -” Gerard hesitated, “Listen, it’s late, and you helped me with those assholes, and you said you only get one night… I mean, if you wanna come up. Uh, just to hang out, if you want, I guess. I’ve got chocolate and movies. I wanna thank you for having my back out there.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Gerard. But -” Frank’s mouth curved into a grin, “Chocolate and movies? You know how to talk to a ghost, man.”
“Do I?” Gerard said, blushing, trying to sound casual but failing, “Well, uhm, yeah, so it’s a yes?”
“Hell yeah.”
The bus stopped, and they stepped off into the drizzle. The street was quiet except for a house down the road where a party was happening. Only the squelch of their shoes on wet pavement breaking the silence. Gerard shoved his hands into his pockets, then realised one of them still held Frank’s. Frank didn’t let go either.
They walked up the narrow street, their shadows stretching and shrinking under the glow of the lamps and the carved pumpkins on the lawns. Frank looked around, curious.
“So this is your neighbourhood? Cozy. Kinda haunted.”
“That’s just New York,” Gerard said giggling, unlocking the front door of his apartment building.
Gerard fumbled with the keys, suddenly aware of how quiet it was, of how close Frank stood. The door opened, and Gerard turned on a lamp right next to the entrance.
“Welcome to my haunted mansion.”
Frank stepped in, looking around. The living room was filled with stacks of sketchbooks, many half-finished storyboards on the coffee table, framed posters on the walls - Akira, The Crow, a vintage Batman: The Killing Joke action figures guarding the huge bookshelf.
“Dude,” Frank said, whistling low, “In a totally respectful way, you are a nerd.”
“Occupational hazard, you know, ” Gerard grinned.
Frank drifted toward the bookshelf, fingers brushing over the spines without really touching them.
“This is actually awesome. You’ve got Sandman, Hellboy... holy shit, you even have the original Watchmen run. I had that, too.”
Gerard shrugged, a little embarrassed.
“Yeah. That one’s… kind of my comfort read. Got it second-hand from a yard sale years ago, I got it for myself as a present with my first real paycheck.”
Frank turned toward him, his grin turning teasing.
“You’re sweet.”
Gerard felt his face burn, and he acted as if he hadn’t heard, as he took off his coat and scarf.
In the meantime, Frank reached out to pick up a small plastic figure from the desk - Vash the Stampede - and turned it over in his hands.
“You into this stuff since you were a kid?”
“Yeah,” Gerard said, moving to stand beside him, “Never really outgrew it.”
Frank looked at him, something thoughtful in his expression, but was interrupted by a loud meow.
“Torosaurus! I’m sorry I got home late,” Gerard exclaimed in a high-pitched voice, reaching for the enormous orange fluffball that had just appeared with a small jump, on the table.
The cat blinked, wide-eyed and indignant, before letting out another loud, questioning meow. Gerard scooped him up, burying his face in the fur.
“This is Torosaurus,” he said into the cat’s neck, “Some say I called him like this because he’s huge and aggressive, but he’s not. I mean, he is with those who deserve it. But he’s actually soft. I called it like this because my niece made a drawing of a weird dinosaur and called it like that.”
“Fucking love it. Nice to meet you, Torosaurus,” Frank laughed.
Torosaurus twisted in Gerard’s arms, squinting at Frank. For a second, Gerard thought the cat would hiss, as he usually did with strangers, but instead, Torosaurus stretched out a paw, blinking slowly and curious.
Frank’s face softened. He extended a hand carefully, letting the cat sniff his fingers before brushing them along its chin. Torosaurus purred instantly, a deep, contented rumble.
“Huh,” Gerard said, surprised, “he doesn’t usually warm up to people that fast.”
Frank smiled, gaze still on the cat.
“Cats always know,” he said quietly, “They see everything - the stuff people don’t, I mean. They can tell when something’s good or bad. And they love good ghosts.”
“Good ghosts?” Gerard echoed.
“Yeah, Frank shrugged, “Ones that don’t mean harm. Ones who just miss things. Like me.”
Gerard studied him for a moment. The way he said it - softly, with that hint of longing - made something ache inside him. Torosaurus, oblivious, tried to climb on Frank’s arms, and Gerard took the hint, offering the cat for Frank to hold. The other seemed ecstatic and took the cat in his arms, where Torosaurus curled up as if he’d found an old friend.
“Guess you’ve been approved,” Gerard said, smiling.
“Guess so,” Frank murmured, petting the orange fur.
“I should, uh, change into something that doesn’t smell like I’ve been in a dumpster,” Gerard said, “Can I get you something to wear? Something cozy?”
“You’re offering clothes to a ghost?”
“Hey, it’s Halloween. You never know the level of perceiveness or whatever, that you’ve reached,” Gerard said with a small grin, “You could give it a try.”
