Please, come again

“Mac and cheese,” Mikey says, as if it’s the only possible answer. The only thing he would eat for the rest of his life if he had to choose.

“You always want mac and cheese. I don’t even know why I asked,” Gerard mumbles to himself as he enters the store.

It’s usually not Gerard who buys food. Not for Mikey anyway. But their parents are out of town, visiting a sick relative they never even met and whose name Gerard didn’t catch. Maybe they’re just trying to see if their sons are capable of surviving for a few days without burning down the house, or something even worse.

Gerard promised their mom he wouldn’t let Mikey starve to death. He is already thin as a toothpick as it is, and he would probably become invisible to the naked eye if he lost any weight.

“Fine. Get whatever you want,” Mikey says, defeated. “It better have cheese in it though,” he adds, and Gerard doesn’t want to argue with him. He’ll get the damn macaroni and cheese, just to avoid having to spend the entire evening hearing his brother mumble in a corner and threatening to tell their mom Gerard isn’t feeding him well.

He’s had a long day at work already, selling arts and crafts supplies to students and people who think they are the next Picasso. His work clothes probably smell like an old gym locker, and his fingers are stained with graphite and multicolored ink. He’s not really looking his best, he’s tired, and the only thing he wants is to get out of the store as soon as he can and sit on the couch with Mikey to watch something stupid on tv.

“I’m hanging up now,” Gerard says as he enters the maze of aisles. He’s probably in the wrong one. His plan to be in and out of the store in less than five minutes is doomed from the start.

“Cheese!” Mikey squeals on the other end of the line, and Gerard hangs up.

He drops his phone into his coat pocket and starts browsing the shelves. No food here, just cleaning products and diapers. If only he knew the store better, he wouldn’t be wasting any time.

He moves to another aisle and there’s a horizon of toilet paper. Toilet paper as far as the eye can see. Gerard skips the next two aisles because he’s pretty sure they’re going to be all about toothpaste and tampons.

The next aisle is populated by canned foods and pasta. Maybe he’s in the right one this time around. The aisle is a bit more crowded that Gerard would have liked, but he doesn’t really have a choice.

As Gerard browses the shelves around him, an elderly woman hits him in the knees with her cart and doesn’t even apologize.

That’s exactly why Gerard hates grocery shopping. He hates the rude customers who don’t really care if they run you over with their carts. He hates the fact that everyone seems to pick the same time to go shopping. Gerard hates large crowds and the feeling of entrapment. The aisles are too narrow for his taste here.

The elderly woman must be blind as a bat, because she hits someone else’s cart before stopping in front of a colorful shelf. She frowns and leans so close that her nose almost knocks down an entire row of mashed potatoes.

Obviously, what Gerard is looking for isn’t in this aisle. Maybe they don’t even sell macaroni and cheese here. Maybe there’s a national boycott on macaroni he didn’t hear about.

Gerard feels lost, and the fact that the crowd is getting thicker and thicker as he moves through the store isn’t helping making him feel any better. He counts to ten, takes a deep breath and moves to the next aisle.

Gerard doesn’t really look where he’s going anymore. He’s just trying to make it out of the store alive with his macaroni and cheese. Hopefully, he can do this without having a panic attack.

He’s taking another deep breath as he looks up at the highest shelves. No macaroni, but some baked beans. He’s getting there. That’s when he bumps into someone who is sitting on the floor.

Most people don’t sit on the floor. Not in a grocery store at rush hour. It’s the best way to get trampled.

“Sorry,” Gerard says quickly as he backs away from the tiny man.

The man on the floor is sitting cross-legged and is restocking and putting price tags on tin cans of sardines. He barely looks up and just waves.

“’T’s alright.”

The man keeps working on his sardines like nothing happened. Maybe Gerard wasn’t the first person to bump into him. Maybe the poor guy is too tired to protest or even look up.

“Excuse me,” Gerard tries, shuffling his feet and feeling like a complete idiot.

If Gerard wants to get out of the store faster, he needs help. The guy probably knows where everything is. Still, Gerard isn’t the type to ask for directions when he’s lost. He feels like he’s bothering people and he hates that. He also hates looking like a tourist or in this case, like the idiot who never goes grocery shopping and lets his mom do all the work.

“Yeah?” the man asks before finally looking up.

He looks young. The nametag on his ugly navy blue and yellow work shirt says Frank.

Gerard tries to look him in the eye when he speaks again but somehow, he can’t. He ends up looking down around his crotch area and feeling like a pervert.

“Hi. Hmm. I was looking for something, and I'm a fucking idiot who can't find his way around a grocery store,” Gerard says.

He regrets it almost instantly. He should always think about what he’s going to say before he says it. It’s like a curse or a disease. He has Verbal diarrhea and there’s no cure, as far as he knows. He’s tried biting his tongue or digging his fingernails into his arms but the results are painful, only temporary, and he ends up looking like a freak.

Frank, the hot PriceCo employee, giggles and gets up. Maybe he’s mocking Gerard and his awkwardness at human interactions.

Gerard looks up at him and their eyes meet. He feels himself blush and tries to refrain from running away.

Frank is short and a little skinny. His jeans look like they could easily drop to his ankles if he didn’t have a belt on. He is pretty, not handsome, because there’s just something a little feminine about his features.

