wordslinging | A World So Small: Part Three

II.

III.

A few hours later, giving up on falling back asleep, Frank rose and went downstairs a little earlier than usual, arriving in the breakfast room while Michael was still in bed. When his friend joined him there, Frank was bleary-eyed and lost in his own thoughts, a combination that made for poor conversation. At some point, he realized that Michael had asked him a question he'd only half-heard, and he turned, blinking.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" he asked sheepishly.

Michael looked at him, frowning slightly. "Are you all right? You seem tired, did you not sleep well?"

"I was up reading later than I should have been," Frank replied. It was the perfect truth, with only the omission of the fact that he had been reading with Gerard, but the deception suddenly seemed to weigh more heavily on him, no doubt because he had more to feel conflicted over now. Even those words recalled vivid memories of sitting so close to Gerard, glancing up at his face now and then while he had stayed intent on the book, and Frank felt warmth creeping into his face and prayed it wouldn't show.

Michael merely shrugged, turning the majority his attention back to his breakfast. "Well, in any case, I was asking if your parents ever wrote back about us dining with them in London tomorrow?"

"--Oh." The trip to London had entirely left Frank's mind; he had written to his parents and received their reply, but then he had gotten so caught up with Gerard that he'd barely noticed the dates they'd arranged approaching. "Yes--yes, they said they'll be expecting us."

"All right." Michael gave a satisfied nod. "It'll be good to see them."

"It will," Frank agreed, but he was distracted, already thinking about Gerard again. This was good, he told himself--it would be a relief not to see him for a few days, to have a chance to try and sort out his thoughts and feelings. And yet, he was unsurprised to find himself facing the prospect of even a brief separation with a feeling that was far from relief.

By nightfall, Frank was no less conflicted. He had never been in a position like this before, and had no idea what, if anything, he should do about it. The thought of going on as they had, speaking to Gerard and smiling at him and sitting beside him as though nothing had changed, seemed like dishonesty, but confessing his feelings could be disastrous, could mean he would never have the chance to sit beside Gerard and smile at him again.

In the course of his musings, however, he had been struck with an idea regarding something else. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea, or if Gerard would react at all well to it, but it gave him something to focus on other than his tumultuous feelings. In spite of his uncertainty about the rest, he wanted to find out what Gerard would think of the idea, and to see him again before the trip to London.

And of course, besides all of that, they had an appointment to finish reading Athlin and Dunbayne.

When Frank joined him in the attic that night, Gerard was as awkward and withdrawn as Frank had ever seen him, but that might be for any number of reasons. As for Frank, he had resolved, in the continued absence of any better ideas, to try to act as though nothing had changed. It was strange; before, he had often felt confusion when he was near Gerard, things that he hadn't fully realized twisting inside him. Now there was a confusion of a very different kind--he could look at Gerard and put a name to what he felt, know what he wanted, but it left him utterly uncertain about how to proceed.

"I can't stay too late tonight," he told Gerard soon after he arrived, and Gerard nodded.

"You're going to London tomorrow, I know." He seemed a bit sad, or perhaps simply resigned.

"It's only for a few days," Frank said. "We'll be back soon."

Gerard gave a faint smile. "I know, it's not that. I was just thinking--I know it's only a few days now, but you won't stay with us forever, will you? Someday you'll go back to London for good."

Frank was brought up short by those words. Michael had imposed no time limit on his stay, extending his hospitality to Frank for as long as it was needed. His doctor's instructions were only that he should stay until he noticed an improvement in his health, which he hadn't, as of yet. He himself had never given much thought to the particulars of how long he would be at the manor; he'd had no reason to be greatly invested in staying, before he met Gerard, and afterward he had given very little thought to much beside Gerard himself. But Gerard was right, he would have to leave someday--and after he did, would they ever see each other again?

"I suppose I will," he agreed at last, reluctantly. "I can't say when. But...not yet."

Gerard had his eyes fixed at some point to the left of Frank's shoulder, and his mouth was pressed into a tight line. After a moment, he said in a small voice, "Everyone leaves, eventually."

Frank took a half-step forward, and then hesitated. Part of him--a considerable part--wanted to go to Gerard and offer some sort of comfort, but he wasn't sure how, or if that was a good idea. Before he could make up his mind, Gerard shook his head and tried to smile.

"Don't pay me any mind, Frank, I'm..." he trailed off, and then looked down at the book he was holding as if he'd just remembered it was there. "Would you like to finish this, now?"

Frank's initial plan was to keep himself a bit further away from Gerard than he had the night before, but hopefully not so much that Gerard would think anything amiss. However, when they settled onto the loveseat together, Gerard placed himself very close to Frank, who couldn't force himself to move away. Instead, he tried to focus all his attention on the book in Gerard's hands. Gerard seemed to throw himself into reading just as intently, and for a while, their troubles were forgotten as they delved back into the novel. The story's conclusion was just as exciting as Frank had expected, full of dramatic confrontations and surprising revelations, and, of course, happy endings for some and just desserts for others.

"I see why you like that one so much," Frank said after they had finished.

