Common People

“Gerard!”

Gerard paused, but only briefly, because come on. Who would actually want to talk to him? Whoever was shouting his name was bound to be calling somebody else in the music shop.

“Gerard! Dude, are you deaf?!”

Gerard looked up again and his eyes landed on a tiny guy covered in tattoos and piercings and oh.

Oh.

“Frank?” Gerard asked uncertainly as Frank skipped over to him, his face stretched up into a huge grin, eyes sparkling and beautiful.

Gerard blushed. Frank was dressed in black skinny jeans, slightly less ripped than the last pair of jeans Gerard had seen him in. He wore an oversized grey hoodie, the material completely swamping his skinny, fragile frame. Gerard couldn’t see Frank’s hands because the sleeves were so long. And what was Gerard wearing? His school uniform.

“Hi!” Frank grinned, beaming at Gerard. He glanced down at the CD in Gerard’s hands and his smile grew bigger. “Dude, you like the Smiths?!”

“Um, yeah,” Gerard replied with a small smile of his own, running the back of his neck nervously.

Frank then launches into a big long talk about music and Gerard just stands, gripping the CD and staring at Frank, taking in his every word like it was the most fascinating, important thing he’d ever heard. Gerard was amazed that Frank actually remembered him. Shocked, to be honest. Because really, who was going to remember the strange, quiet guy swamped in black and staying the shadows like he was a fucking vampire?

“Gerard?”

“W-what?”

“You kinda zoned out then,” Frank laughed. “Sorry if I’m boring you.”

“No!” Gerard insisted, a little too forcefully and loudly, his eyes wide. “I mean... no, no you weren’t uh...boring me.”

Frank gave him a confused smile before shrugging and stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Are you on your way to school or something?”

Gerard looked down at his ugly, ill fitting uniform. “Yeah. I just wanted to stop by in here before I had to go. Less time I spend there the better, you know?”

Frank shook his head, laughing. “Can’t say I do to be honest. I mean, my school is complete shit when I bother to turn up, but you go to private school. I have no idea what kinds of sadistic torture they put you guys through in there.”

Gerard laughed at Frank’s grim face and the way he shuddered at the end of his sentence. “It’s seriously like a fucking prison there. I hate it.”

Frank’s eyes lit up then. “I’m not going to school today. And neither are you.”

“Um, wait, what?” Gerard asked, shocked. “I... but I am going.”

“No way,” Frank grinned. “You and me are skipping.”

Gerard’s hands dropped the CD, which earned him a dirty look from the man at the register. Gerard fumbled around, picking the CD back up and staring at Frank with wide eyes.

“I don’t think I should skip,” he got out shakily, bringing his hand up to chew at his already non-existent fingernails.

“Why not? Are you saying you’d rather spend all day sat behind a desk with a bunch of snotty posh kids than spending it with me, having fun?” Frank asked with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“No, it’s not that, it’s just that I... well, I’ve never really um...skipped before. Like, ever. In my entire life,” Gerard confessed awkwardly.

Frank gave him a look of disbelief. “You’re bullshitting me right?”

Gerard dropped his head, his thick, startlingly red strands of hair falling forwards into his pale face. “No. I’ve never skipped before, honestly.”

“Dude. Dude. You have no idea what you’re missing out on!” Frank exclaimed. “Oh my God, you really are a complete nerd, aren’t you?!”

“No! I just...look, just because I’ve never skipped school before doesn’t make me a-”

“It totally does. C’mon. It’s now my duty to try and un-nerd you slightly,” Frank said firmly, grabbing
Gerard by the wrist and leading him forwards. “Today, good sir, you shall have fun.”

(Time Lapse)

After Gerard had fumbled around with the keys the front door and finally unlocked the stupid thing, he was finally coming to terms with what he was doing. He was missing school. He was absent from the hell hole by choice, not because he was sick.

Wow. It felt...good. It felt really, really good to know he was doing something dangerous - well it wasn’t dangerous, but this was a big deal for Gerard - for once and it gave him this sort of rush he’d never felt before.

He glanced back at his small, tattooed companion and grinned. Frank was stood there, jaw hanging open in awe. Frank looked around at Gerard’s house with big eyes, taking in all the gleaming, polished marble, the high ceiling and pillars, the light airy spaces and how fucking clean everything looked.

Frank was pretty sure that vase perched delicately on its very own stand was worth more than Frank himself.

Gerard’s house made him feel dirty and poor and like he shouldn’t be here. All of those thing were true though of course, Frank reminded himself. He was dirty and scummy and out of place. He always would be.

Gerard kicked his shoes off, nudging them to side and looking expectantly at Frank to do the same thing. Frank blushed, ridding himself of his battered sneakers that were falling to pieces with embarrassment. He would’ve just trekked dirt and filth through Gerard’s perfect, clean house otherwise. At his own house, he would’ve just barged in and walked all over with his dirty shoes.

