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Monday 
It was a phone call first. One that would keep Frank up for nights to come because he really shouldn’t have answered it. But when Gerard called him for the first time in two years, how could he have known that it’d break his heart all over again?

That was the call where Gerard told Frank he was getting married. Frank hadn’t even known Gerard was

dating,

let alone that it was serious enough to warrant considering

marriage.

They didn’t talk as much as they used to; at this point, it was little more than a “happy birthday” text in the groupchat they shared with mutual friends Ray and Mikey.

But the worst part of that call wasn’t learning that Gerard had moved on; it was Gerard’s next question. He asked Frank to be in the

wedding party.

Meaning Gerard had not only moved on, but he also expected Frank to have moved on and be casual enough about their failed relationship that he could stand at the side of the altar with his ex-who-was-afraid-of-commitment and watch him marry somebody else.

Next it was a paper invitation he fished out of his mailbox when he came home from work. He knew exactly what it was without opening it; he recognized the return address even though the handwriting was definitely not Gerard’s messy scrawl.

He didn’t open it. He left it on his kitchen table, under all the bills he had to pay. He piled more mail up day after day, hiding the invitation for weeks until he got another call from Gerard—which was becoming a slightly more frequent occurrence, but only so they could talk about wedding stuff—that they were still waiting on Frank’s RSVP, and they still needed it even though he was in the wedding party and was therefore definitely coming.

Frank thought he blacked out when he filled out the RSVP card and stuck it in the mail—that was why he couldn’t remember what dinner option he picked, what the bride’s name was, or if he’d added a plus one or not.

The latter was the thing that got him in trouble. It was the one that warranted another phone call and a panicked-sounding Gerard asking, “Can I have the name of your date for the wedding?” two weeks before the day.

“Date?” Frank choked around the banana in his mouth, because it was his lunch break and he’d been trying to eat healthier lately.

“Yeah, you RSVPed with a plus one. And I need their name so we can get a place card for the table.”

Frank shook his head despite knowing Gerard couldn’t see him. “I didn’t check plus one.”

Gerard was silent on the other line, and the only sound in Frank’s ears became his racing heart. “Yes, you did. I’m looking at your RSVP right now.”

“Shit.” Frank hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it just kind of slipped out.

There was another silence which felt twice as long as the last, but it eventually ended when Gerard cleared his throat. “Frankie, it’s totally fine if you bring someone.”

Frank’s panic took a break for pure, unadulterated confusion. “What?”

“I mean, it’s not weird if you bring a date to my wedding. Of course it’s not weird, ‘cause I’m getting married and all that. So if you’re seeing someone, you’re more than welcome to bring them.”

“Who said I’m seeing anyone?”

“Mikey told me you told him you were dating someone.”

Like a flashback in a bad movie, it came back to him. It was a few nights after Frank had moved and he’d gotten really drunk by himself because he didn’t have any friends yet. That was also the night Mikey called to check in—knowing Frank had been struggling since the breakup—but Frank’s drunken brain had spilled out this lie about how he had a new partner and a ton of new friends and he was doing better than ever. A lie that Mikey had apparently regurgitated to his sibling and god knows who else.

This wasn’t the first time Frank had gotten trapped in one of his lies, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. And rather than try to set the record straight, Frank sighed slowly and murmured, “I am.”

“That’s great, Frankie.”

It didn’t sound great. It sounded like a dagger digging through the tendons surrounding what was left of Frank’s heart until it could come free and out of his chest.

“But, hey, what’s their name? So I can get this place card order in.”

Frank hesitated; his head was completely blank of any names he could drop. So instead he cleared his throat and said, “Okay. Uh, just… Can I get back to you? I-I gotta talk it over with him, be-because I told him he couldn’t come so I don’t even know if he has that weekend free a-and—”

“That’s fine,” Gerard said quickly. “Just let me know as soon as you can, okay?”

That was two weeks ago. And it wasn’t like Gerard never followed up—they did, plenty of times—but Frank kept worming his way out of it by fabricating schedule conflicts and complications for his fake boyfriend before even giving him a name. It was easier than telling the truth, and actually searching for a real boyfriend was completely out of the question.

It had

seemed

easier until the wedding was a week away and Gerard’s nerves were running thin, and Frank woke up to a voicemail of Gerard yelling, “Please just tell me his name and if he’s coming, Frankie! I

need

these final counts, I need these stupid cards, and I need you to make my life easy so please for the love of

god

just tell me if your fuckin’ boyfriend can attend my fuckin’ wedding on Saturday!”

Three years ago, Gerard had broken Frank’s heart beyond repair. Yet for some reason, knowing he caused Gerard even the littlest bit of stress made Frank nauseous. He never wanted to cause them any discomfort, even after everything.

“Here’s an idea,” Travis said approximately thirty minutes after opening, which was how long it took Frank to detail the whole situation to him. “You could tell him the truth. So then you don’t have to bring anybody. Problem solved.”

Travis was Frank’s best friend as of the last two years. They met at a local show, but through their mutual love and expertise in music decided to open a music store together, where they both worked daily. He was the person Frank spent most of his time around, which also made him Frank’s appointed therapist in this situation. 
“No, problem very much not solved,” Frank whined—he was very aware that he was whining at this point, but that wasn’t important. “Problem way bigger, because if I tell Gee I lied, I gotta tell him why. I gotta tell him I’m not over him even though it’s been three years and he’s moved on. And if that’s not awkward enough, then everybody else gets to know that, too. We’ve got a lot of the same friends and his family is basically mine, too, and they’re all gonna look at me like I’m this pathetic little bitch who couldn’t move on after Gee dumped me.” 
“But you

are

a pathetic little bitch who couldn’t move on after Gee dumped you.”

Frank hit Travis’ arm as hard as he could, but he understood from Travis’ chuckle that it didn’t hurt like he wanted it to. “Fuck you. I’m trying to be honest with you here—”

“Then why can’t you be honest with everybody else?” Travis asked, his smile dropping. “Because this isn’t that big a deal. It’s a little embarrassing that you lied for so long, but you can’t let anybody tell you your feelings aren’t valid, you know.”

“You don’t get it.” Frank took a sip of water. “We dated for three years and I

loved them.

They didn’t love me, and I had no idea. It was

humiliating

when they finally cut me loose. I

moved.

And if I have to go back there, a-and if I have to be in the

party…”

He took a deep breath; he’d cried an endless amount over this but he was determined

not

to shed another tear. “I can’t do it. I can’t tell him I lied, and I can’t show up single.”

Travis nodded, but he paused before he spoke. At least he was thinking. “There’s nothing wrong with being single. Especially after everything you went through.”

“I just don’t want anybody to know I’m still struggling,” Frank admitted, which were words he wouldn’t have said around anybody else. But this whole business venture meant he got to know Travis pretty well, and he’d learned that he could be comfortable with him. “If I don’t ever have to see those people again, I just want them to think I’m all right. I’m happy.” He paused, his eyes fixing on Travis’ fingers where he counted the money in the register. He wasn’t sure what made it click, but he could’ve sworn it was the gold band on Travis’ finger. “I need a fake boyfriend.”

Travis put the bills down suddenly. “No. Jesus Christ, no.”

Frank had to blink a few times and refocus his eyes. Travis was glaring at him. Travis, his kind-hearted, goofy best friend, was glaring at him. “What?” He couldn’t think of what he’d said wrong.

“Are you kidding me? A fake boyfriend? That’s an awful fucking idea! In what fucking universe is that going to work out for you?”

“In the one where I go to this wedding and my ex thinks I’ve got my life together, then as soon as it’s over I can go home and go back to normal and nobody has to know!”

“Except for the part where you get to pretend you have a boyfriend to watch your ex get married, then you come home and it’s over and you feel even worse.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Frank insisted. He glanced down Travis’ chest as an idea formed like a storm over the ocean. “That’s not gonna happen because you’re gonna be my fake boyfriend.”

Travis immediately laughed. “No, I’m not.”

“Please?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m married!”

“Nobody has to know that!”

“Yeah, but you’re asking me to take a weekend away from my wife and kids to go play your boyfriend at your ex’s wedding in another state. I love you, man, but not that much.”

“Look, I know it’s a lot, but I’ll pay for everything, and—”

“I said no, Frankie.”

Frank sighed. Travis was probably the only person he could ask about this, since he was really the only person who knew about Gerard like this. But he wouldn’t have any luck getting him to budge on this. “Fine. Then I’ll just—”

“Hey, if you need a boyfriend, I’m always available.”

Frank jumped at the sound of another voice. Last he checked, the store was empty aside from him and Travis. So to see Anthony leaning on the counter, blue eyes and toothy grin fixed on Frank, gave him a feeling not unlike how he imagined heart attacks.

Anthony was a regular at their shop, one of the few regulars they actually had due mostly to his long friendship with Travis and career as a local musician. Frank wasn’t as close with him as he was with Travis, but he’d seen him play and shared a few drinks with him. He liked Anthony, but that didn’t prepare him to hear those words come out of his mouth.

“Have you been here the whole time?” Travis exclaimed. He apparently didn’t hear Anthony come in, either.

“Uh, yeah.” Anthony’s smile didn’t falter. “Door’s open.”

“Well…” Travis cleared his throat and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “What, uh, what are you looking for?”

“Can’t remember. Got caught up in…” Anthony gestured vaguely between the two of them. “Whatever this is. My offer still stands, by the way.”

Frank blinked a few times and tried to remember what Anthony had said. “I, uh, I’m flattered, but I’m not looking for a boyfriend. Not a real one, anyway. Just a fake one.”

“Yeah, I know. I was listening.” Anthony straightened up and unwrapped a piece of gum, though Frank wasn’t sure where it had come from. “Your ex is getting married?”

“Yeah.”

“Sucks.” Anthony slid the gum between his teeth and nodded. “But hey, I’d be happy to help make him jealous. If you want me.”

“Hold up—” Travis started to say.

But Travis was essentially out of the room, because Frank could’ve sworn he just saw a shimmery gold halo appear over Anthony’s head. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Sure,” Anthony said. “Anything for a friend.”

“Oh my god.” Frank clapped his hands together. It was all coming together. “Oh my god, this is gonna be perfect.” He could just

imagine

Gerard’s face when he walked in and introduced blue-eyed, classically handsome, tattooed Anthony Green as his boyfriend. He suddenly couldn’t wait for this wedding.

“Can we take a second?” Travis interrupted again, but this time, he got Anthony’s attention.

“For what?”

“Maybe to fucking think about this? Fake dating? Does that seriously seem like a good idea to either of you?”

“You don’t get it, Trav,” Frank insisted again.

“Yeah, you’re already married,” Anthony agreed.

“All the more reason to listen to me,” Travis grumbled. “But whatever, idiots. If you wanna try being fake boyfriends for a weekend, don’t come to me when everything blows up for you.”

Frank rolled his eyes and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I don’t think I have your number.” He slid his phone across the counter.

“Yeah, you can send me the info for this weekend.” Anthony picked it up and started sliding through it.

“Do you have, like, shit to wear and stuff? I know it’s short notice, but, like…”

“I can figure it out.” Anthony slid back across the counter. “And we can figure everything else out, too. Like how we started dating and all that shit.”

“Perfect.” Frank couldn’t help beaming as he found Anthony’s new contact and sent him a text. “Perfect, this is—Oh my god, dude. You’re such a lifesaver. Thank you so much.”

“Anytime.” Anthony checked his phone when it dinged. “But I gotta run, then, so I’ll see you Friday? If not before?”

“Yeah, man, we gotta be there on Friday. We’ll work it out. Thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it. And I’ll see you guys later.” He saluted as he walked backwards, only turning around once he reached the door.

The doorbell dingled on Anthony’s exit, and immediately after, Travis let out a loud sigh—the kind he wanted Frank to notice. Frank rolled his eyes and glared at his friend. “Why can you never be happy for me?”

Travis didn’t answer. All he said was, “You know this can only go horribly wrong, right?”

Frank suppressed another eye roll and instead left the counter for the back room. There had to be something he could stock, and if working got him away from Travis’ judgment, he’d probably get a lot done today.

But before he could start unpacking the box of what was supposed to be new pedals, he checked his phone in his hand again. He’d gotten a thumbs up back from Anthony, but he instead opened his last conversation with Gerard. They’d last been talking about wedding stuff—which was pretty typical these days—but Frank knew they would get it from his short message:

Anthony Green.

Friday 
Frank hadn’t managed to get much sleep the night before. He kept tossing and turning and admittedly crying into his pillow, but the two or so hours he actually managed didn’t seem to help. The second his alarm went off, he was overtaken by nausea—the kind that wouldn’t be strong enough to send anything up, but would annoy and inconvenience him all day.

