#13 - Yellow
#13 - Yellow
#13; Yellow
Yellow was the one colour Gerard couldn't stand. It stood for everything he hated, represented all he resented. It was the colour of joy, the colour of hope, and just too fucking bright. He judged people if they wore yellow. Too cheerful, too optimistic, he thought. There was no way a colour should be that...vibrant.
Mikey, of course, knew about his hatred of yellow, and proceeded to dress in every shade of the colour it was possible to find.
-
"Gerard!" his mother yelled down the stairs of the basement, his bedroom. The door opened, and a crack of yellow light filtered through.
"What?" Gerard said grumpily, turning from the comic book he was reading.
"We have new neighbours," his mother said. "Can you please come upstairs and introduce yourself?"
"No," Gerard said shortly. Donna Way sighed.
"Gerard, don't be difficult. They have a son; you might like him."
"Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I like every boy I see," Gerard replied.
"Your brother does."
"Pete Wentz does not count as every boy he sees."
"He does, he's the only boy he sees," his mom pointed out.
"What about me?" Gerard demanded. "Am I not a boy?"
"Yes, honey," Donna said. "But I'd like to think you're not engaging in incestuous activities." Gerard shuddered.
"Fine. I'm coming."
-
"This is Linda Iero," Gerard's mom said, gesturing at a short, friendly-looking woman. Gerard smiled at her politely.
"This is her son, Frank." Frank stepped out from behind his mother (he was even shorter than her, holy shit, he must be three feet tall) and Gerard almost did a double take. Almost.
Frank had short black hair that looked like it had been cut recently, curling slightly despite its limited length. His hair framed his tanned face, mischievious hazel eyes twinkling as they drank in every inch of Gerard. His best feature, Gerard thought (although it was hard to choose with such an array), was his lips. They were hitched in a slight smile, and a silver lip ring glinted as it caught the light. When he saw Gerard staring, the smile widened into a full-on smirk, and those hazel eyes glittered with delight.
"Hi, Frank," Gerard mumbled awkwardly, shoving his hands in his pockets and shuffling his feet. Frank grinned, and even his fucking teeth were perfect, gleaming white.
"Nice to meet you," Frank said, punctuated with a wink. Gerard bit his lip, trying in vain to hide his blush by covering his face with his greasy black hair. He wished he'd thought of changing before coming up here. But he hadn't known he'd meet the picture of beauty, had he?
"Where's your brother?" Gerard's mom asked him. Gerard shrugged.
"Where is he ever?"
"Pete's house," his mother mumbled, already dialling the number. "Show Frank around, Gerard. I'll try and get hold of your brother. Linda, do sit down, I'm very sorry about my youngest so-Michael James Way, where are y- I don't care if you're hypothesising about the zombie apocalypse, come home this instant!" she said, voice becoming distant as she walked into the kitchen.
"So?" Frank said, and Gerard looked up in shock, realising Frank was gazing at him expectantly.
"Oh, um, yeah. House. Right," Gerard managed, cringing. "Um. There's not a lot to see, so...?"
"Just show me your bedroom," Frank said suggestively, followed shortly by a high pitched giggle. Gerard swallowed.
"S-sure," he said, starting down the stairs to the basement. He descended in the dark, forgetting Frank was unused to the bigger space between the seventh and eighth steps, where he stumbled, crashed into Gerard and they both tumbled down the staircase, ending up in a mess of tangled limbs on the floor. Frank was the first to respond, breaking out into that girlish giggle again. Gerard was slower (there were reasons, okay, Frank's knee was somewhere near his dick), but eventually he started giggling along.
"I guess I should have put the light on," Gerard said between his breathy little giggles. He hated his laugh.
"I'm surprised I managed to knock you down," Frank said. "I must've put on weight." Gerard giggled again, pulling his hand from under Frank's elbow to scrape his hair back from his face. He reached up and fumbled blindly for the light switch at the bottom of the stairs, and when he reached it, flicked it on, bathing the room in a hateful yellow light.
"Get off my dick," Frank said grumpily, tugging at Gerard's heel. Oh. Oh.
"Sorry," Gerard said hastily, moving his foot and standing up shakily. He reached out a hesitant hand to help Frank up. He felt that was a gentlemanly thing to do. Because he was a gentleman, fuck you very much.
