City Lights

The light but rapid cascading showers of the static-white crystalline snowflakes upon a muted earth that caked softly along the sill of the spacious train window had reminded him, once again, of how extraordinarily peaceful winter was meant to be, but, in an unusual twist of thoughts, wasn’t. Sitting in the seat that was located close to the window, with his cheek nearly connecting with the thick glass, Gerard could already feel the cold surface ruminating onto his flesh, sending small shivers outward to dance across his skin. Upon parting his lips and letting out a small, irritable sigh, the glass of the window he’d been resting his head on, quickly fogged up in a cooled haze around the vicinity of his face.

This is ridiculous, he thought bitterly, as he looked around the rest of the train’s interior aimlessly. He thought about taking a short nap, perhaps to make time go by a little faster, or to just get in some more sleep, which he’d been severely lacking since early that morning, when he was physically forced to get out of bed an hour earlier than usual, and drag his half-sleeping body all the way to the station, where he could catch a practically empty train to Staten Island, where he didn’t even want to go to anyway. But he’d had at least two or three vodka-and-tonics for breakfast that morning, and at that point, may have not been in much of a position to call anything ridiculous. And with the alcohol on his tongue, he wasn’t even sure if he could pronounce the word.

“Fuck,” he muttered groggily, bringing a hand up to his face to rub the fatigue out of his eyes. He could be sleeping right now, he reminded himself. He could be in bed, warm underneath the blankets, shut out from the rest of the harsh winter just outside his front door. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

The idea of him actually being able to sleep on the train was, within itself, also ridiculous. When he rested his head on the glass, he could feel his skull vibrate with every small, jerky bump the train produced as it coasted along the tracks, making it virtually impossible to fall asleep peacefully. He also knew it would be pointless in attempting to fall asleep, because he’d be woken up soon anyway, as he could already see the conductor making her way down to his car, beginning to collect the fares.

Upon seeing her, he swore under his breath once again, and quickly reached down between his feet, where his briefcase sat. Opening up the briefcase with one hand, he quickly reached inside and grabbed his wallet, which he only had to look inside of for a mere second, before he realized the aggravating truth: he was broke.

A moment of silence sat in the air around him, while he blankly looked down at the empty space in his wallet. Only a few nickels and a single penny remained, reminding him smugly that he, once again, forgot to go to the bank.

“Shit,” he whispered harshly to himself, tearing through the individual pockets and discovering artifacts like his driver’s license, balls of lint, candy wrappers, and an outdated reminder card for a dentist appointment, but nothing that he could use to pay the fare.

They can’t throw me off, he thought hesitantly, glancing up at the conductor as she stood just three feet away from him, taking what looked like a five dollar bill from the person sitting a couple of rows down. He watched, almost feeling embarrassed, as the conductor finally approached his seat and held her hand out, requesting silently for the money.

“Um…” Gerard started slowly, quickly trying to think of something good to say. “Is there like…” His hand tilted downwards, exposing the vast emptiness inside of his wallet. “…a way that I can pay for this later? Like…can I get a bill?”

“No.” The conductor’s voice was flat and boring, showing no mercy, nor any respect. Her reply was promptly followed with an annoyed sigh.

“Sir, if you can’t afford the fare for this ride, then you will be forced to get off at the next stop.”

Gerard was silent for a moment, as he glanced back down at his empty wallet. He knew he had no one to blame but himself for going out drinking the night before, and completely forgetting to pick up his paycheck, or go to the bank at all. But, still, he wished he had someone else to blame.

“Sir,” the conductor urged, thrusting her hand forward once more. Gerard saw the look on her face and noticed in an alien way, their perverse connection; neither of them really wanted to deal with each other, or even be there for that matter. But they were stuck with each other.

“I’ll pay for it.”