“What are you looking for?” Frank asks, playing with his hair, twirling his fingers in his long black locks before tucking them behind his ears.

“Mac and cheese?” Gerard answers but it ends up sounding more like a question.

“You sure?” Frank asks with a smirk.

“Yeah.”

Gerard is pretty sure Frank is mocking him now. How could he not be? Gerard is standing in the middle of the store, tugging on the sleeves of his coat and shuffling his feet, fidgeting like a five-year-old who needs to use the bathroom but doesn’t have the courage to raise his hand and ask the teacher.

“You’re like,” Frank says, waving his hands around, overly dramatic. “Miles away from it,” he adds, before taking a few steps down the aisle and grabbing a small rectangular box on the shelf.

Gerard can’t help but stare at the way Frank’s shirt pulls up and uncovers a patch of pale skin. His stomach is covered in ink, but Gerard can’t make out the words from where he’s standing. Besides, he’s too busy trying not to imagine the young man naked to try and decipher the words etched on his skin. There’s also a drawing of some kind of bird just above the young man’s hip.

Frank comes back with a box in his hands and Gerard’s imagination starts wandering. Maybe Frank rides a motorbike with his gang of short and pretty tattooed friends. Maybe he just got out of jail and that’s where he got the tattoo. Maybe it says ‘Mom’ or ‘Kelly and Frank 4ever’. Or maybe Gerard should just stop staring at Frank, because he’s sure the young employee doesn’t really appreciate being ogled by a pervert with a fertile imagination

“See? You were so close,” Frank says as he hands the box of macaroni and cheese to Gerard, bringing him back to reality.

“Thanks,” Gerard says as he looks down at the box in his hands.

It’s probably not the cheapest brand but he doesn’t really care. Macaroni is macaroni.

“No problem,” Frank says, and he’s back sitting cross-legged on the tiled floor, mechanically shelving his cans of sardines.

Gerard stands there for a few more seconds, not sure what he is supposed to do next. Then he remembers Mikey is waiting for him at home, probably starving and cursing his name.

Gerard wanders the aisles for a few more minutes, not really looking for anything in particular.

The crowd seems to be lesser and Gerard navigates through the shopping carts to the sound of the ‘elevator music’ coming from the tiny speakers all around the store. Gerard wonders how Frank, or any other employee of PriceCo for that matter, manages not to go completely insane after a day locked up in a place that plays that kind of music.

Frank doesn’t look like the type to enjoy Easy Listening. He’s probably more into Electro or Punk Rock. Maybe Gerard could use this subject to strike up a conversation with Frank.

After a while, Gerard realizes he’s been moving around the store in a circle, coming back to the aisle where Frank was working a few minutes ago.

Frank isn’t there anymore, though. Gerard takes it as a sign he should be making his way to the checkout counter and leaving the store before he embarrasses himself even more.

Gerard clings to the box of macaroni and cheese as if it were precious, dodging a man who is rushing through the store and obviously too busy reading his shopping list to notice the people around him.

The lines at the registers are too long. Gerard considers dropping the precious item he’s holding so tightly on the floor, and leaving the store empty-handed. He and Mikey would have to survive on pickles and mustard for the rest of the day.

He browses the lines, trying to find the shortest one, one where the cashier is fast or where the customers have only a few items in their carts.

Gerard decides to stand in line behind a woman pushing a child in her cart. The kid stares at Gerard as if he’s some kind of monster from outer space. It’s probably because of the ink stains on his shirt ,or the way his greasy hair fall like a curtain over his eyes every time he looks down.

Gerard is starting to feel like the line is never going to move when he sees Frank from the corner of his eye. The young man is sitting down at another register, yawing and stretching his arms high above his head. He looks around and catches Gerard looking at him.

Gerard wants to look away but Frank smiles at him and signals him to come over to his register.

Gerard gratefully walks away from the child and his soul-piercing eyes.

“Found everything you needed?” Frank asks as Gerard puts the box of macaroni on the conveyor.

“Yeah. Thank you,” Gerard replies as he fumbles to find some change in his pockets.

“Dinner for two?” Frank asks, and Gerard wonders why the young man is so curious about Gerard’s dinner plans. Maybe it’s part of his job. He could be talking about the weather instead.

“Huh, yeah,” Gerard replies, and the smile on Frank’s face vanishes.

“My brother is the other person,” Gerard explains, quickly. “We can’t cook.”

He doesn’t even know why he felt like he needed to clarify things. It’s not like Frank is interested in his pathetic life. He’s just being polite; that’s all there is to it.

“Cool,” Frank says with a grin. He’s almost beaming at that point, and Gerard sees how beautiful his face really is.

Gerard feels his cheeks turning bright red and he can’t cover it up.

“Cash or credit?” Frank asks as he puts the lonely box of macaroni and cheese in a brown paper bag.

Gerard grabs the bag and spills out some coins and a crumpled five-dollar bill into Frank’s hand.

Frank gives Gerard another smile and spends a few seconds trying to make the crumpled note look like money again by rubbing it on the counter with the palm of his hand, his tongue sticking out and a look of concentration on his face.

Gerard is staring at Frank’s agile fingers when he feels something pushing against his hip. When he turns around, there’s an elderly woman giving him a reproachful look. She stares at Frank too, shrugging as she puts her items on the conveyor. She probably thinks they’re talking too much, or maybe she thinks Frank should count the money faster.