Gerard smiled. "I've never read it aloud to anyone before. It was a bit like getting to read it again for the first time, seeing your reactions." He closed the book and set it aside, then glanced at Frank. "If you'd like, we could choose another book to begin next, perhaps after you return from London."

"Actually," Frank began, and turned sideways on the loveseat to face Gerard more fully. "I've been thinking about something else we might do when I return. It may be something you don't want to do, but I'd like to at least see what you think."

The disclaimer left Gerard looking at him rather dubiously, but he only said, "What is it?"

"Would you go outside with me?" Frank asked. "I know you said you don't ever feel the urge to, but I think you should."

Gerard cast his eyes downward, his anxiety written clearly across his face. "Why?"

"I think you need to remember what it's like," Frank told him. "If we get out there and you don't like it, very well, but I think you should try."

Gerard stayed as he was at first, looking down and worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth, but then glanced back up at Frank. "You really think I should?"

"I do," Frank replied. "But if you decide you're set against it, I won't press you. For now, I'd just like you to think about it."

Gerard looked at him silently for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. I will."

The next day dawned gray and chilly, and Michael and Frank left early in the morning. As the carriage pulled away from the manor and turned onto the rough country road, Frank glanced back at the house. He did his best to keep his gaze from lingering too long on the attic windows, and they were too far away by now for him to see anything, anyway, but he could still picture Gerard standing by one of those windows, watching the carriage recede into the distance.

The journey was much the same as the one that brought Frank to the manor had been, simultaneously dull and taxing, but it was made more bearable by having Michael to talk to. The weather stayed overcast, constantly threatening rain but never producing more than a light mist, and it was already quite dark by the time they reached London.

As Frank had expected, it was good to be home. He and Michael dined with his parents as planned, and Frank cheerfully answered all their questions about how he was enjoying his stay at the manor and how his health had been.

It was only when he was preparing for bed (Michael doing the same in the guest room down the hall, the Ieros having successfully pressed him to stay the night rather than depart for the rooms he kept in the city) that Frank found himself thinking wistfully of the manor. By this time he would have been waiting for the opportunity to steal up to the attic, and Gerard would be waiting for him. Instead, he was donning a nightshirt and getting into bed in his old bedroom, and Gerard was hundreds of miles away, alone in the huge house except for the servants.

Frank let out a small sigh and rolled onto his side, still thinking about Gerard. Wondering if he was lonely, if he minded being left behind whenever Michael went to London, even though it was only temporary. Wondering if, perhaps, he might be thinking of Frank right now, an idea that sent an unexpected shiver down Frank's spine.

The next day was much the same. During the day, Michael went off to meet with his solicitors while Frank visited places in the city he had missed, and in the afternoon they met with some mutual friends. Frank had no intention of pining away rather than enjoying himself, but all the same, Gerard never left his thoughts completely. He committed things to memory more carefully because Gerard might ask about them, and often found himself wondering what Gerard would think or say about something if he had been with them (which was pure fancy on his part, given that if Gerard had been in London with them, he would have been a bundle and nerves and anxiety and likely not had much to say to anyone about anything). It seemed incredible to think that a month ago, he had been completely ignorant of Gerard's existence.

All in all, the trip was a pleasant one, but Frank was not as sorry as he might otherwise have been to turn his back on London again and return to the manor.

They arrived back there late, and after a quick supper, Frank meant to wait for Michael to fall asleep and then go up to Gerard. He underestimated his own tiredness, however; intending to simply sit on his bed for a while and wait, he woke the next morning curled up at the foot of the bed, on top of the covers and still fully clothed.

It was a moment before he noticed the piece of paper tucked into his curled fist. He blinked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, and unfolded it. It was a drawing of him in what he recognized as Gerard's hand, but not like the ones he had seen before, the ones where he'd been unaware that Gerard had been watching him--in this one he was looking straight ahead, and smiling.

Gerard had never drawn him when they were together, so Frank supposed he must have sketched the drawing from memory. And he must have come down here sometime in the night, in order to have left it with Frank. Frank blushed at the thought--it wasn't the first time Gerard had been in his bedroom, of course, but that had been before--and refolded the drawing carefully, hiding it in a desk drawer before he left the room.

"I'm sorry I didn't come to see you last night," Frank told Gerard the next night. "I meant to."

Gerard smiled at him. "It's all right. You must have been tired after your journey." He paused, glancing downward, and added, "And I hope you don't mind that I came to look in on you."

"Not at all," Frank replied, feeling himself flush. "Thank you for the drawing."

"You're welcome," Gerard replied, and Frank saw that he was blushing as well, faintly but noticeably. It could be no more than his customary shyness--it was likely no more than his customary shyness, Frank told himself--but his heart still sped up a little.

What Gerard said next surprised him.

"I've been thinking, while you were gone," he said, looking back up at Frank. "About your idea. About going outside."

"And?" Frank prompted gently. He hadn't expected Gerard to bring it up again so soon, and hadn't wanted to press him, but if Gerard wanted to discuss it, Frank would gladly oblige him. "How do you feel about it?"

Gerard hesitated, then blurted out, "I'll do it, if you want me to."

Frank was instantly touched by Gerard's willingness to do something he had doubts about for a friend's sake, but he bit his lip, looking at Gerard uncertainly. "I don't want you to do it unless you want to. Do you?"

