#12 - Orange

#12; Orange

Orange, amber, topaz, auburn...they were all different shades of the same colour. Orange was the colour of exotic, tangy fruits, of raging fires and beautiful sunsets. Orange was also the colour of hesitation. That's how Frank liked to think of it.
-
It was tough getting out of bed in the mornings. There was always that moment of hesistation, that 'should I call in sick today, simply because my bed's warm and I stayed up 'til three in the morning talking to Ray about whether fish and unicorns could mate'. Frank usually dithered between the two options, one seeming so much more enticing than the other, but went for the sensible option instead. He had a limited number of sick days, and he was sick more times than his grandma (who was eighty-seven, for God's sake), so went in to the shitty café he was unfortunate enough to call 'work'.

"'Sup," he called to Ray, who was in the back.

"Thought you'd call in sick today," Ray emerged from the back room with a shit-eating grin, wiping his hands on his chef's apron. Frank shrugged

"Tempting, but the amount of times I'm ill, I'd end up having to drag myself to work with pneumonia."

"Number," Ray corrected absent-mindedly. Frank frowned in confusion at him.

"Pardon? You want my number? Dude, you have it. You were texting me about fish dicks last night."

"No," Ray rolled his eyes. "Number. It's not the amount of times you're ill, it's the number. If you can count it, it's number."

"I can't count it," Frank pointed out. "I've lost count."

"Hypothetically," Ray sighed. "You could make a record, then you'd be able to count them."

"The last thing I want to do when I'm throwing up everything I've digested in the past month is write a record of me being ill," Frank told him, ducking behind the counter and putting his regulation apron on.

"Technically, it's not possible to throw up everything you've eaten in the past mo-"

"Shut up," Frank said, shutting the door in his face. He sat down, yawning, waiting for the customers to come in. Or rather, customer. It was rare they had to use the plural.
-
Two hours later, he was reminded of every reason he hated this job after having sorted all the coins and notes in the till into chronological order. He was tempted to mess it up again, just so he'd have something to do for the next two hours.
-
The door chimed, signalling either Ray had stealthily escaped the café, or a customer had entered. This time it was the latter, but Frank didn't trust Ray. That 'fro of his gave him magical powers.

"Hey," Frank said, smiling brightly at the guy who had just walked in. He was slightly chubby, black-haired and deathly-pale, with a button nose and hazel eyes framed by inky eyelashes that were lowered onto his face. His creamy skin and onyx hair and jeans were a stark contrast to his crimson shirt. He wasn't the picture of beauty, but there was something about him that intrigued Frank.

"Um...h-hi?" the guy stumbled over his words, biting his lip. "I-is Ray here?" Frank nodded, hopping off his stool and bounding over to the back room.

"Ray!" he yelled. Ray appeared, face and 'fro caked in flour. "There's someone here to see you." Ray's face brightened, and he hurried to the oven.

"Tell him I'll be five minutes," he called back. Frank turned to face the stranger.

"He says he'll be five minutes."

"Oh...o-okay..." He seemed unsure of what to do now, and the atmosphere was thick and awkward between them. Usually, Frank liked to fill silences with talk (in fact, usually, there were no silences, thanks to Frank and his incessant chatter) but something made him hesitate with this guy.

"So..." he trailed off. The guy avoided his gaze, staring at the delicious chocolate éclairs on display in the glass case.

"D'you want one?" Frank asked suddenly, catching him looking. The guy looked up and blushed, gulping nervously.

"I-er, no, um..." he said awkwardly. Frank grinned, hopping off the stool he was perched on and fetching the metal tongs used to 'keep things sanitary' as Ray always preached. Whatever. He reached carefully into the display case, tongue poking out a little as he stood on his tiptoes to lean forwards as best he could, and picked out the fattest, chocolatiest one he could find (yes, he knew 'chocolatiest' wasn't a word. Ray's permanent Grammar Nazi state would never have allowed him to live in blissful ignorance).

"Here," he said, handing it to the guy on one of their brown paper bags. He contemplated saying something else, but decided everything that was possible to be said was a sexual innuendo (for God's sake - it was brown, it was moist, it was leaking white stuff...what did he expect?) so he settled for flashing him a grin instead. He hesitated a moment, before asking the guy's name.