Frank takes a quick glance at her and smiles politely.

Smiling when customers are being annoying is probably just another part of Frank’s job description, and Gerard shouldn’t feel special.

Gerard tugs on his sleeves, the paper bag stuck under his armpit.

Frank counts the coins carefully and maybe a little too slowly. Maybe he’s new or he’s just not that good when it comes to counting things. He probably prefers stocking the shelves, where he doesn’t have to smile or count or be polite.

When Frank looks up at Gerard, he grins and hands Gerard his receipt.

“Thank you for shopping at PriceCo. Have a nice day and please, come again,” Frank almost chants. He probably has to say the same thing thousands of times a day.

Gerard takes the receipt and his fingers brush up against Frank’s hand. It’s cold but smooth. Gerard shoves the receipt in the bag and rushes towards the exit, turning around to have one last glance at Frank.

Even though he’s busy scanning items and putting them in bags, Frank takes just a few seconds to look up at Gerard.

Gerard promises himself he’ll come back tomorrow.

*

The next day, Gerard doesn’t even call Mikey to ask him what he wants for dinner. He gets off work a little early, giving Brian, his boss, a quick excuse that sounds oddly convincing.

“I need to run an errand for my brother. He’s sick.”

Gerard hates lying. Especially to Brian. He’s never been a good liar, but Brian lets him go, no questions asked.

When Gerard steps inside PriceCo, he starts browsing the aisles even though this time he knows exactly what he wants and where to find it.

Frank isn’t anywhere in sight, though. There’s only one employee stocking the shelves, and it’s a tall blond man with beard. Gerard doesn’t really feel like asking him if Frank’s working today. He would feel even more like a stalker than he already does.

Gerard grabs the familiar box of mac and cheese and makes his way to the register.

It looks like Frank is working after all.

The line in front of Frank’s register is ridiculously long but Gerard doesn’t even care. He could go to the quick self check out or even to one of the ten-items-or-less registers but that would mean missing an occasion to talk to Frank.

So, Gerard fidgets and waits, reading the ingredients and the nutritional values on the back of the box he’s holding, shooting quick glances over the shoulders of the people standing in front of him.

Frank looks tired but his smile is still there. He’s even slower than usual, scanning the items carefully and chatting with the customers like there is no rush.

The line doesn’t move fast enough and Gerard wants to push everyone out of his way.

When the line is mostly made up of Gerard, and a very large man and his wife with a cartful of dog food, Frank looks up, his polite and professional smile turning into a joyful grin. He doesn’t even look that tired anymore. He looks like he’s rushing to get to Gerard faster, leaning across his register to scan the large bags of dog food and giving Gerard quick glances.

Gerard grins at his box of macaroni like an idiot because he knows Frank probably wants to talk to him. Maybe they were really flirting the last time Gerard was there.

Gerard finally puts the box on the conveyor and Frank looks up at him, frowning.

“Not a very healthy diet you guys have,” he says, ignoring his customers as the cash register spits out the receipt.

Gerard gives him a timid smile, not really sure what he’s supposed to say.

“There are these wonderful little things called vegetables,” Frank starts, ripping out the receipt and pushing it aside. The customers in front of Gerard don’t even get a good bye. Frank doesn’t tell them to come again. “I heard they’re very tasty and there are lots of different ones, with different colors and shapes so you don’t have to eat the same shit every day of the week,” Frank says, looking at Gerard with his big hazel eyes.

“Aren’t macaroni some kind of vegetable anyway?” Gerard asks, playing along.

Frank just shakes his head, looking a bit disappointed.

“Nuh huh. Who told you that?” Frank asks, shoving Gerard’s purchase unceremoniously into a paper bag.

“My brother lives off this crap. He thinks vegetables are overrated,” Gerard replies, dragging his feet, his shoes squeaking on the sticky tiled floor, and digging some change from the mess in his pockets.

“Besides, we can’t cook, so we’ll eat anything that only requires us to press a button,” Gerard adds, dropping a handful of rusty coins – his mother probably washed his pants with the coins still inside – an old and crumpled receipt from a comic book store, and an even more crumpled five-dollar note that’s torn and taped back together.

Frank looks at Gerard’s bounty and pushes the coins and the receipt back to him after having a good long look at them. Maybe he’s into comic books, or maybe he’s just the curious type. Then he picks up the note and glares at it, doubtful.

Gerard expects Frank to lose patience and ask him what he did to the poor money, but Frank just starts smoothing it with the palm of his hand.

“You know what I do when I want to eat good food?” Frank asks, rubbing the note on his thigh. Gerard stares down and wants to touch everything he sees.

“I go to my mom’s. She always makes the stuff I like and all I have to do is give her a kiss,” Frank says, looking up at Gerard and grinning.

“Yeah, that wouldn’t work with our mom. She’s not really that great of a cook.”

Gerard picks up the rusty coins and the old receipt and tries to shove them back into his jeans pocket. A few coins end up on the floor and Gerard panics.

“You need to meet my mom, then. You’ll never want to leave again,” Frank says with a wink.

This is the kind of thing that only happens to Gerard. He’s clumsy at the worst moments possible. He kneels down and picks up the coins before looking up at Frank.

