Dude... Are You Stalking Me?

Disclaimer: Regretfully, I don’t own My Chemical Romance. But hey, if they’re ever looking for a crazy Hispanic writer/artist to act as their manager (or P.A.), I’d be more than happy to fuck up royally. Hell, I’d be happy to just watch them perform from back stage and take pictures of them all sweaty, and breathing hard...
Anyway, I don’t own it. Yeah.

Chapter Seven: An Unexpected Kindness

It had been a good hour since Rita and Gerard’s now famous duet, and the band had been replaced by a C.D. player, much to their mixed relief and regret. Gerard had been introducing Rita to his friends for the past six or seven minutes, and finally he got around to adding names to the extraordinary talents that made up his make-shift bandmates.

The guy with the curls had been introduced as Ray Toro, and Rita smiled, pleasantly surprised.

“A donde tu eres?” She asked as she shook his hand, and he smiled a bit lopsidedly.

“Puerto Rico.”

“Me too. Well, my mom’s family anyway. Mind if I call you Raimundo?”

He laughed and shook his head.

“Not at all.”

The tallish guy with the brown hair and goatee was named Matt... something, Rita didn’t quite catch his last name. He satisfied himself with a simple nod before he excused himself and moved on. Mikey was off to the side of the room, talking to a pretty girl with long chestnut hair. The short guy with the black hair was nowhere to be seen.

Gerard excused himself for a moment, and Rita was left to talk to a pretty woman named Shelly. They just shot the breeze for a while before she felt a tap on her shoulder, and turned around to see... no one. Well, not at first. It seemed she was a good few inches taller than this one (with her boots on), so she had missed him at first.

He was smiling a thin smile that called attention to his lip ring. His hair was jet black and shaved on the sides, long in the front and swept over to the right side of his face. He had a nose ring as well, and gauged pierces in both ears. He seemed to be about her age, though she couldn’t be sure. He was pale, and his hazel eyes studied her eagerly.

“Hey. You’re Rita, right?”

Rita smiled politely, though she didn’t like how he was looking at her. After a moment she recognized him as the one who had been playing the white guitar.

“Yeah, that’s me. And you would be..?”

His smile widened a bit to appear a bit more sincere, and he offered his hand.

“Frank. Nice to meet you.”

She took his hand, and in doing so spotted the tattoos on his right arm. They shook briefly, and Rita regretted not getting a closer look. A silence descended and Rita sipped her Kool Aid, waiting for Gerard to return. She hoped Frank would leave, but it seemed he wasn’t done with her quite yet.

“So what’s up with you and Gerard?” He asked with a smile, and the sweet drink soured in Rita’s mouth. Yeah, she should have known this was the angle he was playing.

“What do you mean, ‘what’s up’ with us?”

Her eyes were narrowed in warning, but Frank either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. His smile deepened and he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“You two looked pretty fuckin cozy when you were singing before,” He commented slyly, and Rita frowned.

“We’re friends, why shouldn’t we feel comfortable with each other,” she replied and started to turn away when Frank stepped next to her and leaned one arm on the table she was standing in front of.

“So you’re not taken?”

Rita bit back a groan. It seemed this one didn’t catch hints very well.

Gerard walked back into the room to see Rita and Frank talking by the refreshment table. Alone. Frank seemed to be pressing the advantage pretty heavily, but Rita wasn’t rising to the bait. In fact, it seemed that the harder Frank pushed, the less interested she became until, frustrated, Frank turned and walked back in Gerard’s direction.

“Hey,” Gerard stopped him, and Frank seemed to brighten a bit when he registered his friend’s face. He smiled a little and chucked him playfully on the arm. “Were you just talking to Rita?”

Frank rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, if you could call that talking. She’s fuckin hot, but I wouldn’t waste time tryin to talk to her after, you know?”

He grinned devilishly and Gerard frowned. He was used to Frank, had known him for a while by now, liked him even. He’d gone to school with Mikey, so he’d been coming around for at least a year or two, so Gerard knew for a fact that he was a good guy. But when it came to girls, his ethics were severely lacking.

“Come on,” He grabbed his tattooed bicep and dragged him out of the room. When they were safely away from Rita and her hearing range, Gerard turned on his friend with serious eyes. “Look man, you’re my friend, and I like you. But Rita’s my friend too. So don’t even think about tryin to pull your hump ‘em and dump ‘em bullshit with her, or else we’re gonna have serious fuckin problems. You understand me?”

Frank stared at Gerard with wide eyes, and couldn’t seem to speak. He nodded mutely and watched as his friend turned to go back the way they’d come. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Gerard so serious, and didn’t want to have that seriousness directed at him again.

