A/N

Whoa, this took me a lot longer than I originally thought it would to write. I had mock exams and a lot of stressful stuff to deal with. Anyhow, here it is. Hope you like it. Votes and comments are much appreciated!!

Cold X

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Frank sat at the counter in his shop, head propped on one hand, his elbow resting on the dark green countertop. Gerard had been his only customer that day, all week even, but that wasn't the reason he couldn't stop thinking about him. Frank had always known he was attracted to boys, there had never been any confusion about it, but his parents had rejected his preference violently, the real reason for his move to this lonely desert town. And so, Frank had decided that it would become his secret, painfully concealed deep inside. He hadn't expected to fall so hard so fast. He couldn't think about anything else, Gerard's shy smile, his soft voice, his black hair that curled up at the ends...Frank recognised him as someone who desperately needed someone, his shadowed eyes and paranoid glances over his shoulder screamed 'I'm not okay'. Sitting alone at the counter of his shop, staring dreamily at the wall of guitars where Gerard had stood mere hours ago, Frank wondered if he could help the haunted boy.

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Gerard was restless. He had come home and locked himself safely back in his dark bedroom, spending the rest of the afternoon re-stringing his guitar. Carefully pulling out the bridge pins and winding the tuning pegs, trying desperately to concentrate on the delicate task instead of the boy in the music shop. Gerard just couldn't stop his thoughts from wandering to Frank's giggle and the brief touch of his hand on his. He didn't understand why and these intrusive flashbacks to his trip out made him uncomfortable. The idea of a crush was absurd to him, he had ruled the possibility of these feelings being something romantic out immediately, he had never thought that way about anyone...especially a guy. Gerard felt oddly happy in a way he hadn't in a long time, not since they  had made their presence in his life permanent. The red sun had sunk below the desert horizon by the time he had finished with his guitar, plugging it into his little Orange amp and giving it a strum, making sure the volume was low as not to disturb Patrick, smiling at its familiar warm tone given a fresh new voice with the pristine strings. He played a song he was working on, it was shaky, his chord changes slow and awkward, his fingers straining for the right frets. Sighing, he put the guitar back in its corner, humming the tune he had just attempted as he pulled out his notebook. It was a royal blue, scuffed and bent at the edges, filled with lines of his blue inked scrawl. Gerard lent over and turned on the small lamp on his bedside table. The soft orange light grew slowly as the old bulb heated up, it's filaments glowing, allowing Gerard to see the lined pages of his book. He began to write, dredging up all the pain and fear and throwing it into his words, completing a verse he had written the previous night- But does anyone notice? But does anyone care? And if I had the guts to put this to your head...But does anything matter if you're already dead?  The song was almost complete, Gerard wished he had the confidence to sing it. He sighed and placed the notebook on his bedside table, turning the lamp off again in the process, without even allowing it to reach its full brightness, plunging the room into purple darkness.

Gerard walked though the ramshackle buildings of his town, it was a clear, crisp night, the milky way visible in the sky , thousands of stars straining though the void to reach the earth with faint, pitiful light. A single orange streetlight bathed the sandy concrete in front of him as he approached the edge of town. Before him stretched the vast expanse of desert , pitch black against the starlight . A creeping feeling began to crawl its way up his spine, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. All of a sudden the wonder of the sleeping wasteland was stripped from Gerard, replaced with a thick, cloying fear tinged with sharp panic. Right there he became a child again, crying for his mother, weak, vulnerable...alone.  He glanced around, paranoid, peering at the dry bushes, the sky, he spend the longest examining the road behind him, squinting to see if he had been followed. As he turned back to face the empty desert, he jumped violently as a man lunged towards him, screaming and shouting, grabbing Gerard by the shoulders. Gerard froze as he saw the mans face, it was completely clean, he had no features, no eyes mouth or nose, just an empty expanse of skin. He shook Gerard, yelling, his voice horse "Save me! Save me!"  Gerard turned to run back towards town, only to find  ten more faceless men and women swarming towards him from that direction. They all wore black trousers, and  jacket with a black body and red short sleeves, a logo of a bowling ball and skittles emblazoned on the back.  They surrounded him all screaming the same thing as the first man and reaching out to him. Gerard shouted back, eyes wide and body filled with pure panic  "Save you from what? who?" before letting out a terrified shriek as the crowd picked him up, carrying him like a crowd surfer out into the desert. Then gunshots rung out though the emptiness, a dark figure stood in the only road leaving town, holding an assault rifle and picking the faceless spectres off one by one . With ear splitting bangs, the people carrying him collapsed into the dust as Gerard craned his neck, trying desperately to see who could possibly be shooting. Soon, only the original man remained, still carrying him awkwardly, running and stumbling in the dark. The terror relaxed its grip on Gerard slightly, allowing him to struggle against the faceless man, kicking and writhing. And then a burning, searing pain erupted in his stomach, accompanied by a gunshot. Gerard looked down to see his t-shirt quickly being soaked with warm blood, black in the darkness. He let out a broken scream, the man dropped him into the sand and continued running. Gerard watched him with his face pressed against the sun baked ground, the man ran into the night , the bowling logo still visible on his back though the gloom . A final gunshot ricocheted though the cold air and the faceless man crumpled onto the ground. Gerard clutched his stomach, crying, his sobs the only sound in the silence. His vision blurred.