“Sorry,” he says, blushing when he sees Frank staring down at him.

Frank smiles.

“Hey, there’s nothing to be sorry about. There’s no line behind you. So chill,’ Frank says, beaming. “You were my last customer of the day.”

“Oh, ok. It’s just that I’m kind of clumsy,” Gerard says, getting up and successfully shoving the few stray coins back where they belong.

“Don’t worry, ok? Nobody died or anything,” Frank says. “Thank you for shopping at PriceCo. Have a nice day and please, come again,” he chants, monotonous.

Gerard grabs his bag and starts walking away.

“Oh and you better come again, dude. I mean it,” Frank calls from behind. Gerard turns to have one last look at him and Frank is giving him a serious look.

Gerard better come again.

*

When Gerard gets home, Mikey gives him a reproachful look. Almost as if he’s holding Gerard responsible for everything that’s wrong with the world. Gerard didn’t club baby seals. He was only flirting. Nothing that deserved capital punishment.

“I almost died here. What took you so long?” Mikey asks, yanking on the bag Gerard is holding.

Gerard lets go of the paper bag and Mikey almost shreds it to pieces in his haste.

“Long lines at the checkout.”

Mikey doesn’t seem very interested in anything else other than his stomach, and leaves Gerard alone for the rest of the night.

They eat in silence in front of a game show, and Gerard can’t wait to be at PriceCo again. When there’s a commercial for PriceCo on TV, Gerard sees it as a sign he needs to go forward with his flirting, not that he really knows what that means.

*

Gerard calls Mikey from work just to ask him if he wants his usual macaroni and cheese for dinner.

“I’m eating out tonight.”

“Oh,” Gerard says, a little taken aback. “Where?” he asks, trying not to sound like he’s spying on his every move.

He’s not Mikey’s father, and Mikey doesn’t really have to keep him updated of his whereabouts. They are both adults after all. They might be failing at it, but they are what society sees as grownups. Still, Gerard wants to know, because he’s trying to figure out if Mikey’s plans are going to wreck his.

“Alicia’s.”

Gerard needs to see Frank. Maybe he could buy a mountain of vegetables this time. Just so Frank can see how he’s been listening. Just so Frank can see Gerard is trying.

He could spend all of his paycheck on things he doesn’t need and fill up a whole cart. He could spend more time with Frank that way.

When Gerard steps into PriceCo that night, he starts picking items at random. He picks up some shaving cream, and a coconut-scented shower gel. He barely uses the one he has at home to begin with, coconut-scented or not.

He picks up some liquid soap to wash dishes, when his mother owns a perfectly functional dishwasher. He picks up cans and cans of beans and pasta, and pretty much everything he can stuff in his already overloaded cart.

He covers as much ground as possible, hoping he might run into Frank, and picks up vegetables of all sizes and colors. He doesn’t even know how to cook broccoli, and he’s not even sure he likes it, but he picks up some. He picks up artichokes and celery and puts them on top of his cart before making his way to the checkout, pushing painstakingly and trying not to bump into the shelves around him.

Then Gerard searches for Frank for a few seconds, and ends up finding him a few feet away, sitting behind his checkout counter. There is no waiting line.

Gerard pushes his cart and grimaces. He never knew shopping could be this painful. He wonders how other people do it.

Gerard freezes in front of Frank’s register when he sees the sign ’10 items or less’. This is probably the worst prank the universe is pulling on him.

Gerard pushes his cart back against a shelf and starts picking a few items, randomly selecting from the top of the mountain. He counts carefully until he reaches 10 items.

When he looks up, Frank is smiling at him.

Gerard abandons his cart and walks towards Frank, his arms full of items. He drops them all in front of Frank and clears his throat, dying of embarrassment.

“I though you were gonna buy your usual mac and cheese tonight,” Frank says, finishing up with the customer in front of Gerard.

“Yeah. I wanted to try out those wonderful things you call vegetables,” Gerard says, his lopsided mouth cracking a smile.

“You’re having a party tonight?” Frank asks, scanning the bag of broccoli Gerard already regrets buying.

“No. I’m eating alone tonight,” Gerard replies, staring down at the artichokes and wondering if he could just pop them in the microwave to cook them.

“You’re not a hopeless case after all then,” Frank says, scanning the items at snail pace. “Why are you buying food for ten people then?” he asks.

Gerard blushes once again and feels stupid.

“Stocking?” Gerard isn’t really sure his answer is believable at all, but it sounds better than telling Frank he bought food for ten people just so he can flirt with him.

“So, I guess you’re not gonna come again tomorrow,” Frank says, looking disappointed, his pace slowing down. Gerard doubts Frank could go any slower.

Gerard is pretty sure Frank is going to get fired if he keeps ignoring customers, chatting and flirting with some of them instead of just doing his job.

Gerard would hate to be responsible for Frank’s sacking.

“I-er, I’ll probably come back,” Gerard says, staring down at his shoes.

“Yeah?” Frank asks. “You could always stock up on another food group,” Frank adds, scanning the last item, a ridiculously small and overpriced cucumber and putting it in a large paper bag.

“$26.96, please,” Frank says, and Gerard searches his coat pocket.

He made sure he took enough money to buy half the store, and the bills are neatly folded.

Frank smiles as he takes the smooth bills from Gerard’s hand.

