Kill This Party With Me
01/02
He walked into the overly crowded kitchen with an air of confidence about himself. Loud rap music blasted from the stereo two rooms over and half drunk college kids slowly meandered around the room not wanting to move faster risking their balance. This typically wasn’t Frank’s scene, but he figured he could make an exception just this once.
He had been waiting months upon end for the perfect moment to arise and he just knew it would be here, tonight.
Picking up a plastic cup off the counter, Frank maneuvered himself through the throng of people just standing idly and made it to the opposite counter where the keg sat and filled up his glass. Turning around and taking a sip of the bitter liquid he left the room in search of the party host.
“Alright!” Frank said to himself, mood lightening even more when he heard that someone had taken over the sound system and thrown off the club-dance music and put on Black Flag.
Moving into the living room, part of the crowd dissipated from the change of soundtrack in disappointment but the remaining part had broken out into a clumsy drunken miniature mosh pit. Frank smiled at the sight and even considered putting down his drink and joining them, but a loud familiar voice distracted him.
“It’s my fucking party, if you don’t like the music, you can fucking leave!”
Frank would know that voice anywhere.
He scaled his way around the crowd and made his way to the far end of the room opposite the kitchen and paused halfway.
A short figure with brightly dyed red hair shoved a much taller guy down to the floor and yelled over the music, “And don’t touch my stereo again!”
Frank laughed to himself, taking another sip of his beer and continued on his path wondering how many more moments it would be until he was noticed.
Not many.
The red-headed figure glanced up and nearly did a double take, excitement evident on his face as he stepped away from the stereo, “Frankie!” He pulled Frank into a tight hug and then held him out at arm’s length by the shoulders, examining him. Frank was likewise doing the very same, soaking in every inch of the other man’s appearance as if he wouldn’t be able to do so again for a very long time. He wanted to remember the black skinny jeans, the ratty red high-tops that matched the man’s hair, the way his grey shirt hung loosely on his thin frame – everything.
“Glad you wore something nice for the occasion,” the red head stated sarcastically, smirking, referring to Frank’s worn out Misfits tee and holey jeans.
“I do what I can,” Frank spoke over the still loud music.
“Glad you could make it,” the other man said, slapping Frank’s shoulder and winking.
“Glad I could come, Gerard. You wanna go outside or something?” Frank motioned to the front door.
“Sure,” Frank lightly grabbed hold of Gerard’s hand and led them through the crowd to the front door.
It was currently around 11 P.M. and the party was in full swing on the inside of the house. Practically everyone that was going to be there had already arrived and anyone that needed to go outside to smoke would go around to the backyard. So, when Frank opened the front door with Gerard right behind him, stepped onto the front porch and closed it, he was happy to find that they were completely alone. It was dark outside but the flickering yellow streetlights and pale moon lit up the night well enough for the two to see.
Frank sat down on the step placing his beer on the ground beside him as Gerard followed, splaying his converse-clad feet in front of himself.
Gerard thoughtfully gazed up at the night sky embracing the depth of it all and enjoying the almost complete silence that came from just walking outside.
Even thought parties stressed him out (and left messes that he would be cleaning for many days to follow) he enjoyed them. He enjoyed watching other people have fun. In the end, all of the stress and mess was worth it - especially if a certain guest arrived.
Gerard had been throwing parties for years with at least one party every other month, and he would always invite a certain short, black haired boy who always gave the same answer.
*
Two years younger, two years shorter and most definitely shyer, Gerard Way stands by his Junior locker trying to boost his own self confidence.
“You can do this; it’s just an invite, right?”
Truth was, it wasn’t just an invitation. Well, literally it was, but Gerard was hoping, just a little bit, that if who he was inviting actually came to his party, a whole chain of events would unfold.
With one final “you can do this” Gerard shuts his locker, straightens his jacket, and walks down the hallway, stopping and propping himself up against a locker, his face behind an open door. When the owner shuts the green-tinted contraption, he sees Gerard and smirks just the slightest bit.
“I’m having a party tonight,” Gerard pulls a slip of paper out of his jacket pocket, “if you’re not doing anything you should come.” He attempts to make a charming smile, but gives up and bites his bottom lip instead. How easily that boy can make him falter…
Frank takes the piece of paper and glances at it long enough to see there is an address printed on it and stuffs it in his jeans pocket, “Maybe,” he smirks, then turns and walks away.
*
“So, this is what your famous parties are like, huh?” Frank nudged Gerard out of his trance, “You shoving some jocks to the floor because they want club music and you want some intense rock?”
Gerard chuckled, slightly embarrassed, “Yeah… not always, but it happens.” He smirked.
