Love Like Summer

“Mikey, let’s go!” Gerard screamed for his little brother. Frank had left maybe an hour and a half ago, and now the older Way was trying to find his brother. I’m not a fuckin’ search party, Gerard thought to himself, almost knocking a girl he’d never met to the floor. She’d fall anyway – the poor girl could barely stand thanks to the alcohol pulsing through her.

“Michael James Way, get your skinny fuckin’ ass over here and let’s go!” Gerard growled, walking outside to Shawn’s back yard. Mikey was in the center of a circle of laughing drunks, clucking like a chicken.

“Yo, Gee-Tard!” Mikey called, staggering over to his brother. “How’s it goin’?”

Gerard looked at his brother through his lashes, sneering. “Mikey…get in the car. We have to find Frank.”

“Did ya check the closet?” Mikey asked giggling, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Rumor had it you already got him outta there though. Good job, Mr. Popular – you’ve so many buddies that you can afford to throw some away.” Gerard grabbed his brother by the collar and dragged him through the house, cursing and yelling over his shoulder. He tossed the younger Way into the back seat, and drove off into the direction he falsely believed that Frank had gone.

Such a fuck-up, such a goddamn fuck-up. Gerard thought, half afraid to turn the corner and half afraid not to. Frank’s right. It’s always about you. That dare was a fuckin’ dream to you and y- why did you push him away? Why thefuck did you push him away?! Because he touched you? Because Shawn yelled at you two to stop, that it’d gone past five minutes? Because it was too real – because he wasn’t kissing back, and then – BAM – he’s pulling you closer? You’re fuckin’ demented, Gee-Fuck, and you’ve barely had a drink all night.

“Fuck you.” He muttered to himself, wiping his forehead with the back of his left hand. Now he was talking to himself – fantastic. Mikey had been arguing from the back seat, slurring and stammering horrifically, and the older boy was finally paying attention.

“…an-a-and-d you’re pissed at me, ‘cause I knew it all along, the love between you kids, a-an-and-now he’s playing hide-and-seek and you’re too fuckin’ old to play. Shit, man, pull over before I puke on – your car.” He ended with a depressed giggle. Gerard obeyed, pulling over to the side of the road. Mikey rolled out and onto the wet ground, crawling away before losing his dignity.

Gerard rested his head against the steering wheel, eyes closed and breathing heavily. He turned the radio up, trying to calm his nerves. A song was just ending – some shitty pop thing -- and a new, more familiar tune was seeping through the speakers.

“Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a land slide, no escape from reality. Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see…I’m just a poor boy, I need no sympathy, because I’m easy come, easy go – little high, little low. Any way the wind blows, doesn’t really matter to me…to me…”

He sang along so softly that he barely heard himself, eyes still closed, head tilted back against the head rest. As the younger Way climbed back into the car, still rambling on about the night’s evens, Gerard slowly drifted off to sleep.

Frank had somehow made it home before sunrise. The rain had stopped an hour or so ago -- God only knew what time it was. He collapsed on his sofa, dripping and making the hard wood floor begin to become warped. He didn’t care. His best friend – the same boy he had always loved – had made out with him, and pushed him away, as if it had been nothing. Maybe it was a mistake -- an accidental, alcohol-induced act. Maybe saliva could secretly make people sober again.

Maybe Frank should never wake up.

I told you so. He heard out of nowhere. Beatrice, as usual. Now he’ll come crawling back…you’re a prick, Frankie-Boy, a fat fuckin’ prick. Did you hear him call you a fag? Maybe you’ll never see him again, wouldn’t that be nice? Maybe if you weren’t so damn fat –

“Fuck you.” Frank said into the pillow. He didn’t want to cry anymore. He didn’t want it to hurt.
But it did. Until nine in the morning, (said Regis and Kelly) it hurt like hell. And he knew, no matter what, it always, always would.

He was afraid to move, and didn’t plan on ever moving again, until he realized two things, and began to feel sick. One, that they’d actually kissed – in front of people, drunk or not, and had showed that Frank had enjoyed it. Second, was that Gerard had not been as drunk as he had hoped. The older boy’s speech was fine, his steps were straight – had Frank even seen him with a drink in his hand that night? Of course not – the older boy was out of his sight almost the entire night.

