Anorex-a-Gogo
Wake Up
A/N: Dedicated to Emily. Wake the fuck up, Emily! Fink loves you!
* * *
"I love you."
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
The words echo in the small space of his car. They sound so goddamn loud in my ears, roaring and pounding against my brain. Like a fucking wake up call.
Wake the fuck up, Frankie! You just told the boy you loved him!
Holy fuck.
Gerard's face is frozen half way between a grin and this look of complete shock. It's almost comical enough to laugh at, except that there's nothing funny about what I just said. About what I just said. Am I stupid, or what? Here we are, having this perfect moment in his car, and I have to go and blurt out this loaded confession. Right when he's being so goddamn nice to me.
"Oh Christ," I mumble, suddenly feeling as if I might throw up as my face starts to burn and my stomach does back flips. The butterflies are storming around like a fucking parade. "Oh Christ," I repeat, scrambling off his lap and back to my seat. My hands are shaking so badly that I can't even open the fucking door.
He just sits there in his seat, a satisfied smirk adorning his lips. God, he looks so smug. And why shouldn't he? He's Gerard fucking Way, and the guy who just got me of all people to admit I...to admit that I love him.
I practically fall out on the sidewalk as I manage to shove the door open. I somehow reclaim my balance, holding onto the top of the door. I'm thinking, I just need to get out of here. Any excuse to get away.
Mom's office isn't all that far off. I can see it in the distance. I'll walk.
So I start walking off in that direction. More like running really. Okay, so I'm sprinting. And not really towards the office, but in that general direction. I hear a car door closing and footsteps slamming on the snowy sidewalk behind me, but I just keep my eyes on the floor and I run.
"Frankie, goddamn it, stop," Gerard calls.
I'm running blindly and people on the sidewalk are swerving to get out of my way. All I can think is, I blew it. I fucking took whatever we had and I just ruined it. What was I thinking?
The thing is, I wasn't. Thinking, I mean. For fuck's sake, I hadn't even realized I'd been the one to say it at first. Didn't even recognize the word's coming out of my mouth. Fuck, I don't even know what those words mean.
I nearly fall as someone tackles me from behind, but the guy just flings his arms around my waist and pulls me back so that I couldn't run anymore if I tried. Gerard is breathing way too hard, not being used to running so fast or hard, and definitely not after years of chain smoking. He gasps for breath as he tightly grasps me from behind.
"Jesus, why the fuck are you running?" he shouts, inhaling deeply through his nose.
I struggle against him, but for such a skinny guy, he's got damn strong arms. Then I feel that horrible, shameful feeling rising up like bubbles in my chest, burning the skin on my face. The next thing I know I'm gasping as he blurs from my vision and the tears come. And they don't just sort of trickle down, no, they flood out, streaming down my cheeks. I find myself plunging my face into his pea coat and sobbing until my eyes run dry. Gerard looks like he has no fucking clue what to do, and I can't blame him. I'm a fucking mental case, that's all there is to it.
"Shh, shh, calm down," he murmurs, resting his chin on the top of my head. His arms find their way around me, one holding me tight against him, the other soothingly stroking the hair on the back of my head. "Frankie, it's okay. Everything is okay."
Gerard gently pries my hands from where they're clutching his coat, and he holds them in his own. Then he wipes my face with his thumb, kissing my forehead when he's done. "I always knew you'd run away," he chuckles softly, "but I thought it would be because I said it first."
"You're so brave," he murmurs, "so brave. I was trying to figure out some way of telling you in the car, but I kept coming up blank. I wanted to play it safe so I wouldn't scare you away." He grins, biting his lip. "I guess I scared you away anyway."
"I'm sorry," I quickly reply, "I didn't mean to just....I didn't mean to just blurt it out. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." And that's all I can think of to say. I'm sorry for ruining that moment.
He looks skeptical. "What, do you want to take it back or something?"
"No!" I practically shout, then lower my voice. "No, no, I don't. I...I meant it though."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes
Gerard kisses me, oh so softly on the mouth. And then his mouth is on my ear, his lips barely moving. "I love you."