"Thanks," Frank said once he was on his feet, dusting himself down. He looked up - and stared. His eyes travelled from poster- and drawing-covered walls to the black sheets on Gerard's bed to his wardrobe to the light that shone brightly and happily at them from the ceiling.
"I don't like your light," he told Gerard.
"Neither do I," Gerard said.
"Why don't you- is that the limited edition Doom Patrol?" Frank broke off, running over to Gerard's bedside table. Gerard nodded hesitantly. Should he let this complete stranger handle the copy of Doom Patrol he han't even let Mikey touch? He debated this momentarily in his head, before deciding he should allow it in return for putting his body parts near Frank's genitalia. An apology, of sorts. Of sorts.
"Sweet mother of Mary's donkey's left hoof," Frank breathed, and okay, what? "I've been trying for like, a fucking century to get my hands on this! How did you get it?" Gerard shrugged modestly.
"I know people." It had been a long process - getting Mikey to get Pete to get Patrick to get Bob to get Ray from the comic book shop to order one, which he ended up having to bid for on eBay, and then having it hand-delivered back through the same chain of people. Tiresome yes, worth it fuck yes.
"Wow," Frank said. He hestitated, finger on the corner of the cover, and glanced at Gerard, silently asking his permission. Gerard was taken aback. Someone was actually asking, for once. He spent too much time with Pete. He inclined his head slightly, indicating he allowed it, and Frank turned the page carefully, sub-consciously sitting on the bed and turning page after page with delicacy. It was quite something to watch, but Gerard figured he shouldn't watch all day because he'd just met the guy. He was oddly comfortable around Frank, though - it had taken him weeks to get rid of the stutter around Pete, yet under five minutes for Frank. Frank looked up suddenly, catching Gerard's stare, and grinned, white teeth gleaming, hazel eyes glinting.
"Like what you see?" he asked coyly. Gerard flushed.
"I-I, um." Spoke too soon. Frank shook his head.
"It's nice to know someone appreciates this beautiful face," he said, turning back to the comic. Gerard frowned.
"Doesn't everyone?" he blurted, biting his lip once he realised what he'd said. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he chastised himself.
"No," Frank said, aiming for casual, but Gerard could hear the slight edge of sadness to his voice. "No one." There was a pause. "Except my grandma. She's always telling me what a looker I am, that I'm going to get all the ladies one day." Gerard snorted.
"Slightly awkward if I did get all the ladies," Frank continued, flipping a pagee in the comic. "Because I'm gay." There was a moment of silence. Frank looked at Gerard, eyes cold.
"You're not one of those homophobes, are you?" he asked, voice edged with steel. Gerard opened his mouth, but Frank cut him off. "Because I hate them. I hate them."
"So do I," Gerard murmured, snippets of memories flashing in front of him - being thrown to the ground and beaten for being gay, having his clothes stolen from the locker room after a shower, nasty gossips and whispers and gazes burning him as he walked the hallways.
Yeah, he fucking hated homophobes.
"You do?" Frank asked, surprised. "I thought you-"
"Well, I'm not, I'm gay," Gerard said quietly, but it still cut Frank short. Frank stared at him for a second before his mouth curled into a satisfied smile.
"I'm not alone."
-
Yellow, yellow, yellow, everywhere in the goddamn school was fucking yellow.
"I hate the colour of these corridors," Gerard said to Mikey. "I hate the colour of your shirt. I hate the colour of your bag. I hate the colour of your face."
"My face isn't yellow!" Mikey protested indignantly.
"No, but I still don't like the colour of it," Gerard said. Mikey pouted.
"That's just racist."
"How? We share the same parents, in case you didn't know."
"Fuck you," Mikey frowned, flouncing off to eat Pete's face. Gerard turned away - that was a sight he could fucking live without - and put in the combination for his locker. Incorrectly. Twice.
"Goddamn it," Gerard muttered after the second attempt, kicking the door. "Open, you fucking-"
"Trouble in paradise?" someone smirked. Gerard looked up, startled, only to have to look down again because it was Frank.
"I didn't know you were coming to this school..." Gerard trailed off. Frank shrugged.
"It was either this, or home-schooling. Guess which I prefer."
