Frank Iero: P.A.

The chilly autumn air hits my cheeks as I step outside the doors of something they call the Addie Kahn room. The staff have long since cleared away the wedding ceremony, leaving the lavish formal gardens open and naked. I descend the steps to the garden’s lower level. The gravel paths weave between the shallow pools; I follow them with my hands in my pockets, kicking up the tiny stones until I reach the first fountain. I drop down to sit on the edge.

The wedding was beautiful, the reception the same, it was just that moment with Gerard that’s got me wishing I was somewhere else.

I can't deny that things have changed between us in recent months, but the extent of those changes is unsettling. We’re meant to be friends, we’re meant to be colleagues, but we’re not meant to be slow dancing at his brother’s wedding. I’m not a homophobe, I don’t care that Gerard’s gay, I just feel uncomfortable when he makes me the object of his affections.

But am I?

He was joking – why else would he have winked at me like that? And I was the one that lost my footing. But he was the one that spun me around! Yes, this is all on him.

Gravel crunches behind me. I turn my head and see Mikey hobbling toward me. I face the fountain again; I’m not in the mood to speak to anyone.

“Wild party, hey?” he says awkwardly.

“Don’t,” I say.

He ignores me and sits anyway.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he apologises. I say nothing. He sighs. “Alicia thought she saw a spark between you and Gerard and decided to give you a push. I know that doesn’t change how you’re feeling, but her intentions were good.”

Alicia thought she saw a spark? What spark?! Gerard and I are just friends.

“If it helps, Gerard left the reception, too.”

That kind of does make me feel better – it means he is miserable, too.

“I’m not saying that you have to return to the reception, but at least come inside,” Mikey says a minute later.

“Has Gerard always been such an ass?” I ask before I have a chance to keep my mouth shut.

Mikey laughs, then coughs as something catches in his throat. I pat his back gentle until he spits out a combination of saliva and phlegm. Up until now I’d sort of forgotten that he’s dying of cancer.

“Yeah, he has been,” Mikey says while gulping in breaths to steady himself. “It’s all just a defence mechanism, though.”

I’ve always figured as much about him, but I thought that if you entered his inner circle then you wouldn’t be subjected to his defences. Maybe I’m not part of his inner circle like I thought, though... but he’s called me his best friend on a couple of occasions. Am I over thinking this?

“Don’t over think this,” Mikey says. I see he’s picked up his brother’s mind reading skills. “Gerard tends to freak out when people get too close – our parents kind of taught him that when you let people get close they end up deserting you when you need them. So, don’t ever think that the way he acts is because of you.”

“But I was the one who freaked out,” I find myself telling him.

He takes a moment to consider my words, for which I’m grateful because I think I need to think them over, too.

“May I ask you a personal question, Frank?” he asks. I nod absentmindedly, still concentrating on tonight’s events. “Are you gay?”

“I’m not gay,” I stress. “It’s just that... things between Gerard and I have changed over the past few weeks... and I don’t know! It’s confusing.”

Mikey places a thin, pale hand on my shoulder. “Tell me what’s going through your mind. I won’t judge, I promise.”

I’m about to tell him that I don’t need to talk, but I then I realise that I probably do. So much of my time lately has been spent analysing every little interaction with Gerard; I need to get another opinion on the matter.

I sigh. “All these changes... they’re starting to make me question if I am what I think I am.”

“And what do you think are?” I offer him a look that I hope conveys what I’m thinking because I sure as hell don’t want to say it aloud. I can’t even bear to say it in my head. “Oh, I see,” he says a moment later.

“I’ve never pictured myself like that before, and I’m terrified that it could be true. I mean, I always know it isn’t true, but what if I’m wrong?” I drag my hands down my face in frustration. “I’m meant to know who I am – why am I constantly questioning and justifying my ever action?”

“This is something that you need to figure out for yourself,” he replies honestly. “But just remember, no matter what you discover about yourself, you never asked for it to happen or for things to be how they are.” He forces me to meet his eyes, a serious yet peaceful look on his face. “No one can choose their feelings, Frank... you just feel.”

Mikey’s right. I know he is. But that doesn’t stop me feeling really uncomfortable about how tonight has panned out.

“Come on,” he says a moment later, “it’s cold out here; let’s go inside.”

I concede and get to my feet. Mikey struggles to stand; I hold my hand out to him and tug him up gentle.

“Thanks,” he replies, looking a little embarrassed about needing my help. “Today’s taken a lot out of me.”

I wave off his explanation. “Don’t worry about it.”

I wrap my arm around his upper back, supporting him as we walk back to the castle. He doesn’t mention the incident again, for which I’m thankful.

