He watched, unashamedly voyeuristic, as that finger settled on a rosy pink lower lip. Slowly, mentally, he traced the contours of that mouth. Frank’s eyes ran up and down perfectly formed features. ‘He is made from ivory and gold and I am the lowest dross,’ he thinks with utter sincerity. He studies as the other’s fingers fumble carelessly at the rough paper pages of a comic book. His eyes dart from left to right, reading. The enthralled look of the anticipation of stories unfolding clearly evident in sparkling eyes and painted on parted lips. Frank loved that about him. The little childlike, touchingly human, actions he allowed himself to make when no one of consequence was watching. And Frank resigned himself to the idea that that was all he was, someone of no consequence. Even so he cherished these moments. The opportunity to see what all those thousands of others only dreamt of - seeing the real him - the real Gerard Way. The inane mundane things we all do, he managed to make them all intensely wonderful. Frank often wondered if there had ever been a time when he hadn’t felt like this, thought like this. There must have been, but for all his searching he couldn’t remember it. All he could remember were all those little moments he had had the privilege to witness, that he’d stored and kept. And all those imaginary times Gerard had whispered “I love you” into Frank’s ear and Frank had willed it to be true. These precious memories were the only things that he had allowed to take up room in his mind.

In his head Frank stood up and walked forward, put his hand firmly on that comic book.

In his head Gerard laughed.

“What in the hell are you doin’ Frankie? I‘m reading that and…. Hey wait. What‘s going on?” he said.

And in his head Frank ignored his friend's question.

In his head he knelt on one knee in front of Gerard, placed a loving hand on his cheek and leant forward.

In his head he fell into a touchingly soft kiss, so utterly tender that it was all for love and nothing at all do with passion.

In his head that kiss lasted until both men struggled to breathe, and felt dizzy with desire; so completely lost in its warmth.

In his head.

But that’s all it was, a thought, a dream, a desire: trapped, lost, imprisoned in his mind.

In his head Gerard pulled away and looked into Frank’s eyes.

In Frank’s mind Gerard spoke.

“Frank. I know what I want now…..” He began.

Suddenly, violently, cruelly, Frank was wrenched from his dream state by a crash and a bang. Gerard had kicked his chair from under him and carelessly pushed his comic aside. He was standing, a look of realisation and excitement plastered across his face.

“Frank. I know what I want now…..” He began.

Frank’s eyes widened. ‘Can this be true,’ he thought deliriously. His heart racing, his palms growing damp and cold. He began to shake in shock and anticipation. Had he wished so hard, so long, that somehow he has made his dreams come true? He stared at Gerard waiting for him to speak.

“I want…. “ Gerard began.

"I want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” he yelled laughing.

He looked at his friend happily.

“You want one too Frankie?” he called merrily, heading for the kitchen.

“Gerard…..” Frank sighed affectionately.

And softly, aloud but ever so quietly, he chuckled to himself.

Frank loved these moments, the beautiful everyday moments. He cherished every second of living with Gerard Way, the man he loved.