My heart constricts, then inflates so large that I'm sure it popped, showering my insides with bloody love-blood. I find that my lips involuntarily curve up into the widest smile I've ever smiled. I feel like screaming until my voice is hoarse and my throat is ripped to shreds. I feel like dancing, even when I'm a klutz and would probably just trip over my own feet.
I just open my mouth to answer. But what comes out isn't what I'd intended.
He whispers it again. "I love you."
And I hear myself whisper back, "I'm scared."
* * *
My mother's office is like the fucking Ice Age. It always has been, ever since I was a kid. So even when Gerard pulls away in his car, and I step out of the snow and into the office, it still feels like it's winter, they keep the air conditioning on year-round. No wonder all the patients here are mental.
My teeth are chattering as I take the elevator upstairs to level 6, where my mother's office is. I'm so goddamn happy that I'm bouncing on my heels the entire way up. When the elevator 'dings' and the doors slide open, I bounce down the hall to the door with the gold plaque:
Dr. Linda Iero
I go through the door, where her secretary greets me with a smile because we've known each other since I was about three years old. I used to come in with my mom to her office all the time back then, and her secretary Kim would always tell me stories to keep me busy.
"Hey, Kimmy," I say, giving her a big smile, "Is my mom here?"
"She's with a patient right now, Frankie, but you can stay in here until she's done if you'd like," Kimmy replies.
But I'm already going down the hallway to where my mom's office is. I can hear her talking to her patient, asking him why he thinks his wife left him. When I open the door and slip in, she shoots me a murderous look, like why am I interrupting her and what have I done? I just grin and sit on the couch where the patient can't see me.
Mom continues with her session, jotting things down while the poor guy practically pours out his life story. But she keeps glancing over at me, questioning my jittery movements and the smile that just won't seem to leave my lips.
The guy finally leaves, still sobbing about his wife, and I go out into the part of her office where she actually takes her patients. I lay down on that plush leather couch, the one where she tells them, "Please, get comfortable. It's easier to work through problems when you're comfortable." She stays seated in her chair, her notepad still on her lap.
"Frankie, what are you doing here?" she asks, checking her watch. She tells me I have fifteen minutes before her next appointment.
So I take a deep breath. And I look her in the eyes. And I say, "Ma, I'm gay."
This is obviously not what she thought I was going to say. Her mouth forms a perfect 'O' and her thin eyebrows raise. "Uh..." She can't seem to find anything to say.
"I know you sort of already knew," I go on, because I'm afraid to lose my nerve if I stop now, "You knew when I never had any girlfriends, and you knew when Gerard came over to visit me. You knew all those times he was over."
She sort of nods her head, encouraging me to continue. I realize this is the most truthful conversation I've had with my mother in years.
"I'm sorry I never told you before. It wasn't that I thought you wouldn't love me anymore, because I knew you would."
"I'll always love you, Frankie," she murmurs, giving me a small smile.
"I know, Ma, I knew that." I take a deep breath. "And I love Gerard."
Now she smiles as big as I was before. "Oh, Frankie. Are you happy?"
I nod.
Another deep breath. "And I'm sorry about what I did to Owen." So this isn't the truth. Not at all. Because what I told my mother on the phone Saturday night was that Owen and I had gotten in a fight, and that I'd punched him in the face. Then I'd gone to Gerard's house after wards. I never told her that it was Gerard who'd beaten the shit out of him. And Owen was too much of a coward to admit it himself.
And I am sure as hell not sorry about it.
Yelling. Grounding. Scolding. My mother does none of these things. Not one. No, she stands up, and she hugs me. "Frankie, I don't care. I know that probably makes me a terrible mother, but I don't want to lie to you either. I just want you to be happy. And if Gerard makes you happy, then I'm behind you 100%."
I'm thinking back to that conversation I overheard between Gerard and my mom.
"Whatever you two have, it has the extreme potential to make him happy. And that's all I want for Frankie. All I want is for him to find that happiness that he lost somewhere along the way. Help him find it."
And as I'm hugging my mom, and thinking about those sacred words I uttered to Gerard and the ones he returned, I'm thinking, I found it. I once was lost, but now am found.