Gerard tapped Rita on the shoulder, and she turned around with an expression of disdain on her pretty face. He grinned when she saw it was him, and she laughed a little sheepishly.

“Saw you talking to Frank,” Gerard stated casually, and Rita shrugged.

“Yeah, if you could call it that.” she muttered, and Gerard raised his eyebrows.

“So, what’d you think? Did you like him?”

Rita raised an eyebrow dubiously and stared at her friend for a moment.

“Why, did he ask you to find out for him?”

Gerard laughed and rubbed his neck; the exact spot she’d bitten him earlier in the day.

“Come on, just tell me. I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to.”

Rita smirked and cast a glance over Gerard’s shoulder, in the direction Frank had been headed when she shot him down.

“Well I’ll tell you one thing: there’s no way I’m kissing that guy.”

Gerard laughed loudly, and she was more than happy to join him.

***

“So you’re the one Gerard was talking about,” Ray blinked, confused. Rita smiled and sipped her drink before elaborating her statement. “He told me he was in a band with a guy named Ray, played guitar like a mother fucker. And since I’ve heard you play, the only thing I can say is that was a fuckin understatement what is an understatement.”

Ray laughed and rubbed the back of his neck in an embarrassed gesture, while Rita simply smiled. They’d been talking for the past fifteen minutes or so and she was enjoying herself. The only interruptions came when one of the party goers would stop to compliment Ray on his playing, or Rita on her involvement in “The oldies classic with the punk rock edge.” Every now and then she would see Frank skulking around the background, but he never attempted to even make eye contact, much less come over to talk to her.

Ray told her that while in High School, Gerard had been much different than he now was. He’d get drunk, smoke weed, and was generally a depressed outcast. As for his romantic situation, Ray went so far as to describe them as “birth control,” a statement that filled Rita with an inexplicable hollowness. It seemed that Gerard’s one out was art, which he used as an escape. She realized suddenly that she had yet to see his work, though she’d shown him a few pieces over the last couple weeks.

Matt walked over and with a nod to Rita, spoke softly in Ray’s ear. He excused himself, and they disappeared into the crowd. Rita stretched and removed her jacket, which she hadn’t even noticed she’d failed to remove upon arrival. She saw nowhere she could put it without the risk of it either getting sat on, or spilled on so as always, she tied it around her waist.

Mikey drifted over while she was knotting the sleeves over her belt and poked her in the back of the neck. She squeaked and jumped, then turned around to find him laughing.

“Miguelito! Don’t fucking do that!” She tried to sound severe, but her laughter ruined the illusion. Mikey shrugged and offered her a beer.

“How you liking the party?”

Rita refused the drink with a small shake of her head and glanced quickly around the living room. It was a nice house, now that she took the time to notice. The band equipment had been broken down and moved out, and dancing people filled the space where it had been. The walls were white, as the whole of the interior seemed to be, and was decorated with a deep blue carpet. The furniture was old, but comfortable; the kind of furniture that invited you to sit after a long day. Pictures lined the walls, and framed art was visible here and there. The guests were laughing and smiling and talking amongst themselves; the atmosphere was nothing if not welcoming.

“Well it sure as hell doesn’t suck,” she stated with a grin, and Mikey laughed again. “Speaking of things that don’t suck,” Rita punched him playfully on the shoulder. “Where the fuck did you learn to play like that? I mean, it was a little sloppy, but it kicked ass!”

He looked down at his boots, and she could see a slight flush infuse his cheeks with color. He was smiling though, so it was a good kind of blush. After a moment Mikey looked up and shrugged a little.

“I play guitar, and Gerard needed a bass player for the party, so I fucked around with it for a little while. It wasn’t that hard, and all the notes are the same. So I said you know, why the fuck not?”

Rita’s eyes widened in awe and respect.

“You taught yourself?”

Mikey blinked.

“Well, yeah.”

She laughed and shook her head, amazed.

“I guess it runs in the family,” she murmured.

They talked for a little while, when the pretty chestnut-haired girl from before walked up and stole the diminutive Way brother off into the other room. Rita smiled to herself as she watched them go, then wondered idly where Gerard had wandered off to. Again someone tapped her shoulder, and she turned around with an expectant smile... which died the instant she saw who stood behind her.

“Hey,” Frank greeted, and Rita was surprised to find his demeanor was very much diminished, compared to how he’d been when first they spoke. His eyes seemed to slide from hers like polished marbles, and his hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans.

