#21 - Friends
#21 - Friends
#21; Friends
Gerard didn't crush on his friends. It was the one rule he'd manage to keep since- well, since he could remember. All the other rules had been broken within a week of them being made.
It was quite an easy rule to keep, mainly because Gerard didn't actually have many friends. He had Ray, Mikey, Bob, Pete and Patrick, and that was it. Patrick was a nice enough guy, but he wasn't crush material, at least, not for Gerard - he obviously was for Pete, his terrifying yet somehow very socially active, shark-toothed boyfriend. Bob was cool, and Gerard would totally have a crush on him if he wasn't dating Brian Schechter, Gerard's boss. Then there was Ray - Ray, who he'd known since high school, and probably the most heterosexual heterosexual that ever heterosexualed, so even if Gerard did have a crush on him it wouldn't go anywhere. That left one person - Mikey. His brother.
So the rule was simple and easy to stick to, especially since not a lot of people found a recovering alcoholic sexually appealing anyway.
That was until the day he met Frank Iero.
Frank and Gerard had hit it off pretty early on, at one of Bob's parties when Gerard was still a drunk. He'd been outside stumbling around after throwing up when he accidentally fell on Frank, who'd been smoking up by Bob's garden wall. Frank had giggled and offered Gerard the joint, and who was Gerard to refuse a free spliff? He accepted, and soon he was stoned and drunk, and rolling around with laughter at Frank. They'd exchanged numbers when Ray had come to carry Frank back to his car, and Gerard had wandered inside to find Mikey with his tongue down a girl with more eyeliner than Gerard (and Gerard wore a lot)'s throat.
He'd woken up with a killer hangover and a number scrawled on his arm, and the memories had come flooding back to him. He'd got up and staggered to where his phone was, firing off a text to his new best friend. Frank replied immediately and they'd got into a long, heated discussion of whether it was actually possible to give birth to a dolphin.
One night, about a month after they first met, Gerard drank so much he was arrested after falling asleep in the gutter. That was when he realised he had to get his problem sorted out, and Frank was there every step of the way, holding Gerard's hand as he sweated out the excess alcohol, shaking and pale. He'd been there for late-night phone calls, running over to Gerard's to stop him drinking. Gerard would have relapsed many times if he hadn't known how it would hurt Frank.
After that, they started meeting regularly - Gerard would stop by Frank's ice cream parlour after his shift, and they'd sit, chat and laugh, Gerard sipping soda rather than beer. Frank would stare at the plastic cup of coke and then at Gerard, eyes shining at how far Gerard had come since that first night.
And every time that happened, maybe, Gerard thought, maybe that was when he fell a little more in love.
-
"Gerard," Frank greeted happily when Gerard pushed open the door to Frank's little Italian ice cream shop. He jumped down from behind the counter and ran over to give Gerard a bone-crushing hug.
"Frank," Gerard replied, a smile playing on his lips despite how shit his day had been. Frank had that effect on him.
"Can we go somewhere tonight?" Frank said, twitchy and buzzing with energy. "I've been stuck in this place all day."
"You're stuck in this place every day," Gerard pointed out, but Frank was pulling him out of the parlour already.
"I heard Pete's weird friend Gabe is having a party," Frank said, eyes sparkling. Gerard was hypnotised. "Wanna go?"
"I, uh," Gerard said. There'd be alcohol there. What if he couldn't do it? What if he relapsed?
"You're strong enough," Frank said softly. "But if you don't want to, we won't go." Gerard really didn't think he was strong enough, but he found himself nodding anyway.
"Sure," he heard himself say involuntarily. He paused. "Who's going?" he asked. Frank shrugged, turning the corner of some unknown alleyway.
"Pete," he said, which meant Patrick was going, which meant Ray was going, which meant Mikey was going, which meant Bob was going, which, oh God, meant Brian was going.
"My boss is going to be there," Gerard said, horrified, and Frank giggled, the bastard.
"Yep," he said, dancing out onto a darkened street. Although it was only November, it was getting dark uncharacteristically early for Jersey - it was only seven, seriously.
"Fuck," was all Gerard could say in response to that, and Frank giggled again, heading up the pathway of a noisy, brightly lit house.
"Frankie!" the man answering the door slurred.
"Gabe," Frank said, nodding and grinning at Gabe.
"You brought your alcoholic friend!" Gabe exclaimed, pushing past Frank to clap a hand on Gerard's shoulder. "There's plenty of beer here, don't you worry," he said to Gerard, holding up his cup. Frank rolled his eyes and slapped Gabe's hand away, pulling Gerard through into the house.
The stench of alcohol hit him like a truck. Everywhere he turned, someone was holding a red plastic cup filled with some kind of alcoholic beverage. It was overpowering, and his mouth was watering, half of his brain yelling at him to get out, he couldn't cope, and the other half wanting it, needing it, desperate for the numbness that accompanied the drink.