Gerard’s attention, which was focused on his wallet as he pretended to dig through its contents, looking for some extra cash that he already knew wasn’t there, quickly averted and became alert, as his head lifted upwards to look around the rest of the car, searching out the ventured voice. The train, decorated in blandly-colored rows of orange and black benches, looked hollow, in its own sense, with the conductor being the only other person who was visible to Gerard. But as his eyes gazed quickly around the interior of the car, he noticed that right around the conductor’s knees, sat a pair of bizarrely noticeable, faded, and tattered red Chuck Taylor shoes hanging over the edge of the row of seats in front of Gerard, signifying the presence of another being between them.

Gerard’s gaze, fixated on the unusual-looking shoes, soon averted as he arched an eyebrow and raised his body somewhat, to look over the edge of the back of the seats in front of him. Upon looking in front of him, he quickly saw who the shoes belonged to.

The first thing that entered into his field of view, as a whole, was a medium-height, young-looking, unusually attractive man draped out across the row of three seats, with his feet dangling over the edge, and his head resting on a blue backpack. Dressed in only a thin zip-up hooded sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over his head, with only two layers of both long-sleeved and short-sleeved shirts underneath, Gerard was astounded at how anybody could wear such meager clothing in such glacial temperatures. He didn’t even have a hat, and the closest he had come to wearing gloves was a gray bandana secured around his right hand, just barely covering his knuckles and exposing all of his fingers to the cold.

The conductor did not change her tedious expression, as she slowly turned her wide body towards the generous man and held out her hand impatiently, just as she did before. Gerard then saw the man’s bandana-wrapped hand grip onto the top of the back of the seat, as he pulled himself upward to sit up in the seat. His face lay hidden behind the shadow of the hood pulled over his head, as his hands moved swiftly behind him to grab the backpack and zip open one of the pockets to slowly produce a five dollar bill, intricately folded into five connected rectangles.

“No, wait…” Gerard suddenly started, sitting up more. His wallet slipped in his hand and landed on the bench next to him, but he did not bother to pick it up. He sat up more in his seat and leaned over the edge of the seat in front of him. “You don’t have to, really.”

“It’s fine,” the man replied benevolently, lightly shrugging his shoulders. He kept his head straight, with his gaze fixated on what appeared to be the conductor’s middle, as he fluidly handed the fare over to the conductor, who quickly snatched the bill out of his hand and continued on to the next car.

A silence bred between the two for a small moment, while Gerard listened to the man adjust the backpack and set it back in its previous spot. After this, he promptly reached up and pulled the hood down, revealing a head of chocolate brown hair that was strangely styled, almost appearing to look like a Mohawk that didn’t really stick up at all, but rather stayed flat on his head, draping over the edge of his skull, with the other side of his scalp dyed a bright maroon color.

“You…you didn’t really have to do that,” Gerard stated embarrassingly again, shattering the awkward silence, slightly afraid that the guy thought he would be too poor to pay for something as meager as a commuter train fare.

“It’s fine,” the guy said again. “Seriously, dude, I don’t care.”

Gerard opened his mouth to respond, but promptly closed it once he realized that all he could think of saying was what he had already unsuccessfully said before. Still somewhat embarrassed, he silently bit the side of his lip, unsure of whether or not or how to thank him. But before he could even come up with any good choices, his train of thought was broken the second he heard the man’s voice again.

“So, where you heading?”

Gerard looked at the man, raising an eyebrow, just as he adjusted himself on the seat, sitting up a bit so he could sit up against the window, resting his head on the glass. A pair of headphones that had been loosely clasped around his ears were quickly pulled down and rested on his shoulders, with the wire connecting them trailing down into a Walkman that lay snugly inside the sweatshirt’s pocket.

“Um…Staten…Island,” Gerard responded clumsily, still somewhat self-conscious, despite the man’s nonchalant words. “Gotta drive over to…Brooklyn.”

When Gerard’s eyes finally connected back with the man, he saw that he was smiling.

“Hey, me too,” the man said, grinning, as if this was the happiest moment of his entire life. But even as he did this, Gerard saw that it looked more like he was smiling at the row of seats across the aisle from them, rather than at Gerard, as his head never turned, and he never made eye contact. Gerard expression slowly formed into a combination of confusion and mystification, as he silently wondered what exactly was wrong with the guy. He was attractive, but weird.

