#10 - Years
#10 - Years
#10; Years
There were different stages to a relationship. There were the early days, the excitement of being with that person still sending zings around your body whenever you thought about it. There were the months, where most relationships broke down - you get to know each other's flaws and habits, and sometimes it just doesn't work out. Then, if you survive the months, you move onto the years. Years are divided into three sections - the under two years, the two to nine-ish, and the ten plus years. Frank had spent hours perfecting this theory, and was finally pleased with it. Gerard had scoffed fondly at him, but let him get on with it.
"Gerard," Frank asked. Gerard hummed absently. "What year is it?"
"What? You don't know what year it is? Frank, days are excusable, months just about but years?" Gerard asked in disbelief.
"No," Frank said, rolling his eyes. "I meant relationship wise." Gerard looked hurt.
"You can't remember when we first got together?" he said in a small voice. Frank's eyes widened. He really wasn't explaining this very well.
"No, no, no, Gee!" he said. "I know we've been together four years. I just...is there something wrong with my theory? Because theory-year wise, we should have been married about thirty seven years ago."
"You and your god-forsaken theory," Gerard grumbled good-naturedly. "That's not even possible, since neither of us is thirty-seven."
"It wouldn't work if only one of us was thirty-seven either," Frank pointed out. "But what I'm saying is is there something wrong with my theory - is anything over two years exactly the same as anything over twenty-two?"
"Maybe it's because we're gay..." Gerard mused. Fuck. Frank hadn't even factored sexuality into his theory.
"Goddamn it," he muttered, heaving himself off the sofa. "I'm off to perfect my theory." Gerard smirked. Frank flipped him off without turning around.
-
"I'm not saying we can't have it," Frank said patiently to his pouting partner. "I'm just saying maybe we should look at some other things before we set our minds on something." Gerard frowned.
"What's wrong with this one?" he asked.
"Well," Frank said carefully. "It's not really...aesthetically pleasing, is it?"
"Fine," Gerard huffed. Frank rolled his eyes, lacing their fingers together.
"Come on, Gee," he said. "We're in like, bed heaven. I'm sure there's another one." Suddenly, a man pushed past them. Frank would have frowned and ignored it on a normal occasion, if he hadn't heard the muttered 'Faggots' as the man passed.
"Hey dickhead," Frank yelled at him, and he turned around. "What's your problem?"
"You're my problem, titch," the guy sneered, and Frank's blood boiled. It was one thing being harassed for his sexuality, but another being reminded of all the times he'd been bullied in High School for being shorter than average. Frank wrenched his hand from Gerard's grip and stalked up to the man. By now, everyone in the room was watching, agape - Frank reckoned he had about four minutes before a member of staff came running to break the confrontation up.
"You have a problem with me?" Frank asked, putting on his best intimidating face. It seemed to work, as the man took a small step back. Frank continued to invade his personal space. "You have a problem with me being gay? What's wrong with being gay? I'm the luckiest man alive with my boyfriend. And I get ten times the amount of women you do."
"Huh?" the guy asked, visibly intimidated now. "Y-you're gay though?"
"Exactly," Frank hissed. "Because ten times zero is zero." The whole room erupted into loud 'oohs' and 'aahs', and Frank winked at the man. Suddenly, he felt a blow to his face. He reached up, and his nose was bleeding.
"You're gonna fucking regret that," he muttered, swinging his arm into the guy's face. There was a crack, and the room stilled.
"Come on, Gee," Frank said loudly. "I think we're done here."
-
"You shouldn't have done that, you know," Gerard remarked on the car journey home. Frank sighed.
"I know," he said. "It was mainly the titch thing that got to me. Sorry."
"Did you really mean it though?"
"Mean what?" Frank asked, bewildered.
"That you're the luckiest man alive to have me," Gerard said shyly. It was horribly endearing.
"Yes," Frank said softly. "Yes I did." Gerard leaned over and pecked Frank on the lips.
"Eyes on the road, Gerard!" Frank squawked, reminding himself of every reason he never usually let Gerard drive (number one - he didn't want to die).
"Mhmm," Gerard hummed, turning the wrong way into a one way street.
"Holy shit," Frank muttered.
-
"Do we have any milk?" Frank shouted from the kitchen.
"I doubt it," Gerard said.
"Eggs?" Frank asked hopefully.
"Ditto."
"Fuck, we have nothing," Frank sighed.
"Pretty much." Frank sighed again.
"Put your coat on, we're going out for groceries."
"What?"
"You heard me."
-
"I hate grocery shopping," Gerard grumbled. "I hate shopping. I hate groceries."
"You won't be saying that when I make lasagna," Frank said. Gerard shut up.
-
"Can we have the expensive bread?" Gerard asked hopefully. Frank shook his head. Gerard smiled innocently, which Frank knew meant he was going to smuggle it into the trolley anyway. Honestly, it was like dealing with a five year old half the time.