"I'd prefer home-schooling," Gerard said fervently. There was a click from behind him and he spun round to see what it was. Frank, the fucker, with his nimble fingers, had managed to deftly open Gerard's locker.
"How did you even know the code?" Gerard gaped.
"We share," Frank smirked. "Oh, good, I see you keep your locker as tidy as your room," he added, throwing his stuff in haphazardly. Gerard flushed, and opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Mikey and fucking Pete.
"Hey," Frank said, sounding mildly surprised. "You two look nothing like brothers."
"You met Frank?" Gerard said, rounding on Mikey.
"Hello to you too, Gerard," Pete said, flashing him a toothy grin.
"You look like a hormonal shark," Gerard told him, turning back to Mikey.
Mikey raised his left eyebrow. You never told me you were interested in him.
Gerard frowned, just slightly. I'm not.
Mikey cocked his head to the side, very slightly, barely noticeable. Yes, you are.
Gerard lifted his right shoulder a tad. No. I'm really not.
Mikey's mouth curled up into a small smirk. I'm not blind.
"Fuck you, Mikey Way, I'm not!" Gerard exploded. Pete had been inspecting his nails with boredom during their silent disussion, used to it, whereas Frank's eyes had flit between them like he was watching a tennis match.
"Yes, you are," Mikey replied calmly.
"Do they do this a lot?" Frank asked Pete. "Have silent eyebrow telepathic moments and then suddenly transfer it to speech?"
"I like making bets on who'll break the silence first. It's usually Gerard."
"Who d'you bet against?" Frank asked curiously.
"Myself," Pete shrugged. "But if you're offering..." Frank grinned.
"Maybe," he said. Gerard broke off from scowling at Mikey to scowl at Frank, then Pete.
"I hate everybody," he announced, turning and stalking off melodramatically.
"Drama queen," Pete murmured.
-
"Hey," Gerard heard a hesitant voice say. He looked up from his drawing pad - Frank.
"Hey," he said tiredly. Frank frowned, sitting down on the stool next to Gerard.
"What's up?" he asked, seeming genuinely concerned.
"What isn't up?" Gerard sighed dramatically. Frank frowned.
"Down."
"Don't be pedantic," Gerard huffed.
"Seriously, though," Frank pushed for an answer. "What's up?"
"I don't know," Gerard said quietly. "I just...feel lonely, now that Mikey's off with Pete all the time. I've never had any other friends." He'd never allowed himself to get close enough to people to make friends was what he really meant, but it made him sound sociopathic and pathetic so he decided not to add that.
"You've got me," Frank said brightly. "I'm your friend."
"I don't have friends," Gerard said sadly, fiddling with his pencil. Frank nudged his shoulder with his own.
"There's no need for the plural when you have me," he said, and that got an involuntary smile out of Gerard. "I'm everyone you could ever want wrapped into one multiplied by everything you could never want."
"You're not an axe murderer, are you?" Gerard asked suspiciously.
"No."
"Paedophile?"
"No."
"Rapist?"
"What the- no, Gerard, I meant with all my annoying habits."
"I've never had a friend before," Gerard warned, blushing at how ridiculous he sounded. "So I'm not sure how this works."
"Neither have I," Frank said. They grinned at each other. Frank's eyes really were beautiful, Gerard thought.
That was the moment he knew.
-
He'd done it. Gerard had managed to survive another week in the hell-hole the government had decided to name 'school'. Right now, he was relaxing at his desk with his limited copy of Doom Patrol. Knowing Frank had thumbed through these exact pages added some kind of...well, he didn't know what the feeling was, exactly, but he felt warm and tingly inside. Why?
"Knock knock," someone said from right behind him, and Gerard screamed (it was a very manly scream, fuck you very much).
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Frank said, with a shit-eating grin that clearly said yes I did.
"Hmph," Gerard huffed, still trying to get his heart rate to return to normal.
"Sorry," Frank said, more apologetic this time, sitting down on Gerard's bed. "You reading that again?"
"So what if I am?" Gerard said defensively.
"I've got nothing against it," Frank shrugged, kicking his feet up on the end of the bed.
"Good," Gerard said. There was silence between them, thoughtful silence, hanging comfortably in the air.