"I can't," Gerard mumbled, pushing past partygoers to stumble out of the back door into the garden, breathing in deep breaths of the cool, fresh November air.
"Sorry," a pained voice by his side said - Frank's voice.
"It's okay," Gerard said between gulps of the air. "You didn't know it was going to be this bad. I didn't know it was going to be this bad." Quite frankly, the worst bit wasn't actually the drink. The worst part was that after all this time, after all the careful steps he'd taken, he still wanted the drink. He still couldn't resist the sickly sweet yet bitter smell of beer. It was still his addiction.
They stood in silence a moment.
"It'll always be my addiction," Gerard whispered after a while, the wind almost carrying his words away.
"Everyone has addictions," Frank said.
"You don't," Gerard pointed out. Frank smiled wryly.
"Maybe not one that'll kill me as quickly as alcohol," he said quietly. "But it'll get me in the end." Gerard frowned. What the fuck was Frank talking about? He liked...okay, he liked guitar, but it wasn't like he was going to bleed to death from shredding his fingers once in a while. He liked ice cream, but not to an excess, and anyway, chubby Frank would be quite cute, Gerard reckoned. He liked alcohol, but when Gerard quit he quit too, to make it easier for Gerard. Weed? He wasn't addicted, though, the last time he'd seen Frank smoke up was...okay, last week, but still. That was a week ago.
He wanted to ask what it was, but he didn't want to be rude. If Frank wanted to tell Gerard, he'd tell him. It didn't stop him wondering, though.
"At least no one can see your addiction," Gerard said.
"That's what makes it hurt."
-
They ended up spending the whole evening lying on the grass, looking up at the Jersey sky. Gerard was positive Brian and Pete saw them, but he guessed he'd hear the remarks the next day rather than at that moment in time. They were assholes, but they respected Gerard's privacy. Mostly.
"I love the stars," Frank said. "But there's too much fucking light pollution in Jersey to see them properly."
"You can see planets?" Gerard offered, pointing at a particularly bright point of light in the sky. "Venus."
"They call her the twin planet, you know," Frank told him, turning his head to get a better view of the glimmering dot. "She's practically the same size as Earth."
"Too hot to live on, though," Gerard said.
"Not just the heat, also the fact that the entire atmosphere imploded and is now toxic," Frank pointed out. Gerard shrugged in agreement, shivering a little when an icy breeze nipped at his exposed neck. Frank noticed, and felt for his hand in the dark to pull him to his feet.
"We should go," he said, and Gerard nodded, pulling his hand from Frank's grip to dust himself down.
They made their way past publicly-indecent couples to the gate that led out onto the street. Frank stepped out first, holding the wrought iron poles for Gerard.
"Chivalrous," Gerard noted, and Frank cracked a grin.
"I always hold the door for ladies," he deadpanned, and Gerard scoffed, swatting at him lightly. Now they were away from the danger, the threat of the drink, he felt safer, happier, relieved.
"Stop," he said, in the campest voice he could manage. "You're embarassing me." Frank giggled, turning the corner of the street Gabe's house was in. Gerard had lived in Jersey all his life and was still incapable of finding his way anywhere more than two streets from his house, whereas Frank could find his way anywhere blindfolded, and he knew all the best shortcuts.
"Jesus, you're like a walking GPS," Gerard blurted, and Frank burst out laughing, the sound somehow melodic.
"No, you're just useless," he said, crossing the road. Gerard followed, huffing out a breath.
"At least I'm taller than a seven year old," he said.
"I can do things you can't, Giant Gerard," Frank said, pursing his lips before scuttling down an alleyway.
"Like what?" Gerard asked skeptically, hurrying to keep up. Frank shrugged.
"I can get in kids' parks," he said.
"Because that's what all the parents want, a twenty-one year old midget around their kids, Jesus," Gerard said, throwing his hands in the air. "Pervert," he added, for good measure.
"Fuck you," Frank said good-naturedly. "I can play hide-and-seek better than you can."
"When was the last time you played hide-and-fucking-seek?"Gerard asked, amused. Frank turned to face him, eyes glittering under the harsh glow of the orange streetlight.
"Just now," he said, darting off to the right. Gerard groaned.
"Fuck, not now, Frank, seriously," Gerard groaned, and heard a stifled giggle from somewhere to his right.
"Count to forty!" Frank's muffled voice yelled, and Gerard rolled his eyes.
"One, two, forty! Now come out, you dickh-" he was cut off by someone jumping on him from behind, wrapping their arms around his neck. His first thought was holy shit I'm being murdered, but then he felt a warm huff of laughter on the nape of his neck.