“Sure. Why not? I’ll try.”
Frank followed Gerard to the bedroom, waiting right outside the doorframe as he went through his dresser, picking a faded Smashing Pumpkins shirt and a pair of soft pyjama pants.
“Here,” he said, handing them over, “Uh… you can use the bathroom if you want.”
Frank looked at the clothes, then at Gerard.
“I don’t even know if I can… undress. Wow. I actually never tried that.”
“Well,” Gerard said, “can’t hurt to try. Not to undress. I mean. Well, you will need to, eventually. Just to put these other clothes! Well. You… yeah. I’ll wait for you, and change too.”
Frank looked at him with an odd look, but took the bundle and disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door with a click. Gerard stood outside, suddenly very aware of how ridiculous the whole situation was. He rubbed his forehead. He was offering pyjamas to a dead guy who’d just scared off a bunch of thugs. A very hot dead guy. Oh fuck.
He undressed too, and quickly put on an old Kermit shirt and comfortable pants.
A few moments later, Frank’s voice came through the door, amused.
“Huh. I think it worked,” Frank said, opening the door a crack, “look.”
And there he was, wearing the oversized shirt and pants Gerard had offered him, looking slightly surprised but pleased. The shirt was too big for Frank, and the neckline fell on his shoulder, showing off more tattoos. The faint glow that had shimmered around him earlier was gone. He looked… real.
Gerard blinked.
“Wow. You - uh. You look…”
Frank raised an eyebrow.
“Hot?”
“I was gonna say ‘solid,’ but - ” Gerard muttered, cheeks pink, “Hot too.”
Frank laughed again, stepping out into the living room.
“You’re blushing, man. Didn’t think I’d be your type.”
Gerard sputtered.
“Why no - ah, shut up!” Gerard whined, speeding up towards the kitchenette, “You want candy or not?”
Frank grinned, dropping onto the couch.
“Always in the mood for something sweet.”
Gerard dumped a small pile of Halloween candy onto the coffee table and joined him. The glow from the TV cast the room in soft blue light. Outside, rain tapped against the window.
Frank unwrapped a piece of chocolate, tossing it into his mouth with a small sigh.
“God, I missed this. You don’t get to taste anything when you’re dead. You forget what flavour even means. Well, you forget how a lot of things taste like.”
Gerard’s skin felt on fire, and he tried not to think about the implications of what the other had just said. Shut up, brain! Don’t even think about whatever you’re thinking about.
Gerard tried to focus on unwrapping his own candy, though his fingers fumbled with the foil. “You make it sound tragic,” he said, aiming for casual.
Frank leaned back against the couch.
“Eh. Maybe I’m just dramatic. Comes with dying young.”
Gerard snorted, reached for the remote, and started going through the channels until he landed on an old black-and-white broadcast of It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. Frank’s face lit up.
“Oh, man. I used to watch this every year. Had the VHS and everything.”
“Same,” Gerard said.
They fell quiet for a while, enjoying the movie and each other's presence.
“So,” Gerard said after a bit, glancing at Frank, “what were you like when you were alive?”
“Not different from how I am now. I was messy. Always late to practice.”
“Practice?”
“Yeah, I was in a band. Pencey Prep. Played in basements, and sometimes a few decent sized venues. We had fun. I loved it. I actually miss playing the guitar.”
“That sounds… amazing. You probably had that crazy rockstar life going on.”
“It was cool,” Frank agreed, “What about you? You always wanted to draw? Animate?”
Gerard stared at the screen for a moment.
“Yeah,” he said, “I always liked drawing. But… It’s different when it becomes your job. I used to think I’d make something important one day, something that could matter, at least to me. But somewhere along the way, I just… stopped believing I could.”
“You still could, you know.”
“Maybe. I don’t even know what I want anymore.”
Frank tilted his head, smiling softly, but didn’t say anything.
Eventually, Gerard felt his eyes grow heavy. The warmth of the room, the rhythm of the rain outside, it all blended into something drowsy and safe. His head started to dip forward.
“Hey,” Frank said, voice soft, “You’re gonna fall asleep sitting up.”
“M’fine,” Gerard mumbled, half-asleep already.
“C’mon, lie down with me,” he shifted slightly, patting the space beside him.
Gerard hesitated, blinking himself awake.
“No, I can’t sleep. It’s your night, remember? You only get one. I don’t wanna leave you alone. You should have fun. Experience stuff”
“I am having fun. And experiencing stuff. This.”
Gerard tried to protest again, but Frank just slipped an arm around him. The contact was surprisingly warm, not cold like he expected a ghost to be, and before he could overthink it, Gerard found himself leaning into him.
