Thank You for the Coffee

The muscles in Frank’s calves were protesting at the speed and sheer strength of his strides as he stomped through New York. He’d been sitting at home, watching Saturday evening game shows with his mom just a little while ago. But he couldn’t concentrate. Not even at home, kicking back in Jersey with his Mom could Frank make himself relax for just a second.

He hadn’t seen Gerard in five days. Five fucking days. The little prick had come in that night, looking distraught and run down, and then he’d fucking disappeared. On Tuesday Frank had been a jittery mess from the second his shift started, staring at the clock and willing the minutes to just fall away to that familiar sight of Gerard pushing the door open, little smile on his face. He had hoped Gerard would feel better, apologising profusely and sticking a couple of dollars in the tip jar, explaining that the college work was really starting to stress him out and he’d just needed a good night’s sleep and sorry I was such an asshole, Frank.

But it didn’t come. Gerard hadn’t pushed open the door, and the shift had dragged on like the longest day of his life. He told himself that maybe he simply needed a day completely to himself to cool off. Surely he’d be in tomorrow. He’d be missing the coffee. And Frank would give him a slice of cake on the house to make him feel better. But again, Gerard was a no show. Nor the next night, the Thursday or the Friday.

Had he done something? Had Frank upset him somehow? Had he accidentally ripped one of the corners on Gerard’s comic or something? Whether he’d been the cause of it or not, he was practically beside himself with worry, and then chocked up with irritation at himself for feeling so strongly. Perhaps the guy had simply switched coffee joints, moving on to the next barista, and Frank should stop being such a whiny little girl.

He’d tried to forget, trying to strike up conversation with the other regulars and spending even more time than necessary with his head stuck in the fryer. It hadn’t worked, none of it, and he’d decided in the heat of the moment, when a trailer for The Phantom Menace had come on during the commercials that the only way he’d be able to settle his nerves would be to find out what was going on for himself.

So here he was, tearing through New York on foot on his way over to Gerard’s place, seeing red as his brain replayed the comforting feeling of Gerard’s foot hooked around his thigh. He’d knocked on the door before he could even pause to take a breath. It didn’t take long for the door to open and he found himself face to face with Gerard himself, eyes bleary and smelling of beer, a bottle of vodka in his other hand. The way his eyes widened were almost comical. It only took the first couple of slurred words for Frank to discern that Gerard was already very drunk, as opposed to just beginning.
“Frank? What are you-?”

He didn’t really seem to know where to go from there. As soon as Frank really took in Gerard’s appearance, pyjamas stained with questionable substances and hair looking even worse than on Monday, he realised that this was drowning his sorrows, not a wild night in. The anger fell away to the worry he had been more in tune with at the beginning of the week.
“Are you on your own?” he asked hesitantly.
“Ha. Yeah. Joe left. Said I was hopeless. Told him that’s the fuckin’ problem.”
“...Can I come in?”
“You want to?” Gerard asked, tone innocently incredulous.
“I’m not the one who’s been avoiding you, am I?”

Gerard looked sheepish as he opened the door wider, letting Frank slip in beside him. Poking his head through the door to the lounge all he could see were discarded beer bottles and barely touched takeout cartons. A CD was running through the television and all the curtains were closed. No wonder Joe felt he had to get away. This was hardly conducive to a good working environment.

He turned back to his messed up friend, wiping another swig of alcohol from his lips and pulling distractedly at his pyjama bottoms, as if realising what he looked like.
“Gerard, you look like hell” he said honestly. “Have you been eating? Sleeping?”
Gerard shook his head, the movement loose and fluid, as if his neck wasn’t fully attached to his shoulders.
“Just drinkin’. You want some, Frankie?”
“No, and neither do you. You’ve had enough.”

He took the bottle gently from Gerard’s hand, sort of surprised when he gave it up easily, and went to yank the power on the television set, leaving them in silence. Gerard’s eyes, rubbed red raw, were glassy as he looked at Frank, his mouth set in a positively miserable downward curve. Frank set the bottle down on the coffee table and moved toward Gerard, who was swaying a little on his feet.
“I think it’s time you got some rest, okay?”

He sort of felt like a father talking down a stubborn child, but it seemed that Gerard didn’t even have the energy to be stubborn, lifting his shoulders and letting them drop in a heavy shrug.
“Can’t. Can’t stop, can’t sleep. Can’t live, Frankie.” Frank’s chest tightened. “Can’t live with myself.”
“You’re gonna be okay” Frank said soothingly, crossing to Gerard and wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him steady. “Come on, G, let’s get you to bed, okay?”
“Okay. I’m sorry.”
“Ssh, don’t say sorry.”
“Okay. Sorry.”