"Geruhh," the guy said through a mouthful of éclair.

"Giraffe?" Frank asked, puzzled. The guy choked, and swallowed (wow, well done Iero, Frank congratulated himself. So much for staying away from the sexual innuendos).

"Gerard," he said, enunciating the last syllable heavily, his lips hitched in a slight smile. Frank smiled back involuntarily. Gerard was cute when he smiled, and his smile was infectious.

"Oops," Frank giggled, biting his lip. He was anxious for Ray to come out and lift the still slightly tense atmosphere, but simultaneously didn't want Ray to come out, wanted to continue making small talk with Gerard.

"So, Gerard," Frank said. "How do you know Ray?"

"High school," Gerard pulled a face.

"Take it they weren't good years?" Gerard averted his gaze and shook his head slowly. Frank could relate. He'd had plenty of terrible experiences in high school - being shut in lockers, beaten up, never having any friends...best years of his life his ass. If those were the best, he hated to see what was in store for him.

"High school sucked," Frank agreed. Gerard raised his head, shooting Frank a look of surprise.

"Even for you?" he asked, seemingly shocked. Frank snorted.

"Dude, having tattoos and piercings doesn't make you invincible. I got picked on for being a gay nerd. I spent my lunchtimes playing D&D, for God's sake," he laughed. Gerard gaped at him.

"Y-you...? D&D...?" he asked. Frank smiled.

"Super nerd." Gerard opened his mouth, as if to add something, then shut it again.

"I guess we have more in common than we thought."

"Your job is drawing comics, right?" Frank said, looking at the open bag Gerard had placed on the counter. Gerard frowned quizzically at him.

"I never told you what I do for a living..." he said.

"Didn't have to," Frank shrugged. "Your bag told me enough." Gerard looked at it as if he'd forgotten it was there. There were three half-drawn comics peeking out from the top.

"Oh..." he said. "I suppose."

"Right," Ray said, interrupting their moment of thoughtful silence by bursting out of the back. "I hope Frank hasn't made too much of a fool of himself." He shot a pointed look at Frank. "He tends to do that to people." And okay, that was one person, could Ray not drop the fucking subject? Frank swore at him telepathically, narrowing his eyes, and Ray widened his, feigning innocence. Frank huffed, turning away, already plotting revenge inside his head. Three cheers for sweet revenge, he cried to himself, sitting in a shaded room stroking a snow-white rabbit. No, not really, he wasn't that pathetic. Plus, he hated rabbits.

"No," Gerard said, seeming surprised that Frank could even be a fool. Ha.

"Right, well, we're off then. I would say man the shop but...take a break."

"And go where exactly?" Frank asked.

"Where you usually go."

"Mikey's gonna kill me, I wasted all his lunch break yesterday," Frank moaned. Gerard stopped.

"Wait...Mikey? As in, Mikey Way?" he asked.

"Yeah," Frank said. "D'you know him? He's awesome."

"Yeah," Gerard said. "Yeah. He's my kid brother." Frank gaped at him.

"Holy...but you look nothing alike!" he said.

"Siblings don't have to look alike," Ray interrupted. "According to the rules of genetics-" Frank wished there was another door to shut in his face, but as there wasn't he sent Ray a shut up I'm having a moment of quiet revelation let me bask look. Ray seemed to get it, because he closed his mouth.

"Wait," Gerard said cautiously. "Are you Frank?" Frank beamed.

"Yep," he said proudly. "In the flesh."

"Mikey's always talking about you," Gerard remarked. "Bands, music, comics..."

"Mikey's awesome," Frank shrugged. He was about to ask for Gerard's number, but something made him stop, reconsider.

"Gerard takes him for granted," Ray said nonchalantly. "Bye, Frank." They left in a flurry of 'I don't take Mikey for granted!' and 'Of course, shut up and move's.

Frank wouldn't normally have hesitated. But he had. Why?
-
"Mikey," Frank said, rushing into the comic book store where Mikey Way worked.

"Not again," he heard a voice groan from the aisle next to the one Frank was in.

