Passing Looks and Disappointed Faces

[Frank's P.O.V.]

We cleaned up the mess pretty quickly and Gerard offered to go upstairs to wash the plate and fork and to fix me up something. It was sweet of him to offer but there was no way in hell I would be left alone with my demons again. So, as any normal person would do, I followed him, trailing behind so closely that I nearly stepped on his feet as we walked. He didn't protest once; instead, he brought his free arm behind him to wrap it around my shoulders. I have to say, it felt much safer with his arm around me than with my back exposed to the invisible abyss.

We said nothing as we walked down the hallway; it wasn't even awkward. That is, it wasn't awkward until we reached the kitchen. It seemed there was this pressing need to hold some sort of conversation, simply because Mikey was there. Gerard's arm slipped from my shoulders as he stepped away from me. "So, Frank, are we going to go today?" he asked while standing at the sink. I groaned, somehow understanding instantly what he was talking about.

[Silence was never awkward with you
'Till we started to talk.]

Mikey furrowed his brow making it rather obvious that he was listening intently to what we were saying though he didn't look up once. "I don't know, Gee," I muttered, seating myself in the stool besides Mikey's; it was the only option I had seeing as he was seated in the middle stool.

"Where are you guys going?" I looked up, eyes wide. I didn't want Mikey to know where we were going, not at all. I shook my head softly, mouthing the word "no" various times to Gerard behind his back. But he couldn't see me, busy as he was with the task of cleaning the damned plate.

"The police station," he answered easily, putting away the dripping clean plate. I groaned, allowing my head to fall with a thunk against the counter. It hurt but I ignored the dull throbbing in my head entirely.

"Why are you guys going to the police station?" Mikey asked, ignoring my actions, focusing on his brother. I looked up, wondering if I had a red mark on my forehead even as I was trying to gauge Gerard's response. He smirked, stepping towards the counter and leaning upon it, looking at his brother directly in the eyes.

"You see, Frankie here has a relative at the police station, a cousin of his he would like to visit and I offered to take him there. Still, being the gentleman he is, he is refusing my adamant offers, concerned that I will waste gasoline or that the entire trip will inconvenience me. Nonetheless you know how stubborn I am so I'm going to keep pressing him until he gives in to his desire to go visit his dear cousin." I was watching him, mouth agape as he wove that intricate lie to his brother while looking at him straight in the eye. His vision never wavered and, though his hands fidgeted on the counter, his demeanor was completely calm. "Right, Frank?"

I closed my mouth in a hurry, swallowing hard. Mikey turned his eyes to me, gazing at me calmly for the approval or denial of this story. "Y-yeah," I managed to stutter, looking not at his eyes but at the bridge of his glasses; I couldn't look him in the eyes and utter a straight-out lie but it was enough to make it look like I was. "I mean, I want to go but I really don't want to damage Gee's plans or anything." He turned back to his brother, cocking an eyebrow.

"Told you. C'mon baby brother, believe me." He smirked, stepping back as a spurt of rage burst in his brother's eyes.

"Don't you call me 'baby brother'," he muttered savagely, gritting his teeth as he tried controlling himself.

"I'm sorry, Mikes," he smirked, cocking his head to one side as a cheeky smile replaced the smirk. He scoffed, playing with the plate before him. Ew, chicken...I turned up my nose in disgust, looking away. "C'mon Frankie; let's go." I stood up, shooting another look of revulsion at the plate; it disgusted me greatly. Poor little chicken... Gerard said not a word and we fell into comfortable silence again as he led me into the foyer, grabbing at two coats.

"Why'd you grab two?" I asked curiously, looking up at him; damn being short. He laughed, shaking his head at me as if I had just missed the most obvious thing ever. I felt like a complete idiot as he laughed, even though he wasn't insulting me.

"One's for you of course," he said, throwing it at me so he could slip into the leather one. I balked trying to hand it back to him.

"I'll be perfectly fine; I'm not even cold-"

"Now," he cut me off. "Trust me; it's not going to be warm out there."

"Trust me; I'll be just fine." He looked at me pointedly, still holding the jacket out towards me.