“You think too much, man. Just… be here for a second,” Frank mumbled.
“I really don’t wanna fall asleep, Frank, it’s just - you’re warm. How can you be this warm? You’re a ghost.”
Frank didn’t answer right away. He just brushed a thumb along Gerard’s shoulder, tracing slow circles.
“I truly don’t know. To be honest, I’ve never felt like this.”
Gerard mumbled something.
“What’s that?” Frank asked.
“Like what?”
“Alive.”
Gerard turned his head towards him, eyes soft, eyelids half closed.
“Me neither. And I ain’t even dead.”
The small space between them on the couch seemed to vibrate, alive with the same charge that had followed Frank from the moment he appeared.
“Can I ask you something?” Frank asked quietly.
Gerard nodded slowly.
“Do you really want to stay awake?”
“Yeah,” he said, nuzzling against Frank’s chest, “Yeah, I really do.”
Frank’s thumb stilled against his skin.
“Then can I - ” he stopped himself, like he wasn’t sure if he should finish the sentence.
“Can you what?”
“Can I kiss you?”
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to stop. The rain, the movie on the TV, even Gerard’s heartbeat felt like it hesitated.
“Fuck yeah.”
Frank smiled, a small, quiet thing that looked almost like relief, and leaned in until their foreheads touched. Gerard could smell the faint sweetness of chocolate still on Frank’s lips, could feel the warmth that shouldn’t have been there. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, slowly, inevitably, Frank closed the distance between them. It felt -
Real. Like the space was very much filled with Frank, or even more than filled. Like every particle of matter in the room was filled by whatever Frank was feeling: it felt so hot, like liquid gold pouring into his very being, it felt safe, it felt -
“Still warm, still here, still real,” Gerard whispered, breaking their kiss for a moment.
“Guess I borrowed a little life from you?” Frank sighed.
“You can keep it. I - I could give you more.”
Frank’s breath hitched, half a laugh and half a sob.
“Careful. That sounds like a promise.”
“It’s… an offering,” Gerard admitted, his long eyelashes brushing against Frank’s cheek, “and if you don’t want what I’m offering, you can say it, and we’ll just be like this. But if you want to. I - I don’t even know if it would work. How it would -”
Frank shook his head slowly, letting out a soft, shaky laugh.
“How the fuck did I find you?”
“You saved me.”
Frank’s lips found his again, this time in a crushing impact. The Christmas lights hanging on the bookshelf flickered, as well as the TV. Heat pooled in Gerard’s chest, spreading outward until the world narrowed to this: Frank’s hands now tentatively roaming under his shirt, Frank’s chocolate lips, Frank’s presence pressing against him.
Frank’s hands trembled slightly as they slid on Gerard’s hips, tracing them. Gerard leaned into the touch, eyes half-lidded, lips parted.
“Frank…”
“I forgot how this felt, but maybe it never felt like this,” Frank sighed, licking slowly the side of Gerard’s neck. “Your smell. The… the taste of your skin. Slightly salty. Goes well with the chocolate, you know. You’re so sweet. I want -”
“I should’ve showered -”
“That’s not what I meant,” Frank snorted, “But the opposite. I wanna taste all of you. I am sorry if I sound dumb. I think I’m like. High on you. Or some shit.”
The lights flickered again, as if the electricity followed Frank’s emotions. He licked the skin again and then opened his mouth to sink into it, softly sucking it. Gerard couldn’t stop sounds from escaping his mouth, as Frank’s hand finally reached his waistband, as if testing boundaries that didn’t quite exist in the mortal sense.
“You’re - I should be the one doing this to you on your only -”
“You can do that later, if you want,” Frank murmured against his neck, voice low, “Now, let me do this. Please.”
The room dimmed and brightened with the pulsing of their energy. Even as a ghost, Frank’s presence carried a gravity that made the air thick, made every inch of skin feel alive. Gerard’s body responded instinctively, arching and trembling under Frank’s hands, finally getting on his cock, moans escaping before he could even form them into words. Frank’s hand moving slowly. It felt like he was around him, the whole of him.
“Wait a sec,” Frank said, his hand leaving Gerard’s cock. He felt utterly empty without Frank touching him. The other was now straddling him, sitting on him and looking at him with eyes filled with wonder.
“We can stop if -”
“No, it’s just -” Frank sighed, and the lights positively sighed with him, “I was about to come just by touching you. Just by kissing you. God, this is embarrassing.”
“What’s the refractory period of ghosts?” Gerard asked, eyes glimmering.
“Oh, you are a freak. Fuck, I’m so fucking lucky!” Frank giggled, brushing a few sweaty strands of hair out of Gerard’s face, “I wish I knew. I never really… tried to jerk off as a ghost. I never felt the need. I guess.”
