Flip for Me

Gerard Way’s Point of View

“What are you doing here?” I heard someone ask.

I looked over my shoulder from my seat and saw him.

“Well clearly I'm here to see the movie, dumbass,” I said.

“Sorry,” he said, taken aback. “You just don’t seem like the type of person that would want to watch a transsexual parade around in a thong while you're getting soaked by water guns,” he continued.

“Well normally I'm not that type of person, but this is the legendary Rocky Horror after all,” I said, smirking at him.

“Don’t get defensive Gerard, jeez, I was only messing with you,” Frank said.

“Whatever Iero. Why don’t you and your boyfriend just sit down somewhere,” I suggested, taking my seat.

Frank and his guy friend—or possibly boyfriend—took a seat right freaking next to me.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, who said you could sit here?” I asked.

Okay, normally I wouldn’t have stood for this at all, but I wasn’t looking to fight anyone. Not tonight, anyway. Tonight, I just wanted to chill and enjoy the show. I can truly and honestly say that I was tired of being so aggressive and violent. Maybe I should start listening to Jessica more often.

“You know what? Never mind. Please, take a seat and enjoy the movie,” I said, calming myself down. I took a few breaths and got up to get a drink. I don’t remember the last time that I had a beer. Oh wait . . . I had one last night. Yeah, I still barely remember it though.

As I was going back to my seat, I ran into Frank, again.

“You stalking me, Iero?” I asked before taking a huge gulp.

“In your dreams,” Frank grinned. He seemed slightly happier than he was three minutes ago.

“Why are you so cheery all of a sudden?” I questioned him, looking at him suspiciously.

“Do I seem cheery?” he asked.

I don’t know if I already had some sort of buzz going, but he was flirting with me. Frank Iero, my arch enemy in gymnastics and life in general, my rival, the one I was supposed to hate with every fiber of my being, was flirting with me and I sort of liked it. I mean, I don’t have many people flirting with me—they're all afraid of me—so this was actually kind of . . . nice, in a way. Overall, I wasn’t very happy with whom it was that engaged in the flirting, but hey; could I really complain that much? Besides, I could do some damage to the little fruitcake if I wanted.

“Just a little,” I said, flirting back now.

All right; yeah I kind of hate myself for flirting back, but it was supposed to be a fun night. I was here to have fun, was I not? And I haven’t had any type of extremely personal contact with anybody for years now—I’m a guy; I get desperate.

I think the lowest level of desperation that I've reached was three years ago. Looking back on it, having sex with Frank would have been less painful. There was a guy—one of those hairy big guys, and not the buff kind. He honestly looked like a total child molester, and he might have been. Anyway, I nearly went through and had sex with him. All I was thinking about was getting to experience that sweet release that I so desperately longed for. In the end, I came to my senses and got the hell out of there. I mean, I ran like a freaking racehorse out of that place. He was so disgusting and greasy and just overall completely gross. Picturing him in my mind again, I can't pick out one good characteristic about the bastard. His eyes even looked filthy and gross. I feel the need to shower now.

“Well you seem happier than you normally are,” he said, giggling.

Comparing Frank to the big guy now, Frank was a total catch. He just had to be a stuck up little bitch though. It’s such a shame. If he actually cared about other people, maybe he wouldn’t be such a horrid little thing—he might be partially tolerable. But that’s certainly not the case. In fact, he still annoyed the shit out of me and I wanted to run over repeatedly with my car.

“Tonight . . . I am,” I said before returning to my seat. The guy that was with Frank kept staring at me. I felt so self conscious—something that has always bothered me. I've never been confident about myself, but I acted like I was just to seem tougher than I really was.

“Why are you such an ass?” the guy eventually asked me. I knew him from somewhere—he looked too familiar.

“What?” I asked, looking at him like he was a complete moron.

“I know you heard me,” he said. He glared at me. I didn’t say anything. The show would begin in about five more minutes. I wish it would’ve been five more seconds instead. “Why don’t you like Frank? I get that he beats you at every single conversation, but seriously; that’s not a good enough reason to hate a person if you ask me. Frank isn’t the type of person that anyone could truly hate anyway.”