He just wanted to see what you would do. Martian. He just wanted to test you; to get a reaction with an audience. And you gave him a grand show, all right – the whole lot of them. And I bet he’s laughing his ass off right now, too. Good job, Pansy – three cheers for you.

Frank ran to the bathroom, sliding on his knees on the cool tile floor. He quickly lifted the toilet seat before heaving, hacking up air. He hadn’t eaten since the day before, so there was nothing but his lonely two drinks to puke up. Then he began to try, shoving his fingers down his throat like he had in Gerard’s previous absence. He slammed his eyes shut when he was finally successful, moving his fringe out of the way with his free hand. He repeated, not puking nearly as much as the previous time, but he did anyway, until he was completely dry, and beginning to feel light-headed. Flushing the sin away, he whimpered in defeat.
“I can’t do this.” The boy muttered to himself, rubbing his temples, sitting with his back against the door now. “I can’t do anything at all.”

Gerard awoke to a police officer banging against his window. The boy quickly rubbed his eyes and rolled the window down, coming face-to-face with the angry-looking, middle aged, slightly overweight officer.

“I’m sorry.” The older Way said after a moment of staring at the cop, trying to see his eyes through his sunglasses to no avail.

“Step out of the car please, Sir.” The officer said. Gerard unbuckled himself, taking that second to look around and find his little brother still sleeping, perhaps even unconscious, in the back seat. Shit.

“I’m sorry.” Gerard repeated as he stepped out of the car and into the awfully bright summer sunlight. He handed the cop his license and registration before he could ask, shielding his eyes with his left hand, placing the other on his hip. “See, me and my brother back there went to a party last night, and on the way home he said he wasn’t feeling too hot – to much cake, I though. Then he started to slur up his speech and blurted out about drinkin’, so I pulled over to scold him and all. Of course by then he’s pukin’ and I’m fallin’ asleep. At least it didn’t happen when I was drivin’ though, right?”

Gerard added a short laugh – partially for his own amusement – but the officer kept staring at the squinting boy, writing down the important details. “Thanks for your honesty, son.” The officer said. Gerard almost laughed again, but felt the mood shift significantly as the cop handed him a ticket. “Have a nice day now. You should get back to your mother now; before she calls the cops.” Now it was his turn to laugh, handing the boy back his license and walking away, shaking his head.

Climbing back into the car, Gerard noticed that his brother was beginning to stir, stretching like a cat. The older Way through the ticket at his drowsy brother, who looked back at him, confused.

“You’re paying for it.” Gerard growled, speeding away.

Mikey examined the ticket, fixing his glasses. “I’m sorry, Gee.”

“You should be. Don’t think being nice is gonna get you out of paying. I didn’t do anything – I was sober.” Gerard said lowly, not looking back at his brother through the rear view mirror. “Just, forget about it.” Mikey cleared his throat and placed the ticket next to him on the seat.

“No, Gee, I-I mean, I’m sorry about everything I said last night. About you and Frank…I’m sorry for keeping you from finding him earlier, and for calling you a jack rabbit – "

“Mikey, you never called me a jack rabbit.” Gerard interrupted, giving Mikey a confused look. Mikey laughed slightly, shaking his head.

“You were sleeping.” The younger Way said sheepishly. Gerard gave him a short laugh, shaking his head, smiling. The older Way turned onto Frank’s street and stopped outside of his house.

“Can I trust you alone in the car, or do you want to come in?” He asked, smirking as he got out of the car. Mikey shook his head and smiled back, out of politeness.

“Hey, if you two need to sort things out, I’m not gonna be there was a distraction – or scapegoat – or bystander. No, no way in hell am I goin’ in that battlefield.” Gerard shrugged happily, closing the car door and running up the steps.

Frank strummed his guitar to distract himself from the pain. He sat on the very edge of his bed, his white guitar on his lap while he practiced his two songs over and over. The beaten boy didn’t care try the song he’d played for Gerard – just yesterday? Strumming harder, Frank tried to numb himself even more so. The doorbell went off, and Frank jumped slightly, taking a moment to decide whether or not he should answer it.

Frank slowly walked to his door, the bell being rung twice more before he got to open it. An Angel stood before him, sporting a guilty crooked smile. The younger boy stared back, not sure of what to say or do, having had prepared himself to never see the other again. The Angel just stood there, politely, waiting to be asked in. Unable to find his vocal chords, Frank stood there dumbly, half wanting to cradle the Angel in his arms, half wanting to rip his goddamn grayscale wings off.