"I don't know," Gerard said. He was sitting down, hands in his lap, and Frank noticed he was wringing them nervously. Frank wanted very badly to go over to him and take Gerard's hands in his own, but he stayed where he was. "I--I get nervous when I think about it, you see. And I know there's no reason to be nervous, it's just going out of the house, but the more I think about it the more nervous I get. So perhaps I should not let myself think so much about it, and just do it, and if it turns out unpleasant, well, at least then I'll know. You see?"

Frank nodded. It made sense, in a Gerard sort of way.

Gerard nodded as well, as if he had needed Frank's confirmation to be sure about his own words, and then stood. "So if you really think I should do it, I say let's go now, before I decide I don't want to."

It took some time for them to find a coat of Gerard's that still fit him and wasn't in truly dreadful condition, but after enough rummaging, Gerard emerged with one that would suffice. Their first stop upon leaving the attic was Frank's room, where he retrieved his own outdoor gear, as well as a scarf for Gerard, Gerard not having been able to find any of his own.

Gerard had his key with him--it was a skeleton key, Frank had learned, with which he could open any door in the house--and he took them through one of the closed outer wings of the house. It was very dark, the windows shuttered against the moonlight, and Frank gladly took the excuse to slip his hand into Gerard's when Gerard offered it.

When they reached a side door that led to one of the gardens, Gerard hesitated, and Frank squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"Ready?" he whispered as Gerard unlocked the door.

"No," Gerard replied, and pushed it open anyway.

They emerged into the cool September night, finding themselves standing before an ivy wall with a gate that Frank knew led to a small maze that would take them out onto the moors. Gerard's grip on Frank's hand was tight, and he looked even paler than usual, but he wasn't trying to go back inside, at least not yet.

"Come on," Frank said, stepping forward.

Gerard hesitated, not moving from where he stood. "Wait--where are we going?"

Frank looked back at him, squeezing his hand gently. "Do you trust me?" Gerard nodded at once, and Frank smiled at him. "Come on, then."

Gerard clung tightly to Frank's hand as they went through the maze, and would likely have tripped and fallen if he hadn't; every time Frank glanced back at him, Gerard had his eyes shut, breathing quick and shallow and muttering things too low for Frank to make out. But he kept walking, letting Frank pull him along, and Frank steered them carefully down the hedge-lined path to the gate that led out of the gardens. On the other side, there were only the moors spreading out in front of them, and Frank tugged Gerard forward a few more steps before turning to face him, taking hold of his other hand as well.

"Open your eyes," he urged gently, but Gerard stayed as he was, making a soft, uncertain sound. "It's all right, you can do it. Open them."

Gerard hesitated another moment, and then complied.

His grip on Frank's hands tightened, and he shrank back towards the gate a bit, but stayed where he was. For a moment, Frank almost felt cruel for bringing him out here. It was plain that Gerard wanted to retreat back behind the hedge and yet didn't want to let go of Frank's hands, and by standing his ground and holding on just as tight, Frank was essentially forcing him to remain where he was.

"Oh," Gerard breathed after a moment. He was staring at the open country all around, and his voice was so quiet that Frank had to strain to hear it above the wind. "Oh. I'd forgotten."

"Forgotten what?" Frank asked.

"How big it is," Gerard replied. "There's so much of it. And it's so empty and open, but you could still get lost and never be found."

"But not us," Frank assured him. "Not as long as we stay together, and certainly not so close to the house."

"No," Gerard agreed. "It's just...thinking about it."

"Then don't think about it," Frank said simply, and tugged on his hands. "Come on."

He led a reluctant but unresisting Gerard further out onto the moor, away from the hedge until there was a clear view of the house rising behind it. It was a clear, cool night with a chill in the wind, and they stayed close, shoulders and hips bumping as they stood together.

"I'd forgotten how big the house is, too," Gerard said softly. "I haven't seen it from the outside in so long."

Frank freed one hand in order to push his hair back as the wind blew it across his face, looking up at Gerard. He still seemed a bit ill at ease, curling in on himself with hunched shoulders and his free arm wrapped around himself, but the near-panic of earlier was gone.

"It's not so bad, is it?" Frank asked. "Being out here?"

Gerard seemed to consider the question, and seemed almost surprised when he answered, "No. I've gotten so used to staying inside that it feels very strange to be out here...but it's not bad. It helps that it's night and there's no one else about, I think. Just you and I."

"Just us," Frank agreed, smiling. He took a step back, keeping hold of Gerard's hand, but spreading his arms out. "It's like we've got the whole world to ourselves. And look, the stars are out."

Gerard looked up and gave another soft "oh", but this time there was hushed delight in his voice, rather than fear. He turned in a half-circle, neck craned. "I could never see this many at one time from inside."

"You can never see them this well in the city," Frank said, looking up as well. "Too much smog."

Gerard said nothing in reply, and after a moment Frank lowered his gaze to find Gerard staring at him. With no clouds and the moon not far past full, he could see Gerard's face clearly. His pale skin almost seemed to glow in the cold, silvery light, his unruly dark hair was tossed this way and that by the wind, and his eyes were locked on Frank's face with that disquieting intensity Frank had found himself the focus of before.