“I am trying my fucking hardest not to beat the shit out of you right now, so if you’d like to keep your teeth where they are, I’d suggest that you quit talking to me,” I fumed.

Frank came back before the guy opened his mouth to give me a smart response.

“You better get your boyfriend off my fucking back,” I snapped at Frank.

Frank looked at me, totally confused. He looked at the guy and took his seat cautiously. They started whispering to each other, but I was able to tune them out and listen to the first speaker. It sounded just like Frank N. Furter’s voice. Or maybe I'm just hallucinating. I mean, it was past midnight and I had pretty much demolished my beer.

“Sorry about that,” Frank whispered to me.

“Just keep it away from me,” I said, looking at Frank and nodding in his friend’s direction. Frank stifled a giggle and nodded.

I turned to watch the show. I swear this was going to the best night of my life so far.

*****

“That was fucking . . . awesome!” I screamed at the top of my lungs as I stumbled out of the theater. I was drunk—that much was certain. I don’t know how much I had to drink, but it was a lot.

“You're not driving home, are you?” someone asked me. I turned to them and saw Frank standing in front of me.

“You're fucking short, shrimp boy,” I said before giggling manically. I loved making myself laugh!

“Let me take you home so that you don’t kill yourself,” Frank said. He grabbed my arm and led me to my car. “Give me your keys,” he said. I leaned against the side of the car, crossed my arms, and grinned at him.

“Nope,” I said, leaning forward a little.

“Come on Gerard,” Frank whined. I giggled at him again. He sighed and pulled me forward and dug in my front pockets.

“They're in my back pocket,” I said lowly.

I heard him sigh again before he reached in my back pocket and pulled them out. I whined and stared at him.

“Get in the car, Gerard,” he said. How is he gonna hijack my car and just . . . I feel sick.

Slowly, I walked to the passenger seat and climbed in. Frank helped me put on my seatbelt and I curled up against the door holding my stomach.

“Too much beer,” I moaned loudly. I closed my eyes for a long time and kept them shut until Frank made me open them again.

“You live here, right?” Frank asked. I squinted under the street lights and nodded.

“Dude . . . I don’t fuckin’ feel right,” I said. I felt like dry heaving, or just plain spewing my guts out in the driveway. Either works for me at the moment.

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” he offered.

“Only ‘cause you’re pretty,” I said, trying to smile even though I felt like I was dying. I think I saw Frank roll his eyes, but I wasn’t sure.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Which key is your house key?” He held the keys up so that I could examine them, but I just stared with my mouth hanging open. They all looked the same to me; how the fuck was I supposed to tell him which key was the house key?

“I dunno,” I mumbled, losing my balance for a second.

I leaned against the brick wall and closed my eyes. I just wanted to sleep. I felt an aching pain in my stomach. Scratch the whole wanting to sleep—I needed to throw up. I opened my eyes and walked to the flowerbed as quickly as I could without falling down. I stood there, hunched over and groaning while Frank continued to test key after key. Eventually, my time of release came. I feel sorry for the flowers now.

“Found it!” Frank yelled, making me jerk straight up. I took a step back, but stumbled over my feet and landed on my butt. “Are you okay?” Frank asked frantically. He wrapped his arms around my upper torso and pulled me up so that I was standing once again, though it felt like I was floating. For someone so small, he was strong. It had to be the gymnastics and all the training that made him so strong. I mean, he was so tiny! I never knew he was that strong!

After what felt like thirty minutes, I was in clean clothes and in bed. Frank was in my bathroom doing something. I was propped against the headboard, sipping on water every now and then.

“You’re the one that left,” I heard Frank say from the bathroom. He sounded annoyed. I think he was talking on the phone to someone. With who, I may never know. “No Joey, I do not! I'm hanging up now.”

A few seconds later, Frank walked out of the bathroom and made me get under the covers. He lied down next to me and took in a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” I murmured.

“I'm fine. I just . . . I won't even bother telling you since you'll probably forget,” he said. I felt his arm across my stomach a few minutes later, right before I was ready to pass out. I felt so giggly inside.