“I mean, I don’t know if we have time to test it out. At what time do you… go?”
“I’m not fucking cindarella, baby,” Frank snorted, yet noticed how Gerard’s eyes widened at the endearing term, “I won’t disappear at midnight, but with the sunrise. So I’d say we have more or less seven hours together?”
“That’s enough to test a few things out,” Gerard considered, calculating some shit in his head.
“You are too cute, little freaky madman,” Frank plunged into him, kissing him.
“Little freaky madman?” Gerard laughed between their lips meeting.
“You fucking are! Fucking - handsome freaky evil cute scientist that wants to test the ghost’s refractory period.”
The room was a dance of blinking lights. Gerard’s legs tensed, his hands gripping Frank’s face as he kissed him fervently, while the other - who had finally managed to undress him - was moving his hand rhythmically around his cock.
“Gonna… gonna come, Frank,” Gerard moaned, parting from his lips.
“Oh fuck, wait, fucking let me -”
Frank moved quickly, and without a warning, he took Gerard’s cock into his mouth, as the hand was still pumping its base.
“Shit, okay, you -” Gerard babbled. It was fucking weird but in a good way. Like his cock was fucking into Frank’s mouth but also not really, but like the air was filled with pooling energy that vibrated into his very fucking self, “Feel fucking amazing fucking shit, fuck, Frank -”
Frank’s eyes closed as Gerard came in his mouth, and Gerard couldn’t help looking at him savouring him as his hips moved erratically into the very much hot ghost now taking the whole of his cock into his mouth, and enjoying it. Frank slowly popped his cock out and licked ceremoniously the last drop of cum.
“This was fucking perfect,” Frank murmured, eyes still closed, resting his head on the other’s stomach, “You are perfect. Thank you.”
“What are you thanking me for?” Gerard panted, a confused expression across his face, now bright pink.
Frank opened one eye lazily, a small smirk playing on his lips.
“For letting me taste you. You taste so good, you know? And the way you moan?” Frank sighed, his hand now brushing invisible circles on Gerard’s belly, “Also, for just being you. For letting me be here. For letting me feel… alive, even for a little while.”
Gerard’s stomach fluttered.
“I… I didn’t expect… I mean… You being here. I didn’t - well…” He trailed off, words failing him in the best way, “I’m glad you enjoyed this. But…”
“But?” Frank opened his eyes.
“But we have to test many more things out, so let’s go to the bedroom,” Gerard said, completely serious.
“You’re fucked up and I love it.”
They both stood up, and Frank put the forgotten blanket around the other man’s shoulders, as he was naked and completely distracted by whatever was going on in his head.
“If only I had known, I would have prepared a proper testing setup. Strategy, schedules, documentation. You know, the usual scientist stuff.”
Frank raised an eyebrow, smirking, as Gerard took his hand and led him to the bedroom.
“You really take this to heart. Good boy, so organised…”
Gerard groaned, but Frank noticed that something in that sentence had made his eyes sparkle.
“Shut up. And yes, I do like organisation. It’s a flaw.”
The bedroom was lit by the faint glow of the streetlight seeping through the curtains, another set of Christmas lights, and a few candles - Pumpkin spice and Gingerbread, Gerard had said proudly when Frank said it smelled amazing.
Now, they were lying on the bed: Gerard was on his back, still naked, and Frank was nestled beside him, head on his chest. Frank had seen his old record player and had asked if they could listen to some music, so they were simply existing, surrounded by a song by Bright Eyes and the dance of the lights, still flickering oddly. Gerard still suspected they followed Frank’s heartbeat, but still had to test the theory properly.
“I… never really talk about this,” Gerard said, “Not with anyone.”
He turned his head slightly to glance at Frank, whose eyes were half-closed, listening.
“I mean… I always thought I would do something. Big, you know? Something that mattered. But then life… it just… happened.”
Frank tilted his head, curious and patient, letting Gerard gather his thoughts.
“I work late,” Gerard continued, “Animation studio. Deadlines, revisions, and meetings that could have been e-mails. I like it… sometimes. But mostly, it just reminds me of all the things I don’t do. All the stuff I should’ve done when I had time, when I had… energy. When I was… younger.”
“Like what?” Frank asked gently, nudging closer.
Gerard swallowed, letting out a long breath.
“I wanted to draw comics that weren’t just… work assignments. That said something about me. I wanted… friends. I wanted someone to love me. I wanted to feel like I mattered. I thought I had time. But I keep thinking… maybe it’s too late.”
Frank’s hand found Gerard’s, fingers lacing together naturally. “You’re not too late,” he said quietly. “Not really. Not like me. You’re here. You’re alive. You care. That counts for a lot more than you think.”