"What is it?" Frank asked softly, when Gerard continued to simply look at him.

In reply, Gerard took a step closer to Frank, tilted his head down, and covered Frank's mouth with his own.

Frank stood frozen in shock, his lips parted slightly against Gerard's, their hands still tangled together. Then Gerard started to draw back, his eyes wide and fearful, his own lips parted as if to speak. Frank knew it would be an apology--for forgetting himself so completely, for making such an improper advance--and knew just as surely that those were the last words he wanted to hear from Gerard.

It was he who stepped forward this time, reaching his free hand up to cup Gerard's cheek and pull him down into another kiss. Gerard went willingly, pressing his mouth to Frank's with clumsy fierceness (it occurred to Frank, suddenly, that this may well be the first time Gerard had kissed anyone like this). A moment later, he tore their clasped fingers apart to clutch at Frank's shoulders with both hands, pulling him close.

Frank broke the kiss at last, flushed and gasping for breath, but stayed close, not wanting Gerard to mistake his intent. One of his hands curled around the back of Gerard's neck as the other settled on his hip, and when the wind stung Frank's cheek he turned away from it, pressing his forehead to Gerard's shoulder.

Gerard wrapped both arms around Frank and held him tightly, resting his cheek against Frank's hair. "Frank," he whispered, and nothing else, but that one short word was enough for Frank to hear the tremor of emotion in his voice.

"Yes," he whispered back, as if Gerard had asked him a question. He couldn't find the words for what he wanted to tell Gerard, but he tilted his head up, kissing a path from the corner of Gerard's mouth to his ear before repeating the one word he could find. "Yes."

Gerard turned his head to reclaim Frank's mouth, and Frank closed his eyes and pressed himself against Gerard. They stayed that way, losing themselves in deep, heady kisses, until another gust of wind made them both shiver. Gerard reached up to cup the back of Frank's head, tucking Frank's face back down against his shoulder.

"You shouldn't stay out in the cold," he said, and Frank nodded against him. It was warm in Gerard's arms, but the wind was biting. "Would you--would you come back up to the attic with me?"

"Yes," Frank said again, and lifted his head to kiss Gerard once more, briefly, before drawing back and taking his hand.

It was more difficult to be quiet sneaking back up to the attic than it had been going down; they kept bumping into one another from walking too close, or turning to steal quick kisses from each other, until they managed to knock their heads together instead, leaving Gerard cursing while Frank tried in vain to keep from giggling.

They were both laughing by the time they reached Gerard's room, holding onto one another as they stumbled through the debris that littered the floor. When they reached the bed, however, their laughter fell silent, and Gerard looked at Frank with a mix of desire and uncertainty in his eyes.

"Frank..." he began, and then admitted, "I don't know what to do."

Frank was fairly at sea himself--he had flirted and kissed, but never bedded anyone before. But he knew that he wanted Gerard, and he wasn't going to let lack of knowledge or experience hold him back.

He stepped in close, tilting his head up to press his mouth to Gerard's. Gerard responded eagerly, his arms coming up to wrap around Frank and pull him in even tighter. Pressed flush against him like this, Frank could feel how hard Gerard was, and he broke the kiss with a gasp, pushing their hips together.

"Just--just touch me," he whispered, almost desperate.

They shed their clothing quickly, fumbling with buttons and tossing things aside carelessly in their haste, scattering kisses across bare skin as it was revealed. Frank took a step back to sit on the edge of the bed, and Gerard captured Frank's upturned face in both hands as he bent to kiss him. Frank let his mouth fall open under Gerard's as his hands settled on Gerard's hips, and he moved back further on the bed as Gerard climbed up after him.

From there, it was easy enough to find their way. Gerard's knee slid up between Frank's thighs, and Frank gasped and pushed against the pressure shamelessly. He clutched at Gerard's shoulders, turning his head to seek Gerard's mouth blindly. After a few frantic moments they found a rhythm, moving against each other, every thrust pushing them both closer to the edge.

Gerard's movements became more erratic as he neared completion, his hips working faster and faster against Frank's. He buried his face in Frank's hair, whispering his name over and over, like a chant. Frank's own self-control was stretched almost to the breaking point, but he found himself straining to hold on, not wanting to miss a single thing about the way Gerard was moving and the sounds he was making. When his climax finally hit, it felt like a dam breaking, everything pouring out from inside him as he moaned and thrust against Gerard a final few times.

Gerard pushed up onto his elbows suddenly, staring down at Frank with glazed eyes and a slack mouth. He raised one hand to push Frank's sweat-damp hair back from his brow, looking as though he were trying to commit every detail of Frank's face to memory, and he was still staring when his own release came. Frank had never seen anyone's face in a moment of climax before; there was something patently ridiculous about it, which somehow didn't stop it from being beautiful at the same time.

Gerard stayed braced above Frank until his arms shook, threatening to give out. Then he collapsed onto the bed, turning to the side to land next to Frank, who rolled to face him. Neither of them spoke--the only sound was their breathing, loud and harsh in the still room--but their eyes met, and when Frank reached for Gerard's hand, Gerard gripped it tightly, twining their fingers together.

