You Gave Me Butterflies At The Mailbox

Sometimes Frank is confused as to how this relationship should really work. It's not like one of them is a guy, and he does sweet things for his girl; no, they're both guys, and neither of them really care about 'sweet things'. Frank's a bit of a softy, sure, but he's not about to write about a perfect, romantic picnic in his diary. In fact, he's not sure what he would do if Gerard tried to bring him on a romantic picnic. He sort of shudders at the thought, but then realizes he has nothing to worry about, because Gerard definitely would never do that. Frank would consider himself lucky if Gerard remember to get him something for Valentine's Day or his birthday. He's sometimes scared that their relationship is more like a friendship; except for the part where Frank is always trying to get into Gerard pants. And the one time he's succeeded. They hang out, they play video games, isn't that was friends do? Of course, Frank and Gerard were never really friends, were they? They sort of skipped that step.

It's at this exact moment that Frank realizes he actually knows nothing about Gerard. All he knows about Gerard is this: he's 18, he has a brother, his parents are divorced, he's never had a dog, he's allergic to cats, and he's taking half a year off before he starts college. He doesn't even know what Gerard's going to college for! For some reason, this really, really bothers Frank. He immediately rolls off his bed, which he had been laying on to think, and crawls over to his pants from the day before, which are lying on the floor. As it turns out, he gave up on the 'clean room' thing a week after his mom got back. He reaches into the front pocket of his jeans and pulls out his cellphone, then dials Gerard's number and holds his phone to his ear, laying back on the floor and resting his feet against the wall.

"Hello?" Gerard answers. It's eleven am, but he sounds like he just woke up. Frank rolls his eyes, because, typical.

"Hey. Uh. Can we talk? Like, in person?"

"Yeah? What's, uh. What's it about?" Gerard's nervous tone makes Frank realize what Gerard must be thinking. 'We need to talk,' is the universal code for, 'I'm breaking up with you,' right?

"Oh. No, it's nothing bad. Just. I realized we don't really know each other, you know? So I just thought we could. Talk."

"Alright," Gerard says, and Frank can hear him moving around. "My place or yours?"

Frank smirks, but holds in the sexual joke and says, "S'up to you."

Gerard says, "I'll be over in two minutes," and then hangs up. Frank still doesn't understand the whole 'no goodbye' thing, but it doesn't really matter.

****

It takes the boys a whole hour to actually get settled and begin their conversation. When Frank had suggested this, he didn't know it was going to be so awkward.

"So, what do you wanna know?" Gerard asks, playing with the blanket on Frank's bed. They're both sitting on it, one at each end, facing each other with their knees almost, but not quite, touching.

"Uh. I dunno. I guess," Frank trails off, thinking, then snaps his fingers and says, "You're birthday! I don't even know your birthday."

"April 9th," Gerard says, and Frank nods his head as if he'll actually remember that. He tries to think of a way to remember it, but he's got nothing. He thinks his cousin Jeff's birthday may be the day before, but he's not really sure. "Yours is Halloween, right?"

Frank nods his head, then asks, "Favorite food?"

"Don't have one. You?"

Frank shrugs. "Peanut butter, I guess."

"Uhh. Were you born in New Jersey?"

"Yeah, I've lived in this house all my life. You?"

"Well I was born in Jersey, but I've moved, like, three times. All in the same town."

Frank looks at him confused. "All in the same town?"

Gerard nods and says, "Yeah, when my parents first split, me, Mikey, and my mom moved into that tiny little house that's across from the bowling alley. Do you know which one I'm talking about? Yeah, it was all she could afford, so. Then after, like, a year and a half, we moved in with her new boyfriend, who literally lives at the end of this street, but that didn't last long, so then we moved next door."

Frank goes, "Huh," and looks out his window. "Oh! What are you going to college for?"

"I'm gonna be an art major. I wanna be a cartoonist. How 'bout you, what'a you wanna be when you grow up?" Gerard asks with a little smile.

"I was thinking psychiatry, actually."