“I am so sorry, Frank. I shouldn’t be here telling you this. You are… dead. But I feel… like I’m stuck like you, even if I’m not. Like I’ve spent too much time just… being quiet, doing what’s expected, not what I wanted. I keep thinking about the things I could have said, the things I could have tried, and it… It eats me up.”
Frank squeezed his hand gently, thumb brushing over the knuckles.
“That’s the thing about life, isn’t it? You never know what will happen. You never know when you’ll die, because trust me, it will happen eventually. But that doesn’t mean you can’t start somewhere. Even now. Even tonight.”
“Tonight feels… different. I don’t know why. But… It’s the first time in a long time that I feel like someone sees me. Really sees me.”
“This is exactly how I feel, too.”
“I… I don’t even know how I got lucky enough for this.”
“What do you mean you got lucky?” Frank asked softly, “I’m the one who got lucky! I got to meet someone who cared enough to listen to me, who didn’t freak out when I told them I was a fucking ghost - how crazy is that, by the way? - someone who invited me to their house, someone who’s smart, and funny, and cute, and fucking hot! I even got laid after a fucking long time. Like - fuck. I’m lucky.”
“I… wish it didn’t take something like tonight for me to feel this,” Gerard admitted after a moment, “To feel… seen. To feel like I belong somewhere.”
“Maybe you just needed the right person to share it with,” he said softly, “And maybe… maybe that’s me, for tonight.”
“Maybe for tonight, yeah,” Gerard sighed.
A loud thump against the bedroom door made Gerard flinch.
“Torosaurus,” he groaned, sitting up. The enormous orange fluffball had the zoomies and had thrown himself inside the bedroom, tail thumping insistently against the floor. His green eyes glinted with impatience.
“Oh shit… ” Gerard muttered, realising he’d forgotten the cat’s dinner, “Frank… can you handle him for a second?”
Frank raised an eyebrow, smirking lazily as Torosaurus mewed loudly in protest.
“Don’t let him destroy the place; he is not himself when he’s hungry. I’ll be right back.”
“Are you gonna go around all naked like that?” Frank chuckled, letting Torosaurus curl around him on the bed. The cat immediately pawed at Frank’s arm, meowing like a demanding little engine.
“I am planning to get you naked, too, so yeah,” Gerard smirked.
“All right, then,” Frank said, ruffling the cat’s fur, “Patience. Good things are coming for both of us, Torosaurus.”
In the meantime, Gerard was filling the cat’s fountain, watching the water swirl and settle. While waiting for it to fill, his mind wandered. On impulse, he pulled out his phone and typed in the band name Frank had mentioned earlier: Pencey Prep.
The top search result made his stomach drop. An old Reddit thread, years old, appeared:
“Frank Iero (Pencey Prep) – RIP”
Gerard felt nauseous as he scrolled through the post. Details about Frank’s death, speculation about how it had happened, dates, comments from strangers mourning him, remembering him, theorising about his final days, pictures of Frank, just like he could see him now, but from almost 20 years prior. Links to the news of his death. Which had been an accident. The van they were touring with, on a winter night, black ice. Everyone survived. Except for Frank.
Gerard’s hand trembled as he stared at the screen. The realisation hit him fully: the boy who had saved him tonight, the one laughing with him, teasing him, kissing him, now sitting on his bed with his cat wrapped around him - this person had truly died years ago. And he should not have. He was so full of life, not like Gerard. And he was so perfect. So perfect for him, too. And he was a ghost. About to fade into the morning light.
Gerard put the fountain back on the floor and filled the food bowl - the sound of the spoon hitting it called Torosaurus, who ran to the kitchen and didn’t even give him the time to move away.
Fuck. How could he go back there and act as if he didn’t know what happened to him?
Gerard took a shaky breath, trying to calm himself before returning to the bedroom. Frank was sitting on the bed, going through a comic he found on the nightstand.
“You took your time,” Frank teased softly, his voice light.
“Yeah… uh,” Gerard stammered, “I just… I had to fill his water fountain too.”
Frank’s smile didn’t falter, though his green eyes seemed sharper somehow, perceptive. Could ghosts read one’s mind? Gerard’s throat went dry. He nodded, but his mind wouldn’t stop racing. The words on the screen, the reality of Frank’s death, the impossibility of what he was seeing… they all collided in his chest.
He sat on the edge of the bed.
“Frank… I -”
Frank tilted his head, eyes curious.
“Yeah?”
“I am so fucking sorry, but I looked you up while I was waiting, I should have asked, I should have, and I am sorry, but I have to tell you, I looked up your band and… and I saw it,” Gerard babbled, anxiously, “I… I found out. About how you died.”
Frank froze, the faint playfulness draining from his face. He lowered his eyes, then looked at Gerard again and wrapped himself around him. Gerard hugged him back, his naked skin against the soft fabric of the old clothes he had given to Frank.