As the sweat on their bodies cooled, the cold in the room became more noticeable. After a few moments, Frank moved, reaching down to pull the tangled blanket up from the foot of the bed. Once under it, he settled back against Gerard, who wrapped both arms around Frank's waist and nuzzled his neck.

"Will you stay for a while?" he whispered.

"For a while," Frank replied. He would have to return to his own room before morning, but he didn't want to leave Gerard just yet.

The next thing Frank was aware of was Gerard saying his name, but it sounded muted and far away, as though he were underwater. He felt exhausted, as though he hadn't slept at all. Gerard shook his shoulder, repeating his name more insistently, and Frank groaned and rolled away from him, burying his face in a pillow.

He drifted off again for a few moments, and then was jolted back awake when Gerard lifted him. It was a bit surprising, but he didn't feel like waking up enough to complain or question; he simply reached up to twine his arms around Gerard's neck, nestling against his shoulder.

He didn't stir again until Gerard set him down on sheets that were cold and stiff, without the by-now-familiar musty smell of the attic. Frank's eyelids felt heavy, almost glued together, but he opened them enough to realize how light it was, even closer to daylight than the last time he had fallen asleep in Gerard's bed. No wonder Gerard had carried him downstairs, rather than waiting for him to wake. He mumbled an apology, but Gerard just stroked his hair back and kissed him softly before withdrawing.

Frank had no idea how much time passed before he woke again, but when he did, it was with an ache in his head and throat that he knew all too well, and it wasn't much of a surprise when the first coughing fit took him. He had been careful to bundle up before going out onto the moors last night, but of course, he had then slept naked beneath only a blanket in a drafty attic room. He thumped one hand against the mattress in futile anger, cursing his lack of forethought.

He stumbled down to breakfast only to be sent back to bed by a concerned Michael. Hannah brought him a tray with some porridge and tea, exclaiming that she was sure she didn't know how he had managed to come down with another fever overnight after he had seemed fine at supper yesterday, and Frank held his tongue in guilty silence, staring fixedly at the pattern on his coverlet.

His fever worsened even more rapidly than the previous one had, and Michael didn't wait as long before summoning the doctor again. When he arrived, Frank was barely aware of it, already near delirium.

Frank remembered the two weeks that followed only dimly, and with confusion. They seemed to him like one long fever dream, full of hazy figures and half-understood words and a sense of time itself moving strangely out of joint. Sometimes Michael or Schechter was there, speaking to him, and sometimes he couldn't see them but could hear them speaking to one another, too faintly for him to catch the words. At other times he forgot where he was completely, and called out for his mother.

At one point, he thought he woke to find Gerard bending over him, and tried weakly to push him away, distressed at the thought that he might be found in Frank's room. The stricken look on Gerard's face was one of the few things Frank remembered with any sort of clarity.

He would only understand later how concerned both the brothers had been for him, neither of them having ever seen him in the grip of an illness this strong before. To him, it was just another fever, worse than the one from a few weeks ago, but nothing compared to the month he had spent bedridden at the age of twelve, or the fever when he was seven, the one that had struck him so viciously that his parents had summoned a priest to give him the Last Rites, fearful that he wouldn't recover. He had been here before; he would suffer until the fever broke, and then things would be better.

It took its time in breaking, but at last there came the other part of the familiar cycle; deep, dreamless sleep from which he woke feeling rested and lucid, though still weak and lightheaded.

When he woke, Michael was already in his room, sitting at the desk. He looked lost in thought, chin propped up on one hand and brow furrowed as he stared out the window.

"Your face will stick like that if you aren't careful," Frank croaked, and Michael spun around, his expression turning to one of mild surprise (which, for Michael, might mean anything from actually mild surprise to shock). He crossed the room in a moment and sat on the edge of the bed, lifting Frank up a little in order to embrace him tightly. Frank winced as his head spun, then paused, unused to such displays of affection from Michael, and then hugged him back.

"You're not to get that sick again while you're here, do you understand?" Michael said in his ear, and in his voice, too, there was more emotion than usual. "I forbid it."

Frank grinned, and reached one hand up to ruffle his friend's hair affectionately. "I'll do my best."

A light meal was brought up for him, and the doctor was summoned. Frank felt that the former did him far more good than the latter, seeing as the doctor only confirmed what he had already surmised: the fever was broken, but he needed time to regain his strength and should keep to his bed for at least a few more days.

Michael stayed in the room during the examination, but said little, hovering in the background with his arms folded and a closed expression. Schechter showed the doctor out after they all nodded dutifully at his instructions, leaving Frank and Michael alone once more.

Frank had retrieved a book from his bedside table, and was fussing with his pillow and settling back down, when Michael spoke.

"I suppose Gerard will be pleased to hear you're feeling better."

The book fell from suddenly nerveless fingers, landing on the coverlet with a muffled thump. Frank stared at Michael, utterly at a loss.

"He's been very worried about you," Michael went on, quite calmly. He was leaning against the desk, arms still folded, face expressionless. "He even seemed to feel that your taking ill so suddenly was somehow his fault, and as you might imagine, I found it curious that he should feel that way. And when I pressed him about that...well, he's never liked keeping things from me. I'm surprised he managed it so long, but I suppose I have your influence to thank for that."

