Frank Iero: P.A.

Ellie left dinner in the oven before she went home for the evening. I haven’t seen Gerard since his little spat with Toby this afternoon, so I don’t bother to get his plate out of the oven for him. Still feeling sick about last night, I opt to eat in the kitchen. The room is silent apart from the sound of my fork hitting the ceramic plate. I don’t want to think about Gerard, but living with him makes that very hard.

“Am I able to get some eye contact yet?”

I jump in my seat at the sudden intrusion, spilling pasta sauce down my shirt. My head snaps toward the direction of the sound; Gerard. The man, looking ghostly in contrast to all the black he’s dressed in, is leaning against the archway of the kitchen. I notice a little smirk on his face, which I assume can be attributed to the sauce now staining my pale yellow shirt. I’m still unable to meet his eyes, so I look to the blank space behind his shoulder, and then back down to my food.

“No?” I hear him move closer to me, his shoes clicking against the tiles. “Well, how about an explanation as to why you’ve been ignoring me all day?”

Once again, I say nothing. There’s no way I can confess to him what went through my head last night. I’m still trying to work through that myself.

His hand touches my shoulder lightly. “Frank,” he says softly, kindly, “have I done something to upset you?”

Why does he have to touch me?

I can’t think of anything to say that will justify my actions, especially with his hand resting on my shoulder so softly. I’m straight – this shouldn’t happen.

“No...” I say. It’s the only lie I can get out.

He squeezes my shoulder. Fuck... I’m straight! I’m straight! “You know, Frank,” he says quietly, “I wouldn’t have fired you today if you had have said something about Toby and I; I just wasn’t ready to talk about it.” I say nothing again. He sighs, pulls out the bar stool next to me and sits down; his hand doesn’t leave my shoulder. “Sometimes Toby and I fight; he doesn’t get that I’m not this touchy-feely-lovey-dovey kind of guy.” Funny, he’s very touchy-feely right now... please stop, Gerard. “I can’t give him that, not while Mikey’s so sick. It’s strange – he, my boyfriend, doesn’t understand that, but you, Frank, an employee... I know you get it.”

“Yeah, I get it,” I say. I understand why he’s like that, but that doesn’t change the fact that I need him to remove his hand.

“So, if you get it, what’s wrong?” Gerard asks; he’s looking at me intently.

“I–”

Gerard’s ringtone sounds loudly. He finally takes his hand from my shoulder and answers the call, excusing himself from the room politely.

I suck in a breath to steady my nerves and make an attempt to finish my dinner. One mouthful of pasta later I’m pushing the bowl away from me. I drink a glass of water instead and start emptying the remains of my dinner into a Tupperware container for later.

Five minutes later, Gerard rejoins me in the kitchen. Part of me had been hoping he wouldn’t be back.

“That was Alicia,” he says, gesturing to his phone. “Mikey’s not doing so good this evening, so I’m going to go around there to help out.”

“Okay,” I reply, resuming what I was doing.

He comes to stand next to me. “I want you to come.”

I drop the fork I was using to scoop out the pasta. “What?”

“I want you to meet Mikey,” he says, avoiding my eyes. “Letting people in – it’s hard for me... but I think this is something I need to do, and you said you wanted to know about this kind of thing...”

“Okay, Gerard,” I say, “if that’s what you want.”

He nods and walks away from me, the moment of kind Gerard gone. I assume he wants me to follow, so I do. He goes straight out to the car and gets in.

We drive for about ten minutes until we arrive out the front of an apartment block. I follow Gerard from the car to the elevator inside. Three floors up and about halfway down a corridor we stop at door 3C. Gerard extracts a key from his pocket and unlocks the door as if he owns the place, although, considering the amount of money he has, it wouldn’t surprise me if he actually did. He gestures for me to enter first, so I do, feeling very awkward. I take in my surrounds. The living area is large, a round dining table with four chairs sits by the door, a plasma screen TV sits on its stand in the adjacent corner, and a corner sofa sits across from it with low tables at either end.

“I’m just going to find Alicia,” Gerard says quietly. Then in my ear, “play nice.”

He disappears through the kitchen to my right; the bedrooms must be on the other side of it. I don’t understand his “play nice” quip, so I stay where I am and just look about the room. Art adorns the walls and I instantly recognise it to be Gerard’s; it’s his style. I wonder if they hang it up because they actually like it, or if they just want Gerard to know that they’re proud of him.

“Hi,” a random voice croaks.

I look to where the sound came from. There’s a figure on the sofa that I hadn’t noticed before.

“Uh, hi... sorry – I’m –”

“Frank, I know,” he tells me, “my brother said he was bringing you with him tonight.”

Mikey.