"You lose," Frank said, the grin audible in his words. He pressed a swift kiss to Gerard's neck before hopping off and sprinting down the road. Gerard touched the place where Frank's lips had grazed his skin. He could still feel the warmth.
"Jesus!" he shouted after Frank. "I hate when you have energy like this."
-
"Morning," Gerard said cheerfully, dumping a paper bag containing a doughnut on Brian's desk, because he was that awesome of an employee. Brian groaned, massaging his temples. That was one of the advantages of abstinence from alcohol - no hangovers. Gerard grinned, proceeding to make as much noise as he could in walking to his office, clanging chairs and banging the door shut behind him.
"I will fire you!" Brian threatened, and Gerard grinned again.
"No you won't!" he yelled back, reclining in his chair. He wasn't in the mood for drawing comic strip after comic strip today, and Brian wasn't going to nag him. The door to his office clattered open and Pete stumbled in, holding out a coffee. Pete might be terrifying and an asshole, but he was a terrifying asshole who brought Gerard coffee.
"Coffee," he groaned, holding it out to Gerard. He was obviously suffering worse than Brian.
"Aren't you going to make some wisecrack remark about me and Frank?" Gerard asked, gulping down the coffee.
"Later," Pete mumbled, staggering out of Gerard's office again.
It was just another Thursday.
-
Gerard had spent all morning flicking between the TV channels, bored at the shit that daytime TV had morphed into. He ended up watching six back-to-back episodes of Judge Judy.
"Frank," Brian said, crashing into Gerard's office with an eager Pete behind him, towing a not-so-eager Patrick.
"Dennis," Gerard said. Brian looked at him in confusion. "I thought we were playing name-your-friend-something-he-isn't-named."
"Are you two fucking?" Pete said bluntly, phone in his hands so he could be first with the news.
"No," Gerard said. Pete looked at him skeptically.
"Are you sure?" he said. "Because Gabe told me that-"
"Gabe's an asshole," Brian pointed out. Gerard shared a long-suffering look with Patrick.
"If he says he's not...having relations with Frank, he's not," Patrick said, and Gerard threw him a grateful glance. Pete scoffed.
"Relations," he mocked, twining his fingers with his boyfriend's.
"That," Gerard said, pointing at Patrick. "That is why Patrick is my friend. You two are not. Go away."
"I'm your boss," Brian said.
"Thank you for reminding me, I'd forgotten," Gerard said.
"I'm your coffee-maker," Pete said sadly. "If Brian fires you, I won't have anyone to make coffee for. Or annoy."
"You always have me," Patrick reminded him dryly, and Pete brightened.
"And Brian has Bob," he said, waving goodbye as he pulled Patrick out of the room.
"Wanna fuck in the broom cupboard?" was all Gerard heard before they rounded a corner.
"You should say something to Frank," Brian said, looking tired yet alert due to the amount of coffee and Advil he must have had.
"I think not," Gerard said.
"If you don't, I will," Brian said, disappearing.
Gerard hated his colleagues. He really did. He spent the next hour or two drawing them all dying gory deaths at the hands of zombies and vampires, and left them on their desks.
He felt a lot better after that.
-
"I don't have any customers," Frank said mournfully.
"Because it's November," Gerard said, but dug around in his pockets for spare change anyway. "Here. Give me a mint chocolate chip." Frank brightened and set to work, scooping large dollops of ice cream into a waffle cone. He handed it to Gerard, smiling like a child, and Gerard smiled back involuntarily. He handed Frank the change and sat down at the counter opposite Frank.
"So," Gerard said, once he'd finished his ice-cream. Frank stared at him innocently, his hazel eyes glinting with...something.
"I want to make this a coffee shop," he said suddenly, still gazing intently at Gerard. Gerard blinked.
"Okay," he said slowly. "Am I missing something here?" Frank rocked backwards on his heels, grinning.
"No," he said. "I don't believe you are."
Gerard was definitely missing something.
-
"Are you sure you and Frank aren't fucking?" Pete asked when he brought Gerard his morning coffee the next day.
"No," Gerard said shortly.
"But-"
"He said no, asshole!" Patrick's voice floated through from his desk outside.
"I love you, Patrick!" Gerard yelled.
"I don't!" Pete said, stomping outside like a child.
"I liked the drawing, by the way," he grinned, sticking his head back into Gerard's office.
-
"Seriously," Brian said, when Gerard went to top up his coffee after Pete refused, because Gerard had been 'mean' to him.
"No, I was joking," Gerard said grumpily, kicking the vending machine.
"Just tell him!" Brian said, exasperated.
"You're all evil," Gerard grumbled, giving up.