Gerard woke up with a start, his body pumping with adrenaline. His hands immediately went to his stomach, finding it just as it always had been, no gunshot wound, no pain. He jumped as the wind battered against his small window, rattling the glass in its frame. He could hear the force of it hitting the house above him. There must be a storm on the way. He hugged himself, scared and alone. He didn't have the courage to call for Patrick. He wasn't a child, he shouldn't be scared like this...but then even children didn't really  see ghosts, not like he did. Gerard didn't know what to do, tonight's nightmare had been so vivid, so real, not like the others. He felt claustrophobic, the dark walls of his room pressing in around him, the warm air choking. He had to get out. He threw on his ancient leather jacket and black converse, tiptoeing up the basement stairs to avoid rousing Patrick.

Gerard didn't know where he was going, he didn't care that there was a storm on the way, or that he wasn't in a safe mind-set for wandering the streets. The town was almost pitch black, a few street lights parting the black softly with their dim light, just like in his dream. He walked aimlessly, squinting and holding one hand above his eyes to prevent being blinded by dust, breathing in short gasps and trying to overcome the screaming panic attack inside. This wasn't just any storm, not like the ones that came in the autumn, this was a sandstorm, and suddenly Gerard regretted his decision to take a walk. His vision was blurred by a mass of yellow and brown, he strained against the wind, leaning forward. Her needed shelter, now, or he was in big trouble. He continued walking blindly, his eyes squeezed shut against the barrage of painful sand, trying hard not to breathe in too much. Finally, the dark bulk of a big building loomed ahead, Gerard started running, the wind behind him, towards it. Reaching the glass automatic doors, he banged on them with a fist, shouting for help. They were locked tight, and nobody was there to open them, not at this time of night and especially not in a storm. Gerard slid down against the door, turning his face towards it and using his back as a sand shield, water poured from his reddened eyes and his throat was raw and scratched. this is how I'm going to die he thought. The storm would probably rage for another day or two and when it cleared, they would find him, curled against these doors, mouth full of sand. Just then, as he began to give up hope, there came a loud bang though the howling of the wind. It came again, Gerard was confuse as to what or who could be making such a noise, when it sounded again and he recognised it. The sound of a door slamming in the wind. An open door!  He was up and stumbling towards the sound immediately, hoping against hope that there was a way into the building, hoping he wouldn't meet any of them on the way.