"Gerard," said a quiet voice from the top of the stairs, and both of them started in surprise. Mikey smirked down at them.
He lifted his right eyebrow. Oh, I see you're busy.
Reading a comic. Gerard placed a finger on the comic.
With Frank on your bed. Mikey brushed his hair out of his eyes.
Go away. Gerard lifted his middle finger.
Pleased to. A lifted shoulder. Mikey turned around and walked back out of the door.
"I hate it already when you guys do that," Frank complained. "It feels like you're talking about me."
"We were," Mikey's voice floated down the stairs. Gerard flushed, and scowled. Frank stared at him.
"What were you saying?" he asked, seeming intrigued rather than annoyed. It surprised Gerard.
"Nothing," Gerard said dismissively, standing up. "Let's, um. Go for a walk."
Frank shot him an odd look.
-
"I hate the cold," Gerard grumbled, turning his collar up against the wind.
"Why did you suggest a walk then?" Frank said mildly, scuffing his shoes as he walked.
"...exercise?" Gerard offered lamely. Frank looked at him, hazel eyes piercing his soul and pinning him down under his gaze, so that even if Gerard wanted to move (which he didn't), he couldn't. He was in a trance.
"No," Frank said, ambling ahead. "I will find out."
-
Two weeks. Two weeks Gerard had known Frank, and it had taken him this long to realise he was attracted to Frank. Or perhaps it hadn't taken him this long, perhaps he'd figured it out after the first moment but had just denied it. After all, he'd never even had a friend before, and from what everyone said, it was hard to fall for someone so easily. Gerard, however, had known there was something there after looking into Frank's eyes properly for the first time.
"I've never had a friend before," Gerard warned, blushing at how ridiculous he sounded. "So I'm not sure how this works."
"Neither have I," Frank said. They grinned at each other. Frank's eyes really were beautiful, Gerard thought.
That was the moment he knew. Sub-consciously knew, at least. He couldn't exactly tell Frank, he was pretty sure that wasn't how friendships worked.
It kept him awake at night, worrying, pondering. Would he ever pluck up the courage to tell Frank? Would it ruin their friendship, the only friendship he'd ever had, if he did? He knew Frank was gay, so surely Frank wouldn't judge him...too much? There were so many unanswered questions, which Gerard so badly wanted the answers to.
-
"Daffodils," Gerard said, turning this way and that, but no matter where he looked, there was a sea of yellow. "Mikey, you brought me to a field of yellowness." He stared at a daffodil beneath his feet in disgust. Such a frail, deceptively beautiful thing, he thought. So delicate, must be carefully handled, so easily broken. It reflected himself in many ways.
"Shut up, Pete," Mikey snorted, from the corner where they were both giggling.
"It's disgusting," Frank said. Gerard whirled around to face him as best he could, getting twisted in the flowers in the process.
"Why?" he demanded.
"Yellow," Frank said disdainfully. "Yellow everywhere. I hate yellow."
He's perfect for you Mikey's nonchalant kick of a daffodil said.
My fist's perfect for your face Gerard's casual shrug said.
"I thought I was the only one," he said aloud, to Frank.
"Me too," Frank said, his face splitting into a grin. Gerard couldn't take it anymore. He took two steps through the hateful flowers and pressed his lips to Frank's. The world started to swim as he shut his eyes and inhaled Frank's scent (and unfortunately, the scent of the fucking flowers). He could have gone on kissing Frank for eternity.
Finally, they broke apart.
"Was that too forward?" Gerard asked boldly.
"You weren't forward enough," Frank said, stumbling forwards for more.
-
"Everything's just so wrong," Frank grumbled. His boyfriend, arm slung around his smaller partner, rolled his eyes and huffed out a sigh.
"What's wrong with the fucking Simpsons?" Gerard wanted to know.
"Well, they're yellow, for starters," Frank said.
"So are you," Gerard said. Frank tilted his head to glare at him,
"I am not," he said crossly. Gerard smirked.
"You will be if you keep smoking like that." Frank made a noise of indignance.
"Hypocrite," he muttered, snuggling further into Gerard.
-
Mikey watched his older brother and his only friend talking and laughing from across the room. He caught Gerard's eye, and smiled at him.