“Tell me, please,” Frank mumbled, as he buried his face in Gerard’s hair.
“It was… it was an accident. You were on tour with your band, it was a winter night, black ice on the road. The van crashed. The others… everyone else made it. They still play, with another name because they couldn’t picture Pencey Prep without you.”
“Black ice,” Frank repeated softly, as if tasting the words. Gerard swallowed.
“You still don’t remember, right? I mean, you said you didn’t - ”
Frank shook his head, his nose breathing the scent of Gerard’s neck.
Gerard’s stomach twisted.
“I shouldn’t have looked for it. Should have asked first. I’m sorry, I - fuck, I should’ve just -”
Frank cut him off with a small bite of his neck, soft enough to stop him.
“No. Don’t be sorry. I wanted to know. I didn’t dare to ask. I just didn’t think it’d sound so… mundane, I guess. Just a patch of ice, ” he laughed bitterly, “Kinda pathetic, huh?”
Gerard’s throat tightened.
“That’s not pathetic. You were real, Frank. You are real. You were in a band, and people loved you. You made something that stayed. People still talk about your music. About you.”
“I think part of me already knew. The coldness, the flashes of light when I close my eyes, that weird phantom ache in my ribs sometimes… I must’ve been thrown out of the van. I just didn’t… want to face it.”
“You didn’t deserve that ending. That early.”
“Guess not everyone gets to choose their ending, huh?”
“No,” Gerard sighed, “but you get to choose what happens now.”
That got Frank to look at him. The green in his eyes glowed faintly, the dying ember of a match.
“I want you to undress me, pretty boy,” he said, pulling Gerard back down on the mattress.
Gerard traced the lines of ink that mapped across Frank’s skin. Every tattoo seemed alive - a constellation of portraits, words, fragments of songs. Frank looked at him quietly, surprised by Gerard’s devotion.
“You look divine,” Gerard whispered, the word slipping out before he could think, in reverence.
Frank tilted his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Divine, huh? I’m a ghost, baby, not an angel.”
“You could be,” Gerard considered, “You helped me with those assholes.”
Gerard brushed his fingers along the curve of a tattoo, following the pattern like a line of thought.
“Maybe you can get an upgrade?”
“What do you mean by an upgrade?”
“From the ghost level. Maybe -” Gerard nibbled at his hip,“you can like, level up. If you’re good enough, you become a guardian angel? Mine?”
“You’re ridiculous,” Frank giggled, “I don’t think that’s how it works, but I’ll try to be extra good tonight, just in case.”
“Yeah?” Gerard smiled knowingly as he finally licked his way down to Frank’s cock.
“I fucking swear,” Frank whined, “Extra fucking good.”
Gerard didn’t let him ramble - he kissed the full length of his cock, and then licked it, before engulfing it in the warmth of his mouth. Wow. Ghost cock was something else. It irradiated its buzzing energy inside his mouth, as if connecting to his own energy.
“Fuckfuckfuck, Gee,” Frank babbled, and hearing the pet name made Gerard suck it even more attentively, “you gotta fuckin’ stop man, I’ve basically, fuck, been celibate for twenty fucking fuck yeah, years!”
Gerard took the cock out of his mouth, looked at Frank, then at the cock in his hand.
“I really wanted to test all the things we could do, you know, but maybe I… I actually wanna be sure I can feel you inside me,” Gerard considered.
“Baby, please don’t say this kind of thing while looking at me with those puppy eyes and holding my cock. It could be enough, to you know -” Frank whined, “But yeah, I’d fucking love that.”
Frank let his hand slide, brushing over Gerard’s abdomen, tracing the faint lines of tension there before reaching his face. He cupped it for a moment before his fingers traced Gerard’s lips.
“Show me how good you are at sucking me like before, pretty boy,” Frank smiled, lost in the warm haze of the bedroom, which once again was reacting to his own energy, the lights starting to flicker again.
Gerard let Frank’s fingers slide into his mouth. They explored it for a few moments, touching the shape of his teeth, his tongue, before pushing towards his throat. And Gerard moaned around them, as his hips moved against Frank’s.
“Fuck, yeah,” Frank sighed, and suddenly popped them out of his mouth, causing Gerard to whine.
“Be patient, baby,” Frank admonished him, and ever so slowly, as Gerard hovered over him on his knees, reached Gerard’s hole, where he pressed softly, firm but tender. Immediately, Gerard shivered, a low, involuntary moan escaping him.
“Now fuck yourself on my fingers,” Frank suggested, pushing inside him, “at your own pace.”
Gerard’s breath hitched as his body began to melt into Frank’s touch, as he slowly moved up and down, stretching around Frank’s fingers.