“Do you need any help getting back to the ballroom?” I ask him as we reach the corridor where we’ll be parting ways.

“I told Alicia I was going to bed, so I should probably do that,” he tells me. “Could you help me to my room?”

“Sure, no problem.”

I take a right and head for the spiral staircases with Mikey clinging to my shoulder. His breath comes out harsh and raspy; his lack of strength has me worried. He doesn’t complain, though, or ask to stop. Something tells me that stubbornness runs in the Way family.

As we stand before the polished marble stairs I become fearful of how Mikey will go climbing them. He lets go of me and takes hold of the iron railing, beginning to ascend the five steps to the first landing. I watch on as he veers off to the right and takes on the steep, twisting stairs.

“Come on, Frank, I’ll race you!” he calls out to me breathlessly, panting hard.

I shrug my shoulders and take the stairs on the right. I can tell that he’d be annoyed if I went slow intentionally so he’d win, so I jog up the polished marble until I reach the top landing.

“I win!” I say, throwing my arms up in the air in victory.

He climbs the last three stairs and gives me an exhausted smile. “I knew I should have brought my jetpack,” he jokes.

We share a laugh before I take hold of him again and help him through the large doors.

“Which way to your room?” I ask. This is the first time I’ve been upstairs.

“That way,” he tells me, pointing to the left, “the door at the end of the hallway.”

As we hobble down the hallway he comes to a halt outside a door to our right. I look the door up and down, then glance toward Mikey for a clue about why we’ve suddenly stopped.

“That’s Gerard’s room... just in case you’re interested.”

“I’m not,” I say defensively, although, something tells me that it won’t be the last time I’ll be stopped in front of that door tonight.

We pass another two doors; he stops at the second, informing me that it’s my room. I nod and continue a few more feet until we reach the end of the hallway.

“I can take it from here,” he says, loosening his grip on me and taking hold of the gold handle. “Thanks for all your help, with getting me up here and planning the wedding.”

“You’re welcome,” I reply.

We say our goodnights and part ways. I head for my own room and dig the key that I was given at the reception out of my pocket. Despite my brain’s objections, I glance at the white wood door two doors down from mine.

Gerard’s room.

I wonder if he’s in there now. He must be; Mikey said he’d left the reception – where else would he go? I went outside – he could have gone outside, too. But maybe he knew I’d go outside so he went somewhere else. Am I over thinking things again?

Shaking my head, I unlock my door and enter the room. I’m standing on beige carpet in a short hallway; ahead of me I see a chair, nightstand, and luxurious looking bed. I walk forward to where the hallway opens up into a large room. The furniture is rich mahogany with green-gold upholstery. My bag has already been brought up to the room, left propped up against one of the thick legs of the four-poster bed. I take of my suit jacket and hang it on the back of the desk chair.

“If I break anything I’ll have to give an entire month’s salary to replace it,” I mumble aloud.

There’s a picture above the three-seater couch that resembles the Arc de Triomphe in France, probably displayed to pay homage to the cultural inspiration of this castle. I head over to the alcove where, I’m assuming, the bathroom is. I push the door open and almost have a heart attack. The bathroom is almost the same size as my bedroom at Gerard’s place! The walls and floor are both made of tiled marble. There’s a deep bathtub, a fully enclosed shower next to it with a window that overlooks the tub. Across from the bathtub is a large window with sheer gossamer curtains; I cross the floor to it, my dress shoes clicking on the marble, and take in the view of the green upper lawn. It’s breathtaking.

I head back out into the main room and sit down on the white bedspread to take off my shoes. The bed is gloriously comfy. Once my shoes are off, I flop back and spread my arms out across the thick covers. I close my eyes and relish in the divine comfort supporting me. There’s no denying that Gerard has fabulous, albeit expensive, taste in accommodation.

After a while, I force myself off the cloud-like bed. I take my Simpsons sleep pants out of my bag, strip down to my boxers, and put them on. It’s coming up for ten-thirty and I’m exhausted, so I switch off all the lights and blindly feel my way back to the bed.

Laying beneath the covers is just as comfy as lying on top of them, but for some reason I’m struggling to fall asleep. I try sleeping on my back, stomach, and sides, tossing and turning every five minutes, but no position makes sleep any easier.

My mind is running wild thinking about Gerard and everything that’s happened today. It was a beautiful wedding, but my attention was focussed more on Gerard than it should have been. What does that mean for me? And how about him – he was looking at me, too. Our eyes met too many times over dinner; I barely recall anything Alicia and Mikey spoke about, but I could recite everything Gerard said. That’s not right.