I'm happy for you, his unbroken eye-contact said.
Yellow was the one colour Gerard couldn't stand. It stood for everything he hated, represented all he resented. It was the colour of joy, the colour of hope, and just too fucking bright. He judged people if they wore yellow. Too cheerful, too optimistic, he thought. There was no way a colour should be that...vibrant.
Mikey, of course, knew about his hatred of yellow, and proceeded to dress in every shade of the colour it was possible to find.
-
"Gerard!" his mother yelled down the stairs of the basement, his bedroom. The door opened, and a crack of yellow light filtered through.
"What?" Gerard said grumpily, turning from the comic book he was reading.
"We have new neighbours," his mother said. "Can you please come upstairs and introduce yourself?"
"No," Gerard said shortly. Donna Way sighed.
"Gerard, don't be difficult. They have a son; you might like him."
"Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I like every boy I see," Gerard replied.
"Your brother does."
"Pete Wentz does not count as every boy he sees."
"He does, he's the only boy he sees," his mom pointed out.
"What about me?" Gerard demanded. "Am I not a boy?"
"Yes, honey," Donna said. "But I'd like to think you're not engaging in incestuous activities." Gerard shuddered.
"Fine. I'm coming."
-
"This is Linda Iero," Gerard's mom said, gesturing at a short, friendly-looking woman. Gerard smiled at her politely.
"This is her son, Frank." Frank stepped out from behind his mother (he was even shorter than her, holy shit, he must be three feet tall) and Gerard almost did a double take. Almost.
Frank had short black hair that looked like it had been cut recently, curling slightly despite its limited length. His hair framed his tanned face, mischievious hazel eyes twinkling as they drank in every inch of Gerard. His best feature, Gerard thought (although it was hard to choose with such an array), was his lips. They were hitched in a slight smile, and a silver lip ring glinted as it caught the light. When he saw Gerard staring, the smile widened into a full-on smirk, and those hazel eyes glittered with delight.
"Hi, Frank," Gerard mumbled awkwardly, shoving his hands in his pockets and shuffling his feet. Frank grinned, and even his fucking teeth were perfect, gleaming white.
"Nice to meet you," Frank said, punctuated with a wink. Gerard bit his lip, trying in vain to hide his blush by covering his face with his greasy black hair. He wished he'd thought of changing before coming up here. But he hadn't known he'd meet the picture of beauty, had he?
"Where's your brother?" Gerard's mom asked him. Gerard shrugged.
"Where is he ever?"
"Pete's house," his mother mumbled, already dialling the number. "Show Frank around, Gerard. I'll try and get hold of your brother. Linda, do sit down, I'm very sorry about my youngest so-Michael James Way, where are y- I don't care if you're hypothesising about the zombie apocalypse, come home this instant!" she said, voice becoming distant as she walked into the kitchen.
"So?" Frank said, and Gerard looked up in shock, realising Frank was gazing at him expectantly.
"Oh, um, yeah. House. Right," Gerard managed, cringing. "Um. There's not a lot to see, so...?"
"Just show me your bedroom," Frank said suggestively, followed shortly by a high pitched giggle. Gerard swallowed.
"S-sure," he said, starting down the stairs to the basement. He descended in the dark, forgetting Frank was unused to the bigger space between the seventh and eighth steps, where he stumbled, crashed into Gerard and they both tumbled down the staircase, ending up in a mess of tangled limbs on the floor. Frank was the first to respond, breaking out into that girlish giggle again. Gerard was slower (there were reasons, okay, Frank's knee was somewhere near his dick), but eventually he started giggling along.
"I guess I should have put the light on," Gerard said between his breathy little giggles. He hated his laugh.
"I'm surprised I managed to knock you down," Frank said. "I must've put on weight." Gerard giggled again, pulling his hand from under Frank's elbow to scrape his hair back from his face. He reached up and fumbled blindly for the light switch at the bottom of the stairs, and when he reached it, flicked it on, bathing the room in a hateful yellow light.
"Get off my dick," Frank said grumpily, tugging at Gerard's heel. Oh. Oh.
"Sorry," Gerard said hastily, moving his foot and standing up shakily. He reached out a hesitant hand to help Frank up. He felt that was a gentlemanly thing to do. Because he was a gentleman, fuck you very much.