* * *
"I love you."
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
The words echo in the small space of his car. They sound so goddamn loud in my ears, roaring and pounding against my brain. Like a fucking wake up call.
Wake the fuck up, Frankie! You just told the boy you loved him!
Holy fuck.
Gerard's face is frozen half way between a grin and this look of complete shock. It's almost comical enough to laugh at, except that there's nothing funny about what I just said. About what I just said. Am I stupid, or what? Here we are, having this perfect moment in his car, and I have to go and blurt out this loaded confession. Right when he's being so goddamn nice to me.
"Oh Christ," I mumble, suddenly feeling as if I might throw up as my face starts to burn and my stomach does back flips. The butterflies are storming around like a fucking parade. "Oh Christ," I repeat, scrambling off his lap and back to my seat. My hands are shaking so badly that I can't even open the fucking door.
He just sits there in his seat, a satisfied smirk adorning his lips. God, he looks so smug. And why shouldn't he? He's Gerard fucking Way, and the guy who just got me of all people to admit I...to admit that I love him.
I practically fall out on the sidewalk as I manage to shove the door open. I somehow reclaim my balance, holding onto the top of the door. I'm thinking, I just need to get out of here. Any excuse to get away.
Mom's office isn't all that far off. I can see it in the distance. I'll walk.
So I start walking off in that direction. More like running really. Okay, so I'm sprinting. And not really towards the office, but in that general direction. I hear a car door closing and footsteps slamming on the snowy sidewalk behind me, but I just keep my eyes on the floor and I run.
"Frankie, goddamn it, stop," Gerard calls.
I'm running blindly and people on the sidewalk are swerving to get out of my way. All I can think is, I blew it. I fucking took whatever we had and I just ruined it. What was I thinking?
The thing is, I wasn't. Thinking, I mean. For fuck's sake, I hadn't even realized I'd been the one to say it at first. Didn't even recognize the word's coming out of my mouth. Fuck, I don't even know what those words mean.
I nearly fall as someone tackles me from behind, but the guy just flings his arms around my waist and pulls me back so that I couldn't run anymore if I tried. Gerard is breathing way too hard, not being used to running so fast or hard, and definitely not after years of chain smoking. He gasps for breath as he tightly grasps me from behind.
"Jesus, why the fuck are you running?" he shouts, inhaling deeply through his nose.
I struggle against him, but for such a skinny guy, he's got damn strong arms. Then I feel that horrible, shameful feeling rising up like bubbles in my chest, burning the skin on my face. The next thing I know I'm gasping as he blurs from my vision and the tears come. And they don't just sort of trickle down, no, they flood out, streaming down my cheeks. I find myself plunging my face into his pea coat and sobbing until my eyes run dry. Gerard looks like he has no fucking clue what to do, and I can't blame him. I'm a fucking mental case, that's all there is to it.
"Shh, shh, calm down," he murmurs, resting his chin on the top of my head. His arms find their way around me, one holding me tight against him, the other soothingly stroking the hair on the back of my head. "Frankie, it's okay. Everything is okay."
Gerard gently pries my hands from where they're clutching his coat, and he holds them in his own. Then he wipes my face with his thumb, kissing my forehead when he's done. "I always knew you'd run away," he chuckles softly, "but I thought it would be because I said it first."
"You're so brave," he murmurs, "so brave. I was trying to figure out some way of telling you in the car, but I kept coming up blank. I wanted to play it safe so I wouldn't scare you away." He grins, biting his lip. "I guess I scared you away anyway."
"I'm sorry," I quickly reply, "I didn't mean to just....I didn't mean to just blurt it out. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." And that's all I can think of to say. I'm sorry for ruining that moment.
He looks skeptical. "What, do you want to take it back or something?"
"No!" I practically shout, then lower my voice. "No, no, I don't. I...I meant it though."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes
Gerard kisses me, oh so softly on the mouth. And then his mouth is on my ear, his lips barely moving. "I love you."