“Thanks,” he says as he counts the change, very slowly, shooting quick glances at Gerard over his register. “1, 2, 3, 4 cents and 3 dollars. There you go,” Frank says, putting the change directly into Gerard’s hand, his knuckles touching Gerard’s sweaty palm.

Frank rips the receipt and shoves it in one of the paper bags.

“Thank you for shopping at PriceCo. Have a nice day and please, come again.” This time, Frank’s voice isn’t monotonous. He insists just a little bit on the ‘please’ and the ‘come again’.

“I will,” Gerard replies and fumbles with the bags. He manages to drop one before he even makes it out of the store.

“Hey, sir!” Frank’s voice calls, and Gerard kicks his bag of tomatoes, squashing some in the process as he turns to look at Frank.

Frank is waving at him with a piece of paper in his hand.

Gerard picks up his tomatoes and walks back to Frank as fast as he can, his face flushing.

“You forgot your receipt,” Frank says, handing the piece of paper to him.

Gerard puts it in one of the bags and struggles to take control of his shopping bags.

“Thanks.”

A line of customers is staring at them. A few of them look like they are ready to murder Frank, and Gerard wishes he could just save him and take him home with him. He probably knows more about the cooking of artichokes than he does anyway. Frank could be very useful, and he wouldn’t have to be polite or fast or anything he doesn’t want to be.

“Good night,” Frank says as he turns to his other customers and starts scanning items, slowly and mechanically.

Frank might really need saving after all.

*

Gerard is glad his brother isn’t at home that night. Gerard fumbles awkwardly with his purchases, drops a couple of tomatoes, picks them up again, tries not to throw them against the wall out of frustration, and shoves everything he bought in the no man’s land that is the Ways’ fridge.

Besides an empty jar of barbecue sauce and two large pickles floating in a sea of smelly vinegar, the fridge doesn’t hold anything Gerard can eat. He would give his left kidney for a bag of flaming hot Cheetos and some peanut butter cups.

Maybe Gerard could eat a carrot, but he’s not sure they’re very good raw and dirty as they are right now. He could munch on a stick of celery if only he wasn’t too lazy to actually cut the celery into sticks. It just looks like too much hassle for nothing.

Gerard sighs and closes the fridge door, walking back to the kitchen counter. There’s not one, but two, receipts lying in the middle of the brown paper bags. Maybe Frank made a mistake. He doesn’t really seem to be the employee of the month type. Not that Gerard cares about that. It makes Frank even more endearing to him.

Maybe Gerard picked up someone else’s receipt by accident. He wasn't really focused on anything but Frank and his fingers when they were counting the money, or his smile when he said goodbye to him.

Gerard shrugs. This isn’t really important after all. Just an extra piece of paper. Gerard examines the receipts quickly, just out of curiosity. He’s pretty positive he didn’t buy diapers and baby food.

Gerard crumples both receipts and tries to throw them in the trash can. He ends up scoring once but misses the trash can on his second attempt.

He sighs on his way to picking up the stray crumpled ball of paper. He is about to drop it in the trashcan when he notices there is something written on the receipt. It’s not legible but Gerard thinks he sees what looks like the number 9 or maybe it could be a 6, written in black, maybe with a sharpie.

Gerard puts the ball back on the kitchen counter and unfolds it carefully. He smoothes it out with the palm of his hand, trying not to tear the paper into pieces.

He frowns. It looks like a phone number. He wonders how someone’s phone number ended up on a PriceCo receipt and then, the information finally makes its way to his brain.

It might be Frank’s number. He’s not sure when Frank found the time to jot down his phone number, but it’s the only explanation Gerard wants to consider.

Gerard clings to the tiny piece of paper as he makes his way to the fridge. He looks at the number and rubs his thumb on the receipt, a tiny voice in his head whispering him that he should be trying to call Frank. The voice sounds oddly like Mikey.

Gerard takes the jar of pickles with him and settles on the couch. He puts what is potentially Frank’s phone number on the coffee table and shoves the jar of pickles between his thighs.

The number could be something else. It could be a reference number for something they sell at the store, maybe jars of pickles or macaroni and cheese. It could be something a random customer wrote down in a hurry on an old receipt and forgot to pick up.

So, Gerard ends up spending the night by himself, not really watching anything on TV, feasting on the last two pickles in the jar, staring at the receipt and making up stories about it. He even manages to convince himself that the number isn’t Frank’s.

When Mikey comes back from his date with Alicia, he looks down at Gerard. Maybe Gerard looks pathetic or sad because Mikey drops a bag of leftovers on his lap and they almost drown in the vinegar. Gerard opens the bag and it’s full of French fries. They are cold and a little too salty for his taste, but Gerard doesn’t have much choice in the matter.

“I couldn’t let my big brother starve,” Mikey says, crashing on the couch next to Gerard and channel surfing for about ten minutes before settling on a documentary on baboons on the Discovery Channel.

He doesn’t even ask about the receipt. He probably doesn’t care anyway.

Gerard shoves the fries into his mouth and barely chews. He puts the receipt in the pocket of his jeans and makes sure he doesn’t forget to ask Frank about it the next time he sees him.

*

Their parents come back from their trip to Florida earlier than expected. They’re in the kitchen when Gerard comes out of his basement the next morning, his stomach growling and asking for something more wholesome than French fries for breakfast.