Frank’s other hand traced Gerard’s hip before grabbing him and helping him move faster, making Gerard whimper.
“You look like the angel, tonight,” Frank murmured.
Gerard looked at Frank, naked underneath him, almost glowing in the buzzing lights, looking at him as if he was witnessing something miraculous. It made him feel happy. Warm. even - loved.
“I… ” Gerard whispered, flustered, “I am ready, Frank.”
Frank let his fingers slide out, just to take his cock and guide it towards Gerard’s entrance. Gerard was fully lost in the electrifying presence of the other, surrounded by the hum of the electricity, the record spinning, the lights warm and fuzzy, the feeling of something hot and very much there entering him. It wasn’t like taking any cock. It filled him in a different, more complete way, like its fullness wasn’t only matter, but way more. He began to rock against Frank’s hips, dark, long hair falling in wet strands over his face. The room was impossibly hot, but Frank didn’t notice, maybe he couldn’t also because he was the source of the energy that made it like this. He was too focused on marvelling at the sensation of Gerard taking him fully, of feeling a connection he never really felt when alive, as if he was entering the other with more than just his cock. Even if that part was enough, and was honestly amazing. He was guiding Gerard’s hips against him, helping his rhythm, fingers pressed into the softness of his skin.
“You’re so perfect, so good, I feel you all around my cock, so -” Frank was already babbling, but Gerard liked it. He smiled, his hand reaching Frank’s collarbone.
“I feel you all around me, Frank, fuck, I-” Gerard moaned, movements getting more erratic, as his hand reached the others’ neck, fingers tracing its side.
“Choke me,” Frank pleaded, feeling the pleasure building up, “Fucking - choke me, baby,”
Gerard’s eyes got darker, the invitation too intriguing to be ignored.
“Just - for testing, oh yeah Frank, fuck,” Gerard replied, tightening his grip.
“Shit shit shit,” Frank felt it, he felt the air missing from his lungs. He stopped talking because he couldn’t anymore, and Gerard softened the grip.
“Could you -?” he asked, curious.
“Fuck yeah, do it again, but only when you’ll be about to come because I’ll fucking come for sure.”
Gerard nodded and got back to fucking himself on Frank’s cock, bending over so he could kiss him, a sloppy, wet kiss that connected them with a string of saliva when Gerard broke it. Then, he let the saliva pool in his mouth before letting it fall slowly into the other’s mouth, who seemed to be having a vision. He took it all, fucking into Gerard harder.
“You’re the hottest fucking weirdo, fucking crazy pretty boy fucking fuck -” Frank was incoherent now, and Gerard noticed how the TV screen of the bedroom had turned on, skipping channels, the record player was spinning suddenly faster and then slower and faster again, the string of Christmas lights blinking like they were about to explode.
“Frank, I wanna come with your ghost cock inside me,” Gerard moaned, caressing Frank’s face, “wanna test… if you have ghost cum. So so bad.”
“The fuck, you fuckin-” Frank didn’t know what to say anymore, and thankfully Gerard brought his hand around his throat again, tightening the grip and releasing it in a pulse, following the pattern of the energy losses and surges of the room and the rhythm of Frank’s cock inside him.
“Yeah, Frankie, yeah, like that, fuck me baby, come inside me, please, I wanna come with you, will you come with me?”
“Yeah, I - fuck, I’m -” Frank’s breath got cut off by Gerard’s hand tightening against his throat, without releasing this time. Oh, yeah, that tipped him over the edge.
Gerard was riding him, going after his own orgasm, and had his eyes closed when he felt it. Felt him. Frank came in a sort of surge of energy filling him up with everything and nothing at the same time, a sort of static, running through his skin, making his hair stand and making his own pleasure explode, spilling his own cum over Frank’s tattooed stomach. A few Christmas lights popped off, the record player turned the song into its high-pitched version and the TV went into full static. Gerard released Frank’s throat, and dropped down, exhausted, not caring about the mess underneath him.
He breathed deeply, nudging Frank’s face with his own, kissing him softly.
“What an amazing revelation for my case file, Mulder will be happy,” Gerard sighed, and Frank snorted.
“How can you be like this?” he asked him, taking his face in his hands.
Gerard looked at him, puzzled.
“Be like what?”
Instead of replying, Frank kissed him slowly, pulling him closer.
The room was still, the air heavy with warmth and quiet afterglow. Gerard’s breath came slow and even now, the adrenaline fading, replaced by something softer, more fragile. He reached out, fingers trembling, to touch Frank’s face - now cooler than before, and somehow weightless under his palm, yet so vividly there that it ached.
Frank smiled at the touch. His lips were a shade too pale, his outline faint at the edges, as though the night itself was trying to reclaim him.