"Salmon? Come on, Frank, you gotta let me have salmon!"
"As long as I don't cook it, sure."
"But you know I can't cook!" Gerard huffed.
"Exactly," Frank retorted. Gerard scowled at him before bounding off down the aisle. Lord help Frank if he'd found the animal-shaped biscuits.
"Frank!" Gerard crowed. "I found the animal-shaped biscuits!"
Fuck.
-
'Welcome to the self-checkout. Please click 'Start' to begin.' Yes, okay, Frank could clearly see the massive button labelled 'START'. He didn't need an inanimate object patronising him. He scanned the first can of beans, then a cauliflower, then a packet of animal shaped biscuits (he knew Gerard would manage it somehow), then-
'Unexpected item in bagging area,' the machine's automated voice hollered, as if to let the whole supermarket know how incapable Frank was of using it. 'Please remove before continuing.' Frank picked up the animal shaped biscuits. Oh, they hadn't scanned. He picked them up and scanned them again. Gerard was frowning at him from outside, where he'd gone to have a smoke.
'Please call for assistance,' the machine told him, and what the fuck, he'd not even done anything. Three people in the queue glared at him, judging him, and he felt exceedingly self-conscious. Luckily, an assistant came over and swiped her card almost at once, flashing him a smile. Her gaydar was obviously broken. However, she'd saved him from further embarassment, so he sent a grateful grin back her way.
'Card not authorised. Please call for assistance.' Oh, Jesus Christ, this was stupid.
"Frank?" Gerard hooked his chin over Frank's shoulder, and smirked. "I'm not the only one incapable of using electrical devices, I see," he said. Frank swatted at him.
"Go away," Frank frowned, typing in the PIN again. Thankfully, it worked this time and they could take their food home.
-
"I've been thinking." Gerard groaned. "No, fuck you man, I've been thinking about my theory."
"No, please, spare me," Gerard moaned. Frank scowled.
"I think it's because we're gay." Suddenly, the phone rang. Frank went to pick it up.
"It's definitely because you're gay," Mikey's voice said, and what the fuck?
"Gerard," Frank said. "Gerard, where's Mikey?"
"Outside, why?" Gerard said absent-mindedly.
"What's he doing outside?!"
"Eavesdropping probably."
"Jesus Christ."
"Just Gerard will do, thanks."
"Yep," Frank remarked. "Four human years, thirty-seven theory years. It's definitely because we're gay." He paused. "And tell your brother to get out of the goddamn garden."
There were different stages to a relationship. There were the early days, the excitement of being with that person still sending zings around your body whenever you thought about it. There were the months, where most relationships broke down - you get to know each other's flaws and habits, and sometimes it just doesn't work out. Then, if you survive the months, you move onto the years. Years are divided into three sections - the under two years, the two to nine-ish, and the ten plus years. Frank had spent hours perfecting this theory, and was finally pleased with it. Gerard had scoffed fondly at him, but let him get on with it.
"Gerard," Frank asked. Gerard hummed absently. "What year is it?"
"What? You don't know what year it is? Frank, days are excusable, months just about but years?" Gerard asked in disbelief.
"No," Frank said, rolling his eyes. "I meant relationship wise." Gerard looked hurt.
"You can't remember when we first got together?" he said in a small voice. Frank's eyes widened. He really wasn't explaining this very well.
"No, no, no, Gee!" he said. "I know we've been together four years. I just...is there something wrong with my theory? Because theory-year wise, we should have been married about thirty seven years ago."
"You and your god-forsaken theory," Gerard grumbled good-naturedly. "That's not even possible, since neither of us is thirty-seven."
"It wouldn't work if only one of us was thirty-seven either," Frank pointed out. "But what I'm saying is is there something wrong with my theory - is anything over two years exactly the same as anything over twenty-two?"
"Maybe it's because we're gay..." Gerard mused. Fuck. Frank hadn't even factored sexuality into his theory.
"Goddamn it," he muttered, heaving himself off the sofa. "I'm off to perfect my theory." Gerard smirked. Frank flipped him off without turning around.
-
"I'm not saying we can't have it," Frank said patiently to his pouting partner. "I'm just saying maybe we should look at some other things before we set our minds on something." Gerard frowned.
"What's wrong with this one?" he asked.
"Well," Frank said carefully. "It's not really...aesthetically pleasing, is it?"
"Fine," Gerard huffed. Frank rolled his eyes, lacing their fingers together.
"Come on, Gee," he said. "We're in like, bed heaven. I'm sure there's another one." Suddenly, a man pushed past them. Frank would have frowned and ignored it on a normal occasion, if he hadn't heard the muttered 'Faggots' as the man passed.
"Hey dickhead," Frank yelled at him, and he turned around. "What's your problem?"