He didn’t give himself a lot of time that morning, knowing it’d only make him dwell on it all. Quickly, he changed, made coffee, and kissed his dog goodbye—Travis had agreed to stop by during the day to let her out and feed her—before rushing to his car with his bag in hand. Now all he had to do was drive to Gerard’s wedding alone and not think about how he was driving to Gerard’s wedding.

Anthony had agreed to meet him at the hotel before they had to head to rehearsal dinner. Frank wanted to get there early because… Well, because he couldn’t just sit around and wait. He knew himself; he was going to go crazy if he just woke up and treated this like any other day.

But Frank arrived at the hotel three hours before the rehearsal dinner was supposed to start. The time alone in the car hadn’t helped him not think about things—not even when he’d turned on loud music that didn’t even remind him of Gerard—and neither would the time alone at the hotel waiting.

He decided to take a shower, so he could occupy his time with getting ready for tonight. He turned the spray on as hot as he could stand and spent a solid ten minutes letting it wash over him while he stared motionless at the wall. Between the unbearable heat and the sound of the thrumming water, it was almost enough to clear his mind. Almost.

He lost track of time; all he knew was that his fingers were well-pruned and his skin was almost all pink by the time he finally turned off the shower. He toweled off and left it wrapped around his waist before he opened the door in a cloud of steam.

He just about jumped out of it when he stepped into the room and found he wasn’t alone. Anthony was hunched over the bed, looking through a bag he must’ve brought. Frank froze in his tracks—his plan was to go hide in the bathroom again, but he hadn’t brought any clothes in there to change into.

But Anthony must’ve heard the door open, because he  turned around and got a few good eyefuls of Frank in just a towel before he glanced up and met Frank’s eyes. A slow smile spread across his face in a way that reminded Frank of a shark. And he was but a minnow when Anthony said, “Hey! Good to see you!”

“Y-yeah,” Frank stammered because his brain wasn’t forming words coherently at the moment. “Glad you could make it.” Great, he sounded like an idiot, too. And he was completely naked export for a too-short hotel towel barely clinging to his love handles, and he was blushing like a cherry tomato at Anthony seeing him like this. Because Anthony had definitely looked him up and down a few times, and the only reason he was smiling right now had to be because of pity.

Pity. He was going to have to get used to that this weekend.

“I, uh, I’m gonna get dressed.” Frank kept a hand clamped around the towel at his waist while he sidestepped past Anthony to grab his bag. He wasn’t going to risk bending over to rifle through it and instead carried the whole thing with him instead.

“I’ll be here,” Anthony said. It sounded like he sat down on the bed, but Frank absolutely refused to look at him.

He dressed, rinsed his face with cold water, and took a few deep breaths any therapist would’ve been proud of before he could face Anthony again. His heart was still racing painfully, but that was becoming a normal thing, something he could work around.

Anthony wasn’t waiting for him in the hotel room. Frank was halfway through thinking of a joke on how he couldn’t even keep a fake boyfriend when he realized the balcony door was cracked open. So he followed.

Anthony leaned against the railing, smoking a cigarette, blowing smoke towards the clouds overhead. Frank hesitated and took a deep breath before he stepped onto the balcony, too. “Can I bum one?”

If he’d startled Anthony, he didn’t let it show. He just reached in his pocket, and by the time Frank had joined his side, he was holding a cigarette between his fingers for Frank to take. “Thought I heard you were quitting,” Anthony said around his own while Frank lit up.

Frank breathed the smoke in deep and closed his eyes. “Trying to,” he said upon his exhale. “But this weekend’s not a good time for that.”

“Right.” Anthony stowed the lighter again and just took his own drag.

It gave Frank a second to close his eyes and enjoy the smoke in his lungs and the silence between them.

Until Anthony said, “So tell me about Gerard.”

Frank blinked his eyes open, his heartbeat approaching panic levels again. “What do you wanna know?”

“What happened between you two.”

Frank sighed heavily, emptying all the air out of his lungs. “I thought you already knew about that.”

Anthony shot him a smile, but there was a hint of slyness with it. “I only know what you told Travis.”

“That’s fine, then. That’s all you need to know.”

“Doesn’t really explain why you needed a fake boyfriend for this.”

“If you don’t wanna do this—”

“I didn’t say that.” Anthony’s face fell, and he watched Frank like he could see right through him. “I just asked for an explanation.”

Frank looked away towards the treeline against the horizon. This wasn’t a hugely busy part of town, so the street underneath wasn’t very loud. He began in a whisper: “I dated Gee for five years. Kind of. He never loved me, and he wouldn’t commit to me, but I loved him enough to stay and hope he’d change his mind. He didn’t.

“They finally cut me loose after five years, and it destroyed me, okay?” He let out another sigh, and took a drag of his cigarette to stave off the tears threatening to gather in his eyes. “I moved to get away from them and all the people who knew about us, and I’d really rather none of them find out I’m still so desperate for them.”

Frank wouldn’t look at Anthony, so he couldn’t tell what he was thinking. It was made worse by his pause; he didn’t speak for a good few seconds that felt like years.

Anthony cleared his throat. “Sounds to me like they should be way more scared of seeing you after treating you like that,” he finally said.

Frank jolted. Anthony’s words were a smack in the face; he cast a glare at him through the corner of his eye. “He never meant to hurt me, okay?”

Anthony still watched him, but his face was unreadable. There was this look in his eyes that Frank couldn’t quite place, and the longer he looked at him, the colder he felt.

Maybe they couldn’t be convincing fake boyfriends after all.

Anthony took one last long drag of his cigarette before he flicked it off the balcony, into the quiet street below. He cleared his throat and watched it fall. “So what’s our story, then? What are we gonna tell people about us?”

Frank breathed a sigh of relief, one he hadn’t known he was holding back. He dropped his cigarette, too, and leaned against the railing.

On the horizon, the sun started to set.

Frank insisted on getting to the rehearsal dinner early. He hadn’t told anyone he was back in town yet, and he knew a lot of people were all going to want to see him. Which meant Anthony had to be there early, too, something he clearly protested, but after their conversation earlier, he was at least hesitant to voice why.

It wasn’t a very big restaurant and Frank wasn’t sure what they had, but he was comforted by the bar in the back of the joint and the long line of taps and shelves stocked with liquors. Hopefully drinking would make this bearable.

“Wanna drink?” Anthony asked, like he was reading Frank’s mind.

Frank nodded vehemently and let Anthony steer him towards the bar.

The rum and Coke in his hand didn’t help at all when he caught his first glimpse of Gerard.

Frank’s Gerard was a bit of a mess, admittedly, but Frank always loved him in spite. He loved that Gerard was fat, he loved his greasy black hair that hung in front of his face, he loved him despite his addictions and his episodes and the nights he spent not sleeping because he knew Gerard would rather be dead despite Frank’s undying love.

That person was not present in the one who caught Frank’s eye from across the room.

That person had bright red hair, like firetruck red hair, that looked like it was probably washed in the last twenty-four hours. They were a lot thinner, too; it didn’t look like they were trying to hide themselves with clothes anymore. They looked cleaner and healthier, in perfect contrast to everything Frank knew about them, and if it weren’t for that cute little upturned nose, Frank wouldn’t recognize them at all.

He didn’t have enough time to gather his thoughts before Gerard was making his way across the room, even though Frank had dreamed forever of seeing him again. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this; Gerard wasn’t supposed to be all hot and put together. He was supposed to be just as broken as Frank so he could pick up the pieces and salvage this.

Gerard’s arms were around him long before he was ready. “Holy shit, Frankie,” he breathed. “It’s so good to see you! I can’t believe you’re here!”

Frank needed to say something, but he just couldn’t get any words out. He spluttered noncommittally and threw his arms back around Gerard no matter how badly his brain was screaming at him to stop.

It didn’t feel like Gerard in his arms, though. They weren’t fat enough, and they didn’t have the right kind of unwashed smell. It felt different inside, too. It wasn’t the fairy tale reunion Frank had been expecting.

Gerard pulled away, and Frank’s heart admittedly sank. They were smiling with both rows of their stupid tiny teeth, but their eyes left Frank very quickly. They looked at Anthony instead. “Oh, is this your boyfriend?”

Frank cleared his throat. “Yeah.” He caught Anthony’s eye, but he had to look away quickly. Anthony could see too much. “Yeah, this is Anthony. And Anthony, that’s Gerard.”

They shook hands. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Anthony said, which only made Frank want to punch him in the face.

Gerard just smiled. “Yeah, I bet.” When he dropped Anthony’s hand, he looked back over his shoulder for a moment. “Anyway, Frankie, Ray and Mikey are here and they’ve been dying to see you, so…”

“Okay, yeah,” Frank said, desperate to get some attention off his fake boyfriend. He didn’t want Gerard to look too closely and figure out that Anthony wasn’t his boyfriend at all. “Let’s, uh…” He cast a glance back at Anthony. Was he supposed to leave him here or bring him? He didn’t know how to do this anymore.

When Gerard turned around and told Frank to follow, though, Anthony didn’t let them get too far before he slipped his fingers into Frank’s. At first, Frank jumped at the touch, but he caught Anthony’s eye. Anthony knew what he was doing; he knew how to sell this. And even though Frank could feel his palm start sweating, he clung to Anthony’s hand like a safety blanket when he went to confront his other friends.

He was met with big hugs from both Ray and Mikey, and they had warm smiles for Anthony, too. Their approval of Anthony wasn’t even what Frank was worried about, though; it seemed he didn’t even need to bring him to be greeted by his friends with open arms. Anthony’s presence only seemed to complicate things as they stood in a circle and caught up, if the glances Gerard kept casting at him were anything to go by.

He hardly even looked at Frank.

Frank didn’t even finish his first drink until the bride arrived—the announcement of which prompted him to knock the glass back. Because Gerard greeted their fiancée with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, which made her smile because that would make anyone smile. She was astoundingly beautiful; her hair was blonde but her dark eyebrows betrayed that it was dyed. She wore a form-fitting dress that showed off an exceptional figure and wore bright red lipstick that framed her little smile just perfectly.

Gerard led her right to Frank and Anthony since they were the only strangers to her in the room. Her hand was small and smooth in Frank’s when he shook it, and she offered him a smile that was surprisingly earnest. Frank had been expecting some bitterness from the bride, considering his history with her fiancé and his place in the wedding party, but he couldn’t pinpoint any.

People Frank didn’t know danced in front of him and Anthony for a long time. Gerard suddenly had a lot of friends, or maybe it was his fiancée, or maybe both. And Frank wasn’t typically an introvert, but the amount of bodies passing by him was making his head swim. At least Anthony had the decency to keep him near the bar.

If anything could be worse than meeting Gerard’s fiancée, it was seeing his parents again. Gerard’s parents had absolutely loved Frank back when they knew him, but Frank hadn’t seen them at all since things had fallen apart. He’d been too scared; there was no easy way to mitigate a conversation that boiled down to “your child broke my heart but I’m not mad at them and I really want them back, so will you please tell them to give me another chance?”

Any awkwardness was not mutual, because Frank received another big hug from Gerard’s mother. “Frankie, honey, it’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed while probably breaking all of his ribs in her embrace. “Look at you! You look so good!”

Frank resisted the urge to scoff. He didn’t know what Gerard had said to their mother about him over the years, but it really shouldn’t have warranted a reaction like that. It was all just pity. He

didn’t

look good and he knew that well. Frank seemed to have picked up every pound that Gerard shed; he’d let his beard grow out and he knew all the sleeplessness, smoking, and drinking were starting to catch up with him. Except he didn’t have anyone to be attractive for, so it didn’t matter until he was put on display like a zoo animal at this fucking wedding. And getting pity from

Gerard’s parents

was absolutely the last straw.

After giving them an abridged, less-pathetic account of the past three years, Anthony finally stepped in. “Let’s go get a drink,” he said; he could probably sense Frank’s discomfort. And when Gerard’s parents finally left them alone, Anthony steered Frank to the bar with an arm around his waist.

Also taking a break at the bar was Ray, and he made a space for them next to him, wrapping his arm around Frank for a quick second. Like if he stopped touching him, he’d disappear again.

“You have not told me about your band yet, and I’m dying to know.” Ray raised an eyebrow while he sipped from his wine glass.

“What band?” Frank asked when Ray let go. He didn’t think he’d told him anything.

“The band you’re in that you haven’t told me about yet.”

Frank swallowed hard. “I’m not in a band.”

Ray gave him an incredulous look. “You’re not making music?”

Before Frank could splutter some excuse about how he hadn’t been feeling it, Anthony jumped in. “Well, he’s writing music,” he said.

Frank shot him a panicked look—that wasn’t something he wanted brought up at the moment. It was true, of course, because over the past three years he’d filled notebook after notebook with bits of lyrics he couldn’t make fit anywhere to songs that averaged eight minutes long when Frank bothered to try playing them. But each word Frank bothered to scrawl down and every melody that got stuck in his head was about Gerard. They were weepy and painful and above all,

embarrassing.