“You always look at me like I’m real,” he whispered.
Gerard gave a quiet laugh, half asleep already.
“You are real.”
“Only until dawn,” Frank said, voice barely audible. The words hit both of them, but they both had to remember them.
“Don’t say that,” Gerard said softly. “Not yet. Just… stay.”
“I will, until I can. I don’t want you to see me disappear, though. I want you to fall asleep as you hold me in your arms, ” Frank moved slightly, resting his head on Gerard’s chest, “I like hearing your heart. The sound of life. It’s louder when I’m near you.”
The words were tender, but Gerard could feel the air beginning to change, a thin shimmer creeping into the edges of the room, a warning that morning was close. The silver light outside had begun to shift toward grey-blue, and Frank’s body was losing its weight, its colour, its definition.
“You’ll fade,” Gerard whispered.
“Only for a while,” Frank smiled again, and this time there was sadness in it, the kind that carried understanding instead of fear.
“Meet me next Halloween,” Gerard said quickly, tipping Frank's head up, so that he could look at him, “as soon as you can be like this again. Appear in my bed. At my workplace, ring my doorbell. Whatever the fuck you want, Frank. I’ll be there for you. If you want, of course.”
Frank blinked, the sudden rush of words catching him off guard. For a second, he just stared at Gerard, his childlike determination making him feel fuzzy inside.
“You’ll be there for me?” Frank repeated softly, as if testing how the phrase felt on his tongue.
“Of course I will,” Gerard nodded, his hands still cradling Frank’s face.
Frank hadn’t realised ghosts could still feel their hearts twist like this: the ache of wanting and not belonging, the echo of something that almost feels like hope. He closed his eyes, leaning into the warmth of Gerard’s palms, pretending for just a second that the space between them wasn’t stitched together with death and longing.
“Next Halloween,” Frank repeated, “You make it sound like we’ve got a standing date.”
“Maybe we do.”
Frank huffed out a laugh.
“God, you’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah,” Gerard murmured, “but you like me that way.”
“I do,” Frank admitted, almost embarrassed by his own honesty. His thumb brushed the edge of Gerard’s jaw, a touch as faint as a sigh, “You’re serious about this? You actually want a dead guy haunting your bed once a year?”
Gerard’s expression softened.
“Frank,” he said simply, “I want you to haunt me. I’m fine even without the bed part, even though I’d love to prepare properly for next year, plan a real date, and a real test for your uhm, ghost abilities.”
“You shouldn’t say things like that to a ghost,” he said, attempting humour but failing miserably at masking the crack in his voice.
Gerard tilted his head.
“Why not?”
“Because we’ll take it too seriously. We’ll start thinking we belong here again. That we belong with you.”
Gerard’s hand slipped to the back of Frank’s neck, gentle but sure.
“Then belong,” he said. “One night a year or all year around, if you can hang - and want to hang - in the static.”
“You really mean that?”
“I do.”
There was silence, thick and aching. The faint light of dawn had begun to bleed in through the window, dulling the edges of Frank’s form. He could feel it tugging at him, unravelling him thread by thread. He swallowed, or tried to, though his throat had no weight, no breath.
“So…” he began, voice trembling, “are you saying you want me to be your…” he hesitated, a nervous laugh escaping him, “Your ghostfriend?”
“Yeah,” Gerard kissed the top of his head, “I want you to be my ghostfriend.”
Frank laughed, shaking his head, though his eyes shone like glass catching dawnlight. “You’re such a weirdo.”
“I know,” Gerard murmured, pulling him close, “Guess I finally found someone weird enough to keep up.”
Frank held onto him tight, listening to his breath slow down. Gerard wanted to fight it, but exhaustion was heavy on his limbs, and Frank’s cool fingers traced calming lines along his chest. The touch was barely there, more memory than sensation, but it lulled him under, slower and slower, until his breathing matched the faint hum of the world around them.
Frank watched him for a while, his expression unreadable in the dim light.
“See you next Halloween,” Frank whispered, kissing Gerard’s pale skin.
By the time Gerard woke up, the morning was filtering through the curtains, a cutout of white reflecting on the floor. For a long moment, he stood still, listening to the silence, half-convinced it had all been a dream.
Then the lights flickered. Once. Twice. The buzz of the electricity got louder, and the old television in the corner turned on suddenly. Gerard sat up, rubbing his eyes as the channels began to skip on their own.
Channel 3. Static. Channel 5. A flash of an old cartoon. Channel 7. The morning news. Then, slowly, a sentence began to take shape, formed by flashes of letters and subtitles and the voice of whoever was talking on the screen:
GOOD MORNING, PRETTY BOY.
“Good morning, Frankie,” Gerard greeted him, caressing the screen.