-
"Gerard," Frank greeted, as soon as his friend entered the parlour. He threw his apron behind him, shrugging on his jacket and heading straight out, bewildering Gerard, who followed him nonetheless. It was Frank. He'd always follow.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"My favourite place," Frank answered, hopping inside his car, and God, oh God, Frank was driving. Gerard stepped in and strapped himself in, and Frank started the car, crashing into the bumper of the van behind him.
"Are you sure I shouldn't drive?" Gerard said warily. "You're hardly Grand Prix standard.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Frank said, doing an illegal turn the wrong way into a one-way road.
-
"Get out," Frank whined, kicking Gerard's door.
"Jesus, I'm coming, I'm coming," Gerard grumbled, and Frank giggled, the dirty-minded bastard. Gerard took the leisure of shoving him amicably when he finally tumbled out of the car.
"Where are we?" he said, squinting in the darkness.
"Not there yet," Frank replied, lacing their fingers together. They stood still for a moment, Gerard's heart thudding almost audibly against his ribcage, before Frank grinned and set off - up a hill.
"I didn't know there were hills involved," Gerard complained.
"Quit bitching," Frank said, breaking into a run. Gerard rolled his eyes, speeding up to match Frank's pace.
"I don't do running," he informed Frank, panting slightly.
"What are you doing now, then?" Frank asked.
"Walking at an immense speed," Gerard retorted, and Frank scoffed fondly.
"We're nearly there," he said, not out of breath at all. Eventually they reached the top of the hill, and Gerard gasped. He could see the stars.
"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Frank murmured, not letting go although they'd reached the top of the hill.
"They make me feel so...irrelevant," Gerard said passionately. "Like, in the long run, everything I do wrong in life doesn't fucking matter, you know? Because we're all going to die anyway, and the world's going to die, and so is the sun, but nothing I do will ever change anything. The stars are always gonna die and be reborn, and I'm just a tiny little speck of dust in the universe. It doesn't give a shit about me. I don't matter. No one matters, long-term. Even, like, Shakespeare. The stars won't remember him. We're all useless, just trying to survive our little- little, like, fucking, second of time. They're so old, a century is gone in the blink of an eye. But they die too, y'know. But when they die, it matters. They change space. When we die, no one gives a shit. We're just, like, worthless. Unimportant. Mundane. I can do whatever the fuck I want and nothing will change." He finished, slightly breathless, to see Frank staring at him.
"What?" he asked, before realising he'd been rambling. "Sorry, I, uh, got a bit carried awa-"
"Shut up," Frank said suddenly. "Just- just shut up." Gerard closed his mouth, suddenly afraid. What the fuck was going on?
"I am so," Frank said. "I am so in love with you right now." Gerard blinked. Had he- had he heard that right?
"Am I hallucinating?" he asked in surprise, before suddenly, suddenly, something warm and soft was on his mouth - Frank's lips, Jesus, he'd been fantasising about this for months, but God, it was so, so much fucking better than he'd imagined.
"Can I ask you something?" he gasped, coming up for breath. Frank growled softly, but nodded.
"If- if we're going to make this, you know, a thing," Gerard said, gesturing between them with his free hand. "I wanna. I wanna, y'know. Help." Frank stared at him in confusion.
"You said you had an addiction," Gerard clarified. "What...what is it?" Frank's features relaxed into a smile.
"Haven't you guessed?" he said, eyes dark and glittering. "It's you."
-
"You fucked him, didn't you?" Pete said excitedly the next day.
"No," Gerard said honestly. Frank had fucked him.
"You owe me fifty dollars!" Patrick yelled.
"No," Pete yelled back. "Frank fucked him, it still counts!" Gerard gazed at him, mouth open in astonishment. How the fuck did Pete know that?
"I can tell by your left elbow," Pete said seriously to Gerard. Gerard stared at his elbow in confusion. What the fuck?
"No," Patrick said. "Our bet was specifically that Gerard fucked Frank."
"If it involves dick in ass, it's fucking, no matter which way!" Pete said crossly, slamming the door to Gerard's office to carry on the argument with his boyfriend.
"I agree with Patrick!" Gerard yelled, because he liked Patrick and he liked pissing off Pete. It killed two birds with one stone. He heard a triumphamt crow, and Pete opened the door to stick his middle finger up at Gerard.
-
"Frank fucked you?" Brian asked.
"Fuck off," Gerard replied.
-
Gerard's phone rang.
"Frank fucked you?" said Gerard's asshole of a 'best friend', more than a little amused. Fucking Ray.
Gerard hung up.
-
Gerard's phone rang again.
"I thought you had a rule," his little brother said. "No fucking friends."
"Rules were made to be broken," Gerard said.
-
u fucked frank!!!! well dun!!! - gabe ;)
Gerard groaned.
Never let Pete fucking Wentz get hold of details of your sexual life.
