Stereotype

Sometimes, Gerard got frustrated with Frank's stubbornness. Once the kid got an idea in his mind, he had to execute it as soon as possible; it could never wait much. This time, it was the pending talk he had with the Phillips about their younger brother. Lunch had been rather eventful, so Frank had barely had time to briefly inform Gerard, but the older knew the other wouldn't let it pass.

Instead of waiting until the next day, Frank had decided to stay after school and watch the football practice just to catch the guys. Gerard suggested that Frank talk to them before the practice, trying to make him see that he didn't need to watch the whole thing. Frank, however, said that he didn't want the rest of the team to be around, so he preferred to wait until it was over and they parted to go home. Gerard then reminded his friend of the biology lesson he had to study for, but those arguments never worked too well with someone as smart as Frank. 

When Frank asked Gerard why he was so adamant about him not watching the practice, Gerard had to actually take some seconds before replying. The only answer he could some up with sounded lame, but it was sincere: he didn't want Frank to be out there in the cold watching something he didn't even enjoy.

Sadly, that also failed. Frank's mom had told him the exact same thing when he called to say he'd go home with Ray later. The coincidence made Gerard feel even lamer; it meant he had mom worries. 

Of course Frank had assured her mother that he didn't mind and, according to his own words, she hadn't insisted because she was pleased that her son wanted to attend a manly sport. Gerard didn't think that was the reason; he was more inclined to believe that the woman knew it was useless to argue with Frank in some cases. He hadn't voiced that to Frank, though.  

Truth be told, if Frank felt the cold, he wasn't showing it. Gerard observed him advance happily towards the bleachers and take a seat, while he himself shivered his way to the field to join the others. If Gerard had hated that weird summer-in-fall they'd had a month ago when it came to practices, he hated this reasonable almost-Winter cold even more. It made him curse the fact that football couldn't be played indoors for the hundredth time in a month. He was conscious that he couldn't play in his heavy coat, but taking if off was painful every time; not to mention the freezing air entering his airways. 

The coach didn't let him ponder about it, though, and Gerard ran to leave his warm coat with Frank before the man finished screaming, "Way, quilt off!" He would have to do his best if he wanted to warm up. His usual half-assed efforts could mean death by hypothermia.

"Dammit," he thought, "if the whole Winter is this cold I'll end up actually playing well." 

******

Frank had tried to act like the cold wasn't affecting him. He didn't want to admit that both his mom and Gerard had been right about his bad idea. But as soon as he had Gerard's huge black coat in his hands he said, "Fuck it," and threw it around his shoulders, over his own denim and fur jacket.

He was still concentrating on staying warm and not catching a cold when a feminine voice by his side said, "Hi, can I sit here? The empty bleachers kinda freak me out and I don't wanna sit with those." A white gloved hand pointed to Alex and some other friends of the guys who were grouped together. 

Even though Frank looked at the girl, he was only able to see a pair of almond-shaped, brown eyes and half a wide nose. She had more clothes on than he did, complete with a scarf covering the rest of her face and a woolen cap buried past her eyebrows.

Frank could only offer the bundled-up girl a small smile and a nod of his head, still too distracted by thoughts of home and hot chocolate near the heater.

"Are you someone's girlfriend too?" the girl spoke again.

That got Frank's attention; not the fact that she had addressed him in the feminine form, but the word. It gave him a weird feeling he couldn't identify. "Uh...no, just a friend," he replied.

The girl gasped. "Oh...God, I'm sorry. You're not a girl." She giggled nervously, then added doubtfully, "Are you?"

Frank scratched his head under the furry hood. He hated that question, but guessed "I'm a Frankie Iero" wasn't a proper answer after all. "No... Or well, a little bit, too? It's okay, I don't mind."

"You sure?"

"Yep."

"So, whose friend are you?" she resumed her original questioning, her eyes on the boys running around the sport field. She was clearly more into it than Frank was -which really wasn't hard. 

"Mostly Gerard Way, and James Dewees, but I get along pretty well with a few others too."

The girl threw Frank a quick glance before going back to watching the action. "Oh! Way, uh? Heard a lot 'bout him. School-famous dad, big new promise. Won't you hit me if I tell you my opinion of him?"

Frank had no idea what to say to that. "As a player, you mean?"

"Yes, yes, as a player of course!"

"Then go head, I don't understand anything about football, so..."

She frowned a little, probably wondering what he was doing there. "No matter what my boyfriend and his friends say, I don't think Way's good at all. I don't know how they can be so blind. I've grown up among football players, so I know my shit. Yet, they get pissed off at me when I tell them!"

Frank had to bite his tongue to not blurt out, "Oh, so it does show that Gerard's bullshitting?" Instead he shrugged and said, "Like I told you, I wouldn't know."

"I think he's been getting better lately, though. Wow, look at him. He's on fire tonight!" She signaled, sounding surprised.

Now that he actually took some time to watch the game, Frank also perceived a difference in Gerard from the other few times he'd seen him play. For starters, he was moving faster. Even with his lack of football knowledge, Frank thought it looked like Gerard was enjoying it; although knowing him, the change was more due to feeling frozen than on fire. "Seems so! Uh...I'm kinda curious..."

"Vicky," the girl supplied.

"Frank. Or Frankie," he reciprocated before continuing, "Who's your boyfriend?"

"Brian!"

"Blond Brian or brunette Brian?" Frank inquired.

Vicky seemed to find his method of identification funny. "The...brunette one, with the difficult last name?"

"Ah, good!" The relief Frank felt almost made him mention how the other Brian was an asshole, but he thought it was prudent to keep it to himself just in case Vicky liked him. He also wanted to ask her if she couldn't say her boyfriend's last name either, but he refrained once again.