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The phone call came early one morning. Frank, for some reason, was awake.
"It's Gerard," was all Brian said. Frank blinked the last of the sleep from his eyes. "We have to do something."
*
It all started the day Frank got the job at Chemical Media.
Technically, though, it all started when Gerard was promoted and his brother got married and moved to California. That was three months before Frank even went for the interview, though, so for him, it all started on his first day when Bob nodded at him as Brian took him around and Frank had asked, as they passed the door, "Oh – is that Mr Way's office?"
"Uh." Brian glanced at it reluctantly, as if it would pull a face at him. With what features, Frank didn't know, since it was a door and made entirely of wood. "Yeah, that's Mr Way's office. He comes out sometimes to look in on us, but mostly he uh, doesn't."
"Oh." The guy who'd done the interviewing, Ray something, had talked about Mr Way's hands-on approach to his workforce, dropping by to check in on them regularly; Frank had expected the boss to be doing this tour, actually. But Brian was assistant manager, so that was like, only one step away from manager. Which was Mr Way.
Over the first year at Chemical, Frank had seen Mr Way exactly three times. The first was four months in, when a ghost-like figure had come out of Mr Way's office and made its way to the coffee machine. Frank had caught a strong smell of whiskey and cigarettes before the figure had disappeared into the office again. The second time was at the obligatory Christmas party, where Mr Way could be seen dancing for several hours on his own in the centre of the dance floor. The third time was a morning Frank had been late in, and as he dashed into the elevator he realised who the other occupant of it was. They stood in silence for the eight storeys of their ride.
*
In Frank's first week, Brian had invited him for drinks with everyone else twice, and Frank had only refused once. (That because it was his mother's birthday and he knew what was good for him.) A group of the Chemical employees went to the same bar every Tuesday, Thursday and those who didn't have a date or other plans gathered there on Fridays. Friday was karaoke night. Brian liked karaoke night.
Bob never once showed up on a Friday. Frank asked him where he disappeared to, since he also never mentioned a girlfriend and had no wedding ring; Bob answered that he hated karaoke night, and Frank said that was fair enough. Privately, he decided that he would get Bob to karaoke night one day.
*
Somewhere along the way, Frank and Brian became friends. Somewhere further along, they became the kind of friends who call each other not just in a crisis or to check if they were still on for watching the football that weekend, but the kind who called each other at least once every weekend to say, "I'm bored. Want to come over?" So when Frank's roommate moved in with his girlfriend and Frank could no longer make rent on his place, Brian said, "There's space at mine. I could do with a sublet."
Three hours after Frank had arrived with his boxes, they had been in front of the TV and Brian got up to get a beer and came back with two, handing one to Frank with barely a glance away from the movie they were watching, and it was like Frank had always lived there.
*
Brian had gone out that night, at some point. Frank was cleaning up after the kitten, which was only a few months old and sometimes forgot where the litter box was, when he heard the door close and Brian's voice on the phone to someone, saying, "I'll be there in – G-" before there was a slam and the sound cut off. Frank fell asleep over a Frasier rerun and woke up with the kitten attempting to eat his hair; he scooped Scorpio up and carried him to bed. The tiny furry body curled up against his chest, purring and working his claws in and out of Frank's faded old shirt, was a warm anchor. Frank smiled as he drifted off to sleep again.
Then he woke when it was still dark, the kitten gone somewhere more interesting, and his phone rang ten minutes later.
*
Frank had seen Gerard more since he and Brian became roomies. This was because Gerard and Brian were close. Brian spent a fair amount of time at Gerard's; and, both of them having Brian in common, Frank had started spending time with him too.
Gerard didn't talk much, mostly. He drew a lot, and drank whiskey neat, and Frank wasn't sure what to do with him until the time, on his fourth visit to Gerard's apartment, when Brian got up to pee and as soon as they were alone in the room together Gerard leaned closer and, without a word, just wrapped his arms around Frank, and he thought, oh. Okay. He hugged Gerard back, and he thought, this is what you do with him.
A year later, Gerard came to see him at work on his birthday, and gave him a black balloon with "HAPPY BIRTHDAY FRANKIE" written in white gothic script on it, and a cake in the shape of a bat. He'd also made the card, and somehow tracked down a rare copy of a book Frank had once mentioned he liked.
When Gerard's birthday came around and Frank gave him a new set of paints and three large canvases, Gerard's face had lit up and he hadn't let go of him for a good five minutes.
*
Frank was never quite sure what Bob's actual job was; but then, he had never asked. He tried, a few times, but somehow managed to get sidetracked and come out of the conversation having completely forgotten what he started it for, though a vague feeling of having not done something he'd meant to prevailed for a half hour afterward.
Bob was talented like that. Frank quickly learned that if Bob didn't want to talk about something, Bob didn't talk about something. And neither did you.