Gerard didn't crush on his friends. It was the one rule he'd manage to keep since- well, since he could remember. All the other rules had been broken within a week of them being made.
It was quite an easy rule to keep, mainly because Gerard didn't actually have many friends. He had Ray, Mikey, Bob, Pete and Patrick, and that was it. Patrick was a nice enough guy, but he wasn't crush material, at least, not for Gerard - he obviously was for Pete, his terrifying yet somehow very socially active, shark-toothed boyfriend. Bob was cool, and Gerard would totally have a crush on him if he wasn't dating Brian Schechter, Gerard's boss. Then there was Ray - Ray, who he'd known since high school, and probably the most heterosexual heterosexual that ever heterosexualed, so even if Gerard did have a crush on him it wouldn't go anywhere. That left one person - Mikey. His brother.
So the rule was simple and easy to stick to, especially since not a lot of people found a recovering alcoholic sexually appealing anyway.
That was until the day he met Frank Iero.
Frank and Gerard had hit it off pretty early on, at one of Bob's parties when Gerard was still a drunk. He'd been outside stumbling around after throwing up when he accidentally fell on Frank, who'd been smoking up by Bob's garden wall. Frank had giggled and offered Gerard the joint, and who was Gerard to refuse a free spliff? He accepted, and soon he was stoned and drunk, and rolling around with laughter at Frank. They'd exchanged numbers when Ray had come to carry Frank back to his car, and Gerard had wandered inside to find Mikey with his tongue down a girl with more eyeliner than Gerard (and Gerard wore a lot)'s throat.
He'd woken up with a killer hangover and a number scrawled on his arm, and the memories had come flooding back to him. He'd got up and staggered to where his phone was, firing off a text to his new best friend. Frank replied immediately and they'd got into a long, heated discussion of whether it was actually possible to give birth to a dolphin.
One night, about a month after they first met, Gerard drank so much he was arrested after falling asleep in the gutter. That was when he realised he had to get his problem sorted out, and Frank was there every step of the way, holding Gerard's hand as he sweated out the excess alcohol, shaking and pale. He'd been there for late-night phone calls, running over to Gerard's to stop him drinking. Gerard would have relapsed many times if he hadn't known how it would hurt Frank.
After that, they started meeting regularly - Gerard would stop by Frank's ice cream parlour after his shift, and they'd sit, chat and laugh, Gerard sipping soda rather than beer. Frank would stare at the plastic cup of coke and then at Gerard, eyes shining at how far Gerard had come since that first night.
And every time that happened, maybe, Gerard thought, maybe that was when he fell a little more in love.
-
"Gerard," Frank greeted happily when Gerard pushed open the door to Frank's little Italian ice cream shop. He jumped down from behind the counter and ran over to give Gerard a bone-crushing hug.
"Frank," Gerard replied, a smile playing on his lips despite how shit his day had been. Frank had that effect on him.
"Can we go somewhere tonight?" Frank said, twitchy and buzzing with energy. "I've been stuck in this place all day."
"You're stuck in this place every day," Gerard pointed out, but Frank was pulling him out of the parlour already.
"I heard Pete's weird friend Gabe is having a party," Frank said, eyes sparkling. Gerard was hypnotised. "Wanna go?"
"I, uh," Gerard said. There'd be alcohol there. What if he couldn't do it? What if he relapsed?
"You're strong enough," Frank said softly. "But if you don't want to, we won't go." Gerard really didn't think he was strong enough, but he found himself nodding anyway.
"Sure," he heard himself say involuntarily. He paused. "Who's going?" he asked. Frank shrugged, turning the corner of some unknown alleyway.
"Pete," he said, which meant Patrick was going, which meant Ray was going, which meant Mikey was going, which meant Bob was going, which, oh God, meant Brian was going.
"My boss is going to be there," Gerard said, horrified, and Frank giggled, the bastard.
"Yep," he said, dancing out onto a darkened street. Although it was only November, it was getting dark uncharacteristically early for Jersey - it was only seven, seriously.
"Fuck," was all Gerard could say in response to that, and Frank giggled again, heading up the pathway of a noisy, brightly lit house.
"Frankie!" the man answering the door slurred.
"Gabe," Frank said, nodding and grinning at Gabe.
"You brought your alcoholic friend!" Gabe exclaimed, pushing past Frank to clap a hand on Gerard's shoulder. "There's plenty of beer here, don't you worry," he said to Gerard, holding up his cup. Frank rolled his eyes and slapped Gabe's hand away, pulling Gerard through into the house.
The stench of alcohol hit him like a truck. Everywhere he turned, someone was holding a red plastic cup filled with some kind of alcoholic beverage. It was overpowering, and his mouth was watering, half of his brain yelling at him to get out, he couldn't cope, and the other half wanting it, needing it, desperate for the numbness that accompanied the drink.