Frank manoeuvred them up the stairs as best he could, urging Gerard to grip the banister as they went to help support his weight. When he pushed open the bedroom door, he was careful to push the empty bottles that littered the floor away with his foot. There was crap all over the bed - comics, empty cans and clothes - so he propped Gerard against a wall while he cleared up. He dumped everything in a corner, turning his nose up as he noticed a particularly attractive patch of vomit, and reached out for Gerard to take his hand. Gerard gripped his forearm instead, nails scratching at Frank’s star tattoo as he climbed into the bed.

“Do you want anything?” Frank asked him gently.
Gerard shook his head sadly, and Frank let it go, even though he knew he should probably make the guy choke down some water. He stood up, aiming to go through to the bathroom and find something suitable to clean up the vomit when Gerard whimpered.
“Don’t go away.”
“I wasn’t. I just need to clean up a little. You puked on the floor, didn’t you?”
“I feel sick.”
“Should I get a bucket?”
“I make myself sick.”

Frank crouched back down, resting a hand on Gerard’s head and thumbing gently through his hair.
“Gerard, what’s the matter?” he asked, tone urgent but kind.

He made a sobbing noise in reply, closing his eyes, but pushing further into Frank’s touch.
“I did it. I did it again. I hurt him. Sent him away.”
It took Frank a moment.
“Bert? You hurt Bert again?”
Gerard’s answering nod was violent, a tear squeezing its way out from under his eyelid.
“Why?”
“It’s just easy. He’s lovely, so lovely. But it’s just easy. I don’t really- I never really. And now there’s someone. And I felt better inside. So I hurt him, and now I feel sick.”

Frank circled his thumb over Gerard’s hair, heart clutching.
“If there’s someone else then you did the right thing. You’d have only hurt him worse in the long run.”
“I know, but-”
“No buts, okay? Shit happens. You didn’t hurt him on purpose, and he’ll be okay. He’ll get his fashion degree and he’ll do really well, and he’ll smile when he thinks of you. Like I do.”

Gerard’s wet eyes flew open.
“You do?”
“Of course I do” Frank urged. “I’ve been worried fucking sick all week. I mean look at me, I came to your fucking house” he smiled.
Gerard blinked for a second before blurting out:
“It’s you. The someone.”

Frank was shell-shocked, sinking down into a proper kneel and staring back at Gerard’s dizzy gaze.
“What?”
“Bert wanted me. Like for real. ...And I just wanted to top and tail with you.” Gerard was beginning to whisper, eyes growing scared as he watched the colour drain from Frank’s face, spluttering hurriedly. “I know it’s not like that. You’re my friend and you’re Catholic, but-”
“I’m not” Frank interjected strongly before he realised he’d opened his mouth. “I’m not Catholic.”
“Oh.”

They blinked at each other for a couple of seconds, and then Frank watched in slow motion as Gerard lightly gripped Frank’s shirt and pulled him down toward his face. He kept his mouth closed and his eyes open when he kissed Frank, letting go of him soon after and watching the expression on his face.

Frank’s lungs were panicking in his chest, but his face was blank, mind trying to process what had just happened. When Gerard was satisfied that Frank wasn’t going to bolt, he settled fully into the pillow.
“You’re my friend though, right?” he asked as an afterthought.
“Yeah” Frank nodded. “Yeah, I’m your friend.”
“’Kay.”

Frank realised his hand was still in Gerard’s hair. He didn’t remove it.
“I sent off the application” he said. A small smile tugged the corners of his mouth upwards as he watched Gerard’s eyes light up in hope.
“Rutgers?”
“Yeah. BA in Music, here I come.”

Gerard smiled happily and snuggled his face against the pillow, curling the comforter around his shoulder.
“Good.”
Frank gave Gerard’s hair one last ruffle, and finally ventured for something to clean the floor up with. He returned with a soaked towel and systematically folded the vomit inward as he wiped.
“I’ll see you on Monday?”
“Uh huh” Gerard replied in a sleepy voice that told Frank he wasn’t going to be conscious for much longer.

He switched off the light and tossed the towel in the trash, figuring it was easier than trying to wash it. He had intended to leave, as he’d told his Mom he wouldn’t be long, but instead Frank found himself clearing up the lounge whilst pondering the fact that he’d just kissed a man.