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Frank lay in his bed, listening to the sound of the storm rattling the windows. Well, you couldn't exactly call it a bed, really it was only a cheap mattress stuffed into the back room of the music shop, but to Frank, it was home. He couldn't sleep as usual, but tonight he couldn't take a walk to alleviate the boredom of the silent hours of the night, not in this weather. So he contented himself with re-living Gerard's visit to his shop. His pale skin, round face, upturned nose....Frank sighed, what was he doing? He needed to stop torturing himself, Gerard was untouchable, he probably was straight and anyway...why would he fall for the jerk in the music shop? The slamming of a door the other side of the mall interrupted his thoughts, he rolled his eyes. The cleaner had left one of the doors unlocked again, as always. Frank groaned as he got up, he was going to have to close it or the owner of the mall was going to be angry about all the sand on his nice polished lino floors. And seeing as Frank was the only overnight resident, the job had fallen to him. Getting up and throwing a black dressing gown across his shoulders and grabbing a torch, he ventured out of the shop and into the dark expanse of the mall. Frank wasn't scared of the dark, but the still escalators and staring manikins in the silent shop windows accompanied by the howl of the wind sent shivers down his spine. Frank jumped violently as the beam of his torch hit a dark figure walking towards him. He froze, afraid, who had broken in? Why? "H-hello?" he called. The figure looked up, startled, apparently only now noticing the torchlight, his pale face shockingly pale bathed in its harsh light. Frank recognised it immediately. "Gerard?" He began to jog forward, reaching him just his legs collapsed beneath him. Frank caught him, dropping the torch to steady Gerard with both hands. The light bounced around the large empty space as the torch rolled, coming to rest against a bench. "Gerard? Are you hurt? What's wrong?" Frank babbled, worried and confused. Gerard's face was as white as a sheet, his pupils dilated and his body cold and shaking. He only stared into the darkness, not acknowledging Frank's words. Trying to keep calm, Frank took control of the situation "Okay. Come with me, I'll make you a nice hot cup of coffee yeah? And we'll have a chat" Frank tried his hardest not to talk to Gerard like a child, but it was difficult when he was acting so strangely. He half supported, half carried Gerard back to the shop, seating him in a chair in the back of the shop while he operated his coffee machine, his pride and joy.

Gerard sat, hugging himself and shivering despite the heat. He began to speak, very softly, Frank strained to listen."they are these terrors. And it's like, it feels like as if somebody was gripping my throat and squeezing and..."

Frank moved over to him, crouching down to look into his eyes "It's okay. You're safe now" he repeated over to him as he continued mumbling

"...Sometimes I see flames. And sometimes I see people that I love dying and... it's always..."

"Gerard" Frank interrupted him sternly, trying his best not to let his worry, and his other feelings towards Gerard show in his speech "It's okay, I'm here"

Gerard looked up slightly, finally meeting Franks eyes, his confused slur trailing off into recognisable words- "thank you"

"What happened? Where you out in the storm? Why?" Questions spilled out of Frank

"I had a...had one of my nightmares...the people had no faces, I tried to run...I got shot. I...storm, I couldn't see..." Gerard began to panic again, his eyes widening.

Frank patted his shoulder gingerly, frantically fighting the urge to stroke his hair "Hey, hey...It's okay now, shh, It wasn't real, you're safe now" Gerard took in a deep breath and nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on Frank. "I guess you're going to have to sleep here then..."

"no, no..um..I'm sorry, sorry..um, I could.." Gerard interrupted

"No! No it's fine, it'll be fun!" Frank smiled, his face warm and inviting, excited like a child on his first sleepover. Gerard relaxed slightly.

"Could I sleep there?" Gerard asked, pointing to the threadbare sofa.

"Sure, only, I don't have any spare sheets" Frank said frowning. You'll be cold, it's not even one yet, the temperature is still going to drop" he said, thinking about the desert temperature variation, from baking in the day to freezing overnight.

"It's okay...I'll be alright, I'm used to it"

 Franks heart dropped. He hated that phrase. He didn't like to think why Gerard was used to the cold but his eyes told of many lonely nights. "Or...you could share my bed" Frank said, almost so quietly it was inaudible. Excitement, confusion and fear all assaulted Gerard at once. He couldn't understand why his body was aching to lay beside Frank's, he didn't know why his stomach filled with butterflies when Frank smiled...he didn't like it, these new feelings scared him, they were so sudden and so strong and unlike anything he had experienced before. Could he have a crush on a boy? Was that allowed? Was it possible? Is this what it felt like to fall in love? He had only met him the other day! Was love that strong? The questions came in their hundreds and Gerard silenced them all with a small, scared, "Okay"

Frank looked surprised and elated, Gerard saw him trying to hide just how happy he was and wondered briefly what that meant. Frank got into bed, fidgeting until he was comfortable, laying on his back and then held the duvet up with one hand to allow Gerard to crawl in beside him. Gerard lay down awkwardly, trying his upmost not to touch Frank, painfully aware how close their bodies were on the small mattress. They lay in silence for a while, Frank closed his eyes and listened to the rattle of the wind against the mall's loose metal roofing, taking way too much comfort then he should from the warmth radiating from Gerard beside him. Finally, he decided to break the silence "You okay?"  