I take in his appearance. He’s very pale, his eyes droopy, his body thin and lanky, covered in red tartan pyjamas that are so big they hang off him; a blanket is draped over him. There’s a slight resemblance between him and Gerard – same eyes, same jaw line, same lips – but Mikey’s face is thinner and longer whereas Gerard’s is fairly short and more rounded. His hair is a medium shade of brown, natural not dyed; I wonder if this is the colour Gerard’s hair should be?

“Sit,” he says kindly, patting the cushion beside him; it takes a lot of effort for him to drop and raise his hand.

I obey his instruction. I’ve never seen a cancer patient in the flesh before; I’m not sure how to interact with someone so sick. I expected him to be bald, but he’s not. There are so many things I’d like to ask him, but is it rude to ask someone with cancer what it’s like? The room is awkwardly silent – I need to think of something to say.

“I like that, uh... rug.” Fuck, I’m an idiot.

Mikey laughs, a crackly, strangled kind of laugh. “Do you often talk to people about their furnishings?”

“Only when I don’t know what to say,” I tell him earnestly.

He sobers. “I know what you mean. I still don’t know what to say to the others having chemo with me.” There a faint smile on his face. “You can ask me about the cancer if you want, I don’t mind.”

“Um... y-your hair?” I stammer, hoping he understands what I’m asking.

“Ah,” he says knowingly, nodding his head faintly. “Not everyone loses their hair. Some drugs are more likely to cause hair loss than others, but it’s not a given that it’ll happen. I’m one of the lucky ones. But not for much longer.” He, with difficulty, lifts his head up from the pillow supporting him, and turns toward me, staring until I understand; there are a few strands of short, brown hair resting where his head was. He lies back down. “A few more months and I’ll be Homer Simpson.”

I laugh slightly. “At least you can joke about it.”

He shrugs. “You can’t take cancer seriously. If you do, it’ll consume you, and if it consumes you, what’s the point in living?”

“I guess there wouldn’t be much of a point...”

He smiles. “Exactly.”

It’s at this moment that Gerard and Alicia enter the room.

“Hi, Frank,” Alicia greets me cheerily, coming over to me with her arms held out wide.

I stand up and hug her. Strangely, it doesn’t feel weird hugging someone whom before this moment I’d only ever had one conversation with. Over her shoulder, I spy Gerard coming toward the three of us. He catches my eye and supplies me with a small smile.

“I see you’ve met my brother,” he says when Alicia and I separate.

I nod silently. Gerard moves past me and lowers himself down onto the sofa to give Mikey a hug. I watch them, the way Gerard is so careful when he wraps his arms around his frail brother, how Mikey grips Gerard tightly, curling his fingers around his shirt as if it’s the last time he’s ever going to see him. It makes me feel a tad emotional. Alicia looks on the verge of tears herself.

“So,” Alicia says with forced enthusiasm when the brothers part, “can I make anyone tea or coffee, a snack, anything?”

My stomach still feels queasy at the thought of consuming food, so I decline her offer, but Gerard kindly accepts a coffee and asks for a sandwich, which she waddles off immediately to make. Personally, I think Alicia just wanted an excuse to be out of the room with something to occupy herself. She can’t be blamed for that; seeing my partner in such a state would turn me into a wreck as well.

While Alicia is out of the room, Gerard quizzes Mikey about how he’s feeling, getting all the details about his condition that I’d be too afraid to ask of. They are so relaxed with each other, as if there are no conversational boundaries between them. It makes me crave for that kind of a relationship with, well, anyone. They involve me in the conversation a little, clarifying anything they don’t think I’d be familiar with, but for the most part I remain silent, just taking in all the information they’re divulging to each other. You learn a lot that way.

“Here we are,” Alicia calls as she re-enters from the kitchen. She places a tray onto the coffee table. “Now, Frank, I know you said you didn’t want anything, but I got you a glass of water just in case.”

“Thanks,” I say with a smile, and take a sip obligingly.

We all sit together on the sofa making small talk. It’s pleasant, but everyone is certainly avoiding the elephant in the room, for Alicia’s sake more than anything else.

Mikey starts shifting on the sofa. “Uh, Gerard,” he says awkwardly to his brother, “could you help me to the bathroom please?”

Gerard, who was in the middle of taking a swig of his coffee, quickly puts the cup on the table and goes to his brother’s aid. He tugs Mikey up into a seated position before putting Mikey’s arm around his neck so he can lift him to his feet. With Gerard supporting the majority of his weight, Mikey hobbles toward the kitchen, and the pair disappear.

I turn my attention to Alicia. She’s dabbing at the corner of her eyes with her fingertips. My heart breaks for the poor girl. I reach out and take her hand in mine.