"I can't," Gerard mumbled, pushing past partygoers to stumble out of the back door into the garden, breathing in deep breaths of the cool, fresh November air.
"Sorry," a pained voice by his side said - Frank's voice.
"It's okay," Gerard said between gulps of the air. "You didn't know it was going to be this bad. I didn't know it was going to be this bad." Quite frankly, the worst bit wasn't actually the drink. The worst part was that after all this time, after all the careful steps he'd taken, he still wanted the drink. He still couldn't resist the sickly sweet yet bitter smell of beer. It was still his addiction.
They stood in silence a moment.
"It'll always be my addiction," Gerard whispered after a while, the wind almost carrying his words away.
"Everyone has addictions," Frank said.
"You don't," Gerard pointed out. Frank smiled wryly.
"Maybe not one that'll kill me as quickly as alcohol," he said quietly. "But it'll get me in the end." Gerard frowned. What the fuck was Frank talking about? He liked...okay, he liked guitar, but it wasn't like he was going to bleed to death from shredding his fingers once in a while. He liked ice cream, but not to an excess, and anyway, chubby Frank would be quite cute, Gerard reckoned. He liked alcohol, but when Gerard quit he quit too, to make it easier for Gerard. Weed? He wasn't addicted, though, the last time he'd seen Frank smoke up was...okay, last week, but still. That was a week ago.
He wanted to ask what it was, but he didn't want to be rude. If Frank wanted to tell Gerard, he'd tell him. It didn't stop him wondering, though.
"At least no one can see your addiction," Gerard said.
"That's what makes it hurt."
-
They ended up spending the whole evening lying on the grass, looking up at the Jersey sky. Gerard was positive Brian and Pete saw them, but he guessed he'd hear the remarks the next day rather than at that moment in time. They were assholes, but they respected Gerard's privacy. Mostly.
"I love the stars," Frank said. "But there's too much fucking light pollution in Jersey to see them properly."
"You can see planets?" Gerard offered, pointing at a particularly bright point of light in the sky. "Venus."
"They call her the twin planet, you know," Frank told him, turning his head to get a better view of the glimmering dot. "She's practically the same size as Earth."
"Too hot to live on, though," Gerard said.
"Not just the heat, also the fact that the entire atmosphere imploded and is now toxic," Frank pointed out. Gerard shrugged in agreement, shivering a little when an icy breeze nipped at his exposed neck. Frank noticed, and felt for his hand in the dark to pull him to his feet.
"We should go," he said, and Gerard nodded, pulling his hand from Frank's grip to dust himself down.
They made their way past publicly-indecent couples to the gate that led out onto the street. Frank stepped out first, holding the wrought iron poles for Gerard.
"Chivalrous," Gerard noted, and Frank cracked a grin.
"I always hold the door for ladies," he deadpanned, and Gerard scoffed, swatting at him lightly. Now they were away from the danger, the threat of the drink, he felt safer, happier, relieved.
"Stop," he said, in the campest voice he could manage. "You're embarassing me." Frank giggled, turning the corner of the street Gabe's house was in. Gerard had lived in Jersey all his life and was still incapable of finding his way anywhere more than two streets from his house, whereas Frank could find his way anywhere blindfolded, and he knew all the best shortcuts.
"Jesus, you're like a walking GPS," Gerard blurted, and Frank burst out laughing, the sound somehow melodic.
"No, you're just useless," he said, crossing the road. Gerard followed, huffing out a breath.
"At least I'm taller than a seven year old," he said.
"I can do things you can't, Giant Gerard," Frank said, pursing his lips before scuttling down an alleyway.
"Like what?" Gerard asked skeptically, hurrying to keep up. Frank shrugged.
"I can get in kids' parks," he said.
"Because that's what all the parents want, a twenty-one year old midget around their kids, Jesus," Gerard said, throwing his hands in the air. "Pervert," he added, for good measure.
"Fuck you," Frank said good-naturedly. "I can play hide-and-seek better than you can."
"When was the last time you played hide-and-fucking-seek?"Gerard asked, amused. Frank turned to face him, eyes glittering under the harsh glow of the orange streetlight.
"Just now," he said, darting off to the right. Gerard groaned.
"Fuck, not now, Frank, seriously," Gerard groaned, and heard a stifled giggle from somewhere to his right.
"Count to forty!" Frank's muffled voice yelled, and Gerard rolled his eyes.
"One, two, forty! Now come out, you dickh-" he was cut off by someone jumping on him from behind, wrapping their arms around his neck. His first thought was holy shit I'm being murdered, but then he felt a warm huff of laughter on the nape of his neck.