"Thanks," Frank said once he was on his feet, dusting himself down. He looked up - and stared. His eyes travelled from poster- and drawing-covered walls to the black sheets on Gerard's bed to his wardrobe to the light that shone brightly and happily at them from the ceiling.
"I don't like your light," he told Gerard.
"Neither do I," Gerard said.
"Why don't you- is that the limited edition Doom Patrol?" Frank broke off, running over to Gerard's bedside table. Gerard nodded hesitantly. Should he let this complete stranger handle the copy of Doom Patrol he han't even let Mikey touch? He debated this momentarily in his head, before deciding he should allow it in return for putting his body parts near Frank's genitalia. An apology, of sorts. Of sorts.
"Sweet mother of Mary's donkey's left hoof," Frank breathed, and okay, what? "I've been trying for like, a fucking century to get my hands on this! How did you get it?" Gerard shrugged modestly.
"I know people." It had been a long process - getting Mikey to get Pete to get Patrick to get Bob to get Ray from the comic book shop to order one, which he ended up having to bid for on eBay, and then having it hand-delivered back through the same chain of people. Tiresome yes, worth it fuck yes.
"Wow," Frank said. He hestitated, finger on the corner of the cover, and glanced at Gerard, silently asking his permission. Gerard was taken aback. Someone was actually asking, for once. He spent too much time with Pete. He inclined his head slightly, indicating he allowed it, and Frank turned the page carefully, sub-consciously sitting on the bed and turning page after page with delicacy. It was quite something to watch, but Gerard figured he shouldn't watch all day because he'd just met the guy. He was oddly comfortable around Frank, though - it had taken him weeks to get rid of the stutter around Pete, yet under five minutes for Frank. Frank looked up suddenly, catching Gerard's stare, and grinned, white teeth gleaming, hazel eyes glinting.
"Like what you see?" he asked coyly. Gerard flushed.
"I-I, um." Spoke too soon. Frank shook his head.
"It's nice to know someone appreciates this beautiful face," he said, turning back to the comic. Gerard frowned.
"Doesn't everyone?" he blurted, biting his lip once he realised what he'd said. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he chastised himself.
"No," Frank said, aiming for casual, but Gerard could hear the slight edge of sadness to his voice. "No one." There was a pause. "Except my grandma. She's always telling me what a looker I am, that I'm going to get all the ladies one day." Gerard snorted.
"Slightly awkward if I did get all the ladies," Frank continued, flipping a pagee in the comic. "Because I'm gay." There was a moment of silence. Frank looked at Gerard, eyes cold.
"You're not one of those homophobes, are you?" he asked, voice edged with steel. Gerard opened his mouth, but Frank cut him off. "Because I hate them. I hate them."
"So do I," Gerard murmured, snippets of memories flashing in front of him - being thrown to the ground and beaten for being gay, having his clothes stolen from the locker room after a shower, nasty gossips and whispers and gazes burning him as he walked the hallways.
Yeah, he fucking hated homophobes.
"You do?" Frank asked, surprised. "I thought you-"
"Well, I'm not, I'm gay," Gerard said quietly, but it still cut Frank short. Frank stared at him for a second before his mouth curled into a satisfied smile.
"I'm not alone."
-
Yellow, yellow, yellow, everywhere in the goddamn school was fucking yellow.
"I hate the colour of these corridors," Gerard said to Mikey. "I hate the colour of your shirt. I hate the colour of your bag. I hate the colour of your face."
"My face isn't yellow!" Mikey protested indignantly.
"No, but I still don't like the colour of it," Gerard said. Mikey pouted.
"That's just racist."
"How? We share the same parents, in case you didn't know."
"Fuck you," Mikey frowned, flouncing off to eat Pete's face. Gerard turned away - that was a sight he could fucking live without - and put in the combination for his locker. Incorrectly. Twice.
"Goddamn it," Gerard muttered after the second attempt, kicking the door. "Open, you fucking-"
"Trouble in paradise?" someone smirked. Gerard looked up, startled, only to have to look down again because it was Frank.
"I didn't know you were coming to this school..." Gerard trailed off. Frank shrugged.
"It was either this, or home-schooling. Guess which I prefer."