“Sorry,” she apologises weakly. “I don’t mean to get emotional, but...” she sniffs, “it’s so hard seeing him have to rely on someone so he can go to the bathroom. Because I’m pregnant I can’t be of as much help to him, and I hate it! I just want him to be well again...”

I hug her now, feeling that the hand holding isn’t enough. “I’m sure things will get better,” I say, hardly convinced of that idea myself, “today’s just one of those bad days where he needs a bit extra.”

She lets me go and takes a tissue from a nearby box so she can wipe her eyes and blow her nose. I try to smile comfortingly at her, but I don’t know if I’m pulling it off; she smiles back all the same.

A minute later the brothers return. Mikey is struggling, even with Gerard’s help, so I take hold of his free arm to guide him back down to the sofa. He smiles weakly at me in thanks, and I nod to let him know that I don’t mind.

We all converse again, this time more about me, and then Mikey and Alicia’s relationship. Any talk of illness and cancer is forgotten – intentionally. It’s calmer, nicer, and for a while, I do forget that Mikey has cancer. But then he has a coughing fit. It lasts a while, harsh, air sucking coughs, and he ends up throwing up into a bucket that is kept close by the sofa. Gerard, before going to dispose of the vomit, notes that there is blood in. It’s obvious that this upsets Alicia, and to escape the room she uses the excuse of getting Mikey a fresh glass of water. Not long after that, Mikey drifts off to sleep, leaving the three of us watching his chest rise and fall rhythmically. The conversation barely resumes after that.

“You look exhausted, sweetie,” Gerard says to Alicia. She nods, not even attempting to keep the tired and hurt expression from her face. “Go to bed, get some sleep. I’ll stay.”

“Okay. You know where everything is,” she replies. She gets to her feet, places a kiss to Gerard’s forehead, then mine, and says, “Thank you, both of you. You guys are incredible.”

As Alicia takes herself off to bed, I look up to the clock; it’s just after ten o’clock. Before now, I didn’t realise just how tired I was. Hopefully, we’ll be heading off soon; we both need to get some rest after the day we’ve had.

“Come on,” Gerard says, getting to his feet, “there’s no point us staying out here while he’s like this.”

I didn’t think we’d be leaving right at this second, but okay.

Instead of going to the front door, Gerard heads off through the kitchen. I follow him, but I have no idea what’s going on. We exit the kitchen to the right, ending up in a hallway. Gerard points out where the bathroom is – which I think is pretty useless information if we’re going now, but whatever – and continues along the hallway, which turns to the left. On the right hand side of the hallway is a door, which Gerard opens and enters through, revealing a room with a double bed, built-in wardrobe, and a solitary arm chair.

“What’s going on?” I ask Gerard.

He turns to me, looking at me as if I’ve got a screw loose. “We’re staying the night,” he says, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

I look about the room once more, immediately noticing a problem – one bed. I know Gerard will take it for himself, so where the hell am I to sleep?

“Um, Gerard, where am I sleeping?” I ask, looking about for a connecting door.

He doesn’t beat around the bush. “We’re both sleeping in here.”

“Look, I know I’m short, but I’m not going to be able to sleep in that chair,” I say, pointing to the armchair in question. It’s entirely true – the dimensions just aren’t right.

“You’ll sleep in the bed with me,” he retorts, all too easily. He begins to remove his clothes – I’m really not liking this. Seeing the horrified look on my face, he continues. “I know the situation isn’t ideal, but it’s what my brother needs right now; I’m not about to let him down. Remember, Frank, you begged me to tell you about all this, so now you’re stuck here.”

He’s only in his underwear right now. A pair of faded black boxer briefs is all that is keeping him from being entirely naked in front of me. This is making me really uncomfortable, but it doesn’t stop my fucked up brain taking in the details before me. His body is pale, not muscular, but toned – he’s not fat or anything, he’s just Gerard shaped. I hate myself for noticing it at all.

He draws the covers back and gets into bed. “Come on, Frank; I’m tired.”

He’s waiting for me to undress before switching the overhead lamp off. Oh, God. With no other choice but to obey my boss, I remove my hoodie, then my shoes, pull my jeans down my legs, and then, shyly, tug my shirt over my head. I fling the shirt to the floor and move quickly to get under the covers; the last thing I want is for Gerard to get a good look at my Bugs Bunny boxer shorts.

The light goes out and my senses heighten. The covers rustle as Gerard rolls over, away from me, readying himself for sleep. If only it were that simple for me. After my imagination last night, I really, really do not want to be sharing a bed with Gerard Way. I’m straight. Straight guys do not share beds with other men, especially gay men.

“Hey, Frank?” Gerard says a moment later. I make some weird grunt of acknowledgement. “Nice boxers.”

I can feel the smirk that’s accompanying those words. Cocksucker...