 "Yeah" came a whisper from the darkness beside him

"Can I ask you, um," he paused, trying to order the sentence in a way in which it would not come out sounding too concerned. He didn't want to display the emotions he was feeling for the anxious boy. Too much, too fast. "What were you doing out in the storm?"

Gerard sighed deeply and turned over so his back was facing Frank. "I had a nightmare. I have them a lot, really horrible ones. I went for a walk, trying to clear my head, and the storm caught me off guard" his voice was unstable, Frank thought he was trying not to cry. Again he was struck by the urge to comfort him in some way, move closer, stroke his hair...place a soft kiss on his forehead. No. Stop. He was getting ahead of himself, and anyway, Gerard was probably straight and had no interest in him that way at all. Frank sighed quietly, he didn't know what to do with these feelings, they were so strong and sudden. He had had crushes in the past, but nothing of this magnitude, before he had just accepted the attraction and let it fade over time, but he didn't know how to deal with such a powerful  attraction especially in such a charged situation of having said crush in his bed.  He decided to just go for it, even though it was the most terrifying thing he had done in a long time.

Beside him, Gerard began shaking, sobbing into the pillow and hugging himself. Frank slowly moved closer to him "It's okay, It's okay" he whispered gently and then, ever so slowly, he moved his hand up to touch Gerard's hair and then, very tentatively, he began to stroke it. Gerard froze under his hand, his breath held, his body tense. Frank was...Frank...stroking his hair? Gerard didn't know what to think, he had met Frank only yesterday, he was practically a stranger and now he was in bed with him and Frank was...comforting him. But despite this, though all the pain and fear he had been struck with that night, he liked it. And so, abandoning all his social conditioning that was screaming at him that being in bed with a boy and having a boy stroke his hair was wrong, so wrong  and the ever present paranoia that whispered he's going to hurt you, you don't even know him, he leaned into Frank's hand, shifting so it was easier for him to get closer.

Frank paused, surprised and so full of hope he thought he might burst, Gerard was moving so he could get closer! Frank shuffled nearer, leaning against Gerard's body as the big spoon, despite his shortness, still stroking Gerard's messy black hair awkwardly with one hand. Frank closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of coffee and cigarette smoke from Gerard's skin, sinking into his warmth. "Is...is this okay?" he whispered softly, eyes still closed.

"Yeah" came a sleepy reply. The tension in Gerard's body has completely melted and all his fear and paranoia had been quietened to a distant murmur. He still was ignoring that fact that Frank was a boy and this was new and strange, just going with what his body wanted. Frank's warmth was beautiful and for the first time in a long time, Gerard felt safe.  Frank grinned, pressing his face into the nape of Gerard's neck. This is crazy he thought to himself, we only met yesterday. And yet all the usual new partner first time awkwardness was non existent. There was no need for apologies or explanations, speeches or proclamations. They each understood the need the other had, the aching loneliness...the fear, and that was enough.

