Fickle Reticence

Frank is sitting on his bed, with his head falling off the side, trying to rationalize the way the room looks upside down. He does things like that a lot. He’s found it quite difficult to understand much of anything from this particular direction. The posters on the wall are all gibberish, and his name doesn’t sound like a word anymore.

“Frank,” he tries saying his own name, but it just doesn’t sound real. He’s starting to get a little dizzy, but he’s too lazy to pull himself up. He decides that the walls look much beiger when looked upon from this perspective, but that doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.

The door slams and Mikey enters, walking on the ceiling, or at least Frank thinks. He’s pretty baffled by how good Mikey is at acrobatics.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mikey asks.

“What am I doing? How did you get on the ceiling?”

“You’re such an idiot,” Mikey rolls his eyes.

“You didn’t answer my question, circus boy,” Frank says.

Mikey walks over to Frank, reaches behind his neck, and grabs the hood of his sweatshirt. He then pulls Frank’s head to the left, and lets it fall when it’s lying completely on his bed. Frank blinks a few times, but he doesn’t really resist.

“That makes so much more sense,” Frank says, dazedly.

“Are you high?”

“No, just sleep deprived,” Frank answers, turning himself around and trying to sit up. His eyes blur over with a head rush, but he grabs his ears and steadies himself. His head feels like it weighs a ton, after having been lolling off the bed like that.

“Sometimes I don’t understand you,” Mikey says, sitting down at his desk with his back turned to Frank.

“Sometimes? Are you saying there’s times when you do understand me? I’ve got to change my game plan.”

“Alright, it’s most of the time, but I was trying to be polite,” Mikey says.

“You and polite are as familiar with each other as Madonna and toothpaste.”

“I... that’s the weirdest analogy I think I’ve ever heard,” Mikey replies.

“Good,” Frank replies, “now I have a question.”

“Is the question, ‘why are you such an idiot’?”

“No, but now that you bring it up, I’d like an answer. Why are you such an idiot, Mikes?”

“What? No, I meant to insult you, but it backfired,” Mikey says.

“This is why you never get into an argument with an English major or a lawyer,” Frank replies proudly.

“Frank, you are neither of those things.”

“I could be.”

“But you’re not.”

“But I could be,” Frank replies.

“But you’re not,” Mikey answers, “we could do this all day.”

“You’re right. I’m just saying that I could be, I never said I was. Anyway my question is, where’s Gerard?” Frank asks.

“What do you mean, where’s Gerard?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Frank answers, “I’m looking for a spectacled man in red and white pinstripes named Waldo, minus the name Waldo, the spectacles, the red and white pinstripes and the assignment of the classification of ‘man.’”

“That was a long way to go for such an undeservedly weak reference on your part,” Mikey says, spinning around in his chair to give Frank a judgmental look. His judgmental look doesn’t really come across very much because it looks just like his other look for amused. His amused look is the exact same as his frustrated look too. That’s the same as his bored look.

Essentially Mikey is just looking at Frank.

“By the time I’d started it though, it was too late to give in, so I had to roll with it,” Frank says with a shrug, “but where’s Gerard?”

“I don’t know what you mean, to be honest,” Mikey says.

“Have you seen him all week? I haven’t seen him since we binge watched Netflix.”

“Maybe he, you know, thought it was weird that a guy he barely knows fell asleep on him,” Mikey says.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m fucking adorable when I’m sleeping, so that can’t be it.”

“And you’re oh-so-modest as well.”

Frank snorts, “When did I ever pretend to be anything but? I just haven’t seen Gerard in like seven days, and it’s strange.”

“Come to think of it, neither have I. Gee’s probably just got a lot of course work to do, it’s not that big a deal.”

“As an isolated incident, no, but as a variable on a larger scale, yes. Gerard hides away who they are when it doesn’t conform to the strictest of societies bigoted norms, so don’t you think the fact that we haven’t seen Gerard as neither male nor female in nearly a week means something? I’d say that’s probably a regression back into the fear of being alienated.”

Mikey purses his lips and thinks for a second, “you’re right, that’s probably not a good thing.”

“Of course I’m right,” Frank says, “I’m always right.”

“Except about bigfoot,” Mikey retorts.

“He’s out there Mikey, you just haven’t seen him yet! There’s no way to prove that either of us are correct, so drop it before we get into another one of those debates.”

Mikey sees the pride in Frank’s face, and he can’t help himself, “Oswald acted alone, Frank!”

“We both know there were multiple shooters, you fucking fish stick!” Frank says warningly.

“Who disses a guy by calling him a fish stick?” Mikey says, “And I think I know a little more about the Kennedy Assassination than you.”

“Oh right, because you’re such an expert on assassination.”

“Enough to realize that-” Mikey stops himself, “We’re going to agree to disagree.”

“Because we both know that you’re wrong,” Frank says.