“May I…” Gerard began, then clearing his throat. “May I come in?” Slowly, the younger shook his head, but stepped aside anyway. The older boy walked in, turning to face him as Frank closed the door. Every movement was slowed down, as if the depressed mood shared by both was effecting the time.

“What do you want?” Frank asked coldly, throwing himself on the couch. Gerard, his eyes downcast, tried his hardest to smile for the younger boy; trying to win him over again.

“To apologize. And explain – I’ve got a lot of both to do.” Gerard stated. Now he was waiting for Frank to offer him a seat. Frank, refusing to let himself comprehend exactly what the older boy was waiting for, stared at him again, a signal Gerard took as sit the fuck down.
“Then you better get to it.” Frank hissed coldly. “I’m not wasting any more time on you.” He knew it was too hide his feelings anymore. Gerard, slightly amused and slightly hurt, lifted his head to face the broken boy.

“Well…first of all, I’m sorry – way sorrier then you probably think I am. I’m an arrogant, self-centered asshole, and don’t deserve a second chance. But…but you should give me one anyway.” Frank looked up, head tilted and frowning. “Hey, don’t knock it ‘til ya try it, okay? You’re going to give me a second chance because I’m fun, I can be nice – deep, deep, deep down, I’m a genuinely nice dude, you know – and I’m gorgeous. According to you, anyway. Plus…I need a second chance at that kiss. It was a huge mistake, you know…saying all that shit…” Gerard gave the younger boy that same, guilty smirk, hoping his eyes explained how honest he was.

“I don’t think I can.” Frank muttered lowly. “I trusted you, and you turn around and…you called me a fag. Incase you haven’t noticed, I’m not a cigarette.” Gerard laughed softly at that comment before trying again at getting an okay from the boy.

“Right…that’s why I’m so sorry. Most of the people there were drunk anyway – they probably didn’t even notice me and Mikey leave last night to find you.”

Frank’s head shot up along with his eyebrows, eyes wide and glossy. “You tried to find me last night?” The older boy, laughing again, nodded shyly.

“I was so sure that you were going to die last night that I dragged him into the car. Then we had to stop because he was going to be sick, and I feel asleep – by the way, that cost me money. My alarm clock was some angry cop…I think he hated me.” Frank’s hearted melted and he found it impossible to not take his Angel back.

“Okay…we’re friends again…but I need you to tell me one thing.”

“Anything.” Gerard answered immediately. A second chance – another shot at love.

“Why’d you kiss me so…” Frank searched the Angel’s face for the word, giving up and offering his shaking hand sin place of an adjective. “I mean – holy shit, I didn’t know what to say…”

“Intense.” Gerard said, looking at the broken boy through his lashes. “Shawn asked what it was, and you said intense. I don’t know if anyone else heard you, but I did. I think it got me nervous, so I went off.” He shrugged, standing up and walking towards the door. “Mikey is still in the car and he hasn’t eaten since last night. I’ll call you if I can stop by later – I know I’ve gotta clean that awful pigsty the Way brothers call a home.” He went to turn the doorknob when Frank grabbed him by the shoulder, partially turning him around.

“Hold on a second!” The Broken Boy said, laughing. “I want answers! Why did you get nervous? And you still didn’t tell me why that kiss was so…intense.” Without taking his eyes off of the younger, the Angel opened the door to heaven – to a world that didn’t consist of complicated questions, inner demons, and heartache.

“Not so fast, Frankie. We’ll talk about it later. I answered one question – one’s enough for now.” Gerard leaned in, as if to kiss Frank again, but instead hovered over the others lips, muttering about how he had to leave, closing the door softly behind him, incasing Frank in his hell again.

“But…you didn’t answer the right question.” Frank muttered after Gerard had left his tracks already cold. The Broken boy slowly walked himself back to his room, as if the depression swirling around his mind had taken over time, slowing things to an almost-complete stop. He sat on the very edge of the bed, picked up his guitar, and began to strum. A slow growing on his face, he played the song he’d played for Gerard, knowing he’d play it until he had it perfected. Perfect -- just like my Angel is.