Gerard's eyes widen and he nods his head like he's impressed, then says, "I'm too fucked up to do that job."

Frank looks at him sympathetically, then decides to take a chance and asks, "Why do you say that? I mean, I know your home life isn't perfect, but I don't really know the specifics of it."

Gerard lets out a long, loud breath of air, yet not quite a sigh, then quirks his head and asks, "In a nutshell?"

"I'd kinda rather the whole thing, actually. If, ya know, you're comfortable with that. Or what ever."

Gerard shrugs his shoulders, then begins moving so he's next to Frank, rather than in front of him. He leans against the headboard and pulls on Frank's t-shirt until Frank gets the idea to turn his body and scoot back so he can lean against Gerard. Gerard wraps his arms around Frank, locking his hands together in his lap, then rests his head on top of Frank's and begins.

"Well, my mom's alright, as you know. She's kind of juvenile, though. Like, some of the things she says and does, I feel like a 12-year-old does the same thing. And she has this great way of always making everything about her. If someone dies, she wants sympathy for loosing someone and having to go to a funeral. If I'm sick, she tells her friends just to hear them apologize and feel bad. It's like, seriously? Who does that? And when I have a problem, she can't handle it or something, so she just makes it worse. Like, this one time, when I was 11, some guy pulled over while I was walking home from a friends house and tried to get me to get into his car. And, I said no, obviously, but then I was freaked. So I ran home, and I was crying as I told my mom, and what does she say? She asks if I called the cops. And when I say no, because, duh, I was 11 and scared, she says, 'Great, Gerard. Now what if he goes and tries to pick up some other little kid. You may have got'n away, but they might not be so lucky.' I was like, awesome. Now I'm scared and I feel guilty. It sucked.

"And my dad.. Well, he's a good dad, I guess, he just has problems. He likes to push me around sometimes, ya know? I mean, he's never hit me, he would never hit me, but he will just shove me against a wall or something. Only if he's drunk though. Which, like, he drinks pretty much every day, but he only gets hammered, like, once a month or something. So it really isn't that bad. He and his girlfriend sometimes smoke pot in front of me, which kinda sucks. I mean it's not really a big deal, but still. That's why I won't go near any of that shit. I love my dad, really, but I refuse to end up like him." Gerard stops and looks out Frank's window, breathing slowly and letting Frank play with his hand.

"Does he. I mean. Do you ever, like, get hurt?" Frank asks carefully, praying on the inside that it wasn't too bad.

"Nah. Like I said, he would never hit me or anything. And it doesn't even happen that often, so what ever."

Frank pauses, then very softly says, "Just once is too often, Gerard." When Gerard doesn't say anything, Frank decides to talk some more. "Does your mom know?"

Gerard shakes his head, and continues to look out the window. "I don't want them to stop me from going there, ya know?"

Frank wants to say, no, I don't know, the guy pushes you around, you need to get out of there, but, instead, he says, "Maybe you should tell her. I mean, I know you said he's never hit you, but he drinks and-"

"He wouldn't hit me, Frank."

"I know, but still. People can be unpredictable when they're-"

"No." Gerard says very firmly, finally turning his head away from the window and staring into Frank's eyes. "He would never hit me."

Frank nods sadly and kisses Gerard on the cheek, letting his lips linger. He studies Gerard's face, and he thinks, Jesus Christ, I'm falling in love with this kid.

Frank opens his mouth to maybe say something else about Gerard's father, but Gerard cuts him off with a kiss. And within two minutes, Gerard has them laying down, Frank on top of Gerard, and their hips moving together rhythmically. Frank knows this is wrong. He knows Gerard is just trying to distract him. And he should stop Gerard, and he should have Gerard talk about it more. Because that's what you're suppose to do. You talk about it. Bottling it in just makes it worse, right?

But Frank also wants Gerard to be happy, and if this is what Gerard wants to do, then Frank isn't going to complain.

Because he's a teenage boy, and he's allowed to ignore problems and only think about sex, right?

Well, that's what he's going to tell himself.