Fickle Reticence

“You two have a strange relationship,” Frank sighs, flopping down onto his bed haphazardly. “I mean first you’re all ‘let’s ask Gee to come to lunch with us,’ and then you’re all ‘hey I have to talk to him in the hall, because there’s a giant secret we’re keeping from you Frank, but you’re too stupid to figure out that that’s going on so I won’t bother making a better cover than that.’”

“What are you-”

Frank summarizes the events at the cafeteria pretty well, “And then you’re like ‘hey look here’s Gerard, and he looks absolutely fine, and came here of his own free will, or so it would seem’ and then you’re all ‘I must mysteriously pull him away and have a ten minute conversation and then return to Frank and say he got sick, even though he looked healthy to me, but Frank’s too stupid to figure out that there’s some big secret we’re not telling him.’”

Mikey looks at Frank a little questioningly, and sighs, “I didn’t realize we were really that transparent.”

“Yeah, no, a six year old would have caught on. Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you what it is you’re not telling me, because I assume there’s a reason for keeping it a secret, just know that you’re not fooling me the tiniest amount,” Frank tells him.

“Well I mean, I’d tell you, but I’m not in the position to tell you. It’s not-”

“No, I gotcha, just thought I’d tell you that I’m not that dumb,” Frank says, “but if he’s murdered somebody I do feel like I have the right to know.”

“Well Gee’s only murdered a few people. Gerard only kills people shorter than 5’6 with at least four tattoos, who also wear way too much black.”

“Hey! I don’t wear too much black! I wear a perfectly normal amount of black. Seriously calm your tits boy, I don’t overdo it.”

“Please, you reek of death and Satanism,” Mikey retorts.

“My Satanism has nothing to do with the number of black clothing articles I own.”

Mikey sighs, “I really should petition for a new roommate. I mean I think I have a valid reason to get away from you.”

“What’s wrong with me?” Frank says and then makes a noise, “on second thought, please do not answer that question.”

“Good choice,” Mikey replies.

~*~*~*~

Frank groans, as the sound of his alarm pulls him from a particularly weird dream involving Bill Hader and a hiccupping camel playing with a parachute. It was strange.

He looks over to Mikey whose bedhead isn’t doing him any favors, but he has to get up early too so Frank doesn’t bother getting to the alarm that quickly. It’s an annoying beeping sound that is actually a form of torture in other countries. Or at least Frank believes that wholeheartedly. He gets the alarm clock to shut up, and then tries to remember what day it is, where he is, who the current president is, and his own name. He gets stuck on that last one, because he’s pretty sure his name isn’t Rebecca, but that’s the first thing that pops into his mind.

“Frank,” Mikey groans, and Frank has an epiphany moment, because of course, his name is Frank! Mikey could’ve called him any other name, like Winston and he’d have probably had Frank going for at least a few minutes. He is not a morning person.

“The fuck do you want?” Frank asks, rolling his legs out of bed where he stares at the ground, trying to make out his feet in the dark room. The pale skin seems to blend in with everything around him, and he’s only able to pinpoint them when he wiggles his toes around a little bit. Frank’s metacognition isn’t as good as it could be. Sometimes he hits himself in the nose with a fork.

“A million dollars,” Mikey mumbles, grabbing for something on his bedside table which successfully knocks about twelve things on the ground in the process.

“Don’t we all,” Frank replies, trying to stand up, but he falls over onto his bed after his knees unsuccessfully hold him up.

“W’time is it?”

“I don’t even know what fucking year it is, Mikes,” Frank replies.

“1941.”

“Is that why I heard a siren going off just now?”

“World War II jokes, ha. Too early for that shit,” Mikey grumbles without amusement.

“You just said you had no idea what time it is,” Frank points out.

“Too early for World War II jokes. That’s what time it is,” Mikey says.

“Well if you’d said it was a different year then I’d have made a different joke,” Frank replies, trying to stand up again, effectively this time.

He stares down at the floor below him, though it’s just a different shade of black as everything else in the room. The only light they have is coming from the digital clock on the alarm that Frank just pummeled. It casts a very blue shadow that’s got a range of about two inches. Frank has to just guess where the door is, and fumble around for the light switch.

“Ah that’s so much better,” Mikey says, after finding his glasses, which had fallen to the floor with all of his other shit. “The dark isn’t blurry anymore. Nice and clear, but also completely black.”

Frank rolls his eyes, though Mikey has no way of knowing that, and his hand slaps at the wall, where he bends his pinky painfully and swears.

“Don’t do that!”

“Do what?”

“That,” Mikey says.

“Glad I have you to give me such splendid advice,” Frank says, and his hand finally finds the switch so he flicks it on.

“Fuck, too bright!” Mikey yells, “I’m a goddamn Vampire, Frank! I don’t do light.”

“That’s sunlight you dumb fuck, and good. I wanted to turn you to stone,” Frank replies.

“That’s trolls,” Mikey says.

“It could be Vampires too,” Frank replies, squinting at the bright room. “Well whatever, I’ve gotta take a piss.”

“Have fun,” Mikey says, pulling himself into a sitting position, but his hair should not be seen in the light. He looks like he’s participating in a Jedward lookalike contest.