“My name’s Frank, by the way,” the man stated suddenly, turning his head slightly in Gerard’s direction, but still keeping his eyes on other things. “Just in case…you wanted to know.”

Gerard gave the man named Frank a small, acknowledging smile, even when he knew it was fake. Perhaps if he didn’t feel as uncomfortable and strange around Frank, he would have give him more than that, but his hopes were not looking high. He was unsure of how exactly he was supposed to react to any of this; was it normal to strike up conversations with complete strangers? Shouldn’t have Frank just paid for the fare and that would be it? No more words said?

“Gerard,” Gerard responded lowly, unable to think of anything else to say. He nodded his head once as he spoke, still uneasy about what he was supposed to do.

“Gerard…” Frank echoed softly. Gerard looked over at Frank, who still faced the same direction, never making eye contact or looking over at him. But once Gerard saw Frank’s face, he noticed immediately as his lips began to slide slowly into a small smile.

“I like that,” Frank said softly, grinning. “Gerard.”

“Yeah…” Gerard said lowly and looked around somewhat uncomfortably, yet, at the same time, feeling strangely flattered. An awful silence grew between the two, but only managed to survive for a short while, before Frank murdered it, once again.

“Hey, you should listen to this, tell me what you think of it.”

Gerard quickly looked over at Frank, confused for a moment about what he was talking about, but then understood fully once he saw Frank taking the headphones off. Tilting his head down and lifting the headphones up over his ears, Frank reached his hand out over the top of the seat to let the headphones dangle in his hand, waiting to be taken a hold of. Gerard didn’t take them, at first, but rather sat there looking oddly at them for a moment, wondering confusedly why Frank was even still talking. But realizing that he probably should have not been rude to the person who did him more than a favor, Gerard hesitantly took the headphones in his hand , and brought one earpiece up to his ear. He felt the wire jerk around, as Frank played around with the Walkman in the next seat, taking it out of his sweatshirt’s pockets and finding the Play button. Gerard listened in closely to the speaker, as bizarre screeching noises started off, sounding like a malfunctioning amplifier or the obnoxious static of an electric guitar having each of its strings ripped off, one by one, with a knife. Gerard’s expression twisted into a look of slight repugnance, just as the scratchy chorus of destroyed electronics ceased and jumped directly into a much cleaner but louder guitar chorus.

“Don’t like it?” Gerard heard Frank’s voice through the wall of screaming guitar-playing, just as the singer’s voice entered into the song. By instinct, he pulled the headphones off and held them hesitantly.

“It sucks, right?” Frank went on. Gerard stayed hesitantly silent for a moment, while he handed the headphones back, which Frank aimlessly grabbed for, took back, and tossed back into his backpack.

“It’s…different,” Gerard answered, hoping that would be convincing enough. Of course, he hated it, but he was sure he would never actually say that.

“Yeah, I don’t like it either,” Frank stated, knowing what Gerard’s words really meant. “I don’t know. My friend wanted me to try them out so I could write a review on them and shit, but it’s just like, how do I write a good review when they suck?”

“A review?” Gerard echoed, sitting up slightly in his seat, curiosity peaking into his voice. “You’re a writer?”

“Their names kinda suck, too,” Frank added, slightly ignoring Gerard’s comment. “God, what is up with music today? I mean, like their names keep getting weirder and weirder.”

Gerard glanced down at his briefcase for a moment, while he fiddled with his thumbs, abstractedly trying to think of something to say to that.

“They’re just names,” Gerard said lowly, shrugging, and half-expecting Frank to pull out a different CD and show him the name of that band as well, but, instead just saw Frank shake his head to argue.

“They are not just names,” Frank disagreed firmly. “I mean…” He paused to sit up in his seat a bit more in his seat and adjust his legs so he sat cross-legged. “They ’re supposed to mean something, you know?”

Gerard simply shrugged silently in response, not bothering to say anything back, knowing he would just be argued into silence.