The only reason Anthony even knew about any of it was because he’d caught Frank in the writing process when he thought he was alone in the store. And because after that he’d gotten Frank high and willing to play a few of them.

“He doesn’t like to play it for anybody,” Anthony added with a little smirk and a nudge to Frank’s ribs. “But he’s been writing some really good stuff.”

“Since when do you get stagefright?” Ray questioned.

And Ray had always been kind and understanding, which was why he found himself whispering, “Since I started writing songs about Gee.”

Ray didn’t laugh at him, as expected. He nodded slowly. “Oh,” he said softly. “I know that’s… hard, but you don’t have to hide it. You should stand by your feelings, your work. You shouldn’t quit just because you can’t stop writing about him.”

Frank forced himself to nod; he wasn’t in the mood for an uplifting lecture from Ray. That was why all he said was, “I still haven’t found any guys to do this with, though.”

“You found one, right?” Ray shot a smile at Anthony around Frank. Fucking traitor.

Frank rolled his eyes. “He’s got his own stuff he’s working on.”

“But I’ll always have time for you when you need me,” Anthony said and for a moment, Frank almost believed him.

They were saved by Gerard, but as soon as he landed on the other side of Ray, Frank realized they were no savior at all. “What are you guys talking about?” they asked just before they flagged down the bartender and asked for a Coke Zero.

Ray said, “Music,” just as Frank, bewildered, asked, “Just a Coke?”

When Frank knew Gerard, he was an alcoholic, though he never would’ve admitted it. Frank knew his drinking was excessive, but there was usually nothing he could do about it, try as he might. Gerard had a few DUIs against him, the last being the one that triggered the breakup. But his own wedding should’ve been more than an excuse to drink; Frank was convinced he’d have to spend the weekend making sure Gerard was safe and not behind the wheel.

Gerard leaned over so he could smile shyly at Frank around Ray. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m sober, you know.”

Frank did not know. Frank thought the day Gerard quit drinking would be the day the sun exploded. Gerard was self-destructive by nature; it was frankly unbelievable that they’d do anything to change that. “How long?” Frank asked, though the words got caught in his throat.

“Almost three years.” Gerard nodded at the bartender when she served the glass of Coke and just Coke.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Gerard had gotten sober shortly after they’d left Frank. Considering the timing of the DUI, the breakup, Gerard’s sobriety, and when they met their fiancée, there was absolutely no way those things weren’t related.

If this whole event was like a knife in Frank’s heart, Gerard was twisting the blade. And he was wearing that stupid, polite little smile while he did it even though he knew just how badly it would hurt.

“Right, Frankie?”

He was snapped out of his trance by Anthony’s elbow in his ribs again. He blinked a few times; his eyes were filling with tears, and he would’ve done anything to hide it. It was way too early in the night for him to start crying yet.

“Sorry, what?” he asked Anthony.

Anthony just had one of those stares that made it look like he was looking right through you, right into your heart and soul, so he could see just what made you tick. So Frank’s tears weren’t something he’d missed, judging from the way his soft smile fell. “I was telling them about the night we met. You came to one of my shows, remember?”

It was the truth; Frank and Anthony had decided the story of how they became friends could double as the story of how they became lovers, too. “Of course I remember,” Frank said quickly, because it was true. “You were incredible that night.”

“You came to the merch stand afterward and bought a CD.” Anthony’s eyes had gone glassy, like he was really reminiscing about that night. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you the whole time you stood in line.”

“I asked you for a drink,” Frank recounted. It was true; something about Anthony’s voice and lyrics just drew Frank to him straight away.

“I couldn’t say no. I fell for you straight away.”

For a moment, Frank could picture it. Anthony—when his hair was shorter and he hadn’t shaved—watching Frank in the merch line, laughing at his jokes with dewy eyes, a kiss after Anthony walked Frank home. None of that happened, but the bits of fiction fit so well into the truth. So well they almost seemed real.

It convinced Ray and Gerard, at least. Anthony’s small smile while Frank spoke, his hand on the small of Frank’s back, the kiss he pressed to Frank’s cheek when he noticed someone watching.

Anthony was a good actor, apparently. And after the dinner and all the mingling, he held Frank’s hand all the way out to the parking lot, though it was pitch black and they were among the last to leave.

The illusion was only broken by the slam of car doors and Anthony’s sigh. The flicker of his lighter illuminated the car just enough for Frank to see his face, which was very pointedly no longer fixed on him.

Goosebumps rose on Frank’s arms, but he couldn’t place why. He cleared his throat. “Can I bum one?”

“Think there’s somewhere open for you to get a pack?” Anthony asked, though he passed over the cigarette and lighter anyway.

It gave Frank another icky, chilly feeling. “I dunno. Kinda just wanna get to bed.”

“Okay. We can go out tomorrow, then.”

Frank passed the lighter back and started the car, the cigarette pinched between his teeth. He sucked in the smoke until his lungs could hold no more, but exhaling didn’t really help ease his nerves.

They spent a good few minutes in silence—silence Frank had no hopes of breaking—before Anthony cleared his throat again. “Can I ask you something?”

“‘Course,” Frank said even though his heart started to race.

Anthony hesitated. “It’s about Gerard.”

Frank thought about shutting him down right there, but he supposed it didn’t make sense to keep secrets when he’d already dragged Anthony this far. “Go ahead.”

“I guess I’m just wondering… Like…” He sighed. “What is it about that guy that got you so whipped? Don’t get me wrong, he’s nice and all, but I don’t really see…” He let himself trail off, rather than insult the groom whose wedding he was attending tomorrow any further.

Frank took a deep breath. He rolled his window down a little further, but the night air did nothing to help calm him any more than the cigarette. It burned low between his fingers, but Frank was hesitant to toss it out the window. “He just…” He considered lying again but again decided this would work best if he was honest with his fake boyfriend. “He’s a genius, okay? He has these ideas—he writes comics—and he creates these worlds and these characters and… And he’s just this incredible, creative force and all I wanted was to latch on and live in his ideas forever.”

He remembered lying on his stomach and watching Gerard sketch. They used to create the most amazing things out of just a blank page of a sketchbook, so full of life and pain, and Frank loved his art. He loved watching Gerard scribble out lyrics and helping them find the right melody on his guitar. He loved creating with them; he was never more inspired than when he was with them. Frank had been living in a void ever since, devoid of life and color and all the amazing things Gerard gave him.

“I guess that makes sense,” Anthony said quietly. He flicked the remainder of his cigarette out the window and rolled it up. Frank did the same, and the sudden silence from the closed windows made him flinch.

It didn’t matter if Anthony got it or not. Anthony didn’t even really matter. Anthony wasn’t Gerard and he never would be; no one would ever come close to what Frank had with Gerard. He’d realized it a long time ago, but seeing him here, among their friends and family, and knowing what came next only reopened the wound.

Thankfully, Anthony didn’t bother him much once they got back to the hotel. He took a shower almost instantly, which allowed Frank to change and lie down in peace.

The room had one king-sized bed, the result of Frank booking a hotel room months ago with no plans of bringing a date. Frank really wished he’d changed it; he wanted to revel in the loneliness of being the only body in the bed. But Anthony hadn’t even blinked at the lone bed, and Frank was determined not to whine anymore in front of him.

He fell asleep before Anthony even got out of the shower anyway. 
 
Saturday
 
When Frank woke up in an unfamiliar room, his first instinct was to panic. He hadn’t been one for random hookups since his very early twenties—days long since passed—so he was pretty much only used to waking up alone in his own bed.

He wasn’t even alone, though, because when he rolled over to his back, he found another body right next to his. A man’s bare back, tattooed arms folded under the pillow, and the covers resting just over his waist was the sight he was met with. He held his breath and held back the urge to run his hand over the dip of Anthony’s spine, tempting though it was.

Frank knew himself better than to assume he’d slept with Anthony last night, not when his sleepy brain came around to remembering why they were together. But seeing Anthony’s naked back while he slept made him wonder what it would be like.

Before he could get too lost in those thoughts, he got out of bed. He needed a shower, or coffee and a cigarette, or something.

His movement woke Anthony, though. He groaned as soon as Frank got off the mattress; he rolled over to his back and caught Frank’s eye. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Frank squeaked. There was a tattoo on Anthony’s chest that was drawing his eye, but he forced himself not to look at any more skin. Well, tried to.

If Anthony noticed, he didn’t say anything about it. He yawned and rubbed his eyes and asked for the time. When Frank told him, he made a face. “What are you doing up so early? I thought the wedding wasn’t til this evening?”

“It’s not,” Frank said. He waved his hands noncommittally. “I just…” He didn’t have the words to explain even if he could say them out loud.

Anthony dropped his hands. He gave Frank a knowing look. “You need anything?”

Frank shook his head.

“You sure? Anything, man…”

“Just a cigarette.”

Anthony got out of bed to get him one, which was unfortunate for Frank because he got to see Anthony’s whole torso—the tattoos that adorned the muscle underneath—and the very critical way his sweatpants sat on his hips. Before this morning, Frank would readily admit that Anthony was a good-looking guy, but he never would’ve thought that he was actually

hot.

Frank took the cigarette and lighter offered to him and disappeared to the balcony as quickly as he could. The door was glass and the curtain wasn’t completely shut, but even this small degree of separation was a relief. Just like the deep breath he took and the first drag from his cigarette.

Part of him had hoped it would rain all day. But there wasn’t a cloud in the morning sky; every forecast called for a beautiful fall evening when Gerard tied the knot. And no matter how hard Frank stared at the sun, he couldn’t make it go away. And he couldn’t make these feelings go away with any amount of smoke he tried to drown them out with.

He stayed outside long after he’d flicked the butt over the railing. Because as long as he stayed out on that balcony, time didn’t pass. And Gerard’s wedding wasn’t the ticking time bomb at the end of the day; the countdown was frozen.

He jumped when the door opened behind him, but he didn’t look until Anthony’s body blocked the rays of sunlight in his face. He was fully clothed this time, only Frank didn’t know if that was good or bad. He lit up first, but extended the pack to Frank right after. And the taste of smoke hadn’t yet left Frank’s tongue, but he drew another out anyway.

Anthony didn’t say anything. There wasn’t a sound beyond the occasional breeze rustling the leaves and their combined breaths, but it did nothing to relax him or ease his mind. The chill in the air pricked him down to his bones, but he didn’t dare go inside, not even to grab a jacket. He held himself against the railing, watched the occasional car pass underneath, and found himself whispering, “I’m not ready for this.”

Again, Anthony didn’t speak. Frank briefly wondered if he’d even heard him—although, he realized, it’d probably be best he didn’t—but he couldn’t doubt it by the time Anthony put his hand on his waist. It wasn’t like last night; Anthony wasn’t trying to use the touch to prove anything to anybody. It was warmer; it was just for Frank. It was a reminder that he was there, that he could be trusted, that despite Frank’s reluctance to let him into this part of his life at all, he was there to help. That meant he was a good friend. He loved Frank.

The next few hours passed unbelievably slowly. Frank was starting to think he’d never see the outside of that hotel room. At least, that was how he felt until he got a text from Gerard, saying they needed him at the venue early for pictures. Then the sunset was careening towards him like an atomic bomb, dead set on destroying him until there was nothing left.

Anthony didn’t need to be there early for pictures, but he told Frank it’d look better if they arrived together anyway. So they got dressed at the same time and got in the car just as the sun’s rays turned the world to gold around them.

“Who the hell gets married in a forest at sunset?” Anthony asked once he’d closed his window after smoking.

They were pulling at the venue, a state park with picturesque forests that they’d managed to rent out, alongside a small smattering of cars and people in formal dress. Frank let out a sigh. “They’re artsy people,” he said.

Getting out of the car, he had no idea how he was going to get through this evening.

Frank was dressed identically to Ray, Mikey, and Gerard, and right next to them were three identical bridesmaids surrounding the bride in her white dress. The beauty of it all was lost on Frank, though, even where candles and white flowers were set up in a small clearing. Where Gerard was waving Frank and Anthony over.

Anthony took Frank’s hand again on the way over. They’d spent so much time today not pretending to be lovers that he almost flinched at the touch, but fortunately he remembered himself. And he forced himself to smile when Gerard hugged him, even though he didn’t let go of Anthony’s hand. He maybe even squeezed it tighter.

“Good, you brought Anthony!” Gerard exclaimed when he finally let go. “You know, the photographer can probably get some shots of just the two of you when we’re done.” He pushed his fingers through his red hair; it was still loud and still kind of messy. “Y’know, once he shows up.”

“Oh.” Frank hesitated and looked towards Anthony. Was he really going to want romantic-looking pictures of him and Anthony—

just

him and Anthony—after this, when he wasn’t trying to convince anyone the two of them were dating? He really didn’t want any reminders of this weekend and the hoops he’d jumped through for it. Once it was done, he wanted to forget it like a bad dream. “We don’t have to—”

“That’d be great,” Anthony said instead. When Frank gave him a look, he just shrugged. “What? We never get pictures together. Not ones where we’re sober anyway.”