“I don’t know how to respond to that. I dig the quiff by the way,” Frank snorts, and Mikey furiously tries to pat down his hair, but he’s just making it messier.

Frank smirks again, and grabs the doorknob, pulling it open. He nearly walks into the person outside who is a very lazily dressed Gerard.

“Do not fucking do that, I just woke up and you nearly gave me a heart attack!” Frank says, feeling his heart literally thump painfully at fast speed in his chest.

“How was I supposed to know you were going to open the door right as I was about to knock?”

“Telekinesis,” Frank says with a ‘duh’ oozing into his voice.

“Gee?” Mikey asks, because he can’t see through Frank, and into the hallway.

“Yeah, it’s me, Gerard,” he says, telling Mikey precisely what the situation is for right now.

“I’m going to pee, you two have your brotherly talk. Exchange your missile plans, and write up blueprints on how to infiltrate Fort Knox, but get it done by the time I get back or I’ll learn all your juicy little secrets,” Frank says, pushing past Gerard.

“What’s up, bro?” Mikey asks, when the door closes behind Frank.

“I just wanted to apologize for how I was acting yesterday. You have no idea how hard it is to have the body of a guy 24-7, but the mind of a girl half that time. It’s not fun having to worry about people realizing that I’m two different people,” he says.

“But you’re not two different people. You’re Gee. You always have been, and you always will be. Sometimes you go by Gerard, and sometimes you’re more comfortable as Gee, but you’re always going to be you,” Mikey says.

“Oh man, cut the cheesiness, it’s such a cliché. You make me feel like I’ve stepped into an afterschool special.”

“I am way too attractive to be cast in an afternoon special!” Mikey says.

“Yeah, whatever you say Jimmy Neutron,” Gerard teases.

“Dammit!” Mikey yelps, profusely working at his hair again. He stands up and walks to his desk, trying to tame it with a brush, while Gerard just sneers at him.

“I’ve been out in public a lot though, I’m getting better with makeup and stuff. I think I’ve gotten the hang of countouring,” he says. Makeup had never really been something Gerard was inclined to learn, but he’s an artist after all. Makeup is just a different medium.

“I don’t know what the fuck that means,” Mikey says honestly, turning to look at Gerard.

“Just means that I think it’s harder to recognize me, and that’s the goal. I want to look like a different person so people don’t catch on that I’m genderfluid,” Gerard says, leaning on the desk that is Frank’s.

“Well why the fuck should you care about what they think? I don’t want to think that you make yourself unrecognizable,” Mikey says wrinkling his nose. His eyes water as he gets a knot out of his hair, and it’s hard to believe he even gets knots in his hair because it’s so short. He tends to be all limbs and contortion when he’s sleeping though, so there’s often a lot of tangling, both with hair and blankets.

“Well Frank certainly didn’t recognize me,” Gerard says.

“Frank wouldn’t recognize Brad fucking Pitt if he wore a nametag on his forehead,” Mikey replies, “and when did he see you? You hardly let me see you when you’re feeling girly.”

“I’ve experimented I told you! He saw me in the library, before you’d even introduced us. I am getting better, whether you believe that or not. I let people see me all the time, I just never introduce myself.”

“Well that’s something,” Mikey says, “I think you need some friends though. People who you can be yourself with whatever kind of a day it is. I think Frank is a good candidate. Me and Frank know this other guy. Our friend Patrick, he lives a little ways down the hall, you could hang with him too. A few other people, but I’d just assume start with Frank.”

“Mikes, I’ve told people before, and you know I don’t like to do that,” Gerard says. High school was hard for Gerard. The friends Gerard had had were not really... real. When Gerard had figured it all out, Gee had made the attempt to be honest about it with everyone, but that’s when the fear of being discovered originated. Everyone fled from Gerard, and they’ve had trouble trusting people ever since. On some levels it’s understandable to be a little off put by the matter, but to completely write Gerard off altogether has never made sense to Mikey.

“You told people who were already around you, without considering how they’d take it first. You felt like you had an obligation to tell them, because they’d known you for so long. Frank is different, Frank’s someone you can evaluate and come to your own conclusion with. Give it a shot, if I’m wrong you have my total permission to kick me in the balls,” Mikey says.

The door opens and Frank steps back in, nearly hitting Gerard when it swings open.

“Whoops,” Frank says stifling a laugh, “shit. Next time I’ll have better aim and get you right in the face.”

Gerard grins, but moves out of the way to let Frank enter his own room.

“I guess I’ll see you later, Mikes,” Gerard says, grabbing the door and holding it open.

“Yeah, just think about what I said. Find someone you’d be willing to open up to,” Mikey says, and Gerard nods.

“I’ll think about it, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” Gerard says, turning and closing the door behind him.

“He left before the show,” Frank says with a laugh.

“Frank, watching you undress is not a show. At least not one anybody wants to see,” Mikey says.

“Humph, says you,” Frank answers, pretending to be angry.

“Says anyone, well anyone with any taste.”

“Screw you, I could headline a burlesque show,” Frank says, making a strange sashay move with his hips, and forcing Mikey to turn away to laugh. No one can see him lose his sullen face, of course. What utter blasphemy!