"No, Mikey, just...I met your brother," Frank said breathlessly, running into the aisle and crashing into Mikey. Mikey raised a judgemental eyebrow.

"Why?"

"He was looking for Ray," Frank shrugged, dusting himself down. "Ray was busy, so I entertained him."

"And by entertained you mean...?" Mikey said. Frank glared at him.

"I'm not going to take advantage of strangers," Frank huffed. Mikey raised the eyebrow again. "Okay, that was one time, and how was I supposed to know?"

"Well, maybe if you paid the slightest attention to the news, you'd've known he was a convicted sex offender," Mikey said, turning back to the comics he was organising. Frank scowled, throwing a middle finger in the direction of Mikey's back.

"Anyway, I assume you came here to talk about Gerard? Are you going to wax lyrical about him? Because I'd rather you didn't do that in my presence. I'm not in the mood to hear love poems about my brother. In fact, I'm never in the mood for that. Please, never compare Gerard to a summer's day, because he is not more lovely or more temperate," Mikey said casually, hopping off the stepladder he'd been balancing precariously on. Frank thought it was because he had too many limbs. They were all gangly and took up too much space. Someday he'd do the world a favour and cut Mikey Way's legs off.

"Do rough winds shake his darling buds of May?"

"Summer's lease hath all too long a date," Mikey fired back. Frank grinned. Only with Mikey could he make Shakespeare jokes.

"Go on then," Mikey said, punctuated by a long-suffering sigh. "What were you going to say about Gerard?" Frank hesitated. He'd actually come in here to ask if Gerard was gay, or at least bisexual, or if he'd be interested in Frank at all...but...well. If this was anyone else he would have asked right away, but...it was Gerard. Mikey was studying him closely, and groaned as Frank's face flitted from one expression to the next in rapid succession.

"Oh God," he moaned. "You're one of those 'Gerard has made a lasting impression on me' types, aren't you?" Frank tilted his head, considering it. He supposed he was, when he thought about it - all the thoughts whirling around his head were Gerard-related.

"I guess..." he said slowly. Mikey closed his eyes.

"Jesus Christ. He is gay, he's probably already interested in you, but he's very introverted."

"Can you read minds?" Frank asked suspiciously.

"No, you thought aloud," Mikey shrugged. Frank blushed fiercely.

"Oops," he said.

"Oops indeed," Mikey said dryly, snatching the comic Frank had picked up with curiosity out of his hands. There was an awkward moment of silence, before Mikey sighed in exasperation.

"This isn't like you, Frank," he remarked. "Usually you'd let him know you're into him rather than harassing his younger brother." Frank shoved him playfully, before frowning.

"I don't know," he said. "There's something different about Gerard." Something special.

"Oh God."
-
The bell chimed, signalling either an entrance or a stealthy 'fro-exit. Frank looked up - it was an entrance. Gerard, clad in black jeans and a vibrant orange shirt.

"Hey," Frank said, hopping off his stool and smiling brightly. His pulse had somehow kicked up a notch without his permission when he saw Gerard. How rude.

"Hi," Gerard said, smiling shyly. "Um-"

"He's on his break," Frank said, mouth twisted in a sympathetic grimace. Gerard frowned.

"Oh," he said. "Oh, okay." He stood there awkwardly for a moment, fiddling with his sleeves. Frank bit his lip.

"You can wait for him, if you want?" he suggested. Gerard nodded, hesitating before pulling up a chair at the counter.

"I talked to Mikey about you-" they said at the same time. They both stopped short, glanced at one another and burst out laughing. It felt natural, easy to laugh with Gerard, and Frank felt a glowing warmth pool in his stomach. It felt good to laugh with Gerard.

"I hope he didn't tell many horror stories," Gerard said.

"None," Frank said. "Same, I hope?" Gerard grimaced.

"He mentioned something about a sex offender..." Frank groaned, hiding his head in his hands.

"That was not my fault," he moaned. "Jesus Christ." Gerard's hazel eyes twinkled with amusement as Frank lifted his head, and Frank thought that if he lost a bit of weight he'd be really fucking beautiful.