Gerard laughed, but Frank thought it sounded a little uncomfortable. “Awesome,” they said. “Just…” They brushed some of the hair off of Frank’s forehead, their touch making him shiver.

Fuck. Goddammit. Why couldn’t Gerard have gotten married in the mountains so Frank could throw himself off of one?

When the photographer finally showed up, they used the last hour of daylight before sunset to take pictures. Frank was sure they would turn out lovely considering the golden light, the changing leaves, and the gorgeous couple marrying in just a few minutes. Frank tried not to think about that last part, but it wormed its way into his head anyway. He stared at the camera lens and listened to the shutter click, knowing full well that his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

He only hoped he didn’t have to spell it out for them when they got the prints back and wondered, “Why the fuck did Frank look like that?”

It was a blur of shutter clicks and laughter while they took pictures in every possible combination of people. Frank felt himself being posed like a mannequin alongside all these happy people, even in the shots he took with just Anthony. Anthony didn’t seem to notice as he wrapped his arms around Frank and whispered, “We gotta give one of these to Travis.” Frank couldn’t even find it in himself to chuckle.

He felt similarly empty by the time pictures wrapped up and more cars filled up the park’s small lot. It was too soon that he was ushered off with the others because the wedding was starting soon. There were all these ribbons and fairy lights in the trees, and as the twilight began painting the sky pink, Frank’s heart jumped into overdrive. He wanted to slam on the brakes and scream, “I’m not ready!” But this wasn’t about him, and he watched the small crowd of collapsable chairs fill up with friends and family—about half of which were unknown to Frank.

Objectively, it was a beautiful ceremony. The sun set and turned all shades of pink and orange while the non-denominational officiant talked about unconditional love and all that shit.

Frank stood at Gerard’s side for the whole ceremony, but like anyone else who’s ever attended a wedding, he thought about himself. He knew what it was like to love someone unconditionally, but his unconditional love was holding the hands of another woman and smiling at her. Frank couldn’t see their face from where he stood, but he imagined them smiling. He imagined Gerard was looking at her like he’d never looked at Frank, because he apparently loved this woman unconditionally when he’d never even said the word to Frank.

In hindsight, Frank should’ve known better. But hindsight didn’t consider how it felt to be on the receiving end of one of Gerard’s smiles, the subject of his drawings, on his back while Gerard fucked him and kissed him and held him so tenderly.

Gerard kissed his bride, and Frank decided nobody was ever going to love him like that. If it couldn’t happen with Gerard, the person he gave his heart and soul and everything else to, then it wasn’t going to happen at all. He was never enough for Gerard, and he’d probably never be enough for anybody else, either.

The photographer took pictures all through the ceremony, but at the very end, Frank just couldn’t force his smile anymore. He didn’t really care if he ruined Gerard’s wedding pictures anymore. The least they could do was be reminded of how bad they hurt Frank whenever they looked back at them.

The end of the ceremony flowed straight into the start of the reception, which was in the same park, but a separate area already decorated with tables, chairs, and the same fairy lights. Caterers were flitting about, setting up the bar and hors d’oeuvres and making sure everything was absolutely perfect.

Frank was one of the last to make it to the reception area. Had there been any walls at all to the venue, he surely would’ve hidden for a few hours, if not the whole night. But he didn’t have the chance, because the crowd mystically parted, and Frank caught Anthony’s eye from behind the table he was supposed to sit at.

Fuck. He’d actually managed to forget about Anthony during the ceremony. He forgot about his stupid plan to make Gerard jealous by showing up on Anthony’s arm, which had obviously failed because Gerard couldn’t give a shit about neither Frank nor Anthony. They were happily married now, and they only had eyes for their beautiful wife.

Anthony waved Frank over, giving him no choice but to follow. It proved to be the right move, though, because as soon as he was within arms’ distance, Anthony was pressing a glass of what smelled like liquor and a lit cigarette into his hands. “Thought you could use this,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up into that little smirk Frank wanted to trace.

Frank took a sip of the drink—rum and Coke, just like the night before—and a drag of his cigarette before he exhaled the smoke and groaned, “God, you’re the fuckin’ best, man.”

Anthony’s smirk didn’t last. Frank followed the path his pupils took back and forth between his own before dropping his gaze as Anthony’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. He didn’t know why he was watching so closely or why it was so hard to look away. He shivered.

“I, uh, I know that must’ve been hard,” Anthony said slowly, like he wasn’t sure how to say it. “You feeling okay?”

Frank shook his head long before Anthony stopped talking. “Dude, I am so not in the mood to talk about this.”

His smirk returned, though it was much more subtle this time. “I just don’t want you to be too miserable.”

“Don’t think I have much of a choice,” Frank murmured, but his attention was drawn away from Anthony before he could get the last sound out. He was distracted by a blur of black and white and a voice that was unmistakably Gerard’s, lilted up in a jovial greeting.

“Frankie!” Gerard’s arms landed around Frank before he could ask them not to. There was a chuckle in their voice when they added, “I guess you found the bar okay, then.”

Frank glanced at his rum and Coke, half of which Gerard could no longer drink. He grimaced. “Sorry.”

“No, no worries!” Gerard’s smile was usually infectious, but Frank could only see the malice in it now. “We’re celebrating now! And, hey, I’m just so fuckin’ glad you made it. I just wanted to tell you again.”

Frank almost choked, even though there was nothing in his mouth. How the hell was Gerard so happy to see him after he’d hurt him so badly? It didn’t make sense, none of this did, and as the rum started to settle in and cloud Frank’s head, he was so much more eager to whine about it.

He didn’t whine, though, because the next assaulting hug came from Gerard’s new wife. She beamed her red-lipstick smile and rocked him with her, exclaiming about how good it was to see him and how much she’d wanted to meet him.

Frank decided that Gerard hadn’t told her the whole story. He’d likely left out the part about Frank’s feelings, otherwise she wouldn’t have wanted to meet him at all.

Fortunately, the couple was soon distracted by Ray and his girlfriend; Frank watched with bile in his throat at the hugs they all exchanged whereas no one had known what to say to Anthony. He exchanged a glance with Anthony, though he was afraid he couldn’t stop scowling.

He forgot to not flinch when Anthony put his hand on his waist. He got an alarmed look and a hushed, “Is this okay?” It wasn’t, but Frank nodded anyway. And he let Anthony hold him while he talked to Mikey and his partner even though his skin felt itchy under his hand.

When he’d drained the last of his first rum and Coke, he cleared his throat and announced, “I’m going to get another drink.”

Mikey and his partner nodded and left to find someone else to talk to for the time being.

Frank had been hoping the excuse would be enough to get him a second away from Anthony, but the other man only nodded and said, “I’ll come with you.” His hand dropped from Frank’s waist to thread through his fingers instead. And Frank suppressed a sigh and walked with his pretend boyfriend to the small bar set up on the edge of the park.

It was fairly crowded, so Anthony hung back while Frank pushed his way up to order drinks for the two of them. He was watching the bartender pour Coke into both glasses when he heard someone call, “Oh my god, Anthony? Anthony fuckin’ Green?”

Frank’s head whipped around; no one here was supposed to know Anthony. That was why he was the perfect cover for the truth.

Frank peered around frantically; there were so many unfamiliar faces that he might not have foreseen an acquaintance of Anthony’s being in attendance. There were arms wrapped around Anthony and a brown-haired head leaning on his shoulder. Standing next to their embrace was someone Frank recognized; one of his old friends and a mutual friend of Gerard’s, Tim. Except he was smiling like he knew Anthony, too.

The other body finally let go of Anthony, and Frank’s jaw dropped. It was another of his old friends, Tucker. Both Tim and Tucker were Frank’s friends, and even though he hardly spoke to either of them anymore, that didn’t mean that it made any sense for both of them to know Anthony.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Tucker asked, smacking Anthony’s shoulder. “Do you know Gee? Since when?”

Anthony laughed and shook his head. “No, not really. I’m just Frankie’s plus one.” He turned over his shoulder to shoot a smile and gesture to Frank.

“Frankie’s…?”

Frank caught the moment both Tim and Tucker actually noticed him, because their eyes widened simultaneously.

“Holy shit, Frankie!” Tucker closed the distance between them and hugged Frank just as ferociously as he’d hugged Anthony; Frank just couldn’t feel it. “I didn’t even recognize you!”

Because Frank hadn’t seen Tucker or Tim since he’d moved, and they knew Frank when he was with Gerard. They knew the skinny, doe-eyed guy who loved his life and the people in it.

But that was a different issue. The most important matter at hand was Anthony’s relationship with Tim and Tucker; he wasn’t supposed to know

anyone

here. He felt like a deer caught in the headlights when Tim cleared his throat and reiterated, “And you’re Anthony’s boyfriend?”

Frank met Anthony’s eye when he said, “Yeah.”

“Two years,” Anthony added, smiling.

“Wow,” Tim said. “You never said anything.”

“So, how do you guys know each other?” Frank finally asked. He picked the drinks off of the bar and passed one over to Anthony. They stepped away from the bar, so hopefully no one would pick up on any differing stories they were passing around.

“We met at a few shows, had some mutual friends,” Anthony volunteered.

“He played a few shows around here,” Tucker added. “But you know, now that I think about it, you guys are kinda awesome together.”

Frank exchanged another glance with Anthony. He forced his face to match Anthony’s smile. He wanted to laugh, but he held himself back.

“I’m just kinda pissed you didn’t tell me you were seeing anyone,” Tucker said. “Either of you.”

“Well, we’re…” Anthony pushed his fingers through his hair. “We’ve been trying to keep things kind of private. It’s a lot easier that way.”

Frank nodded diligently; he was hoping not to have to spell out the reasons why he was being more careful with this relationship. Pretend relationship. Whatever.

“This is our first big…” Anthony smirked at Frank again. “Event like this, I guess, that we’ve gone to together.”

“And Frankie’s first time being home in fuckin’ forever,” Tucker added, a smile spreading across his face.

Frank smiled sheepishly. He did miss his friends here, and he knew he didn’t reach out enough, but he’d just been so determined to leave everything behind. It wasn’t seeming like such a good idea now. None of this was, because Gerard was still married and Frank was still alone, and no one really cared about either of those things nearly as much as he did.

“We missed you, man,” Tim added, and that was the final straw.

“I need a smoke,” Frank whispered to Anthony.

Thankfully, Anthony hadn’t been touching him this time, so his hand slid into his pocket with ease. He gave the pack and lighter over without mentioning that Frank had just smoked. He understood. It was nice to have at least one person on the same wavelength for this; it made him feel just a little less lonely.

Just in the wrong way.

The outdoor venue sucked because there were no walls to provide a solid separation between the party and Frank. When he needed a break, he just had to step back away from the crowd, beyond the imaginary border of tables and strings of lights, even though he was still perfectly visible. He lit a cigarette and turned his back, hoping it’d at least send the signal that he didn’t want to be disturbed.

He was allowed to smoke half his cigarette in peace. The signal wasn’t nearly as strong as a good wall, though, because he flinched at the sound of a stick cracking under the weight of someone’s footsteps.

It was only Ray, though, and Frank breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Wanna smoke?” he asked, knowing full well that Ray didn’t smoke unless he was drunk. And it was way too early in the night for that; the sun was still sending off its last pleas of daylight before it was swallowed up by the darkness.

“No, thanks.” Ray stopped when he was next to Frank, his back turned and hands in his pockets. “I just wanted to check on you. I saw you standing all alone over here, and, well…”

Ray didn’t need to explain; he was one of the ones closest to the situation when it’d happened. He went way back with Gerard, but he’d always treated Frank as nothing less than an old friend when he started coming around.

“I was worried about you when Gee told me he wanted you to be in the party with us.”

Ray understood Frank’s feelings better than anyone back then. Mikey was too close to Gerard; he hadn’t wanted to admit Gerard’s fault. Ray had enough separation to recognize how bad it really was and what it was doing to Frank.

“I didn’t think you’d be here today, honestly. I thought… I was worried it’d be too painful.”

This secret had been choking Frank all weekend, and he’d never been very good at keeping secrets. And here was the one person at this event that was sure not to make fun of him for this. Maybe the only person who’d understand.

“But I seriously can’t tell you how happy I am to see you doing better. I’m glad you found Anthony. He seems—”

“Anthony’s not my boyfriend,” Frank blurted.

Ray hesitated for a long time. The distant music and voices grew into the foreground while he dithered, clearly battling himself despite Frank’s refusal to look at him. Finally, he stammered out, “What?” He cleared his throat and repeated, “What do you mean?”

“Don’t tell anybody this.