“Um, do you want anything? I won’t be long, I just wanna get out of my uniform, you can uh...you can stay here or come to my room or whatever you want, I don’t mind, I mean-”

“Gerard,” Frank cut off the rambling, rolled his eyes. “I’ll come with you to your bedroom.”

Gerard turned as bright red as his hair then and Frank laughed. “Dude! Get your mind out of the
gutter, seriously!”

Gerard just turned and headed towards the huge grand stairs that swept up the first level of his four story house. Frank trailed after him, his eyes forever wandering around the beauty of Gerard’s home. Actually no, that wasn’t true, he spent a lot of time staring at Gerard’s ass.

“Gerard,” Frank panted. “How many...how many fucking flights of...of stairs do you have?!”

Gerard gave him an apologetic smile, a little short of breath too, but he was used to it because he’d had to put up with it for years. “Um, four. Well, five if you count the basement, but those stairs
aren’t that bad.”

“Ugh, I need someone to carry me,” Frank groaned, grabbing the banister for support.

“We’re here now,” Gerard laughed, walking down the corridor towards his bedroom.

Frank lagged behind but followed Gerard inside his bedroom. He was extremely tempted to pocket something small and valuable whilst he had such a great opportunity, but he liked his new naive friend too much to steal from him.

Gerard’s bedroom looked like it didn’t belong in the house. It was messy and just normal, unlike the rest of the pristine house. The bedroom was probably as big as the whole downstairs of Frank’s house, but Frank felt more comfortable amongst the mess of scattered clothes and comic books and CDs.

Frank plopped down onto Gerard’s giant unmade bed, sprawling out on his back like a star fish. Gerard giggled at him and began his search for clothes lying on the floor that had the least stains on them. Meanwhile Frank gazed round at Gerard’s posters and grinned at the lyrics and small cartoons he’d doodled on the wall. He spotted a rather big pile of canvases stuffed into the corner of the room and got up to investigate.

Gerard quickly scrambled with his clothes, tugging off his uniform as quickly as possible, not wanting Frank to see his body. Gerard’s diet of coffee and cigarettes and the occasional bowl of cereal hadn’t done much for him, his pale body lacking muscles and definition, unlike the arrogant dicks at his school who lived in the gym. Gerard wasn’t really that tall, so at least he didn’t look too awkward with his thin limbs and prominent bones.

“Did you paint these?!” Frank demanded, waving round a canvas just as Gerard was pulling on a top.

He froze and got stuck inside the t-shirt, tufts of red sticking out at the top. Gerard’s ghost white arms caught in the arm holes awkwardly and muffled noise came from inside the t-shirt somewhere.
Frank laughed, because Gerard was cute OK? He couldn’t help the fact that he was attracted to this slightly odd artsy rich kid with vibrant red hair.

“You need a little help?” Frank asked.

Gerard made another muffled noise and Frank took it as a yes. He strode up to him and yanked down his t-shirt to find himself face to face with a flustered looking Gerard. He smiled softly at Gerard, liking how close he was to him.

“Y-yes,” Gerard said stuttered, blushing but managing to hold Frank’s cool gaze.

“What?” Frank said, his eyes flickering to Gerard’s lips.

“I painted those pictures,” Gerard whispered, looking at Frank intently.

Gerard had never been kissed before, by a boy or a girl. He’d never held hands with anybody, never been in a relationship. He was as pure as the driven snow.

“I really like them,” Frank replied, his voice low and husky, his eyes still focused on Gerard’s mouth and his face coming ever closer to Gerard’s. “You never told me you painted.”

“I’m not very...not very good,” Gerard shakily replied, feeling his heart race and his palms sweat.

“You’re amazing,” Frank breathed, one hand curling around Gerard wrist. “You have a real talent.”

“Really? I don’t think I’m that good, I-”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Frank cut him off bluntly, grabbing Gerard and hauling him as close as possible and pressing their lips together.

Gerard gasped into Frank’s mouth, arms instinctively snaking around Frank’s tiny body and holding him against himself tightly. Gerard didn’t really know what to do because he’d never kissed anybody this way before. It was hot and felt weird and all he could feel was wetness and tongues and teeth.
Frank groaned and yanked Gerard’s hair, moving his mouth against his insistently. Gerard just sort of copied Frank and they soon fell into a rhythm of moving lips and prodding tongues, turning their heads now and then for air.

Frank gripped onto Gerard’s shoulder tightly as he pulled away, staring at Gerard with wide eyes.
Gerard stared back at him, his face flushed and his eyes staring straight back at Frank from behind his tousled, messy hair.

“Your lips are slimy,” was all Frank could say.

“Um. Sorry?” Gerard offered breathlessly.

Frank shook his head. “No. I like it. I like them, your lips. I like you.”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah.”