“Hey,” she returned with a curiously quirked eyebrow, and a moment of awkward silence followed. She was about ready to venture an emergency ice-breaker, something along the lines of referencing a sport, or sports in general when he spoke.

“Look, I’m sorry about before, I was rude, and I’m not usually like that. So I just wanted to apologize you know, say I’m sorry and all that shit and see if we could start over.”

Rita was at a loss. Although they’d only met perhaps an hour before, she’d already had him pegged and ready to go. He was one of those love ‘em and leave ‘em assholes who didn’t care who he hurt, so long as he got his daily free fuck.

And yet here he was, apologizing... sincerely, at that.. and asking for a second start. Rita blinked, then shrugged minutely.

What the fuck, it’s worth a shot. She reasoned, and smiled a small smile at the pierced guitarist. It was a small smile, but nonetheless sincere.

“Fuck it, ain’t nothin. I’ll tell you what,” she smirked and held out her hand. Frank looked from it, to her face a couple times, apparently at a loss for what to think. “We shake hands and you let me see your guitar, we call it even.”

He blinked, then smiled. It was a genuine smile, and Rita was pleasantly surprised to see how handsome he was when he wasn’t being an asshat.

“Okay, deal.” He shook her hand, and once again Rita was treated to a partial view of his tattoos. She saw some on his left bicep as well where his sleeve rode up. Frank saw what she was looking at and smiled a knowing smile at her.

“Those,” Rita said matter-of-factly with half-hooded eyes. “Are hot.”

He laughed and rolled up the right sleeve of his t-shirt.

“This is nothin. Look at this shit,”

Somehow they ended up in the living room on the couch, and he showed her each tattoo he had accumulated since he’d turned legal. With each tattoo was a story it seemed, and Rita laughed more often than not when he shared each one.

“That must’ve hurt like a bitch,” she commented as she studied the beginning of a sleeve on his left arm, and traced her index finger over the art. It was beautifully done, sharp in a dark sort of way.

Frank smiled devilishly, causing his hazel eyes to twinkle in the low light.

“That was nothing compared to this,” and he pulled down his bottom lip to reveal “NJ” tattooed into the tender flesh.

Rita’s eyes first widened in shock, then narrowed until they were but earthen slits. She screwed them shut as she turned her face away from the sight.

“Aw, that’s fuckin sick!” she laughed as she punched him playfully (yet none-too-gently) on the shoulder. Frank laughed outright at her reaction.

She’s pretty cool, he admitted while he watched her laugh. Although he’d let his lip go, thus hiding the tattoo, she refused to look at him. Finally her laughter calmed, and she looked into his red-lined eyes.

“You know what, you don’t completely suck, Mister Frank...”

“Iero,” he offered and looked at her side-long. “And you don’t completely suck yourself, Miss Rita Martinez.”

They looked at each other for a moment, then started laughing again. Just like that, though they started off with instant dislike, they became friends. It seemed no one was more surprised than they.

And that’s saying a lot.

***

Gerard returned from the backyard to find Rita and Frank on the couch, talking and laughing like old friends. He just stood watching them for a minute, jaw slack and eyes wide. Needless to say, he was shocked. As he watched Frank leaned forward to whisper something in Rita’s ear, and her eyes widened as she turned to glance at someone. Whatever it was she saw coupled with Frank’s comment sent her into near-hysterics, and the latter party merely grinned.

Shaking his head, Gerard walked to the middle of the room.

“Alright everyone, barbecue’s on out back!” He announced in a slightly raised voice, and after brief applause the guests started filing out to the backyard. Rita and Frank stood, still talking and laughing to follow the crowd. Gerard caught her eye and raised his eyebrows quizzically. She stuck her tongue out sideways and shrugged. Frank was walking just a few steps in front of her and reached his friend first. He smiled at the older guy and shrugged.

“No problems,” he said simply and slapped him companionably on the shoulder as he passed. Gerard watched him walk out the kitchen door with an expression of mixed amazement and affection.

“What was that about?” Rita poked him in the neck and he jumped a bit before he turned back.

“Guy stuff,” He replied cryptically and Rita rolled her eyes. “Come on, while everyone else’s busy. I have something to show you.”

She smiled a little and tilted her head so that her ponytail swung like a pendulum.

“Another surprise?”

Gerard grinned.

“I know, I’m great right?”

She laughed and punched him playfully.

“And oh so modest.”

“Come on.”

He led her through the house and to the basement door. Rita hesitated a little and cocked her eyebrow when Gerard looked at her impatiently.

“Okay, I know I might look easy...”