Especially

not Gee.” Frank flicked the cherry to the ground and stomped it out. He could’ve smoked it a little farther down, but the craving disappeared as soon as Ray walked up. “Anthony’s not my boyfriend. He’s just my friend. And he’s only here to pretend to be my boyfriend so none of you know how fucking pathetic I am.”

Again, Ray fell silent. Frank crossed his arms over his chest and held himself tightly. He couldn’t tell if this was a mistake or not.

“You’re not over Gee, are you?” Ray whispered.

Frank shook his head.

“And you brought Anthony to make them jealous, right?”

Frank nodded. “And so everybody would think I have my shit together.”

Ray only paused again. Frank was dying to know what was going through his head, but he just couldn’t bring himself to look back at him. He didn’t want to see the pity in Ray’s eyes, not when it was what he was so afraid of all along.

Ray took a deep breath. “I begged Gee not to invite you.”

It felt like a slap in the face, especially after Frank had specifically chosen Ray as the one he could trust. He couldn’t help it anymore; he snapped his glare onto him—only to find Ray staring back.

“I knew it’d be too much for you. But he insisted. He wanted you here so bad, a-and…” Ray sighed. “You’re still one of his best friends, and it means so much to him that you’re here. I… I don’t think he knows how painful this is for you. He thinks… He thinks that enough time has passed, but I don’t think he understands that there’s no such thing as enough time. That it’s never gonna stop hurting.”

Frank stared at the ground. It was somehow even worse hearing it from someone else’s mouth. He hugged himself tighter and whispered, “I’d still do anything for him.”

“I know.” Ray wrapped an arm around Frank’s shoulders and pulled him close. It was different from how Anthony touched him, so Frank let himself fall into it. He let Ray support him. “Thanks for being honest with me,” Ray added. “I don’t think you’re pathetic, if that helps.”

It didn’t, but Frank whispered, “Thanks,” anyway. He shut his eyes; he didn’t want to feel the tears gathering in his eyes, and he was sure they were coming.

They headed back to the rest of the party just as they were supposed to be sitting down for dinner. Which wasn’t a massively formal event, either, but there was a dedicated amount of time for toasts. Frank was not asked to give one, fortunately, but Mikey was.

Frank was eager to hear what Mikey would say because Mikey wasn’t really one for speaking, much less in public. It was a little cruel of Gerard to ask Mikey to give a toast, but Frank would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to it on account of Mikey’s—well, everything about Mikey.

It started as well as anything—with an awkward wave and an even more awkward, “I’m Mikey, Gerard’s little brother,” and some endearingly embarrassing stories from their youth. Frank found just the right way to angle his head so that the bride was blocked by the centerpiece. That way he could just see Gerard and smile.

Until their wife became a very unavoidable part of the toast, and Frank’s illusion was shattered by the hammers of reality once again. Because of course Mikey talked about his sibling’s struggles, the addictions and depression that had gripped him for years. And of course it took Frank back to that place he couldn’t pull Gerard out of. And of course it hurt all over again, even all these years later.

“But I watched you put yourself back together, Gee,” Mikey said. His words echoed on the mic system they’d set up, but they were really just for Gerard. “And I couldn’t be prouder of you. You’ve changed your whole life, and you did it all for the woman sitting beside you. That kind of devotion, that lasts a lifetime. I know how happy she makes you, and I’m just… I’m so proud of how far you’ve gone to make her happy, too.”

There was more to Mikey’s speech, but it was drowned out by the sound of glass shattering in Frank’s head. It made sense, or rather—it really didn’t. Because Gerard

was

capable of staying clean and committing for love, but he hadn’t been when he was with Frank.

Meaning Gerard was never the problem.

All eyes were on Gerard and Mikey and the hug they shared after Mikey put the mic down, so nobody saw the tears drip down Frank’s cheeks.

He held it together through the toasts from the bride’s friend and each set of parents, and while dinner and drinks were served. He didn’t touch his plate, but he drained the glass of champagne in front of him. As soon as the glass touched the table again, he was on his feet, muttering, “‘M gonna go to the bathroom,” and not looking at anyone in particular.

He was in tears again before he even made it near the bathroom. But the second the heavy door shut, he let himself sob. He sank to the floor, tucked his knees to his chest, and wailed the way he wanted to when he first got in the car yesterday.

He’d been so loud and so distracted that he didn’t notice the door opening. He hadn’t even checked to see if the bathroom was empty before breaking down, but he was sure that Anthony hadn’t been in there. Anthony was now sitting beside him when Frank had been so sure that he’d left him at the dinner table.

The only thing Anthony did was grab his hand. He squeezed it tight, but he wasn’t trying to prove anything this time. He was merely offering comfort, and in his weakened state, Frank took it.

“I don’t get it,” Frank found himself sobbing. “We were together

five years.

I always tried to help him with all his shit, but

she’s

the one who got him clean? He did it for

her?”

Anthony didn’t say anything. He sat perfectly still, holding Frank’s hand and watching him with those gorgeous blue eyes that understood everything he was going through without him needing to say it.

“Why couldn’t that be me? Why couldn’t he do any of that for

me? I

was always there,

I

loved him more than anything, and he couldn’t even commit to me! But he could do it all for

her?”

He looked away sharply and hid his face behind his free hand. He took a deep breath and murmured, “Why couldn’t I ever be enough?”

Anthony’s arm was around him in an instant; he pulled Frank close, and Frank let his body fall limply against the other’s. Anthony shushed him gently and whispered, “You can’t force somebody to love you, you know. If they just didn’t love you, there was nothing you could do about that.”

And Frank knew that—of course he did—but it didn’t make him feel any better.

“But they should’ve told you that from the beginning.” Anthony leaned his head against Frank’s; Frank’s breath got caught in his throat. “No one can blame you for hurting.”

Frank felt warm all of a sudden. Like someone had turned a light on over him and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders.

Anthony sighed when Frank didn’t say anything. “Gerard’s an idiot,” he whispered.

At that, Frank froze. He was upset, sure, but that was a little harsh.

“I’m serious,” Anthony added. He smiled when he caught Frank’s eye. “He was stupid to treat you like that. He shouldn’t have strung you along for so long knowing he couldn’t love you back.” He hesitated. “And I mean, come on, he’d have to be stupid to not fall in love with you.”

Frank laughed a little. “You have to say that, you’re my boyfriend,” he teased.

Anthony smiled slowly. “I’d say it anyway. You’re incredible, Francis.”

Frank didn’t know what he was feeling, but there was suddenly a tether between him and Anthony. And Anthony kept staring at him with those huge blue eyes, even once he worried his lower lip between his teeth, and Frank couldn’t break that bind. He didn’t want to. He wanted to get lost in Anthony’s eyes and never come out.

He didn’t notice either of them leaning in, not until his lips were pressed to Anthony’s. Anthony still held onto his shoulders, but Frank’s knee rested against his now, too. They were otherwise frozen in a closed-mouth kiss, time paused around them on the bathroom floor of a public park.

When Anthony’s lips left his own, Frank didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t want to deal with the ramifications of kissing his friend. He’d had kisses since Gerard, but they were always drunken and sloppy, from nights when he went to shows with Travis or Anthony and drank enough to do something about his loneliness. Those kisses were always mistakes from the second they were over, though. And Frank didn’t want this to be like that.

He heard fabric rustle, then Anthony’s arm pulled away. “Dude,” Anthony said, sounding somewhat breathless. “Fuck, dude, I am so sorry, I—”

This wasn’t a mistake.

Frank opened his eyes just enough to see Anthony starting to stand up, but he cupped his face and pulled him back down. He landed almost on top of Frank, but it was the opposite of a problem; it meant Frank didn’t have to travel very far to bring their lips together again. Anthony cut off with a little moan, a sound he repeated when Frank opened his mouth. And as Frank felt Anthony’s tongue against his own, he could’ve sworn he saw fireworks. It’d been so long since he felt so warm, so complete, and so cared for. It’d been forever since a set of arms had enveloped him like Anthony’s did.

Hands grabbed at suit jackets like they’d fall off without them. Anthony shifted to settle himself in Frank’s lap and clutch at his back, only adjusting his grip to push his hair out of his face. His kiss was wet and frantic, like he needed Frank the same way he needed to breathe.

Frank only remembered himself when his back hit the floor. His eyes drifted open, finding Anthony like a frame from a wet dream straddling his thighs, his eyes dark with lust, his lips parted and spit-slick. And before he could stop himself, Frank laughed.

It snapped Anthony out of his daze, too. “What’s so funny?” he asked, sliding back and onto the floor. He extended a hand and hauled Frank up to sit beside him.

“I don’t know,” Frank answered. He leaned against the wall again and smiled. The faint wetness in his lashes was the only reminder of how they’d come into this situation in the first place, and Frank couldn’t say he minded. “But I think we should get back.”

Anthony smirked. “People are gonna think we’re fucking.”

“Yeah. Can’t have that.”

“Sure.” Anthony stood up first and offered his hand again. “Mister I-need-a-fake-boyfriend-so-everyone-knows-I’m-still-getting-laid.”

And that wasn’t what it was about, not really, but Frank couldn’t help laughing anyway. “You agreed to this, so I don’t wanna fuckin’ hear it.”

They laughed all the way back to their table, which did nothing to help the allegations that they’d snuck off to have sex. Which, Frank supposed, was infinitely better than people knowing he’d been crying instead. And when he sat back down, he’d found his appetite again. He was certain it had something to do with the way Anthony kept smiling at him all throughout the meal.

As the evening changed into night, the dinner evolved into dancing, drinking, and celebration. Which meant that Gerard and his new wife were wrapped up in their own little happy bubble, but Frank was hardly even aware of them anymore. Because Anthony put another drink in his hand and dragged him out to the dance floor. And neither of them could dance particularly well, but the rest of the party faded away; it was like Anthony was the only one in front of him. His hands on Frank’s hips, pulling him in until there wasn’t even an inch of space between them, reminded him of the hour before in the bathroom. He was thinking of Anthony’s kiss again, the frantic way they touched each other, and how much he wanted to do it again.

He wrapped his arms around Anthony’s waist, tucked his head down to his shoulder, and breathed him in. He smelled like cigarette smoke and some kind of pleasant cologne—nothing overpowering, yet still distinctly Anthony. He did little more than just sway in his arms, against Anthony’s body, and thought about little else but him. “You’re a really good fake boyfriend,” Frank murmured against the side of his neck.

Anthony laughed at that, the sound causing little vibrations against Frank’s cheek. “Can you imagine how good a

real

boyfriend I am?”

Maybe it was the alcohol in his bloodstream, or maybe he didn’t even drink that much and just wanted to picture it. Maybe he liked this bubble he’d found with the other man and the way he smelled and the way his lips felt. It had to be some combination of those things that made him say, “I bet you’re a fuckin’ great real boyfriend.”

“Oh, definitely.”

“‘Cause you’re already a great friend.”

“Yeah?” Frank could hear the smirk in Anthony’s words.

Frank smirked back, even though he knew Anthony couldn’t see it. “You’ve always got cigarettes for me. You’re not bitching about me quitting or taking all yours or anything.”

“Sure.”

“And you’re handsy. You’d be all over me all the time.”

“And the sex would be insane.”

Frank stopped moving. He hadn’t wanted to bring it up first—he didn’t want to put the thought in Anthony’s mind if it wasn’t there—but it was what he’d been waiting to hear. What he’d been waiting to

feel.

“Absolutely insane,” he whispered.

Anthony stopped, too. “Frank—”

Frank picked his head up. “Don’t,” he said, making Anthony shut his mouth. “Don’t… apologize.”

Anthony wasn’t watching his eyes; he was staring at his lips. “I’ve been way more honest than you realize.” The words were hardly audible over the music.

It didn’t matter to Frank. Nor did it matter that there were other people around, that Anthony was essentially a paid actor, that he came into this with his heart belonging to someone else. He lifted one hand to brush the hair back from Anthony’s face—it was such a shame it ended up in his pretty face so often—and leaned in again, his hand still cupped around Anthony’s cheek.

It lacked the fire from the bathroom, but that was nothing to lament. Anthony’s lips were slower, more languid, his tongue in Frank’s mouth like he was trying to taste every corner of it. If that set the pace for the rest of the night, if Anthony took his time with him instead of ravishing him, Frank could certainly be okay with that.

They only broke apart for air. The magnetism between them remained through heavy eyes and open-mouthed panting; Frank couldn’t let go of Anthony.

Not yet.

He surged forward again, hoping to make the magic crescendo.

Anthony ducked out of the way and laughed again. Dumbfounded, Frank blinked back at him, his brows screwing together.

“Settle down, Francis,” Anthony joked, the lust gone from his face again. How he could turn it on and off so well, Frank had no idea. “People are staring.”

A fair judgment. They’d attracted a few sets of eyes, none that really meant anything, though. It was no one Frank wouldn’t want catching him kissing Anthony, although at this point, he wasn’t sure there was anybody on that list at all anymore.