"I'd prefer home-schooling," Gerard said fervently. There was a click from behind him and he spun round to see what it was. Frank, the fucker, with his nimble fingers, had managed to deftly open Gerard's locker.
"How did you even know the code?" Gerard gaped.
"We share," Frank smirked. "Oh, good, I see you keep your locker as tidy as your room," he added, throwing his stuff in haphazardly. Gerard flushed, and opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Mikey and fucking Pete.
"Hey," Frank said, sounding mildly surprised. "You two look nothing like brothers."
"You met Frank?" Gerard said, rounding on Mikey.
"Hello to you too, Gerard," Pete said, flashing him a toothy grin.
"You look like a hormonal shark," Gerard told him, turning back to Mikey.
Mikey raised his left eyebrow. You never told me you were interested in him.
Gerard frowned, just slightly. I'm not.
Mikey cocked his head to the side, very slightly, barely noticeable. Yes, you are.
Gerard lifted his right shoulder a tad. No. I'm really not.
Mikey's mouth curled up into a small smirk. I'm not blind.
"Fuck you, Mikey Way, I'm not!" Gerard exploded. Pete had been inspecting his nails with boredom during their silent disussion, used to it, whereas Frank's eyes had flit between them like he was watching a tennis match.
"Yes, you are," Mikey replied calmly.
"Do they do this a lot?" Frank asked Pete. "Have silent eyebrow telepathic moments and then suddenly transfer it to speech?"
"I like making bets on who'll break the silence first. It's usually Gerard."
"Who d'you bet against?" Frank asked curiously.
"Myself," Pete shrugged. "But if you're offering..." Frank grinned.
"Maybe," he said. Gerard broke off from scowling at Mikey to scowl at Frank, then Pete.
"I hate everybody," he announced, turning and stalking off melodramatically.
"Drama queen," Pete murmured.
-
"Hey," Gerard heard a hesitant voice say. He looked up from his drawing pad - Frank.
"Hey," he said tiredly. Frank frowned, sitting down on the stool next to Gerard.
"What's up?" he asked, seeming genuinely concerned.
"What isn't up?" Gerard sighed dramatically. Frank frowned.
"Down."
"Don't be pedantic," Gerard huffed.
"Seriously, though," Frank pushed for an answer. "What's up?"
"I don't know," Gerard said quietly. "I just...feel lonely, now that Mikey's off with Pete all the time. I've never had any other friends." He'd never allowed himself to get close enough to people to make friends was what he really meant, but it made him sound sociopathic and pathetic so he decided not to add that.
"You've got me," Frank said brightly. "I'm your friend."
"I don't have friends," Gerard said sadly, fiddling with his pencil. Frank nudged his shoulder with his own.
"There's no need for the plural when you have me," he said, and that got an involuntary smile out of Gerard. "I'm everyone you could ever want wrapped into one multiplied by everything you could never want."
"You're not an axe murderer, are you?" Gerard asked suspiciously.
"No."
"Paedophile?"
"No."
"Rapist?"
"What the- no, Gerard, I meant with all my annoying habits."
"I've never had a friend before," Gerard warned, blushing at how ridiculous he sounded. "So I'm not sure how this works."
"Neither have I," Frank said. They grinned at each other. Frank's eyes really were beautiful, Gerard thought.
That was the moment he knew.
-
He'd done it. Gerard had managed to survive another week in the hell-hole the government had decided to name 'school'. Right now, he was relaxing at his desk with his limited copy of Doom Patrol. Knowing Frank had thumbed through these exact pages added some kind of...well, he didn't know what the feeling was, exactly, but he felt warm and tingly inside. Why?
"Knock knock," someone said from right behind him, and Gerard screamed (it was a very manly scream, fuck you very much).
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Frank said, with a shit-eating grin that clearly said yes I did.
"Hmph," Gerard huffed, still trying to get his heart rate to return to normal.
"Sorry," Frank said, more apologetic this time, sitting down on Gerard's bed. "You reading that again?"
"So what if I am?" Gerard said defensively.
"I've got nothing against it," Frank shrugged, kicking his feet up on the end of the bed.
"Good," Gerard said. There was silence between them, thoughtful silence, hanging comfortably in the air.