He snorted laughter and led her down. The thing he’d always liked about the basement was that the lights were at the bottom of the steps, so he never had to hike back upstairs when he was ready to go to sleep. When he reached the bottom he flipped the switch and waited for Rita to join him.

Her eyes widened, and Gerard stared to grin, when:

“No fuckin way.. You have a DRAFTING TABLE!”

He stared at her as if she had eleven heads and all of them looked like Richard Simmons, but she didn’t notice. She was too busy fawning over said table, and completely ignoring the art strewn over it.

“Aw, you lucky son of a bitch! I’ve wanted one of these since the day before forever,” Finally she noticed the various drawings and sifted through them in awe. His style was... angular, that was really the only way she could seem to describe it. It was sharp, arresting. Yet at the same time dark, almost morbid. Some would undoubtably call it creepy.

She grinned. She loved it.

“Gerard,” She was still looking through the pages with almost greedy eyes. “Did I ever tell you how much you rock?”

She heard him laugh, and was surprised to find him so close. She turned around and he gently reclaimed his art.

“I have something better than those sketches to show you. Come on.”

He took her hand and led her to the center of the room, where the lights were brightest. He placed her so that she was standing right in front of him, and he smiled down at her.

“Okay, so you have lettuce in your teeth. I don’t see how that’s better than those drawings.”

Gerard rolled his eyes (now green) and took hold of her shoulders.

“I want you to close your eyes, and don’t open them until I tell you.”

Rita looked up at him with a bored expression.

“You really enjoy the thrill of mystery, don’t you,” she dead-panned, but closed her eyes. Gerard turned her 180 degrees and when he spoke, his mouth was directly beside her ear.

“Okay, you can look.”

She opened her eyes, and whatever she might have been expecting to see down there, this definitely wasn’t it. Her eyes widened and remained that way, unblinking. The bright lights seemed to bake the moisture right out of her eyes, but she didn’t notice.

Propped on an easel was a painting, one of the best Rita’d ever seen. It was realistic, but at the same time seemed to have been ripped from the pages of a comic book. It was incredibly detailed, Gerard seemed to ooze from the very canvas. It was gorgeous.

But that’s not what caused this reaction.

Rita stood stock-still staring at a painting... of herself. She recognized it right away as from the night she’d taken Gerard to see Wedding For My Funeral, if only by the Black Sabbath shirt she wore. He’d gotten everything exactly right, from the curl of her lips to the mole on the bridge of her nose. Her hair blew in a rising wind as she turned to look at someone, and that’s when she realized it.

She’d seen him looking at her when she turned to talk to him. That was this painting. He’d even painted the pizzeria across the street from the club!

Unbidden, tears welled in her eyes and slipped down her suddenly hot cheeks.

“So what do you think?” Gerard asked nervously. “I spent the better part of a week working on it, after I decided how I wanted it to look.”

His voice was uncertain, and since he knew Rita to be a very vocal person in the short time he’d known her, he took her silence as a bad sign.

“I know it’s kinda sloppy,” He rambled on. “I’ll probably paint over it--”

Rita spun around then, and he was shocked to see the moisture on her cheeks. Before he knew what was happening she’d launched herself at him and locked him in a fierce embrace. He didn’t know how to react as it was, but what small semblance of mind he retained was shattered the moment Rita’s lips collided with his.

The kiss only lasted a moment, but that was all it took. Gerard was sincerely, hopelessly, and thoroughly confused.

“Don’t you dare,” Rita whispered hoarsely into his ear, and for a moment he had no idea what she was talking about. “If you even think about painting over it, I will kick yourass.”

He laughed a little unevenly and rested his hands on her hips.

“So you like it?” He didn’t know how he was talking; he was so damn turned around, it was like his brain was operating on auto pilot.

“I love it,” Rita whispered, and tightened her hold. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” She admitted after a short pause. The comment hit Gerard like cold water, effectively bringing him back to earth. He looked down at the girl in his arms with an expression of shock for a moment, which then softened into a smile and he hugged her back.

They stood that way for a time before Gerard pulled back to hold Rita at arm’s length. He studied her for a moment, then gently rubbed the tears from her face with his thumbs. He smiled at her reassuringly and led her back upstairs and toward the party.

She watched him talk and joke with his friends, never leaving her side the entire evening. She, Gerard, Mikey, Ray and Frank started up a game of charades and ended up losing horribly, since it seemed Ray absolutely sucked. Every so often Gerard would catch her eye and smile at her, a gentle smile she’d never seen from him before. She smiled back at him and threw a jello square at his head.

And just like that, she knew.

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