Their mother seems highly impressed by the amount of food in their fridge. She congratulates Gerard on buying something healthier than cheeseburgers and macaroni and cheese.

Mikey frowns and looks at the contents of the fridge, poking at the cucumber and the broccoli as if they are weird creatures from outer space, or maybe the product of a failed experiment.

“Mac and cheese is healthy, mom,” Mikey says as he elbows Gerard in the ribs on his way out of the kitchen.

“I thought we could use vegetables,” Gerard explains, looking at his bare feet, feeling a little selfish and guilty at the same time.

Their mother smiles and pats Gerard on the back.

“I now relieve you from your shopping duties,” she says, and Gerard wishes she hadn’t.

*

Even if he doesn’t have anything to buy, Gerard decides to go to PriceCo twice during the day. He finds some time during his lunch break just to see if Frank works this shift. Gerard browses the aisles and the registers but Frank is nowhere in sight. Gerard buys a bag of Cheetos so he has something in his stomach until his next meal and rushes back to work.

He wants to stare at the receipt some more but realizes he’s wearing a clean pair of jeans. There isn’t even a coin or some gum. Gerard thinks he would sound like a crazy person if he called his mom and told her not to wash his clothes today. She’s not really a neat freak and probably won’t get to Gerard’s filthy jeans for another month anyway.

When Gerard walks into PriceCo for the second time that day, he doesn’t know what he’s going to buy. Frank is probably at one of the registers and Gerard should make sure it’s not a 10 items or less one like last time before buying everything in sight.

Frank isn’t there. He isn’t giving customers his usual greetings and his polite smile. He isn’t stocking sardines or anything else. He doesn’t seem to be working at all that night. Maybe it’s his day off.

Gerard wants to ask one of the employees but maybe he shouldn’t. He would only end up sounding like a stalker. Frank isn’t his boyfriend or anything. He’s just an employee who he flirted with, casually and without any strings attached.

Gerard decides to come back tomorrow. He’s willing to get up early on his only day off work if it means seeing Frank.

*

The receipt is still in his jeans when Gerard comes home that night. He sticks it between his Batmobile replica and the Boba Fett action figure on his already cluttered desk.

He doesn’t really feel like he’s ready to make a fool out of himself over the phone, so he decides to use the number as a last resort.

It turns out that Frank isn’t working on Sunday. He’s not working on Monday either, and Gerard thinks that maybe Frank has been swallowed by a giant black hole or something equally dramatic.

By Wednesday, Gerard walks around PriceCo, the familiar music accompanied by the buzzing of the fluorescent lights, and he knows Frank isn’t there. Maybe he died, or maybe he quit this soul-sucking job.

Gerard goes up to a tall bearded employee with a buzz cut and clears his throat.

“Excuse me?”

The man turns to him and gives him a polite smile, almost too professional. The name tag on his shirt says Tom. It also says he is the assistant manager and if anyone knows where Frank is, it has to be him.

“How may I help you?” the man asks.

“Huh, I was wondering,” Gerard starts, pausing to find his next words.

Tom seems patient. He doesn’t show any signs of wanting to rush Gerard.

“I was wondering if Frank still worked here,” Gerard manages, tugging on his sleeves and wishing he could shrink down to the size of a pea and roll under the shelf and hide there.

“Frank isn’t working with us anymore,” Tom says, and he looks disgusted at the mere mention of Frank’s name.

“Oh? Why?”

Tom sighs.

“He was a lousy employee, and got what was coming for him since the day he decided saying the f-word to customers was okay,” Tom says behind gritted teeth.

Gerard can’t help but smile. Frank doesn’t take shit from anyone. He was never a good fit for this place. Maybe it’s a good thing he’s not working here anymore.

Tom, the angry assistant manager glares at Gerard before going back to work.

Gerard doesn’t dare ask him about Frank’s address. He already feels like a creepy stalker as it is.

*

When he gets home, Gerard sits at his desk and looks at the receipt. It’s still there, his last resort. Maybe it’s the number to a pizza place or some carpet cleaners. Or maybe it won’t even be a phone number.

Gerard climbs up the stairs, the paper clutched in his hand. The kitchen is empty and Mikey isn’t anywhere in sight.

Gerard dials the number very slowly. He doesn’t want to make any mistakes.

It rings once, twice, three times. Then, Gerard thinks someone picked up and he clears his throat, his heart racing, his chest feeling like its too small and his stomach burning.

There a beep at the other end of the line and nothing else. He doesn’t know if it’s Frank phone. It could be anyone.

Gerard isn’t courageous enough to record a message. He hangs up after a few seconds of deafening silence and shoves the paper in his pocket.

Maybe some other time. Maybe when Gerard grows a pair.

*

Gerard is pretty sure by the second week that he’s never going to see Frank again. It’s the story of his life and he should know it by now. He never gets a break.

Frank probably has forgotten all about him; or maybe he refers to him as “that weirdo with his mac and cheese” to his new colleagues, if he has any.

Gerard wakes up every morning, goes to work, leaves work, walks by PriceCo and has to stop himself from walking in to buy macaroni and cheese. He doesn’t even like that stuff anyway, but if Frank suddenly reappears thanks to the mac and cheese’s magical powers, he would give it a try and buy every single box available in the store.