“Badass,” Frank sipped his beer, “makes me wish I would have come the first time.”
“What made you want to come now after two years of being invited?” Gerard looked over at the other curiously.
He had been waiting months upon end for the perfect moment to arise and he just knew it would be here, tonight.
Picking up a plastic cup off the counter, Frank maneuvered himself through the throng of people just standing idly and made it to the opposite counter where the keg sat and filled up his glass. Turning around and taking a sip of the bitter liquid he left the room in search of the party host.
“Alright!” Frank said to himself, mood lightening even more when he heard that someone had taken over the sound system and thrown off the club-dance music and put on Black Flag.
Moving into the living room, part of the crowd dissipated from the change of soundtrack in disappointment but the remaining part had broken out into a clumsy drunken miniature mosh pit. Frank smiled at the sight and even considered putting down his drink and joining them, but a loud familiar voice distracted him.
“It’s my fucking party, if you don’t like the music, you can fucking leave!”
Frank would know that voice anywhere.
He scaled his way around the crowd and made his way to the far end of the room opposite the kitchen and paused halfway.
A short figure with brightly dyed red hair shoved a much taller guy down to the floor and yelled over the music, “And don’t touch my stereo again!”
Frank laughed to himself, taking another sip of his beer and continued on his path wondering how many more moments it would be until he was noticed.
Not many.
The red-headed figure glanced up and nearly did a double take, excitement evident on his face as he stepped away from the stereo, “Frankie!” He pulled Frank into a tight hug and then held him out at arm’s length by the shoulders, examining him. Frank was likewise doing the very same, soaking in every inch of the other man’s appearance as if he wouldn’t be able to do so again for a very long time. He wanted to remember the black skinny jeans, the ratty red high-tops that matched the man’s hair, the way his grey shirt hung loosely on his thin frame – everything.
“Glad you wore something nice for the occasion,” the red head stated sarcastically, smirking, referring to Frank’s worn out Misfits tee and holey jeans.
“I do what I can,” Frank spoke over the still loud music.
“Glad you could make it,” the other man said, slapping Frank’s shoulder and winking.
“Glad I could come, Gerard. You wanna go outside or something?” Frank motioned to the front door.
“Sure,” Frank lightly grabbed hold of Gerard’s hand and led them through the crowd to the front door.
It was currently around 11 P.M. and the party was in full swing on the inside of the house. Practically everyone that was going to be there had already arrived and anyone that needed to go outside to smoke would go around to the backyard. So, when Frank opened the front door with Gerard right behind him, stepped onto the front porch and closed it, he was happy to find that they were completely alone. It was dark outside but the flickering yellow streetlights and pale moon lit up the night well enough for the two to see.
Frank sat down on the step placing his beer on the ground beside him as Gerard followed, splaying his converse-clad feet in front of himself.
Gerard thoughtfully gazed up at the night sky embracing the depth of it all and enjoying the almost complete silence that came from just walking outside.
Even thought parties stressed him out (and left messes that he would be cleaning for many days to follow) he enjoyed them. He enjoyed watching other people have fun. In the end, all of the stress and mess was worth it - especially if a certain guest arrived.
Gerard had been throwing parties for years with at least one party every other month, and he would always invite a certain short, black haired boy who always gave the same answer.
*
Two years younger, two years shorter and most definitely shyer, Gerard Way stands by his Junior locker trying to boost his own self confidence.
“You can do this; it’s just an invite, right?”
Truth was, it wasn’t just an invitation. Well, literally it was, but Gerard was hoping, just a little bit, that if who he was inviting actually came to his party, a whole chain of events would unfold.
With one final “you can do this” Gerard shuts his locker, straightens his jacket, and walks down the hallway, stopping and propping himself up against a locker, his face behind an open door. When the owner shuts the green-tinted contraption, he sees Gerard and smirks just the slightest bit.
“I’m having a party tonight,” Gerard pulls a slip of paper out of his jacket pocket, “if you’re not doing anything you should come.” He attempts to make a charming smile, but gives up and bites his bottom lip instead. How easily that boy can make him falter…
Frank takes the piece of paper and glances at it long enough to see there is an address printed on it and stuffs it in his jeans pocket, “Maybe,” he smirks, then turns and walks away.
*
“So, this is what your famous parties are like, huh?” Frank nudged Gerard out of his trance, “You shoving some jocks to the floor because they want club music and you want some intense rock?”
Gerard chuckled, slightly embarrassed, “Yeah… not always, but it happens.” He smirked.
“Badass,” Frank sipped his beer, “makes me wish I would have come the first time.”
“What made you want to come now after two years of being invited?” Gerard looked over at the other curiously.