“Green Day,” Frank suddenly blurted out, sticking up one pointed index finger. “Now, there’s a weird band name.”

“Maybe…” Gerard shrugged again, glancing out the window and occasionally looking over at Frank, watching the two of them together, sway softly with the movement of the train.

“You ever actually think they regret naming themselves that?” Frank questioned. “I mean, it’s just like, they named themselves after pot. And they did that when they were like, still really young, so they’re like, all adults now…I bet they regret naming themselves that.” Frank nodded his head, agreeing with his own words. Gerard merely curled his lips in and glanced out the window again, seeing some of the city in the distance coming closer and closer. He watched some of the skyscrapers and other buildings gradually appear slightly larger as they began to approach them.

“You don’t talk much…do you?” Frank said, after a couple of seconds of absentmindedly drumming his fingers along the top of the seat, still facing the same direction.

Gerard looked over at Frank again and opened his mouth to say something, but slowly shut it and shyly averted his gaze down to his fingers, which were carelessly fiddling with the handle of his briefcase.

“I just…” he started lowly, slowly moving his shoulders into a shrug. “I just…don’t really…know what to say…”

Gerard’s eyes traveled back to Frank, who had pursed his lips to the side and paused his finger movements.

“Well, if you’re so shy,” Frank began, turning his head somewhat, but continuing to never make eye contact. “Then why are you still sitting here? I mean…why don’t you just walk away?”

Gerard turned back to Frank and looked at him oddly, unsure of how to react or what to say.

“I…” Gerard began speaking, hoping something would come up, but he found that he virtually could not think of anything to say at all. “I don’t…I mean…”

He almost expected Frank to cut in and keep the conversation going, but to Gerard’s surprise, Frank stayed patiently quiet while he waited for Gerard’s response to his complicated question.

“I just…I mean, you…You seem…kind, I guess…You seem…sociable…you‘re nice, I guess,” Gerard listened his words as they left his mouth and before he was even done speaking, he felt stupid.

“I’m nice?” Frank suddenly piped up. Gerard jumped a bit at his sudden speech, not prepared for it after his silent spell. “How am I nice?” Gerard listened to the tone of his voice and noticed how it had changed, now sounding somewhat irritated, or at least baffled, as if he were appalled at the fact that he may have actually been a friendly person.

“You…did pay for my fare,” Gerard noted. “I mean…not all a lot of people do that…often, I mean.”

“So?” Frank said, shrugging somewhat and traveling back towards his previous tone of voice.

“Well, it was just…considerate, that’s all,” Gerard told him, shrugging a bit.

“You think I was doing that to be nice?” Frank cut in, quizzically. He turned his head, yet again, revealing the puzzled expression adorning his childlike features.

“Well…” Gerard’s voice ventured out, still muffled in a reclusive state. “Why else would you do it?”

A muted silence bred between them once again, with the only sounds available being the rickety bumping of the train along the tracks, with the silent serenity of the snowfall outside. No voices appeared until Gerard saw Frank’s expression, again, decorated with an odd, gradually growing smile.

“You’re weird,” Frank laughed, sounding almost like a small child giggling.

Gerard was taken back almost immediately. Sitting there on the train, watching Frank laugh at him and call him weird, was much more than what he had expected to see when he had arrived at the station that morning. And for Frank to call him weird; a man who spoke to people he barely knew as if he’d known them for years; was charitable to compete strangers, and walked around dressed like he’d waltzed into his closet blind-folded, with somebody spinning him around like he were about to hit a piñata, telling him to grab at random and wear whatever he’d gotten a hold of, no matter how mismatched or quirky it looked.

“S…sorry…” Gerard said faintly, feeling even more awkward than before, unable to think of anything else to say.

“Why are you apologizing?” Frank inquired, gradually ceasing his laughter. Gerard didn’t answer, but instead looked at Frank and shrugged lowly. Gerard then watched as Frank suddenly whipped around and grabbed his backpack, swinging it over one shoulder and lifting himself up to his feet. For a moment, he thought that he was leaving, but then looked out in the white haze through the glass and saw that, even, when they were close to arriving, they still had time to continuing talking. But rather than leave, Frank took one step towards Gerard and swiftly placed a hand on the back of the seat he’d been located in before, only to glide himself around and abruptly dump himself down into the seat right next to Gerard’s.