"You lose," Frank said, the grin audible in his words. He pressed a swift kiss to Gerard's neck before hopping off and sprinting down the road. Gerard touched the place where Frank's lips had grazed his skin. He could still feel the warmth.
"Jesus!" he shouted after Frank. "I hate when you have energy like this."
-
"Morning," Gerard said cheerfully, dumping a paper bag containing a doughnut on Brian's desk, because he was that awesome of an employee. Brian groaned, massaging his temples. That was one of the advantages of abstinence from alcohol - no hangovers. Gerard grinned, proceeding to make as much noise as he could in walking to his office, clanging chairs and banging the door shut behind him.
"I will fire you!" Brian threatened, and Gerard grinned again.
"No you won't!" he yelled back, reclining in his chair. He wasn't in the mood for drawing comic strip after comic strip today, and Brian wasn't going to nag him. The door to his office clattered open and Pete stumbled in, holding out a coffee. Pete might be terrifying and an asshole, but he was a terrifying asshole who brought Gerard coffee.
"Coffee," he groaned, holding it out to Gerard. He was obviously suffering worse than Brian.
"Aren't you going to make some wisecrack remark about me and Frank?" Gerard asked, gulping down the coffee.
"Later," Pete mumbled, staggering out of Gerard's office again.
It was just another Thursday.
-
Gerard had spent all morning flicking between the TV channels, bored at the shit that daytime TV had morphed into. He ended up watching six back-to-back episodes of Judge Judy.
"Frank," Brian said, crashing into Gerard's office with an eager Pete behind him, towing a not-so-eager Patrick.
"Dennis," Gerard said. Brian looked at him in confusion. "I thought we were playing name-your-friend-something-he-isn't-named."
"Are you two fucking?" Pete said bluntly, phone in his hands so he could be first with the news.
"No," Gerard said. Pete looked at him skeptically.
"Are you sure?" he said. "Because Gabe told me that-"
"Gabe's an asshole," Brian pointed out. Gerard shared a long-suffering look with Patrick.
"If he says he's not...having relations with Frank, he's not," Patrick said, and Gerard threw him a grateful glance. Pete scoffed.
"Relations," he mocked, twining his fingers with his boyfriend's.
"That," Gerard said, pointing at Patrick. "That is why Patrick is my friend. You two are not. Go away."
"I'm your boss," Brian said.
"Thank you for reminding me, I'd forgotten," Gerard said.
"I'm your coffee-maker," Pete said sadly. "If Brian fires you, I won't have anyone to make coffee for. Or annoy."
"You always have me," Patrick reminded him dryly, and Pete brightened.
"And Brian has Bob," he said, waving goodbye as he pulled Patrick out of the room.
"Wanna fuck in the broom cupboard?" was all Gerard heard before they rounded a corner.
"You should say something to Frank," Brian said, looking tired yet alert due to the amount of coffee and Advil he must have had.
"I think not," Gerard said.
"If you don't, I will," Brian said, disappearing.
Gerard hated his colleagues. He really did. He spent the next hour or two drawing them all dying gory deaths at the hands of zombies and vampires, and left them on their desks.
He felt a lot better after that.
-
"I don't have any customers," Frank said mournfully.
"Because it's November," Gerard said, but dug around in his pockets for spare change anyway. "Here. Give me a mint chocolate chip." Frank brightened and set to work, scooping large dollops of ice cream into a waffle cone. He handed it to Gerard, smiling like a child, and Gerard smiled back involuntarily. He handed Frank the change and sat down at the counter opposite Frank.
"So," Gerard said, once he'd finished his ice-cream. Frank stared at him innocently, his hazel eyes glinting with...something.
"I want to make this a coffee shop," he said suddenly, still gazing intently at Gerard. Gerard blinked.
"Okay," he said slowly. "Am I missing something here?" Frank rocked backwards on his heels, grinning.
"No," he said. "I don't believe you are."
Gerard was definitely missing something.
-
"Are you sure you and Frank aren't fucking?" Pete asked when he brought Gerard his morning coffee the next day.
"No," Gerard said shortly.
"But-"
"He said no, asshole!" Patrick's voice floated through from his desk outside.
"I love you, Patrick!" Gerard yelled.
"I don't!" Pete said, stomping outside like a child.
"I liked the drawing, by the way," he grinned, sticking his head back into Gerard's office.
-
"Seriously," Brian said, when Gerard went to top up his coffee after Pete refused, because Gerard had been 'mean' to him.
"No, I was joking," Gerard said grumpily, kicking the vending machine.
"Just tell him!" Brian said, exasperated.
"You're all evil," Gerard grumbled, giving up.