“Frank,” Mikey says, narrowing his eyes.

“Right sorry. But we can agree that Paul McCartney isn’t dead?” Frank says.

“We can agree on that one,” Mikey says.

“Okay good. Enough of the conspiracy theories, where is Gerard?”

“I could call?” Mikey suggests.

“Yeah do that,” Frank replies, and Mikey nods.

A minute later Mikey puts his phone down, “no answer.”

Frank’s eyebrows draw together, because that doesn’t sound good. Assuming that Gerard is near their phone is a good assumption. If it’s an all-consuming study bender than that would imply that Gee’s phone is still near them.

“Should I go check on Gerard?” Frank asks.

“Is that an excuse to get them alone?” Mikey asks, raising an eyebrow to Frank. Obviously he’s a touch less concerned than Frank is.

“Can’t a guy be worried about his friend without having an ulterior motive?” Frank exasperates, raising his hands questioningly.

“Well maybe a sane person, but not a horny bastard like you, Frank,” Mikey replies.

“Since when have I ever displayed horny bastard tendencies? My hormones are perfectly fine, thanks for asking.”

“I believe that’s what the kids these days call ‘TMI.’”

“You realize that that broad group generalization includes yourself as well,” Frank says.

“Me? No I’m a celestial being, not bound by your human stereotypes.”

“Right,” Frank rolls his eyes, “I’m going to see you later, Mikes. You might want to go visit the nurse. Or a psychiatric hospital.”

Mikey sticks his tongue out at Frank before the door closes.

Frank’s feet have already found the way to Gerard’s room familiar. It’s not like he was trying to memorize it, but he did. He doesn’t like having to go out into the cold, but it’s not that bad. The time, according to Frank’s phone, is nearly eight.

They didn’t see Gerard get dinner any of the last few days including today, which Frank finds disconcerting. It’s not like you can starve if you don’t go to dinner, because even Frank has a giant box of goldfish in his desk, but it’s still a little strange.

All the doors in the hall where Gerard live have some variety of decoration on them. All of them have white boards or drawings held up with scotch tape. Most of them say names in varying different styles. Most dorms on campus have such décor, including the ones near Frank’s, but Gerard’s door stands out, because there’s simply nothing. It’s blank, and lonely looking in the corridor.

Frank knocks on the door, and immediately hears someone behind it. It’s kind of a strange sound like thumping, and also rustling.

“Gee?” Frank asks.

“Would you, uh, go away?” Gerard asks, and the voice is not pleasant or upbeat sounding.

“Are you okay?” Frank asks, “I haven’t seen you in a week. Neither has Mikey.”

“Yeah, by design,” Gerard replies, and there’s more moving around, and then something that sounds like scratching.

“Gerard?”

“Please just go away.”

“I just want to know what’s up,” Frank says.

There’s a huff, some stomping, and then the door in front of him is being pulled open.

Gerard answers, pulling on a sweatshirt when the door opens in front of Frank. Gee’s hair is messy, and all over the place. Gerard has a discouraged look in their eyebrows, but that’s really not what stands out.

It’s the purple, and in spots an off-green coloring around Gerard’s right eye. The eyelid looks off balance, and there’s a greedy expanse of red in the white part of Gerard’s eye. It’s pretty unsettling to be honest.

“Gerard, you have a black eye,” Frank says, staring aghast at the eye. It’s not like he’s never seen a shiner before, but he’s never seen someone so attractive with one.

Gerard squeals, and brings a hand to their face. Gerard then proceeds to try to brush hair over the purple bruise, but it hides nothing. The discoloration is still visible through the thickets of dark hair.

For some reason there’s a strong smell of something burning coming from the room, but it doesn’t smell like cigarettes or any normal burning. It’s just a weird smell. Not like a candle, and also not like a bonfire or anything else. Just a smoky smell.

“Why are you here?”

Frank frowns, “Why do you have a black eye?”

“It’s nothing. Doorknob.”

“How come I don’t believe that?”

“Just leave me be,” Gerard says, and then the door is slamming in Frank’s face. He doesn’t have time to say anything more, before he’s just staring at the closed door in front of him. Frank’s both confused and angry.

“Gerard!”

“I’m not opening the door so you might as well go away,” comes the voice on the other side of the door.

“But, can you tell me why you have a black eye?”

“I just did,” Gerard says.

“Fine. If that’s what you’re going with, fine. Why haven’t I seen you all week?”

“No one’s seen me all week, Frank. You aren’t a special snowflake.”

“Well, why?” Frank asks, feeling irritated.

Gerard doesn’t answer. Frank thinks that he’s being given the silent treatment for a few seconds until there’s more shuffling.

Gerard slips a paper under the door, and Frank’s confused by the action for a moment. When it becomes clear that he’s not going to be given any answer other than that, Frank crouches down and picks the sheet up.

‘Traditional Values for True Christians.’