Gerard occasionally glances at the phone number and even tries calling it a few times. He always hangs up after the tone, never leaving a message.

It’s Saturday afternoon and Gerard isn’t working. He managed to get a day off on account of looking like he was just ‘diagnosed with cancer of the puppy and making customers uneasy at the art store’ according to Brian.

Gerard wasn’t dumped or anything life-altering like that. He doesn’t feel he has the right to be upset. As pretty as Frank was, he could actually be an asshole who talks shit about women and kicks kittens and steals lollipops from small children.

Gerard mopes for a while at home before heading over to his favorite comic book store, the best-kept secret in town. It’s never crowded there. Gerard usually sees the same group of people there. It’s better than working, and it sure beats hearing his mother ask him if he’s all right every ten minutes.

He’s browsing the new arrivals, rearranging the comic books around as if he is working there. He puts them in alphabetical order and then he puts his favorite issues in front of everything else. He is so absorbed in his OCD that he ignores the bell above the door every time it sounds.

Gerard likes the colors in this particular issue of The Runaways. Maybe he should get back to drawing. Maybe he could paint something as soon as he gets home. He hasn’t been painting in a long while. Maybe he could make a portrait of Frank being attacked by monsters.

As he makes his way towards the Dark Horse section, Gerard bumps into someone who is sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading what look like an issue of Civil War. The guy looks up and he’s not Frank.

Gerard mutters his apologies, the feeling of déjà-vu so strong it makes his stomach leap. Gerard needs to start looking where he’s going.

“Hey,” a familiar voice with a strong Jersey accent says from behind his back.

Gerard turns around and Frank, the ex-PriceCo employee with tattoos is standing there, wearing ‘regular’ clothes. Gerard never saw him out of his ugly PriceCo shirt before. He would have never pictured him as the type to wear cardigans and cargo pants but it looks nice on him. His cardigan has a wolf head on it.

“Hey,” Gerard finally replies, when he’s done staring up and down at Frank, examining him like he’s America’s Next Top Hardcore Model or something.

“Do you have a phone?” Frank asks bluntly.

“Huh.”

Does Gerard have a phone? He thinks so. “Yes.”

“Ok. So, why don’t you start using it?” Frank asks, sounding angry.

Gerard isn’t sure why, but he probably did something stupid, as usual. He always manages to piss people off by just existing.

“You’re here,” Gerard says, wondering why his mouth isn’t connected to his brain.

“If you used your fucking phone like normal people do, I wouldn’t have to be here,” Frank starts.

“OK.”

Frank lets out a heavy sigh.

“Yeah, OK,” Frank continues. “See, I’ve been haunting this place for days. Fuck, weeks,” he says, ruffling his hair. Maybe he’s nervous. “Like, this place is really cool and all, and I’m glad you’re not into weird shit like taxidermy or guns and ammos. I’m glad the receipts were not from a butcher or a sex shop. That would have been kind of awkward too,” he says, and Gerard can see his cheeks turn pink. “This place is pretty rad, and I had plenty of time to catch up on my reading.”

Gerard lets him speak. He needs time to think. Frank is here. He saw the receipt from the comic book store. He came here because Gerard comes here. A+B+C=D. Frank wanted to see him again.

“OK,” Gerard says to himself when he’s managed to put the pieces together, interrupting Frank during another diatribe. “So, you wanted to see me?”

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re dumb?” Frank asks. “Why do you think I gave you my number? I kinda hoped you would, you know, use it. To call me,” Frank says and Gerard can see the cashier staring at them. The guy adjusts his nerd glasses and looks down at whatever he’s reading when he sees that Gerard saw him.

“You didn’t tell me it was your number,” Gerard says, lowering his voice and moving away from the front of the store.

Frank follows him to the back of the store. It’s where Hector keeps his more sexually explicit graphic novels. He even sells some Hentai there. Not that Gerard reads them. He just knows they are there.

“I thought it was pretty clear that it was my number with all the flirting,” Frank says, looking at the comic books absently. “You were flirting back, right?” he asks as he looks up at Gerard.

Gerard doesn’t really feel like answering. Not with words anyway. He just nods discreetly, and Frank grins.

“Did you get fired because of me?” Gerard asks, the thought suddenly crossing his mind.

Frank giggles as if it is the most ridiculous thing he ever heard in his life.

“No. I told this customer to go fuck himself,” Frank says, still giggling.

“What did he do to deserve your wrath?” Gerard asks, moving a little closer to Frank, their hips coming in contact.

“That douche bought our entire stock of mac and cheese,” Frank says with a smirk, pushing Gerard with a sideways thrust, playful.

“You’re serious?”

Gerard doesn’t think he is, but it’s hard to tell with Frank.

“You’re so fucking cute when you’re being all dumb about shit. I swear I could just,” he starts, accompanying each word with a big hand gesture. “Squish you,” Frank says, finally grabbing Gerard by the waist and pulling him closer.

It’s a very awkward moment, but it is a moment. He and Frank are having a moment. It’s not really romantic by any standard, especially since they are standing in front of mangas with naked girls being raped by aliens with giant tentacles. It’s not a perfect moment, and it’s probable that Frank feels it too, because he lets go of Gerard and keeps his hands to himself for a while after that.