“It was a…compliment?” Frank finished, arching an eyebrow and smirking a bit. He turned back to his backpack for a moment, to dig inside and move some things around before his fingers roamed around for the zippers and zipped the bag back up.

Gerard blinked once, with the blank expression still plastered to his face.

“So, you know, I like weird,” Frank went on, resting his backpack on his lap and nodding his head lightly. Gerard kept the blank expression on his face until he noticed out of the corner of his eye, just barely peaking into his peripheral vision, Frank’s hand no longer on his lap, but placed on the bench between them, leisurely, almost unnoticeably, sliding over towards Gerard’s leg, right up until the tip of his little finger connected with Gerard’s jeans and continued to move on from there until his fingers finally found their destination on Gerard’s thigh, softly caressing the material a couple of times, while the rest of Frank’s body managed to slide over as well without Gerard even noticing, as his attention was focused on Frank’s hand that was gradually coasting along the edge of his leg in a more northern direction. Gerard’s stature froze faster than he could ever know, his heart skipping a beat.

“It’s different,” Frank finally finished, his voice much closer to Gerard than it was ever before. But by the time Gerard could even notice that Frank had moved himself closer, Frank’s lips were already too close to Gerard’s ear for comfort, causing Gerard’s blood to cool, his face red with anxiety.

“We’re here.”

Frank’s hand and finger movements ceased the second he heard Gerard’s voice blurt out. And before Gerard could even see what Frank was doing, he snatched his hand away, with a grin still worn on his lips.

Gerard felt a gasp in his throat, at the sudden lack of contact, with the warmth of Frank’s hand disappearing faster than he would ever think.

“Well,” Frank suddenly began, rebirthing his normal, eccentric tone of voice. The second Gerard heard it, he felt himself relax, and simultaneously, feel like something was missing. Like he’d wanted to hear the lustful version of Frank’s voice. Just hear it one more time before they parted ways.

But before Gerard could even think twice about these confused thoughts, he was distracted by the blur of Frank’s head suddenly moving towards him again, coupled with the cold winter-touch of Frank’s fingers upon his skin as he felt his head suddenly turned forcefully by Frank’s pull and end with the sensation of something wet and warm on his lips.

Gerard gasped.

But it had finished itself before anything further could ensue. And Gerard continued to watch wordlessly as Frank quickly pulled away, softly sliding his tongue in between his own lips, tasting Gerard’s flavor. And with a swift movement of his arm, he pulled his backpack off again, to reach inside and take out what appeared to be a white, folded-up stick. But with a single jerk, the white rod collapsed into a single, narrow apparatus, which Frank quickly grabbed a hold of, touching the other end of it to the floor, just as the train began to jerk more pervasively as it slowly braked to a stop.

“I’ll catch you later…Gerard.” Frank grinned widely once again, feeling the name pass his lips in an amusing fashion. Gerard opened his mouth to say something, but figured out quickly that he was too appalled to really speak articulately. Sitting there in silent shock, he touched two fingers to his lips, almost thinking that he could taste Frank on there as well. He looked up, expecting to see Frank still standing there, stilll grinning, but a bolt of disappointment suddenly vibrated through his stoicism as he only saw empty space replacing the vicinity where Frank once stood, with the light tapping sound of Frank’s white cane sliding across the floor of the train until he exited the car, leaving Gerard there in a sea of wonder.

He speculated in astonishment and amazement, still sitting on the motionless train, why exactly Frank had acted like he did. Barely even a stranger, but somebody whom appeared to come out of nowhere. Did he really like Gerard all that much? Did he like the way he looked? His thoughts raced through his head, leaving him with no answers and more things unknown than things known. And as he finally stepped out of the station and entered into the streets of the city, he could only think of his embarrassing admission; secretly hoping to see him again, even if Frank would never see him.