Until, from over Anthony’s shoulder, he caught Ray’s eye. His face was mostly blank, but Frank knew from years of knowing him that it meant there were hundreds of questions circling his head. He was the only one who knew the truth, the only one who’d have a question about watching Frank kiss his boyfriend.

Frank turned Anthony just enough to block Ray’s sight. He didn’t even want to see him; he didn’t know how to answer those questions. Even though Ray would never ask until he could get Frank completely alone, he didn’t even want to confront them within himself.

So when Anthony asked if he was okay, Frank only said, “I need a drink.”

They stayed late. They danced, watched the crowds dwindle, and even shared a few more kisses when they supposed it’d look natural. Frank wasn’t exactly sure when he’d actually started to have fun, but while the caterers packed up and people headed back to their cars, he couldn’t help but be a little disappointed.

There was something about the fairy lights and the liquor, but he knew it was really Anthony’s presence that was making him feel so light and airy all night. Anthony was what he wanted to stick around for, even though it was so late.

But he didn’t have to stay here to be with Anthony. And when he didn’t bother to hide his yawn behind his hand, Frank asked, “It’s late. Wanna get outta here?”

Mischief sparkled in Anthony’s blue eyes. “Sure.”

It wasn’t even hard to approach Gerard anymore; that was the strange thing. Telling him they were heading out didn’t hurt, nor did the way Gerard hugged him. Their voice was right in his ear, earnestly saying, “Thank you so much for being here,” and it didn’t knock Frank to his knees. He stayed above it all; he wrapped his arms around his friend because that was all Gerard was anymore—his friend.

There were still flames, but they were only for Anthony. It only became more apparent as they walked off together, Anthony’s hand drifting instinctually to the small of Frank’s back, when all Frank wanted to do was kiss the man next to him. He wanted to put that lustful look back in his blue eyes; he wanted his full attention.

“Wanna smoke?” Anthony asked once Frank had started the car.

Frank nodded and held out his hand. He held the cigarette clenched between his teeth and reached again for the lighter, but his fingertips merely brushed the back of Anthony’s hand. It was dark in the car, but his eyes were heavy and transfixed on the cigarette—or Frank’s mouth—as he lit it for him. And Frank couldn’t even take a drag in; he couldn’t breathe right, suddenly.

Anthony’s smirk was lopsided when he lit his own cigarette. When the light went back off, his hand settled on Frank’s thigh. He exhaled sharply; Anthony’s hand was warm even through the layer of his pants. Or maybe it was Frank’s leg that was warm; he did feel like he was suddenly on fire.

Anthony kept his hand on Frank’s thigh for the whole drive back to the hotel, meaning Frank couldn’t even tease him back. Anthony’s hand slid higher and higher to the point where Frank couldn’t breathe well enough to finish his cigarette. He had to abandon it and drop the remainder out the window; he didn’t need Anthony to know that he’d worked him up so soon.

Especially because Anthony leaned over, exhaling a cloud of smoke against Frank’s neck. Frank closed his eyes for a second; he needed the break. But Anthony didn’t let him rest; he whispered, “So, when we get to the hotel…”

Frank cleared his throat. “Yeah?”

He could hear Anthony’s smirk without having to see it. “Just wondering if you were gonna go straight to bed, or…”

Frank spared Anthony a glance out of the corner of his eye. “Probably straight to bed.”

He caught a glimpse of the smirk under the streetlight they passed. “Yeah, me, too.”

Frank let out another breath. So it was happening. All he had to do now was not psych himself out too bad. Nevermind that he hadn’t slept with anybody in three years, and never with somebody as hot as Anthony. And he didn’t know what their relationship really was or what this would do to their friendship or—

Anthony blew another cloud of smoke at him, but his lips met Frank’s neck the next second. Frank gasped as his head went blank.

“Yeah, okay,” he told himself, accidentally murmuring aloud. If Anthony heard him, he didn’t say anything. He was too busy sucking on Frank’s neck.

Frank didn’t reach for the door when he finally parked the car. He leaned across the console to meet Anthony and captured his lips. Anthony hummed his approval, his hand rising right up to Frank’s hip crease, so close to his dick without actually giving him what he wanted. Frank’s dick, which was already half-hard, of course.

Frank idly thought about moving his hand. Instead he pushed his fingers through Anthony’s hair and pulled his head back. “Inside,” he whispered.

Like an obedient puppy, Anthony nodded frantically. He was out of the car before Frank was.

The brief walk through the too-bright hotel lobby was otherworldly, to say the least. It felt like stepping into a different dimension, one that was so far removed from Frank and Anthony and what was about to happen. The desk clerk offered an unimpassioned greeting, which they returned before hastily stepping into the elevator, feeling out of place and strange.

They were alone in the elevator, which was fortunate because Anthony started laughing as soon as the doors slid shut. And Frank, being drunk on the other’s energy and desperate for his touch, laughed with him.

It was a short ride to their floor and even shorter walk to their door, but Anthony took Frank’s hand as if he was afraid he might run off. The thought wasn’t even in Frank’s head, but he let himself be led. He liked the way it felt, especially knowing that Anthony wanted him just as bad as he did.

The swift click of the door shutting behind them was drowned out when Frank’s back collided with the door, Anthony pinning him to it and planting a searing kiss to his lips. Frank whined into it—he couldn’t help it; he was feeling so much everywhere, but the heat made his legs tremble already.

Neither bothered to turn on the light as they fumbled their way to the bed. It was clumsy and they laughed when Frank stumbled into one of the chairs, but it was the last thing either of them were worried about when Frank finally landed on the bed.

Anthony straddled him quickly, as if he didn’t want to break contact for even a second, bending at the waist so he could kiss Frank. The kiss turned into moaning against each other’s lips the second Anthony started rocking his hips—whether it was intentional or not. Frank’s boxers already felt wet, and he was terrified this would be over before it’d even started. He threw his head back, freeing his lips from Anthony’s, and gasped, “Please, please!”

“Please

what,

baby boy?” Anthony asked with a slow, teasing roll of his hips, one that made Frank feel the sensation flood through every part of his body.

“Just touch me,” he gasped, his brain too fried to think of what specifically he wanted.

He knew for sure that it wasn’t Anthony getting up, which was what he did. It was worse than ice water; Frank sat bolt upright, ready to ask what he did wrong.

He heard something hit the floor. And when Anthony was back in his space, he felt only his dress shirt, not the jacket. Anthony’s fingers pulled at the lapels of Frank’s, his voice right in his ear when he whispered, “Take it off.” And Frank, no longer thinking for himself, did as he was told.

Stripping off his shirt meant Anthony’s warm hands danced along the line of his shoulders, down his arms, along his back and over his tummy. The last of which, made Frank freeze up, ready to call this off; he hadn’t had sex since he’d gained weight. He didn’t want to scare Anthony off.

“Fuck,” Anthony whispered, but Frank was still trembling under his touch. He must not have realized, and he merely dropped his hands to the waistband of Frank’s pants, undoing his belt and button. “C’mon, Frankie.”

Frank was sure he’d stopped breathing a long time ago. He had no idea how he was alive, much less how there was enough feeling in his fingers to ease his pants down, then his boxers, until he was seated naked on the bed.

Anthony still stood mostly fully clothed—Frank didn’t see him unbutton his shirt, but he recognized the warm press of his skin against his own when they kissed—between Frank’s spread thighs. He was almost definitely leaving a mark on Frank’s neck while he teased Frank’s cock. He wouldn’t give in and just wrap his hands around it; he kept his fingers tantalizingly light along the shaft while Frank tried fruitlessly to buck against him.

“Fuck, baby boy,” Anthony murmured, his breath hot against Frank’s skin. “You’re so fucking wet…”

Frank whined again. “Please…”

“What do you want?”

“Anything.”

Anthony chuckled. “I can work with that.”

The next second, his hand was gone. The air was so cold against Frank’s cock, at least until Anthony dropped to his knees.

Frank’s breath hitched. “An—

ah, fuck!

” He didn’t get past the first syllable before he had to moan because Anthony took him right into his mouth. He didn’t even build up to it; the fucker just swallowed him right down to the hilt like it was no big deal. And okay, it probably wasn’t, considering Frank didn’t exactly have a

big deal,

but the sudden heat and pressure was almost too much. Frank fought to keep his hips down, to keep from thrusting into Anthony’s mouth until he came, but it was so damn hard to keep still.

Anthony pulled off, and Frank could just make out the outline of his smirk through the dark. “Something wrong, baby boy?”

Frank glared at him as best he could despite panting for breath and probably being very red-faced. “Just shut up and suck my dick, asshole.”

Anthony laughed back at him. “I don’t usually like to be told what to do,” he said. “But I think I’ll make an exception, ‘cause I feel so bad for you and your little cock.”

Frank didn’t get to fight him because Anthony sucked on the head, and Frank promptly died. He was resurrected when Anthony pulled back to lick at the head, to lick up all the pre-cum Frank couldn’t stop leaking, before swallowing him back down.

He’d clearly done this before, and he was about to have another very satisfied customer.

He didn’t notice Anthony’s finger until it was pressing inside him. Frank let out an embarrassing moan at the sensation. When Anthony added another, though, Frank was perfectly familiar with the building feeling. “I’m gonna cum,” he whined. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

It was another cold water sensation when Anthony pulled off completely. His mouth and fingers were both gone, and he sat back on his haunches, clearly staring at Frank even though he had trouble making out his eyes. “Not yet, you’re not,” Anthony said.

Frank blinked. “Huh?”

“You’re not cumming before I fuck you.”

Frank’s cock twitched. He didn’t even have an answer; he just stared at the shadow that was Anthony.

Anthony’s hands were warm and wet on Frank’s thighs, pushing them up so far that Frank rolled onto his back. His legs were in his chest; he wrapped his arms around them. He was feeling really exposed like this, but he kept telling himself it’d be worth it when Anthony got up and fucked him.

The only warning he got was Anthony’s hot breath on his ass before he licked over his hole. Frank kicked instinctively, gasping and exclaiming, “Anthony!”

Anthony only laughed at him. This time, his tongue slid inside of Frank, making him moan again weakly. Anthony squeezed the fleshy part of his ass hard enough to leave bruises, and Frank idly thought that he’d love to see Anthony’s fingerprints all over him tomorrow.

He’d slid two fingers back in, only pulling his tongue back so he could thrust them in and out. He wasn’t careful about it, but Frank loved that even more. He liked the sting, he liked being stretched, he liked feeling like he was all for Anthony’s taking.

“Frankie,” Anthony said, his voice labored.

“Fuck me,” Frank breathed. “Fuck me, please.”

It was all the permission he needed. Anthony’s fingers pulled out too quickly. but Frank let his feet drop to the mattress and took a few deep breaths. He didn’t have long to rest his hips, because Anthony grabbed him by the ankles to open his legs again, settling them around his waist. “Jesus, Frankie,” Anthony whispered. He leaned over, his bare chest pressing to Frank’s while he kissed him surprisingly gently.

He must’ve stripped, too, because Frank could feel the head of Anthony’s cock against his hole. He ran his hand along Anthony’s back, relishing in the way it twitched under his touch. The only thing better than seeing Anthony naked was feeling it, he decided.

Anthony’s tongue was in Frank’s mouth when he started to push inside. Frank groaned against his lips; it hurt—he probably hadn’t been stretched enough—but it wasn’t enough to stop him. He let Anthony push inside until their hips were flush together. And it’d been so long since Frank had been this close to another person that his eyes teared up.

Thank god they’d kept the lights off.

“Fuck,” Anthony breathed when he bottomed out. “You feel amazing.”

Frank whined; he wanted more.

It got Anthony to move, though he did so slowly. It was little more than a roll of his hips, but it made Anthony’s cock move inside Frank. He was nowhere near his prostate, but just the movement made him whine again. He wrapped his arms tight around Anthony’s neck and pulled him closer. He didn’t want to be apart from him.

Frank got louder as Anthony got faster. Anthony pushed one of his legs up to his shoulder, and even though Frank knew he wasn’t supposed to bend that way, it made Anthony hit his prostate. As pleasure coursed through him, Frank was close to screaming. It almost covered up the moans Anthony was making, but Frank was listening for them. He wanted to hear him moan; he liked knowing he was making him feel good through his sounds, every stutter of his hips, the way his nails dug into the soft skin of Frank’s thigh.

Anthony kissed his neck again, making those little sounds against the skin so Frank could feel them. It got Frank so close; he just needed a little push. He held onto Anthony with one hand, but stroked himself with the other in time with Anthony. He just needed a few more seconds…

His hand was suddenly lifted off of himself and pinned to the mattress. “No, no,

please,”

Frank whined. “I’m so close, I’m—”

Anthony smacked the underside of his thigh. “Not til I say, baby boy.”

