Gerard plops down beside him, already lighting his own fag. Frank sighs out a smoky breath. So much for being alone.
Gerard waits until Frank's finished his cigarette before he asks him, "How long have you been doing it?"
"Turning tricks?" Frank asks, even though he knows that's what Gerard means. It what that question always means. Gerard just nods, looking earnest. It seems to be his default expression. "About six years." It's really closer to seven, but whatever.
Gerard just nods, his expression carefully neutral. "Why do you do it?" he asks, like he can't help but say whatever jumps into his head.
Frank sighs. He's already told these guys his life story, why stop now? "Why does anyone do anything? To survive."
He fumbles in his boot for his cigarettes, lighting up another one rather than thinking back to the lean years. To the day he shoved a handful of condoms in his back pocket and headed for the street, having already sold everything he had that was worth anything, all he had left to trade was his body.
He can feel Gerard's gaze like a weight, so he turns to look at him. He's staring at Frank, his eyes huge and sincere. "It shouldn't just be about surviving," he says, "It should be about living."
Frank shakes his head, catching a bitter laugh before it can leave his mouth. "Maybe for you."
That shuts Gerard up for a while. They smoke in silence until Gerard's mouth gets away from him again.
"Did I… I mean. Mikey's brother. The one that you remember… did he…" Frank looks up from the burning cherry of his cigarette to see the agony in Gerard's face, "did he kill himself? Was that how he died?"
Frank puts it together in that moment. Well shit, Gerard is Mikey's brother. His breath catches in his throat. There was talk all over the scene about Mikey's brother, about how no one would take that many pills by accident. "You sure you want me to answer that?" he asks, because what better way to avoid a question than by putting another one next to it?
It doesn't work though. Gerard looks at him like he figured it out anyway, "So that's a yes then." His voice sounds weak and brittle. He turns away, grinding the butt of his cigarette into the dirt with rough motions. "Fuck," he breathes, so softly Frank almost misses it.
"That guy isn't you," Frank says, because it seems like the thing to say, "Just like I'm not your guy."
He can feel Gerard looking at him, his eyes boring into the side of Frank's head. He doesn't look though. He already knows Gerard's wearing that fucking earnest expression again.
"You are, though." Gerard says, sound so fucking sure that Frank can't bring himself to argue.
*
It's well into the early hours when the other cars return. Frank's gone past curiosity, to exhaustion and only the cups of coffee Gerard keeps brewing are keeping his eyes open. He doesn't want to fall asleep - he can sleep anywhere, sure, but he makes a rule of not sleeping on the clock.
When the guys walk back into the bus and they've got the lookalike with them, Frank doesn't even have the energy to be shocked anymore. He pushes himself up off the couch, weaving a little with fatigue as Gerard rushes to wrap his arms around the other Frank in the same hug Frank already got hours ago. Only this Frank responds properly, wrapping his arms around him and saying "Hey Geeway," with a fond smile.
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Gerard waits until Frank's finished his cigarette before he asks him, "How long have you been doing it?"
"Turning tricks?" Frank asks, even though he knows that's what Gerard means. It what that question always means. Gerard just nods, looking earnest. It seems to be his default expression. "About six years." It's really closer to seven, but whatever.
Gerard just nods, his expression carefully neutral. "Why do you do it?" he asks, like he can't help but say whatever jumps into his head.
Frank sighs. He's already told these guys his life story, why stop now? "Why does anyone do anything? To survive."
He fumbles in his boot for his cigarettes, lighting up another one rather than thinking back to the lean years. To the day he shoved a handful of condoms in his back pocket and headed for the street, having already sold everything he had that was worth anything, all he had left to trade was his body.
He can feel Gerard's gaze like a weight, so he turns to look at him. He's staring at Frank, his eyes huge and sincere. "It shouldn't just be about surviving," he says, "It should be about living."
Frank shakes his head, catching a bitter laugh before it can leave his mouth. "Maybe for you."
That shuts Gerard up for a while. They smoke in silence until Gerard's mouth gets away from him again.
"Did I… I mean. Mikey's brother. The one that you remember… did he…" Frank looks up from the burning cherry of his cigarette to see the agony in Gerard's face, "did he kill himself? Was that how he died?"
Frank puts it together in that moment. Well shit, Gerard is Mikey's brother. His breath catches in his throat. There was talk all over the scene about Mikey's brother, about how no one would take that many pills by accident. "You sure you want me to answer that?" he asks, because what better way to avoid a question than by putting another one next to it?
It doesn't work though. Gerard looks at him like he figured it out anyway, "So that's a yes then." His voice sounds weak and brittle. He turns away, grinding the butt of his cigarette into the dirt with rough motions. "Fuck," he breathes, so softly Frank almost misses it.
"That guy isn't you," Frank says, because it seems like the thing to say, "Just like I'm not your guy."
He can feel Gerard looking at him, his eyes boring into the side of Frank's head. He doesn't look though. He already knows Gerard's wearing that fucking earnest expression again.
"You are, though." Gerard says, sound so fucking sure that Frank can't bring himself to argue.
*
It's well into the early hours when the other cars return. Frank's gone past curiosity, to exhaustion and only the cups of coffee Gerard keeps brewing are keeping his eyes open. He doesn't want to fall asleep - he can sleep anywhere, sure, but he makes a rule of not sleeping on the clock.
When the guys walk back into the bus and they've got the lookalike with them, Frank doesn't even have the energy to be shocked anymore. He pushes himself up off the couch, weaving a little with fatigue as Gerard rushes to wrap his arms around the other Frank in the same hug Frank already got hours ago. Only this Frank responds properly, wrapping his arms around him and saying "Hey Geeway," with a fond smile.
(CONT)