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Gerard woke with a start, momentarily disorientated by the unfamiliar room around him before it all came flooding back. It was then that he noticed Frank's absence, his side of the bed cold. Gerard sat up and listened for a moment before he heard Frank's voice though the wall, followed by another deeper one. He checked his phone, it said 11:30 in white though the cracked screen. Of course, the shop must be open. Gerard decided to use this time to reflect on last night...what has really happened between them? Did it mean that he was gay? Gerard didn't know and didn't really care, he had never liked labels and anyway...all Frank had done was cuddle him and stroke his hair. His thoughts were so full of Frank and the questions that surrounded him that Gerard had almost forgotten his nightmare. But as the haunting memories and the phantom pain of the bullet returned, Gerard knew it hadn't been a normal nightmare, it had been one of his terrors. These were the ghosts that haunted him at night, screams of souls that were going to be killed soon... deaths from the future. Thus was Gerard's curse, to be surrounded by those who had passed in the day and walk with those soon to die in his dream. Gerard groaned and lay back down on the mattress, his normal headache returning as the weight of the world settled firmly back onto his shoulders. He looked around, taking in the room around him in the weak morning light. It looked a lot smaller then it had last night, small and skinny in shape like a broom cupboard. The walls were brick, painted over roughly with mustard yellow paint without plaster, the bricks jutting out though the layer of colour. The mattress was pushed up against the left wall and in the opposite corner...there it was, Franks Epiphone Phant-o-matic. The guitar practically shone, its perfect white curves and black pick-ups were breath-taking. The instrument was free of dust and dents, clearly polished and coveted like a child. Gerard took a moment to admire it. The rest of the space was empty of any personality, a thin wardrobe sat at the end of the room and above it was a small window, closed tight. On the last wall was a small mirror which, in contrast to the guitar, was grimy and marked by age. Gerard got up and moved over to it, brushing down this t-shirt and black skinny jeans, trying his best to make them look like they hadn't been slept in. Glancing in the mirror he grimaced at the sight of his unwashed hair, tried to arrange in a way that looked less disgusting and failed miserably. He was shocked by how awful he looked, eyes red and skin even paler then usual. He wondered if he was coming down with something.

Turning around Gerard realised that there was a small window in the door leading into the shop, he inched towards it, peeping out into the main room. Frank stood at the counter with his back to Gerard, talking to an older man who was holding a violin, inspecting it whilst nodding to whatever Frank was saying. Gerard couldn't make out their conversation, it was muffled though the door, but took comfort in the sound of Frank's voice anyway. It was then, peering though the small window, that the hair on the back of his neck began to stand up, his body suddenly wracked with chills. Entering the shop, passing though the door effortlessly, was the third and most terrifying class of the dead that Gerard's broken soul could see with the naked eye. The shadows. Creatures that barely held the human form anymore, made of translucent mist, they were the only ghostly apparitions that were openly aggressive, killing anyone who made it apparent that they could see them. Gerard could often go months without seeing a single shadow, and those were good months indeed, but when they did make an appearance, violence and bloodshed was never far behind. Shadows liked to follow those who were going to kill. Not just murder, but torture and mutilation were the things that were sure to get a shadow following. They didn't cause the person to kill, but fed on the pain and suffering brought about by the actions. The more shadows following a person, the more death they will bring. Gerard tried not to cry out as five shadows entered the shop, passing though and around the instruments and walls, circling around Frank  and focusing their attention on the man holding the violin. He was the one who was going to do something. Something very bad. The man smiled at Frank, both of them oblivious to their hideous visitors, handed over some money and left the shop, taking the violin with him. Gerard moved away from the window in the door, mind racing and body still trembling from what he had seen. Something was going to happen, a lot of people were doing to die. And he was the only one who knew it was coming.

Frank opened the door, slamming it accidently against the wall beside it causing Gerard to jump violently. "Hey there, whoa are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost" Frank's face immediately creased in concern. Impulsively, he moved forward to comfort Gerard.

Gerard shrunk into himself, shoulders moving up and hand extended to stop Frank from touching him. "I'm fine, I'm okay. Thank you" he muttered

"Oh. Okay. That's good" Frank said, expression dropping at Gerard's rejection. But what reaction had he expected? They hardly knew each other. All his insecurities and fears suddenly jumped at him, swallowing any good feelings he had had about the night before. What if he was wrong? What if Gerard hadn't wanted him to stoke his hair? What if he didn't like him? He blurted out "Look, um, about last night...I'm sorry if you weren't comfortable with me touching your hair, its just, you were crying and...um..i couldn't..."  

Gerard placed a pale hand on Franks shoulder, looking down at his shoes, avoiding eye contact. "It's fine" he said, so quietly it was almost a whisper "It was nice"