"I'm sure it wasn't..." Gerard murmured. Frank growled, and Gerard suddenly flushed. What had he done?

"What?" he asked, surprised. Gerard shook his head.

"Can I-" Frank stopped, about to ask for his number. Gerard was wearing orange, the colour of hesitation.

"Can you...?" Gerard asked keenly. Frank shook his head.

"Never mind," he muttered.

"A-actually, I, um. I wanted to ask, if, I could um. H-have your n-number?" Gerard asked timidly, eyes cast down. Frank blinked owlishly.

"Sorry?"

"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked, n-never mind..." Gerard was cut off when Frank yanked a napkin out of the dispenser and scribbled his number on it in eyeliner (what, okay, all the pens had disappeared. He blamed Ray's 'fro).

"I've been meaning to ask you the same thing," he smiled.
-
herd u gt mi bros numbr - m

Really, Mikey, are you incapable of using grammar? - F

fuk u i dnt need grammer - m

No, you'd need a brain to be able to understand it first. - F

i h8 u - m
-
hay, its gerard

Frank toyed with his phone. He was debating on what to reply to Gerard's text.

Hey he typed, backspacing it almost immediately.

You okay? he tried again. Still no good.

Your little brother is driving me insane. There. Done. He fiddled with his phone anxiously, waiting for a reply.

tri livin wiv him

Both of you seem to be incapable of using punctuation and capital letters and actual words in the English language, Frank told him.

fuk u
-
They'd been texting for about a week now. Frank was just about to text Ray that if him and Mikey didn't stop making out right the fuck now he'd egg their houses, when the bell chimed. Frank looked up. Gerard. This time in a neon green shirt. Frank didn't notice at all how it enhanced the green in his eyes. He certainly didn't stare.

"He's gone to see Mikey," he told him. Gerard shuffled awkwardly.

"Actually, um, I came to see you?" Frank started. No one ever came to see him.

"Really?" he asked in disbelief. Gerard nodded.

"You're interesting," he said shyly, and Jesus Christ, that was so endearing it should be illegal.

"I know," Frank winked. Gerard pulled up a chair more readily this time.

"I haven't seen you in a while," Gerard said. Frank shrugged.

"I've been busy."

"Busy doing what?" Gerard asked. Frank shrugged again.

"Stuff."

"By stuff you mean...?"

"Reading comics, texting, playing guitar and occasionally breaking the monotony of my life with masturbation." Gerard flushed.

"You play guitar?" he asked in an attempt at deflecting the topic of conversation.

"Yep," Frank nodded. "You play anything?" Gerard pulled a face.

"I don't think it would be classified as playing, exactly," he said. "But I write lyrics. And I sing them sometimes."

"Sing them for me!" Frank said, leaning forwards in anticipation. Gerard shook his head.

"Why not?" Frank asked. Gerard shrugged.

"I don't like singing in front of people," he said timidly. Frank fought the urge to coo with how adorable Gerard was. He'd somehow fallen head over heels for Gerard without even realising.

"Go on," he said gently. Gerard bit his lip, tempted, but-

"No," he said. "When I write a really, really good one, I'll sing it to you." Frank leaned even closer, so close his nose was touching Gerard's.

"For me?" Frank tried one last time, but he wasn't really interested in the songs anymore. He saw Gerard's beautiful eyes dart from Frank's to Frank's lips, and back again. He felt it on his own cheek when Gerard's eyes fluttered shut, eyelashes soft against his skin. He smelt Gerard's scent, his sweet, vanilla smell, wafting around them, enveloping him in a vanilla-scented cocoon. He heard Gerard's breath hitch in his throat, and then him exhaling shakily. He was doing this to Gerard, he thought, half-proud, half-amazed.
He felt Gerard's lips, soft against his own, just resting there. He pressed hesitantly, tentatively, letting his own eyes flutter shut and losing himself in the taste, the feeling, the sounds, the smells. Finally, they broke apart.

"Wow," Frank said, gazing at Gerard, taking in every inch of his face. His hazel eyes glittered with happiness, his jet black hair falling haphazardly into them, and his lips were hitched in a small smile.

"Wow," Gerard echoed.

Frank could have kissed him forever.