"Michael--" Frank began helplessly. "I didn't mean--"

"Didn't mean what?" Michael interrupted, anger creeping into his voice. "Didn't mean to betray my trust and pry into areas of my home--of my life--that were none of your business? Didn't mean to deceive me and encourage my brother to do the same?"

Frank bit his lip, flushing guiltily. "I didn't want to deceive you. Gerard was afraid--"

"That I would try to keep you from seeing each other again, yes, he told me." Michael was visibly agitated, a sign of how upset he must be. "Has it escaped your notice, Frank, that Gerard doesn't always have the firmest grasp of reality? Did it not occur to you that I might not react that way? Or that however angry I might be at you finding him, I might be angrier at being lied to for over a month?"

At that, Frank's guilt gave way somewhat, replaced by a sudden rush of anger. He planted both hands on the mattress and pushed himself to sit up straight, ignoring the way it made his head spin. "If it's lies we're going to talk about, then what about you? I've kept things from you that I should have told, very well, I admit that, but you've lied to my face time and time again. You've lied to everyone. I didn't know how you would react, because it's become abundantly clear to me that I don't know you half as well as I thought I did."

Michael looked away, his jaw tightening. "I've done what I had to do, for his sake. I'll not be judged for it by someone who doesn't even understand why."

"If I don't understand, then explain it to me," Frank challenged.

Michael looked back at him, eyes narrowing a bit. "If I were in your position, Frank, I wouldn't be trying to pry even further."

Frank looked back at him defiantly, but swallowed hard. "And what is my position, exactly?"

Michael glared at him a moment longer, and then gave a faint sigh, some of the tension dropping from his shoulders. "I don't know."

Frank looked down again. His anger was draining away already, leaving him unhappy and uncertain what to do or say. "I know I shouldn't have gone behind your back as I did. No matter what you did, it doesn't make my actions right, and I'm sorry. I just...I wanted to know what was going on in the house, and once I found Gerard, I wanted to know him."

Michael sighed again, sinking down onto the chair beside the bed. It was a little while before he spoke again.

"Gerard said you took him out onto the moors," he said at last, quietly.

Frank nodded, trying to tell if he was about to be reproached again for that. "Yes."

Michael braced his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together, looking down at them. "It's been years since he's been at all willing to leave the house. I didn't think he ever would again." He glanced back at Frank, his expression thoughtful without any hostility now. "Your being here has done more to draw him out of himself than anything else I can remember. I'd be a fool not to understand what that means."

Frank settled back against his pillows, knitting his fingers in his lap. "How did he come to be this way?" he asked softly. "You were right, I don't understand everything. Will you tell me?"

Michael hesitated, then nodded. "Very well."

"I wasn't old enough to really understand what was happening when our parents died," Michael began. "I remember waking up confused and upset because everyone was running around the house and yelling, and being at the funeral and knowing that it was very important for me to keep still and be quiet. I remember my grandmother telling me Mama and Papa were in Heaven now, and I remember asking Gerard if he thought they would be happy there. But I didn't--I didn't know what it all meant until I was older."

Frank nodded. One of his grandfathers had died when he was three, and the experience had been much the same for him.

"Gerard knew. He was old enough to understand, at least, more than I did. And afterward, he had this...fascination with death. Of course it didn't seem at all odd to me, growing up, because he was my older brother and I worshiped him. But looking back on some of the things he used to do, I can see why people thought him so strange, or even frightening."

"Things like asking people what they thought dying felt like?" Frank asked. Michael glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, and he nodded. "He asked me. I didn't mind."

Michael gave a very slight smile. "Yes, well, imagine being a friend of our grandmother's who came to tea, and being asked that question by a very solemn seven-year-old. And that wasn't all--he used to collect dead things. Insects or birds or mice, even a bat, once. He wouldn't hurt them, you understand, he would never hurt them, but if he found them already dead, he'd smuggle them into the house and keep them in a box under his bed. A maid found it once and fainted, and wouldn't stay in the same room as Gerard afterward. Helena dismissed her for that."

"She loved him very much, didn't she?" Frank asked. Gerard had always spoken of his grandmother with the deepest affection, bordering on reverence.

Michael nodded. “She understood things I didn’t, then, and I think she worried about him. But she also protected him, made it so that he would never have to face the world if he didn't wish to. As we got older, Gerard started to realize what a strange impression he often made on people, and what some of them thought of him; that's when he started to turn inward instead, to dislike even talking to anyone he didn't already know. And Helena let him do so, let him stay home when she and I went to town or stay in his room when we had company. And when he didn’t want to do any of the things young heirs to their father’s titles are supposed to do—didn’t want to attend balls or keep up with politics or look for a wife—she indulged him in that, as well. I had more interest in society, and he would ask me for stories about the places I’d been and the people I’d met, but he never wanted to go out himself. Except for occasional walks on the grounds, he barely ever left the house. But he had us—Helena and I, and those of the servants who’d been with us long enough to not mind the way he was. He was happy enough.”