The tears returned to Frank’s eyes.

“Please…”

“No.” Anthony bit his neck. It wasn’t very hard, but it made Frank cry out all the same.

Frank’s fingers dug into Anthony’s hair, holding on while Anthony fucked him relentlessly. His lips didn’t leave Frank’s neck, but the pressure was gone. He was just breathing against it, then moaning, then stammering,

“Fuck, fuck!”

when Frank felt his hot cum splash inside him.

Anthony collapsed when he finally stilled, his breath falling in heavy pants against Frank’s neck. He was clearly exhausted, but Frank was still harder than ever. His cock was pressed to Anthony’s stomach, so he slowly thrust up, hoping it’d be enough to get him off without bothering Anthony.

Anthony’s sharp sigh told him he’d failed. “You can’t even give me a second, can you?” he huffed. He couldn’t have been too mad, though, because he pulled out, sat up, and wrapped his hand around Frank’s cock.

Frank was too far gone to pretend he was patient. He bucked into Anthony’s hand and closed his eyes, letting the sensation and the feeling of cum dripping from his ass overtake him.

“Come on, Frankie,” Anthony said. “You’ve been so good, baby boy. Go ahead and cum.”

Frank didn’t last a second longer. He felt it splatter across his stomach, even reaching up to his chest, as he finished with a moan. He knew Anthony’s hand had to be a mess, but that was the least of his worries. Now, all he wanted was to fall asleep in Anthony’s arms.

The mattress shifted, but Frank didn’t open his eyes. He heard footsteps and some things moving around, but Frank didn’t pay attention until the bed dipped again. Anthony was next to him again, and he pressed a kiss to Frank’s lips. It was surprisingly chaste, but Frank’s sleepy brain thought it was perfect.

“Come on, Francis,” Anthony whispered, as if he were already asleep. “Come up here with me.”

With Anthony’s help, Frank shifted up the bed so he was actually on a pillow. He stayed on his side while Anthony pulled the covers up. When Anthony laid back down, Frank flung his arms around him. They were half on top of each other and both still sweaty, but Frank couldn’t be bothered. He was too in love with these sensations that were so distinctly Anthony.

He didn’t say that, though. He only murmured, “Thank you,” and kissed Anthony’s cheek.

Anthony chuckled, but it sounded tired. “Shh, don’t say that,” he said.

Frank smiled. He nestled deeper into Anthony’s neck, and he didn’t even worry about answering. He didn’t think about anything but Anthony and the way he felt in bed with him. 
 
Sunday
 
Frank woke up with the sun in his eyes. He must not have closed the curtain last night. Considering how he was still curled around Anthony and sticky, he supposed that made sense. He turned over and closed his eyes, snuggling into Anthony’s shoulder. He wanted to stay there a little longer.

Closing his eyes only heightened his other senses, though. He was sticky and sweaty, his skin feeling tight on his stomach. Anthony felt similarly warm and sweaty, though he was still deep in sleep. And everything smelled like sweat, sex, and Anthony—it was impossible to misinterpret the signs. He’d fucked Anthony last night. He’d fucked the friend he brought to this wedding to be his fake boyfriend and make his ex-boyfriend jealous.

He sat bolt upright; that wasn’t supposed to happen. The only one he should’ve been in bed with was

Gerard;

he wasn’t supposed to get drunk and fall in love with the fantasy of his pretend relationship. Because it was just a fantasy. It meant

nothing.

And when Anthony woke up, they’d have to

talk

about it. They’d have to sit across from each other without making eye contact, establishing that nothing in their friendship had changed while calling each other

bro

and

man,

even though from now on Frank would have to look Anthony in the eye and pretend he wasn’t thinking about how it felt to kiss him.

Frank pushed himself out of bed. His legs wobbled and his hips ached, but he couldn’t lie there a second longer.

Anthony sighed in his sleep and rolled over into the spot where Frank had lain. He didn’t stir otherwise.

It was all wrong, all of it. Frank’s throat threatened to close up; his stomach wanted to push up everything he’d consumed the night before.

He shut himself in the bathroom before any of that could happen. He turned on the shower and scrubbed away all the evidence from the night before. He stared at the wall, set the water temperature to scalding, and let his mind go blank.

When he got out, there was no doubt in his mind that this was a mistake, but sitting through that conversation with Anthony would be unbearable. He slipped into his sweats and breathed a sigh of relief to find Anthony was still asleep. He wouldn’t be moving any time soon, it seemed. Frank kept as quiet as he could while he hastily packed everything up—including the suit he’d thrown off in the heat of passion before making one of the stupidest choices of his life.

None of it woke Anthony, so Frank was able to creep out the door, leaving his key behind so he wouldn’t change his mind. It felt like he’d held his breath until he was outside, and when the door was shut, he let it go. He could let it all go now, as long as he could get down to his car, to his own house, back to his world where none of the events of this weekend existed at all.

It was early enough that Frank thought nobody else would be awake, that he’d be able to duck out of the hotel without interruption. He appreciated seeing his friends this weekend, but there wasn’t a single one of them he could face right now. His plans were promptly tossed out the window, though, the second the elevator doors opened to the lobby, to the red-haired person sitting alone in their sweats with just a cup of coffee.

He was facing the elevator, and Frank was distinctive enough to where he wouldn’t be able to miss him anyway. Gerard’s eyes promptly lit up; he set down the coffee mug and rose to his feet before Frank could even get off the elevator.

“You weren’t gonna leave without saying goodbye, right?” Gerard asked. He didn’t give Frank a chance to answer before he folded him into his arms, squeezing him so tight he probably started to cut off Frank’s circulation.

“Wasn’t sure you’d be up this early,” Frank spluttered. He recalled Gerard not being one to get out of bed unless they were physically dragged. “Why are you up this early, anyway?”

Gerard let go to push their fingers through their messy hair and shrug. “Think it’s all the stress of the past couple weeks or something. I don’t know, I can’t fuckin’ sleep.”

Frank smiled a little. “When are you leaving for your honeymoon?”

“This evening.”

“So you have time to sleep, that’s good.”

“Yeah.” Gerard watched Frank carefully when they both fell silent. His eyes raked over him and his suitcase. “You’re not… that desperate to get outta here, right?”

Yes.

“No! No, it’s just… I gotta get home. I gotta work tomorrow, and I’ve got the dog, a-and…”

“Wait, where’s Anthony?”

Shit.

Frank took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder. “He, uh, he had to take off already. Guess you missed him.”

Gerard frowned. “Oh.”

“It’s not, like… He didn’t wanna leave, but he’s gotta work, you know? He wasn’t even supposed to stay the night last night, but he was having such a good time, a-and…”

“Yeah, I bet he was.” Gerard smirked. Frank recognized the mischievous sparkle in his eyes. And he remembered all the marks Anthony must’ve left on his skin.

Frank forced himself to smile back and pretend this was all normal. “He told me to tell you he had a great time. He was glad to be here.” He hesitated. “We both were.”

“Yeah, I’m glad you could make it. Both of you.” Gerard sat back on the couch, but they left enough space for Frank to sit next them.

Frank stayed on his feet.

“I didn’t get to tell you last night, but I’m really glad you came,” Gerard added. They held Frank’s eye; they looked so earnest that Frank thought he might actually burst into flames. “I didn’t think of it until too late, that this might be hard for you.”

“N-no, it wasn’t,” Frank lied. He didn’t sound very convincing. “All that stuff was so long ago, you know? It’s not…” He cleared his throat. “I mean, I’ll always love you, but not like that. I-I’ve moved on.”

“I’m glad.” Gerard’s smile was small, but sincere. “Because I like Anthony.”

It knocked the air out of Frank’s lungs. “You do?”

“Yeah. He seems really cool, and he’s a lot like you. You guys make sense together. And…” Gerard looked down to his lap; he picked at his fingernails. “And just the way he looked at you. You probably didn’t see it, but he just looks at you like… Like you’re the fuckin’ sunshine or something. He… He really loves you.”

A chill crept down Frank’s spine.

“Just something about watching him watch you was… bittersweet, I guess. ‘Cause I know he’s giving you what I never could. And I know you’re so much happier with someone who can love you.”

Frank opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out.

Gerard screwed up his face and smiled. “Sorry, I don’t wanna make things weird. But I just wanted to tell you that I like him. I’m really glad you’re with somebody who makes you so happy.”

“Th-thanks,” Frank stammered when he remembered himself. “Me, too. I’m glad… I’m glad you’re happy now, too. I’m glad you’re doing better.”

“Thanks, Frankie.” Again, Gerard stood up. “Well, don’t let me keep you. Thanks again for coming.” They wrapped their arms around Frank again, but it didn’t feel the same.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Frank said.

“Just keep in touch, okay? And let me know when I can come watch you marry Anthony.”

Frank laughed nervously, but Gerard must not have picked up on it. They let Frank go and returned to their coffee, but as Frank walked out the hotel doors, he felt like he was missing something. The scary part was that it wasn’t Gerard he was missing; it was Anthony.

On the drive there, he’d only thought about hazel eyes. But it was the color blue that haunted him on the way home. More than once he thought about turning around, driving back to the hotel to take Anthony into his arms and kissing him until everything fell into place.

He didn’t. He couldn’t say what stopped him, but he just didn’t.

He was greeted by his dog when he got home, but she soon got bored of his presence and walked off. She didn’t even seem especially hungry, so Travis must’ve kept his promise and fed her all weekend. She was just someone else that was unimpressed with Frank.

Truthfully, Frank had nothing else to do with the rest of his Sunday. Now that he was alone again, it wasn’t refreshing. It was suffocating, like the walls were too large around him.

He put on some music when he started to unpack his suitcase, but very quickly, he realized it didn’t help. Because right on top of all the clothes he’d quickly packed that morning was a pair of blue boxers he didn’t recognize. They weren’t his; they were Anthony’s. And when Anthony woke up, he’d find no trace of Frank except for the pair of underwear he’d left behind.

That was the thought that made him fold over and cry. 
 
Monday
 
Frank was dreading work that morning, but more than anything, he was dreading Travis. He’d have to shuffle into the shop with his head down and admit that Travis was right—that this whole fake dating thing did in fact blow up in his face—and Travis would get to hit him with an “I told you so” so hard that Frank would probably cry again.

He thought about skipping work that morning, but he knew Travis would see right through it if he told him he was sick. And he’d get a lecture if he was honest about just not wanting to come in, on top of the questions about why, which would lead him right back to the first situation.

Frank was fifteen minutes late anyway. His body was having trouble listening when his brain told it to move, which he was prepared to tell Travis as soon as he got in.

As soon as the doorbell signaled Frank’s arrival, he was met with Travis’ shout from behind the counter: “What the hell is wrong with you?” The store wasn’t even empty; granted, it was just a group of college kids who probably couldn’t care less, but it was embarrassing all the same.

“I overslept,” Frank said quickly, though he could feel his cheeks flushing.

Travis’ arms were crossed over his chest, and while Frank knew that underneath it all was a sweet gooey inside, the sight of his big arms flexed was admittedly intimidating, especially for someone Frank’s size. Frank approached the counter carefully, knowing he couldn’t exactly hide here.

“I don’t care about that,” Travis snapped. “I care about what the fuck you did to Anthony yesterday.”

Frank froze in his tracks. “What?”

“He said he woke up without you, asshole. No note, no explanation, nothing. You were just gone. Didn’t even bother to wake him up and tell him you were going.”

“H-how did you find out about that?”

“He called me, dumbass.”

Frank leaned against the counter, though from the opposite side Travis stood on. He felt like he’d fall over.

“He was so freaked out that you weren’t there. I was having breakfast with my family, and I had to talk him down from a panic attack ‘cause

you

decided to walk out on him.”

Frank’s guts clenched uncomfortably. He really hadn’t meant to cause Anthony any pain; he just hadn’t wanted to complicate things. He didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of Travis’ glare for that. “Look, you don’t understand,” he said slowly.

“I understand enough.” Travis wasn’t going to back down; that much was clear. “I understand that you wanted to play boyfriend all weekend, but the second things got real, you got scared.”

“I…” Frank didn’t have an answer to that; it was completely true.

“What the fuck did I tell you would happen?” Travis shouted. Frank flinched, but it didn’t make a difference. “I told you this would fucking backfire! But your dumb ass wouldn’t listen to me, and someone got hurt!”

“I-I didn’t think I’d…”

“No, shut up. This isn’t about you. It’s about Anthony.”

Frank paused again. “What do you mean?” His brain wasn’t putting this together.

Travis rolled his eyes like Frank was the dumbest person on earth. “Anthony’s had a crush on you since he fucking met you, and you thought it’d be a good idea to take him to a fucking wedding. You fucked him, he fell in love, but you couldn’t take it and you left. Now he’s the one who’s heartbroken, and I’m the one who’s gotta clean it up.”