“So,” Frank says as they are walking down the street, trying to locate this amazing place that’s cheap and serves huge pizzas with vegetables on them, just to make Frank happy. “That’s kind of unfair, dude.”

“Hm?”

Gerard is trying to remember if they should have turned right at the last intersection, or if they should keep going and hope the elusive pizza place will eventually appear in their path.

“You know my name and you never told me yours,” Frank says, poking Gerard in the ribs with a rolled up magazine he picked up at the comic book store.

“True,” Gerard replies, a little smug. He likes having the upper hand.

“Stop being an asshole. I had to give you a name and everything,” Frank says, blushing.

Then, Frank pushes Gerard with all his might and Gerard almost loses his balance. He has to grab a hold of Frank’s wrists to stay upright. Frank is stronger than he looks. Gerard clings to him and drags him along with him, almost crashing into a store window.

“I’m sorry,” Frank says and Gerard reluctantly lets go of his wrists.

“I’m curious,” Gerard asks, suddenly realizing he’s within kissing distance of Frank’s mouth. If only he could bring his lips a few inches further. “What was my name?” Gerard asks, grinning at the thought that Frank thought about him enough to name him.

Frank clears his throat and his already flushed cheeks turn bright red. “Hot mac dude,” he mumbles, maybe hoping Gerard wouldn’t hear him.

“That’s very, very, very lame,” Gerard comments, shaking his head.

“You’re the lame one, ok?”

They don’t find the pizza place, and decide to buy peanut butter and S’mores Pop-Tarts for dinner at the nearest grocery store they find. It’s not PriceCo, so Frank doesn’t have to feel weird about it.

Gerard feels like he’s 15 again and on a first date. When he thinks about it, they are on a first date. It was never clearly stated, but dinner and then a movie at Gerard’s house is pretty much a date.

Frank has a very ineffective method of locating the items he wants. He says everything is basically the same at every store, but Gerard knows Frank couldn’t be further from the truth.

Gerard doesn’t care if he gets lost as long as Frank is with him. He can actually watch him as he walks around the store, cursing the employees for their lack of organization.

“Gerard.”

Frank looks back at Gerard and stops wandering and browsing the aisles frantically on his quest for Pop Tarts.

“Hi, Gerard,” he says, cracking a smile.

“Hi, Frank.”

Frank comes closer to Gerard and browses the shelves of tea and coffee above Gerard’s head.

“I was wondering,” Frank mumbles, chewing on his bottom lip and picking up a box of low-calorie cereal bars. “Would it be all right if I kissed you?” he asks, pretending to read the box before putting it back on the shelf.

“I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t,” Gerard says, turning to the shelf and rubbing his fingertips on the boxes neatly organized in front of him. “It would be a bit more awkward if you were working here, but you’re not, so…” Gerard doesn’t really how to finish his sentence. He lost his train of thought somewhere along the way, because Frank is pressing his hips against his.

“OK,” Frank says, cupping Gerard’s cheeks in his hands. His fingers are cold. Gerard wants to kiss them to warm them up.

“OK,” Gerard says, and he moves forward, putting his lips on Frank’s. He closes his eyes, enjoying the touch of Frank’s thumbs stroking his cheeks.

Gerard kisses Frank and lets him kiss back. When Frank finally opens his mouth and breathes against Gerard’s lips, he smells like coffee and cigarettes. Gerard licks Frank’s dry lips before letting his tongue wander into the uncharted territories of Frank’s mouth.

Frank lets go of Gerard’s cheeks and fists the small of Gerard’s back before grabbing his butt cheeks and humming around Gerard’s tongue.

Gerard pushes against Frank’s hands, and Frank’s nails scratch the raspy denim of his old jeans.

Gerard’s eyes open and he breaks the kiss when he hears someone clear her throat behind them.

A young woman is smiling at them, looking like she might die of embarrassment, and pointing at something above Frank’s head.

“Excuse me,” she says, moving forward and grabbing a box of cereal behind Gerard and Frank.

As soon as she is out of their sight, Frank lets out a tiny giggle and plants a kiss on Gerard’s lips.

Frank removes his hands from Gerard’s butt cheeks and gives him a shit-eating grin.

“Hey,” he says, grabbing a small box from a shelf across the aisle. “I found some mac and cheese for you,” Frank says, tossing the box to Gerard and giggling like a kid.

Gerard puts the box back on the shelf and beams at Frank.

“I heard macaroni isn’t a vegetable,” he says, taking Frank’s hand in his and walking down the aisle.

“It was demoted. Like Pluto,” Frank mumbles absently, scanning the breakfast cereal for a few seconds. “Hey! Pop-Tarts!” Frank says, grinning, squeezing Gerard’s hand and stroking it with his thumb.

Gerard doesn’t mind the crowd in the store. He barely notices it anymore. He doesn’t mind if the rude customers see him kissing Frank, and groping him like a horny teenager.

“Wanna see if the cashier is hot?” Frank asks, still stroking Gerard’s hand with his thumb and shoving the box of S’mores Pop-Tarts against Gerard’s chest.

Gerard opts for the self checkout and rushes as he pays for the Pop-Tarts, Frank rubbing his hands on his stomach through his shirt and almost dry-humping him from behind, a few customers and a security guard giving him the evil eye.