“But then Helena died,” Frank said softly, mentally piecing together Michael’s account of things with what he already knew.

“Yes.” Michael’s expression was downcast, and when Frank held out his hand, Michael took it and squeezed gratefully. “It was…different from when our parents died. Better and worse all at once, because we were able to prepare for it a little, and say goodbye to her, but we also had to watch it happen, to know that it was coming and there was nothing we could do. And when it was over, Gerard…well, he went a bit wild. Closer to madness than he’s ever been, I think, before or since.”

Michael rose, pacing back and forth agitatedly as he went on. “And—there were going to be people in the house. Helena’s friends, distant relations we hadn’t seen in years, people from Thornton, which she’d been a benefactress to—a great many people had cause to mourn her, and I knew a great deal of them were going to want to pay their respects. And I thought if they saw Gerard, they would think he was truly mad, even dangerous. I was afraid they would think I couldn’t take care of him without Helena, that they might try to take him away, shut him up in a madhouse somewhere.”

Frank thought of the stories he’d heard of madhouses, of the methods doctors there had employed in the name of ‘helping’ their luckless charges. He thought of Gerard in such a place—Gerard who was strange and off-putting but harmless as a kitten, trapped in one of those places—and shuddered.

“So you hid him,” he said. Of course Michael had—faced with those circumstances, Frank wasn't at all certain he would have done differently.

“Yes. He'd gone up to the attic--he knew as well as I did that the house would soon be full of people, and he was in a panic. I calmed him down as well as I could, enough that he would talk to me, and we discussed it. He didn't want to come down, and I was afraid of what might happen if he did. So I told him that if he wished to stay up there, I would do my best to make sure no one ever found him.

"And that was what we did. I told anyone who inquired after him that he had run away, disappeared in the night, and I think most of them were willing to believe it. Not all of them--you know the gossip that sprung up in Thornton--but I let people think whatever they liked as long as they didn’t pry. He didn’t even attend Helena’s funeral properly; I brought him to the chapel beforehand and snuck him into the choir loft, and he watched from there. And when the funeral was over and everyone had gone, I dismissed the servants I felt I couldn't trust to keep Gerard's presence a secret, then confided in those I did trust and had them help me bring his things up to the attic, set up a place for him to live comfortably."

Michael paced back across the room and sank into his chair once more, sighing. “And that was that. A few family friends or relatives came by from time to time, to look in on me now that I was all alone, but I didn’t encourage their attention, and it stopped soon enough. I kept my life in London separate from my life here. Besides the servants and myself, the only people who knew Gerard was still here were the family solicitors in London. Gerard is Lord Way, and everything we own is in his name, but the lawyers accepted the explanation that my brother hated both travel and the city, and had entrusted me with all our necessary business dealings. It was all far easier than I thought it would be at first.”

"Until I came along," Frank said, guilt nagging at him again.

"Yes, but I could have refused to let you come and stay here," Michael pointed out. "The truth is...I wanted you here, though I didn't realize it until you made the suggestion. I was tired of having to keep all my friends at a distance, and I thought that if I was careful, I could have a guest here and still keep Gerard hidden."

Frank bit his lip. "You didn't know I would be such an awful snoop, I suppose."

Michael shook his head. "That wouldn't have mattered, though, if Gerard hadn't made it so easy for you to find him. I didn't understand how to deal with that--I didn't know how you would react to him, and I thought it would be best to keep to how things had been for so long. But he wants to be around you. He cares about you."

"I care about him, too," Frank said softly. "I know I should have been honest with you, Michael, but I was afraid. I didn't want to lose him."

Michael nodded. "I understand that."

They sat in silence for a moment, until Frank asked, "Where is he? May I--may I see him?"

"He's asleep," Michael replied. "I couldn't tell him no when he wanted to see you, and since then he's been sitting with you as long as he could stay awake." He paused, then added in a low voice, "He asked me if I thought you were going to die."

"Oh, god." Frank flung back his covers and started to climb out of bed, only to have Michael intercept him with a hand on his shoulder. "Michael, I have to--"

"Frank, he's barely slept in days," Michael told him. "And you shouldn't be out of bed yet, in any case."

"But--"

"When he wakes up, I'll tell him your fever's broken. I promise." At that, Frank relented, letting Michael push him back down. "You should get some sleep, too, if you can."

"I'm tired of sleep," Frank muttered sullenly, but he knew Michael was right. As Michael started to draw his hand back, however, Frank caught it, looking up at him. "So...are we all right?"

Michael smiled wryly. "We've both conducted ourselves rather poorly, I think, but for all that, things haven't turned out so very badly. I think we will be."

When Frank woke again, the pale light coming in through his windows said it was morning. Gerard was there, settled on the floor beside the bed, arms folded on the mattress with his head resting on them, asleep. Frank reached out to touch his hair, smoothing down a few unruly strands, and Gerard leaned into the touch automatically for a moment before he raised his head, blinking his eyes open.

Frank smiled. "You're in my room during the day and we don't have to worry," he said.

Gerard returned the smile, though his was a bit weaker. He got up, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching for Frank's hands. "Michael told me the two of you spoke."