Frank thought back to the weekend, to all the things Anthony had said. The story of how they’d met really did lend itself well to being the story of a relationship—because that really was the first time Anthony caught feelings. And all that stuff Gerard told Frank about the way Anthony looked at him must’ve been true, too; Anthony looked at Frank like he loved him because he really did. And Frank exploited all of that to try and make Gerard jealous.

His eyes were welling with tears. “I-I never meant—”

“Look,” Travis said with a sigh. He finally dropped his arms. “I get that you’re upset about Gerard. No one can blame you for being hurt. But that

does not

give you the right to hurt somebody else, especially not one of your friends.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Frank stammered. “I-I… Something happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“I-I mean…” Frank took a deep breath. “Me and Anthony.” He hesitated. “I-I think I might have feelings for him.”

He never imagined himself saying the words, but now that they were out there, he didn’t want to take them back. They just made sense. He and Anthony made a convincing couple because they

did

have feelings for each other. And the way Frank had felt with Anthony was so unlike anything he’d ever felt before; it was a feeling he didn’t even get with Gerard.

“Motherfucker,” Travis swore. “Tell

him

that.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now!”

Frank retreated behind the counter, since the customers were actually trying to buy something. His hands were shaking as he pulled out his phone and typed out a message—one he didn’t send because once Travis saw what he was doing, he shouted, “A

phone call,

idiot!” even while he was ringing up the customers.

Frank hid in the back room when he pressed call. He held the phone to his ear, his heartbeat racing while it rang. It rang and rang, but Frank only got Anthony’s voicemail. A tear dripped down his nose. He held his phone tight to his chest and sank to his knees.

He hadn’t even considered how badly he’d hurt Anthony, so it made sense that he wouldn’t want to hear from him.

Frank must’ve taken too long, because Travis came back to check on him once the customers were gone. “He didn’t answer?” Travis guessed. His voice was much softer now; he must’ve calmed down a little.

Frank shook his head, but he didn’t look up.

“He could just be busy,” Travis suggested. “Why don’t you leave him a message?”

So Frank called again once Travis went back up front. Anthony again didn’t pick up, but when Frank reached his voicemail, he took a deep breath and left a message.

“Hey, I, uh, I think we should talk. Call me back when you can.”

He kept his phone on the counter all day, his volume turned up as loud as it would go. When Anthony called him back, he’d be ready.

Anthony didn’t call him back. On his lunch break, Travis called Anthony to tell him to call Frank back, but he didn’t answer Travis, either.

Frank held his breath and texted him when he got off work.

Hey can u call me when u see this

I wanna talk to to u

He kept his phone by his side for the rest of the day, but none of the notifications were from Anthony. He fell asleep on the couch, waiting for Anthony to get back to him. 
 
Tuesday
 
“Hey, did you get to talk to Anthony yesterday?” Travis asked when Frank passed him a cup of coffee. It was an olive branch for the way Frank had treated him yesterday, even though he knew Travis wouldn’t really hold a grudge over that.

“He won’t answer me,” Frank admitted. “D-did he call you back?”

Travis shook his head.

“Fuck.” Frank leaned over and rested his forehead on the counter. He really wasn’t expecting much, but he couldn’t deny it hurt.

“Hey.” Travis’ hand landed heavily on his back. “Hey, man, he’s upset. It doesn’t have to be forever.”

“Yeah, but—”

“You know he’s playing downtown on Friday, right?”

Frank lifted his head. In the back of his mind, he probably knew that; he’d just forgotten about it.

“You should be there,” Travis told him.

“Yeah. Yeah, I should.” Frank took a deep breath. “Can you come with me?”

Travis held his stare for a long time. Frank knew he probably wanted to roll his eyes, but he was being nice now and didn’t. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Frank smiled a little. He could feel a plan forming in his mind. All he had to do now was wait. 
 Friday 
In hindsight, Frank recognized the rest of his week as an extended panic attack. He was hardly sleeping, he was always on edge, he checked his phone every two seconds. He was still holding out hope for Anthony to call him back, but he never did.

Travis tried to be a good friend, even though it was pretty clear he still thought Frank was stupid for all this. He invited Frank over for dinner so he wouldn’t feel alone, and he always reassured him that he’d have a chance to talk to Anthony on Friday.

So when Friday rolled around, Frank went right home after the store closed. He’d already talked to Travis about what he should wear—a conversation that went on far longer than Frank cared to admit—but he still second guessed it when he had it on. Black skinny jeans, a white long-sleeve, his usual denim jacket—it wasn’t a bad outfit, per say, but it was typical for Frank. It was something he’d wear for a night out when he wasn’t planning on putting his heart on the line.

He was close to calling Travis and asking for more wardrobe help, but Travis texted him first.

We’re here. Keep a seat warm for you.

Travis apparently anticipated losing track of Frank pretty early on, because he’d turned the show into a date night with his wife. And while Frank adored Travis’ wife and considered her a friend, he kind of just wanted Travis’ support on this. He needed Travis to give him a push when he threatened to back out, and Travis couldn’t exactly do that when he was consumed with his wife’s company.

Frank didn’t tell him any of that, though. He didn’t want Travis thinking he was just that bitter about marriage—because he really wasn’t—but he couldn’t help but be a little upset that this night wasn’t entirely about him and Anthony.

Frank still got to the bar with plenty of time before Anthony’s set started. So he found Travis and his wife at their table, accepted the beer they bought him, and pretended to listen to their conversation when he couldn’t stop watching the stage. Even just a glimpse of Anthony from the wings terrified Frank so much that he considered tucking his tail between his legs and escaping before he could make this worse.

He was frozen, though, when Anthony took the stage with an acoustic guitar.

Anthony had quite a few different projects throughout the time Frank had known him. There was the punk band he fronted, then the hardcore band he fronted, then the music he put out under his own name. That wasn’t always just an acoustic set, though; in fact, Frank didn’t think he’d ever seen Anthony play when it was just him and his guitar.

But Anthony didn’t even look nervous. He gave the audience a soft smile before looking down at his fingers plucking the strings. Frank couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

And when Anthony began to sing, Frank faded away. It wasn’t about him or Travis or anyone else in the audience; it was just Anthony onstage, serenading with his whole heart on the line.

Frank remembered the first time he’d seen Anthony perform. He had a similar moment of awe, a similar dissociative experience as he disappeared into the music and Anthony’s presence. It was no wonder he’d decided to meet him after the show; Frank couldn’t hear music like this and not know the mind behind it.

It wasn’t until the end of the set that Frank realized he’d joined the crowd and pushed his way to the front. He stood between people he didn’t know, just in front of the stage. And as Anthony announced he had one more song to play, he caught Frank’s eye.

Frank wanted to call out to him.

I’m here for you. I’ve wanted you all along.

He held his tongue and just watched, swaying with the music and the people beside him. It was a painful song—something Frank knew he’d caused and regretted immensely. Because as he stared at the man onstage, all he could think about was kissing him again.

He couldn’t even justify leaving the morning after to himself anymore.

It was a while before the crowd disbanded enough for Frank to make his way through it. He went back to Travis’ table; he kept an eye out the whole time, even though he knew Anthony had to still be packing his things away.

Travis gave him one of those looks when he stopped at their table. “You okay, man?”

Frank shook his head. He looked off towards the merch table. It wasn’t very crowded, so Frank could tell Anthony hadn’t come out yet.

Frank watched and waited and ordered another beer, but Anthony still hadn’t appeared. Unless he’d gone straight home after the show, but he usually liked to meet the fans or just talk to the bartenders or whoever would listen. As panic started to bloom through Frank’s chest, he stood up from the table and announced, “I’m gonna go smoke.”

Travis frowned. “I thought you quit?”

“Trying. Not going too well.”

“Well, we’ll be here when you get back.”

Outside the bar was shockingly quiet, it seemed. Frank must’ve just gotten used to the noise of voices and music and glasses clinking. It felt good to stand alone and light a cigarette, until he found himself scanning the parking lot for Anthony’s car.

It was too dark for him to tell for sure, but he thought he saw it.

He looked instinctively when he heard the door open again. Which was how he caught Anthony’s eye the second he stepped over the threshold.

He jolted a little, straightening up like he was a kid who’d been caught in trouble. “Anthony…”

There was a cautious look in Anthony’s eyes. “You’re still here?” He brushed his hair back awkwardly. He hesitated on his feet like he didn’t want to stand next to Frank, but the pack of cigarettes in his hand would make it strange to just go right back in.

“Of course,” Frank said. He lowered his lit cigarette to his side. “I wanted to see you.”

Anthony hesitated. He looked at the cigarette instead of Frank. “Thanks for coming out tonight.”

Frank sighed. “Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t treat this like any other night, and don’t treat me like any other fan,” Frank snapped.

“So how should I treat you? Like the guy who ran off the morning after?”

Frank sighed. “If you have to.” He dropped the cigarette and stomped on it; he wasn’t feeling like smoking anymore. “But I’d really rather you let me apologize for that.”

“You can apologize.” Anthony leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. “I don’t have to forgive you.”

“I know.” Frank’s heart sank. “And I know there’s nothing I can say that’ll really make it okay. I hurt you, and I’m really sorry about that.”

Anthony was still glaring at him, but he bit down on his lip, as if holding himself back from saying anything.

“I can tell you a lot of things, I guess. I can tell you that that wedding really sucked for me, that it was stupid to bring you as my fake boyfriend, that it was absolutely idiotic to get into bed with you after all that.”

Anthony sighed sharply. He wouldn’t even look at Frank at this point.

Frank ignored the sinking in his gut and took a step towards him anyway. “But none of that matters, be-because I think I have feelings for you, Anthony. And I know you have feelings for me, too.”

Anthony scoffed. “Don’t fucking say that.”

It caught him off guard; that wasn’t the kind of reaction he was expecting. “Wh-what?”

“Don’t pretend it was anything more than it was,” Anthony hissed. “You

left.

There was a reason for that, and that’s ‘cause this was all a mistake. You and me playing boyfriend when the lights were off. It was stupid, you were right the first time.”

“I’m sorry I left,” Frank said quickly. “I really regret it, if that helps.”

“It doesn’t, ‘cause I still had to wake up without you. I had to know how it felt to finally fuck the guy I’ve been into for three years, then have him run off without so much as a goodbye. You have

no idea

how that feels.”

“You’re right; I don’t. But I wanna make it up to you.”

Anthony eyed him critically.

Frank sighed again. “Please, I’m so sorry.” He hesitated. “It… meant something to me. All of it. All the… kisses, and everything we told people, and…”

“And the sex?”

“The sex meant the most,” Frank whispered. He took another step closer and lowered his voice. “I… I haven’t fucked anybody in three years, you know.”

“So why me? I’m not Gerard.”

“Because you’re not Gerard. Because you made me feel something that he never could.”

Anthony looked away again.

“You… You love me, Anthony. For all the things that they couldn’t. And I…”

“You love me?”

“I don’t know.”

Anthony rolled his eyes.

“But if you give me a chance, I think I could get there.”

The words landed heavily on the pavement in front of them. They were unavoidable, but Anthony wouldn’t speak anyway.

Frank took another step forward and closed almost the entire gap between them. “Please…” He took Anthony’s hand. “Please give me a chance. I want to know what it’s like to be with someone who really loves me. And I want to give you everything he never wanted.”

Anthony stared at their joined hands, but he didn’t even try to yank his away. “Frankie…”

“Please.”

It felt like slow-motion. Frank was close enough to Anthony to feel his skin warm under his breath, but it was Anthony who turned his head. And it was Anthony who leaned in that extra inch and made their lips meet.

It was just like the first time they’d kissed in the bathroom at the wedding, almost a week ago. There were sparks that turned into fireworks and music crescendoing as Anthony slid his tongue between Frank’s lips. Frank anchored his fingers in the other’s hair; he never wanted to be away from him. He wanted to feel every inch of Anthony’s body again, and he wanted to see every part of his heart, too. He wanted to have that night at the wedding every night, and he wanted it all with Anthony.

When they finally parted, Frank could feel his eyes welling with tears. “Please,” he whispered. “Please, Anthony, please—”

“Okay, okay.” Anthony’s arms wrapped around him and pulled him close. “It’s okay.”

“You’ll give me a chance?”

“Yeah, I’ll give you a chance.”

Frank surged forward and kissed him; there was no better way to show his delight. He probably held Anthony too late, but he didn’t care. Just like he didn’t care about the very public setting. He was just so relieved that he hadn’t ruined things, that he’d get to have something real.

When Anthony pulled away again, he kissed Frank’s forehead gently before holding him close to his chest. “I have one condition, though,” he said suddenly.

Frank’s eyes snapped open. “What’s that?”

“You have to get onstage with me next time,” Anthony said. “And you have to quit writing songs about Gerard.”

Frank smiled and surprised himself when he chuckled. “Yeah, okay. I can do that for you.”