-
"Gerard," Frank greeted, as soon as his friend entered the parlour. He threw his apron behind him, shrugging on his jacket and heading straight out, bewildering Gerard, who followed him nonetheless. It was Frank. He'd always follow.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"My favourite place," Frank answered, hopping inside his car, and God, oh God, Frank was driving. Gerard stepped in and strapped himself in, and Frank started the car, crashing into the bumper of the van behind him.
"Are you sure I shouldn't drive?" Gerard said warily. "You're hardly Grand Prix standard.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Frank said, doing an illegal turn the wrong way into a one-way road.
-
"Get out," Frank whined, kicking Gerard's door.
"Jesus, I'm coming, I'm coming," Gerard grumbled, and Frank giggled, the dirty-minded bastard. Gerard took the leisure of shoving him amicably when he finally tumbled out of the car.
"Where are we?" he said, squinting in the darkness.
"Not there yet," Frank replied, lacing their fingers together. They stood still for a moment, Gerard's heart thudding almost audibly against his ribcage, before Frank grinned and set off - up a hill.
"I didn't know there were hills involved," Gerard complained.
"Quit bitching," Frank said, breaking into a run. Gerard rolled his eyes, speeding up to match Frank's pace.
"I don't do running," he informed Frank, panting slightly.
"What are you doing now, then?" Frank asked.
"Walking at an immense speed," Gerard retorted, and Frank scoffed fondly.
"We're nearly there," he said, not out of breath at all. Eventually they reached the top of the hill, and Gerard gasped. He could see the stars.
"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Frank murmured, not letting go although they'd reached the top of the hill.
"They make me feel so...irrelevant," Gerard said passionately. "Like, in the long run, everything I do wrong in life doesn't fucking matter, you know? Because we're all going to die anyway, and the world's going to die, and so is the sun, but nothing I do will ever change anything. The stars are always gonna die and be reborn, and I'm just a tiny little speck of dust in the universe. It doesn't give a shit about me. I don't matter. No one matters, long-term. Even, like, Shakespeare. The stars won't remember him. We're all useless, just trying to survive our little- little, like, fucking, second of time. They're so old, a century is gone in the blink of an eye. But they die too, y'know. But when they die, it matters. They change space. When we die, no one gives a shit. We're just, like, worthless. Unimportant. Mundane. I can do whatever the fuck I want and nothing will change." He finished, slightly breathless, to see Frank staring at him.
"What?" he asked, before realising he'd been rambling. "Sorry, I, uh, got a bit carried awa-"
"Shut up," Frank said suddenly. "Just- just shut up." Gerard closed his mouth, suddenly afraid. What the fuck was going on?
"I am so," Frank said. "I am so in love with you right now." Gerard blinked. Had he- had he heard that right?
"Am I hallucinating?" he asked in surprise, before suddenly, suddenly, something warm and soft was on his mouth - Frank's lips, Jesus, he'd been fantasising about this for months, but God, it was so, so much fucking better than he'd imagined.
"Can I ask you something?" he gasped, coming up for breath. Frank growled softly, but nodded.
"If- if we're going to make this, you know, a thing," Gerard said, gesturing between them with his free hand. "I wanna. I wanna, y'know. Help." Frank stared at him in confusion.
"You said you had an addiction," Gerard clarified. "What...what is it?" Frank's features relaxed into a smile.
"Haven't you guessed?" he said, eyes dark and glittering. "It's you."
-
"You fucked him, didn't you?" Pete said excitedly the next day.
"No," Gerard said honestly. Frank had fucked him.
"You owe me fifty dollars!" Patrick yelled.
"No," Pete yelled back. "Frank fucked him, it still counts!" Gerard gazed at him, mouth open in astonishment. How the fuck did Pete know that?
"I can tell by your left elbow," Pete said seriously to Gerard. Gerard stared at his elbow in confusion. What the fuck?
"No," Patrick said. "Our bet was specifically that Gerard fucked Frank."
"If it involves dick in ass, it's fucking, no matter which way!" Pete said crossly, slamming the door to Gerard's office to carry on the argument with his boyfriend.
"I agree with Patrick!" Gerard yelled, because he liked Patrick and he liked pissing off Pete. It killed two birds with one stone. He heard a triumphamt crow, and Pete opened the door to stick his middle finger up at Gerard.
-
"Frank fucked you?" Brian asked.
"Fuck off," Gerard replied.
-
Gerard's phone rang.
"Frank fucked you?" said Gerard's asshole of a 'best friend', more than a little amused. Fucking Ray.
Gerard hung up.
-
Gerard's phone rang again.
"I thought you had a rule," his little brother said. "No fucking friends."
"Rules were made to be broken," Gerard said.
-
u fucked frank!!!! well dun!!! - gabe ;)
Gerard groaned.
Never let Pete fucking Wentz get hold of details of your sexual life.