"We did," Frank confirmed. "I don't think he'd made any decisions about what to do yet, but I don't think he'll try to separate us."

"He won't," Gerard replied, with confidence Frank wasn't used to from him. "It was foolish of me to think he might. He's just been trying to protect me, and now he knows he doesn't need to, not with you."

"It was certainly good to get everything out in the open," Frank said. "I just wish it hadn't taken me having a fever to get us there."

Gerard looked down at that, all traces of a smile dropping from his face.

"It's all right," Frank said in a low voice, squeezing his hands. "I'll be fine soon, you'll see."

Gerard didn't argue, but his troubled expression didn't go away, either. After a moment, he said, "I'd forgotten how awful it is."

"What?" Frank asked, brow furrowed.

"Being afraid for someone I love," Gerard said quietly. Frank felt a dizzy swoop in the pit of his stomach at the last word, and opened his mouth to reply, but Gerard wasn't finished yet. "Worrying that I might lose them."

Frank winced, then freed one of his hands to touch Gerard's chin. "Gerard, look at me." Gerard obeyed, and Frank cupped his face in both hands, looking him in the eye. "It was a fever. I've had worse, and had them for longer. Nothing was going to happen."

Gerard shook his head, a stricken look on his face. "But it could have--"

Frank pulled him closer, knocking their foreheads together gently. "But it didn't. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

Gerard still didn't look completely reassured, but he didn't argue any further. He shifted closer, reaching up to thread his hands into Frank's hair, and kissed him with an almost desperate intensity. Frank kissed back just as fiercely, letting himself fall back on the bed as Gerard bent over him. After one night together followed by two weeks of nothing, he was starved for Gerard's touch, and if Gerard hadn't caught the sound of approaching footsteps in the hallway and pulled back, they might have been found in a rather compromising position.

As it was, Gerard was on his feet when Schechter opened the door, and he backed up to stand in a corner of the room, as if still nervous about being seen there. Schechter paid him no mind, looking straight ahead as he entered the room, carrying a tray.

Frank sat up in bed, leaning back against the headboard, and reached to take the tray as Schechter handed it over. He noticed at once that there was easily enough food there for two people, but when he glanced up curiously, Schechter offered no explanation.

Instead, he said, "The rest of the staff have asked me to pass along their best wishes for a quick recovery, Mr. Iero. We've all been very pleased to hear you're improving."

Frank smiled up at him. "Thank you, Schechter. And please give the others my thanks, as well."

Schechter wasn't done with him yet, however. "And if I may be so bold as to say so," he went on, "one might hope that in the future, you'll bear in mind the concern everyone in this house feels for your well-being, and show a bit more concern for it, yourself."

It was abundantly clear that he meant 'don't do anything stupid like go out on the moors on a cold night again', and Frank looked down, his smile turning sheepish. "I deserve that, I suppose. And I will bear it in mind. Thank you."

Schechter nodded briskly, and then, with that same self-assured directness, turned to look at Gerard. "And, again, if I may be so bold, it's good to see you come down from the attic, sir."

Gerard looked briefly taken aback, and then gave a very slight smile. "Thank you, Brian."

Schechter gave another nod, then turned and left the room. Frank and Gerard waited until he'd gone, then exchanged glances.

"You know, I've been wondering since I came here," Frank said. "Does he have a sense of humor?"

"You'd be surprised," Gerard replied.

Frank looked down at the tray. "Well, I think the idea here is that you join me for breakfast. Would you?"

"Of course." Gerard came back toward the bed, drawing a chair up to sit nearby. He ended up abandoning the chair when Frank moved over to make room for him on the bed, and they had a leisurely, pleasant meal together, stealing bites from one another's plates and stealing kisses in between mouthfuls.

Michael found them there a while later, still sitting together on the bed and talking in low voices. Frank looked up uncertainly as he came in, not sure how Michael would react to seeing them so intimate, but he only raised his eyebrows a bit.

"Don't forget you're still supposed to be resting," Michael said to Frank, and to Gerard, "And you, don't forget you're supposed to be letting him rest."

"I'm not bothering him," Gerard said, a bit meekly, and then glanced at Frank. "...Am I?"

"Of course not," Frank replied, touching the back of his hand. "But the more rest I get, the sooner I can get out of bed. And as soon as I can get out of bed, we're going outside again. During the day, this time."

Gerard smiled. "Very well."

"Actually," Michael spoke up again, and they both looked at him. "I've been thinking--Gerard, if you'd like to go for a walk outside, you know I'd be more than happy to go with you, don't you?"

He seemed uncertain, and Frank remembered him saying that he hadn't thought Gerard would be willing to leave the house. Gerard seemed briefly surprised, and then a warm smile spread across his face.

"Yes," he said, reaching out to take his brother's hand. "Yes, I think I'd like that."

Michael's smile was smaller, but held the same deep fondness as Gerard's. Frank leaned his cheek against Gerard's shoulder, watching the two of them.

Gerard still had a long way to go to overcome all his fears and anxieties, and perhaps he would never overcome them entirely. But now both Michael and he himself knew that he could make progress, and Frank was determined to help them both in any way he could. Between the three of them, they would find their way.

Epilogue