"You're my problem, titch," the guy sneered, and Frank's blood boiled. It was one thing being harassed for his sexuality, but another being reminded of all the times he'd been bullied in High School for being shorter than average. Frank wrenched his hand from Gerard's grip and stalked up to the man. By now, everyone in the room was watching, agape - Frank reckoned he had about four minutes before a member of staff came running to break the confrontation up.
"You have a problem with me?" Frank asked, putting on his best intimidating face. It seemed to work, as the man took a small step back. Frank continued to invade his personal space. "You have a problem with me being gay? What's wrong with being gay? I'm the luckiest man alive with my boyfriend. And I get ten times the amount of women you do."
"Huh?" the guy asked, visibly intimidated now. "Y-you're gay though?"
"Exactly," Frank hissed. "Because ten times zero is zero." The whole room erupted into loud 'oohs' and 'aahs', and Frank winked at the man. Suddenly, he felt a blow to his face. He reached up, and his nose was bleeding.
"You're gonna fucking regret that," he muttered, swinging his arm into the guy's face. There was a crack, and the room stilled.
"Come on, Gee," Frank said loudly. "I think we're done here."
-
"You shouldn't have done that, you know," Gerard remarked on the car journey home. Frank sighed.
"I know," he said. "It was mainly the titch thing that got to me. Sorry."
"Did you really mean it though?"
"Mean what?" Frank asked, bewildered.
"That you're the luckiest man alive to have me," Gerard said shyly. It was horribly endearing.
"Yes," Frank said softly. "Yes I did." Gerard leaned over and pecked Frank on the lips.
"Eyes on the road, Gerard!" Frank squawked, reminding himself of every reason he never usually let Gerard drive (number one - he didn't want to die).
"Mhmm," Gerard hummed, turning the wrong way into a one way street.
"Holy shit," Frank muttered.
-
"Do we have any milk?" Frank shouted from the kitchen.
"I doubt it," Gerard said.
"Eggs?" Frank asked hopefully.
"Ditto."
"Fuck, we have nothing," Frank sighed.
"Pretty much." Frank sighed again.
"Put your coat on, we're going out for groceries."
"What?"
"You heard me."
-
"I hate grocery shopping," Gerard grumbled. "I hate shopping. I hate groceries."
"You won't be saying that when I make lasagna," Frank said. Gerard shut up.
-
"Can we have the expensive bread?" Gerard asked hopefully. Frank shook his head. Gerard smiled innocently, which Frank knew meant he was going to smuggle it into the trolley anyway. Honestly, it was like dealing with a five year old half the time.
"Salmon? Come on, Frank, you gotta let me have salmon!"
"As long as I don't cook it, sure."
"But you know I can't cook!" Gerard huffed.
"Exactly," Frank retorted. Gerard scowled at him before bounding off down the aisle. Lord help Frank if he'd found the animal-shaped biscuits.
"Frank!" Gerard crowed. "I found the animal-shaped biscuits!"
Fuck.
-
'Welcome to the self-checkout. Please click 'Start' to begin.' Yes, okay, Frank could clearly see the massive button labelled 'START'. He didn't need an inanimate object patronising him. He scanned the first can of beans, then a cauliflower, then a packet of animal shaped biscuits (he knew Gerard would manage it somehow), then-
'Unexpected item in bagging area,' the machine's automated voice hollered, as if to let the whole supermarket know how incapable Frank was of using it. 'Please remove before continuing.' Frank picked up the animal shaped biscuits. Oh, they hadn't scanned. He picked them up and scanned them again. Gerard was frowning at him from outside, where he'd gone to have a smoke.
'Please call for assistance,' the machine told him, and what the fuck, he'd not even done anything. Three people in the queue glared at him, judging him, and he felt exceedingly self-conscious. Luckily, an assistant came over and swiped her card almost at once, flashing him a smile. Her gaydar was obviously broken. However, she'd saved him from further embarassment, so he sent a grateful grin back her way.
'Card not authorised. Please call for assistance.' Oh, Jesus Christ, this was stupid.
"Frank?" Gerard hooked his chin over Frank's shoulder, and smirked. "I'm not the only one incapable of using electrical devices, I see," he said. Frank swatted at him.
"Go away," Frank frowned, typing in the PIN again. Thankfully, it worked this time and they could take their food home.
-
"I've been thinking." Gerard groaned. "No, fuck you man, I've been thinking about my theory."
"No, please, spare me," Gerard moaned. Frank scowled.
"I think it's because we're gay." Suddenly, the phone rang. Frank went to pick it up.
"It's definitely because you're gay," Mikey's voice said, and what the fuck?
"Gerard," Frank said. "Gerard, where's Mikey?"
"Outside, why?" Gerard said absent-mindedly.
"What's he doing outside?!"
"Eavesdropping probably."
"Jesus Christ."
"Just Gerard will do, thanks."
"Yep," Frank remarked. "Four human years, thirty-seven theory years. It's definitely because we're gay." He paused. "And tell your brother to get out of the goddamn garden."