"Take it or I will be mortally offended," he said, a hint of a growl on his voice though his eyes sparkled in their sockets. Grumbling about how he seemed a mother and rolling my eyes, I ripped the thickly-lined hoodie from his hand, putting it on.

"Happy now?"

"Yes," he positively beamed, wrenching open the door and skipping out. I'm not exaggerating either; he really did skip out into the Jersey air. He's insane, I swear it but I really do like him either way. I laughed, putting my hands deep in my pockets; so he was right...it was cold outside. He spun around, looking back at me with a smile on his face that exposed his chiclet teeth. I smiled, not bothering to modify my pace as I walked towards him, hunching my shoulders against a sudden cold breeze.

He ran up to me, obviously frustrated at my languid pace, slipping his arms under mine, picking me up from the ground in a hug. I laughed, removing my hands from my pockets awkwardly to embrace him as well.

"Why are you so happy?" I asked as he set me down and I could place my hands back in my pockets. He shrugged in response, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as he continued his quick pace.

"Does one need a reason to be happy?" he asked, looking down at me for the answer. I shrugged, moving closer to him to gain his warmth; I was cold now. Why did he have to be right?

"Yeah," I finally answered, looking down at the ground as we walked. "Everything has a reason; why does happiness have to be the exception?" He shook his head as if I just couldn't grasp the deeper meaning in all of this, pulling me as close as possible.

"Happiness is an export of love, right?"

"In certain cases."

"Well, does love have a reason? Do you honestly love someone because of a specific, dead-set reason? Do you decide to love someone because they have a pretty face or they can hold a conversation? Because, if it was because of these reasons or any other, even spicy sex, then you could fall in love with just about anyone. Say, a man falls for a woman because she has assets and is smart; there's nothing special about her because there are dozens of women with the same hair, same eyes, same relative intelligence and same supposed beauty. However, the man doesn't love all of them; he only loves her. There is no reason for love or the emotions that stem from it. Therefore, say I feel happiness that comes from this love I feel then the happiness doesn't have a reason either."

"But you're contradicting yourself," I finally said after mulling over his words.

"How so?"

"This happiness then would come from love thereby giving it a reason. What you're saying is that only love has no reason; everything that stems from it and everything else does have a plausible reason. You're happy because of the love. Perhaps you're thinking of that person or you have the person near you; then you are happy because of that. Or, say you feel anger that can and has stemmed from love. You're probably angry because you had an argument with the person or something of the sort. What I'm saying now is that everything has a reason except love. Therefore, love is simply the irregular emotion in life."

"Deep; I think we've convinced each other," he smiled, planting a small kiss on the top of my head. I laughed, looking up at him.

"I think so too," I replied and I suddenly realized we were just standing in front of his car, debating the concept of reason behind emotion. "I think we should just go; I've had enough thinking for today."

"Aw, your brain's too small for so much thought?" he teased, poking me in the side. I pouted and squirmed before reaching out a hand to smack him lightly on his arm.

"I'm plenty smart," I growled before sending him a smile, walking over to the passenger's side of the car. He unlocked it and we opened the doors, slid in and closed the doors at the same time. "Did we plan that?" I asked, reaching for my seatbelt as he started the ignition.

"Maybe our subconscious minds did," he laughed, putting the car in reverse after mimicking my motions and putting on his seatbelt. "Safety conscious," he whispered under his breath, looking behind him as he slid the car out of the driveway.

"What?"

"You."

"I'm safety conscious?"

"Of course; you put on the seatbelt almost immediately."

"Well I was wondering if you were even a good driver and just in case you weren't or something happened and we crashed, I didn't want to run the risk of flying out the window and breaking all my bones. And breaking all my bones would include breaking my neck which would leave me bleeding and dead on the ground."

"Morbid little fellow, aren't you?" I shrugged; I couldn't help it. Honestly, how could I when every few minutes I would get a flash of that horrid scene? Damn it, I wished someone would erase the memory from my mind; it would help me get through life because at this moment I'm honestly doubting how I will. I lapsed into my thoughts, looking blankly out at the scenery flashing just outside the window. And through it all, aside from the thoughts of death and the like, I was thinking of my soft ache for a good cigarette. It made me think on how, if I had never stolen that pack (which they took back, the bastards) I would have never met Gerard. For once, I was glad I screwed up.