My heart constricts, then inflates so large that I'm sure it popped, showering my insides with bloody love-blood. I find that my lips involuntarily curve up into the widest smile I've ever smiled. I feel like screaming until my voice is hoarse and my throat is ripped to shreds. I feel like dancing, even when I'm a klutz and would probably just trip over my own feet.
I just open my mouth to answer. But what comes out isn't what I'd intended.
He whispers it again. "I love you."
And I hear myself whisper back, "I'm scared."
* * *
My mother's office is like the fucking Ice Age. It always has been, ever since I was a kid. So even when Gerard pulls away in his car, and I step out of the snow and into the office, it still feels like it's winter, they keep the air conditioning on year-round. No wonder all the patients here are mental.
My teeth are chattering as I take the elevator upstairs to level 6, where my mother's office is. I'm so goddamn happy that I'm bouncing on my heels the entire way up. When the elevator 'dings' and the doors slide open, I bounce down the hall to the door with the gold plaque:
Dr. Linda Iero
I go through the door, where her secretary greets me with a smile because we've known each other since I was about three years old. I used to come in with my mom to her office all the time back then, and her secretary Kim would always tell me stories to keep me busy.
"Hey, Kimmy," I say, giving her a big smile, "Is my mom here?"
"She's with a patient right now, Frankie, but you can stay in here until she's done if you'd like," Kimmy replies.
But I'm already going down the hallway to where my mom's office is. I can hear her talking to her patient, asking him why he thinks his wife left him. When I open the door and slip in, she shoots me a murderous look, like why am I interrupting her and what have I done? I just grin and sit on the couch where the patient can't see me.
Mom continues with her session, jotting things down while the poor guy practically pours out his life story. But she keeps glancing over at me, questioning my jittery movements and the smile that just won't seem to leave my lips.
The guy finally leaves, still sobbing about his wife, and I go out into the part of her office where she actually takes her patients. I lay down on that plush leather couch, the one where she tells them, "Please, get comfortable. It's easier to work through problems when you're comfortable." She stays seated in her chair, her notepad still on her lap.
"Frankie, what are you doing here?" she asks, checking her watch. She tells me I have fifteen minutes before her next appointment.
So I take a deep breath. And I look her in the eyes. And I say, "Ma, I'm gay."
This is obviously not what she thought I was going to say. Her mouth forms a perfect 'O' and her thin eyebrows raise. "Uh..." She can't seem to find anything to say.
"I know you sort of already knew," I go on, because I'm afraid to lose my nerve if I stop now, "You knew when I never had any girlfriends, and you knew when Gerard came over to visit me. You knew all those times he was over."
She sort of nods her head, encouraging me to continue. I realize this is the most truthful conversation I've had with my mother in years.
"I'm sorry I never told you before. It wasn't that I thought you wouldn't love me anymore, because I knew you would."
"I'll always love you, Frankie," she murmurs, giving me a small smile.
"I know, Ma, I knew that." I take a deep breath. "And I love Gerard."
Now she smiles as big as I was before. "Oh, Frankie. Are you happy?"
I nod.
Another deep breath. "And I'm sorry about what I did to Owen." So this isn't the truth. Not at all. Because what I told my mother on the phone Saturday night was that Owen and I had gotten in a fight, and that I'd punched him in the face. Then I'd gone to Gerard's house after wards. I never told her that it was Gerard who'd beaten the shit out of him. And Owen was too much of a coward to admit it himself.
And I am sure as hell not sorry about it.
Yelling. Grounding. Scolding. My mother does none of these things. Not one. No, she stands up, and she hugs me. "Frankie, I don't care. I know that probably makes me a terrible mother, but I don't want to lie to you either. I just want you to be happy. And if Gerard makes you happy, then I'm behind you 100%."
I'm thinking back to that conversation I overheard between Gerard and my mom.
"Whatever you two have, it has the extreme potential to make him happy. And that's all I want for Frankie. All I want is for him to find that happiness that he lost somewhere along the way. Help him find it."
And as I'm hugging my mom, and thinking about those sacred words I uttered to Gerard and the ones he returned, I'm thinking, I found it. I once was lost, but now am found.