That Bob became one of those friends who is just always around, no matter what, was mostly down to perseverance on the part of Frank, but at times he suspected that Bob secretly liked him, even before he couldn't get rid of him and grudgingly accepted that he had a Frank in his life and he may as well get used to it. Little things gave him away, like the way he'd started calling first and got to the bar earlier and almost looked every now and then like he wished he could come on Friday nights. (He was, however, adamant about the karaoke. Frank knew Bob knew Frank would get him to go up there if he showed up. This fact made Bob all the more determined not to come ever, the knowledge of which only made Frank more sure that one day he would get Bob there.) Bob thought he was under the radar, but Frank was onto him. He snuck in hugs at lunch time, just before getting into the taxi at the end of the night, while passing his desk; whenever Bob least expected it, Frank got in a quick squeeze. Bob would push him off, but there was no strength in it. So Frank just grinned to himself and waited for the day when Bob would admit that he did, in fact, underneath it all, really quite like Frank.
*
The hospital smelled like every other hospital Frank had ever visited; sterility, with a hint of faint desperation and a certain amount of resigned weariness. Gerard was pale and thin, looking even paler and thinner in an unflattering hospital gown. Brian was sitting beside his bed, one of Gerard's hands in both of his, and looked up when Frank arrived. Bob was sitting on Gerard's other side, so Frank sat in the empty chair next to him.
Gerard had no more hands to hold, so Frank just folded his up in his lap and blinked. Bob's hands looked huge, both wrapped around one of Gerard's, and Frank found himself wondering how Bob had become friends with Brian and Gerard. Working together was one thing, but this – he was struck suddenly by how, as soon as he had arrived, both Brian and Bob had relaxed a little, as if something was complete. Frank looked at Gerard's face, serene and childlike in sleep, and felt a rush of something like a crashing coldness. He hadn't even asked what had happened; he was needed there, that was all he knew.
*
Brian moved into Gerard's apartment when he came home from the hospital. Frank might have asked, then, but Bob stayed over that night and he ended up forgetting the question. Or rather, forgetting how to phrase it.
Bob stayed again the next night, in Brian's room. It turned out he was a total sucker for kittens.
*
The question How's he doing? was never asked, except by others at work. It was usually directed at Brian, with the general assumption that he would know, or at Frank. Bob never gave an answer. Brian and Frank, when asked, always just said he was doing better.
He still had his bad days, when Frank would sit with him as he curled up and said he couldn't draw any more, it had all left him, he needed a drink, when was his brother coming home?
They called Mikey, but they waited just enough time for Gerard to be coherent. The flight took five hours, but Mikey showed up six after Brian called him. Frank answered the door and found a skinny boy who seemed to be shivering. "Mikey?" he asked, though he was already certain. Mikey nodded.
"Is he – is he in there?" At Frank's nod, Mikey practically ran past him and into Gerard's room. "Gee," he said, soft, and Gerard looked up. "What the fuck happened to you? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I got a little carried away," Gerard replied, voice small. Mikey sat next to him and reached both arms around. "I just – I don't know. It's been."
"It's okay." Mikey hadn't even taken his jacket off. Gerard buried his face in it and breathed as if he were trying to drink in the air, gulping for nourishment like he had gills. "It's okay, Gee, I've got you."
Frank didn't want to back off. He, Brian and Bob held a short whispered conference in the kitchen, and agreed that Brian would still sleep here, that he would still call Frank and Bob the second they were needed. Mikey slept in Gerard's room that night, and for two weeks after, Brian on the other side of the wall with instructions to wake him if anything happened.
*
It was on the day that Gerard smiled at them and announced, "Six months sober, boys. I couldn't have done it without you." that Frank realised he had gotten used to Bob staying over, and the two of them only leaving Gerard's apartment when it got so late they were yawning and Bob insisted on driving. Mikey had gone back to California, temporarily, so it was just the four of them again, and Frank liked it when it was the four of them.
"D'you still want me to," Brian started to ask, but Gerard held up one hand.
"Don't, okay? I don't – I'm." Gerard took a deep breath. "You have been amazing. All of you. And I couldn't do it without you – I can't do this without you. You saved my life," he edged closer to Brian, "and I love you three."
"We love you too," Frank said, moving over and pulling him into a one-armed hug.
"No, I –" Gerard stopped, sighed, and kissed Frank.
His lips were dry, the kiss hesitant, but Frank returned it. His fingertips were tingling.
"What was that?" he asked, a whisper, when Gerard pulled away after a minute. Gerard just shook his head and leaned over him to kiss Bob.
Bob stayed utterly still for a second, but as Gerard's mouth moved over his, he let out his breath and kissed back. One hand came up to cup Gerard's head, fingers stroking a little through his hair. Gerard made a pleased sound, and then pulled away, moving over to kiss Brian.
Frank watched, a feeling of rightness settling over his chest as Bob slid his arms around Frank's waist, resting his chin on his shoulder as they watched Brian kissing Gerard back with a moan.
"How did it take us this long?" Frank murmured in Bob's general direction.
"There's four of us. It's weird. Dumbass." Bob turned Frank by the jaw and kissed him. Frank hummed, tingling down to his toes, and wondered if the cat would like Gerard's apartment.
*
Bob went to the bar on Friday night five weeks later. Frank somehow persuaded him to get up and sing We Are the Champions, on several whispered conditions. Bob only started speaking to him again when every one of them had been carried out.