"Gerard," said a quiet voice from the top of the stairs, and both of them started in surprise. Mikey smirked down at them.
He lifted his right eyebrow. Oh, I see you're busy.
Reading a comic. Gerard placed a finger on the comic.
With Frank on your bed. Mikey brushed his hair out of his eyes.
Go away. Gerard lifted his middle finger.
Pleased to. A lifted shoulder. Mikey turned around and walked back out of the door.
"I hate it already when you guys do that," Frank complained. "It feels like you're talking about me."
"We were," Mikey's voice floated down the stairs. Gerard flushed, and scowled. Frank stared at him.
"What were you saying?" he asked, seeming intrigued rather than annoyed. It surprised Gerard.
"Nothing," Gerard said dismissively, standing up. "Let's, um. Go for a walk."
Frank shot him an odd look.
-
"I hate the cold," Gerard grumbled, turning his collar up against the wind.
"Why did you suggest a walk then?" Frank said mildly, scuffing his shoes as he walked.
"...exercise?" Gerard offered lamely. Frank looked at him, hazel eyes piercing his soul and pinning him down under his gaze, so that even if Gerard wanted to move (which he didn't), he couldn't. He was in a trance.
"No," Frank said, ambling ahead. "I will find out."
-
Two weeks. Two weeks Gerard had known Frank, and it had taken him this long to realise he was attracted to Frank. Or perhaps it hadn't taken him this long, perhaps he'd figured it out after the first moment but had just denied it. After all, he'd never even had a friend before, and from what everyone said, it was hard to fall for someone so easily. Gerard, however, had known there was something there after looking into Frank's eyes properly for the first time.
"I've never had a friend before," Gerard warned, blushing at how ridiculous he sounded. "So I'm not sure how this works."
"Neither have I," Frank said. They grinned at each other. Frank's eyes really were beautiful, Gerard thought.
That was the moment he knew. Sub-consciously knew, at least. He couldn't exactly tell Frank, he was pretty sure that wasn't how friendships worked.
It kept him awake at night, worrying, pondering. Would he ever pluck up the courage to tell Frank? Would it ruin their friendship, the only friendship he'd ever had, if he did? He knew Frank was gay, so surely Frank wouldn't judge him...too much? There were so many unanswered questions, which Gerard so badly wanted the answers to.
-
"Daffodils," Gerard said, turning this way and that, but no matter where he looked, there was a sea of yellow. "Mikey, you brought me to a field of yellowness." He stared at a daffodil beneath his feet in disgust. Such a frail, deceptively beautiful thing, he thought. So delicate, must be carefully handled, so easily broken. It reflected himself in many ways.
"Shut up, Pete," Mikey snorted, from the corner where they were both giggling.
"It's disgusting," Frank said. Gerard whirled around to face him as best he could, getting twisted in the flowers in the process.
"Why?" he demanded.
"Yellow," Frank said disdainfully. "Yellow everywhere. I hate yellow."
He's perfect for you Mikey's nonchalant kick of a daffodil said.
My fist's perfect for your face Gerard's casual shrug said.
"I thought I was the only one," he said aloud, to Frank.
"Me too," Frank said, his face splitting into a grin. Gerard couldn't take it anymore. He took two steps through the hateful flowers and pressed his lips to Frank's. The world started to swim as he shut his eyes and inhaled Frank's scent (and unfortunately, the scent of the fucking flowers). He could have gone on kissing Frank for eternity.
Finally, they broke apart.
"Was that too forward?" Gerard asked boldly.
"You weren't forward enough," Frank said, stumbling forwards for more.
-
"Everything's just so wrong," Frank grumbled. His boyfriend, arm slung around his smaller partner, rolled his eyes and huffed out a sigh.
"What's wrong with the fucking Simpsons?" Gerard wanted to know.
"Well, they're yellow, for starters," Frank said.
"So are you," Gerard said. Frank tilted his head to glare at him,
"I am not," he said crossly. Gerard smirked.
"You will be if you keep smoking like that." Frank made a noise of indignance.
"Hypocrite," he muttered, snuggling further into Gerard.
-
Mikey watched his older brother and his only friend talking and laughing from across the room. He caught Gerard's eye, and smiled at him.
I'm happy for you, his unbroken eye-contact said.