I roll from my left side onto my back.

Alicia is convinced that there’s a spark between Gerard and I... Why? Do I give off gay vibes? Surely I don’t. I’m straight... at least, I think I am. I mean, I think about Gerard a lot, but that doesn’t mean I’m gay. Come on, my days are spent catering to his every whim – thinking about him is unavoidable when he’s the one I spend the majority of my time with. No – I’m not gay. I’m not...

I wonder if he’s having trouble sleeping, too?

Fuck it.

I throw back the covers and swing my feet on the soft carpet. I dig my maroon hoodie out of my bag and zip it up over my bare torso. I grab my room key off the desk and pad down the hallway to the door.

Standing outside Gerard’s door, I poise my hand ready to knock. Should I do it? What if he’s asleep? He’ll be pissed if I wake him. But screw it, he’s keeping me awake, it’s only fair that I wake him.

I knock three times and wait nervously for him to answer.

The door swings open a few seconds later as Gerard says, “Mikey, when I said stop texting me I didn’t mean for you to–” When he looks up and sees me his expression turns awkward. “Frank? What are you doing here?”

“Um...” I hadn’t really thought this through before I stormed out here. What the hell am I going to say?

“Is there a problem with your room?” he asks, placing a hand on his hip.

He’s wearing the blue tartan pyjamas he gave me to wear up in the mountains. They don’t hang off him like they did me, but they’re not tight either.

“Why did you ask me if I was falling for you?” I ask suddenly.

He shrugs his shoulders, tilting his head to the side. “To lighten the awkward moment?”

Is he serious? Does he honestly think that, after all we’ve been through, would lighten anything between us?

“Why did you kiss me?” I demand.

“Frank, it’s late...” he reasons, attempting to push the door shut.

I shove my foot in the doorway to prevent him closing it on me. He glances down to my foot then meets my eyes. His expression is unreadable. I keep my eyes fixed on his, determined not to be the first to look away. After what feels like an eternity, he sighs and reluctantly opens the door. Standing back against the wall, he indicates for me to come in.

We walk silently into the main section of the room. It’s identical to mine in every way. The large bed looks like it’s been slept in, but when I look to the desk I see that his laptop is open, the screen displaying the art section of the New York Times. His iPhone sits beside it, opened to his messages. Based on what he said when he opened the door, I know he’s been texting Mikey; I’m intrigued to know what they’ve been talking about, but I daren’t check with Gerard in the room. He notices me staring at his phone and promptly locks the screen.

“Frank,” he says softly, gesturing to the sofa. I sit down; he opts for the desk chair. “I don’t think much of dwelling on the past–”

“Bullshit!” I interrupt. “You dwell on the past more than anyone I’ve ever met – you don’t let people get close to you because of something your parents did to you ten years ago!”

He fixes me with a death inducing look. “I am not discussing this.”

He rises from the chair and stalks over to the bathroom. If he thinks I’m dropping this he’s got another thing coming. I jump up and follow him, shoving the bathroom door open roughly.

“Get out.” His voice is steady.

“No,” I reply, matching his tone. “Why did you kiss me at the cottage?”

He has both his hands placed firmly on the edge of the vanity; his eyes focus on the sink. “I said I’m not–”

“I heard what you said.” I storm toward him and grab him harshly by the shoulder, forcing him to turn and look at me. “Now answer my question – I’m not leaving until you do.”

He lifts his chin, his hazel eyes bore into me. I feel my strength and stubbornness dwindle as he challenges me.

Do not look away. Do not look away.

He blinks once, then walks away from me, brushing harshly against my shoulder as he makes his way past me to get to the door. I take in a steadying breath and swivel around to follow him.

“I kissed you because I was upset and you were there,” he says, not stopping, not looking at me, just walking determinedly through the suite. “It was an impulse that means nothing to how I view you and me. I apologise for it happening then, and I’ll apologise again now, but I’m ordering you to drop it because it meant nothing. You’re just an employee that was in the wrong place at the wrong time – if you look at it any other way things get complicated.” We’re by the door now, and he rips it open. Now he looks at me. “I’ve answered your question, now get out.”

There’s nothing else that needs to be said, so I leave. The door slams shut behind me and I hear Gerard stomp away. Tears prick at my eyes as I shuffle back to my own room – I don’t know why. My head told me that confronting Gerard would clear my conscience so I could sleep, but something tells me that I won’t be getting any sleep tonight.

I crawl into my bed and pull the covers over me. The tears that threatened to fall in the corridor flow freely now, and I begin to sob like a child. I got my answer... why am I not happy with it?