You Can't Push It Underground

“No!” I don’t want to go anywhere! I want to stay at home and watch Deal or no Deal reruns,” Frank mopes as Brendon pushes him out the front door.

“Can you even hear yourself right now?” Brendon asks, “Howie Mandel can wait. His reflective bald head will be there when you get back. Right now you’re going to socialize!”

“I don’t wanna!” Frank complains.

“You honestly sound like a six year old arguing nap time, Frank.”

“Well I’d rather have nap time than go out anywhere! I don’t like people. I like my TV remote, and my giant bag of gold fish!”

“Frank,” Brendon says warningly, “either you rejoin the world, or I invite your neighbors over for tea.”

“You fight dirty.”

“I don’t like seeing you turn into a potato,” Brendon says.

“Not a potato. More like a barnacle,” Frank says.

“I don’t care what kind of vegetation you are, I’m not going to let you sit on your ass all day moping over Gerard.”

“I bet he’s already back with his ex. He’s with his ex, I just know it. I ruined it. I absolutely ruined it all!”

“You will have if you keep up like this. Stand up straight, Frank, and put a smile on your face.”

“I’m going to do no such thing,” Frank says.

“Than at least stop frowning like you’re at a funeral,” Brendon says.

“What do I get in return?”

“I won’t smack you across the face like I sorely want to.”

“No deal,” Frank says.

“You really have seen too many game shows haven’t you?”

“Just leave me be!” Frank groans.

“No! You’re going to go out, and you are going to have a good time or I will cut you,” Brendon says.

“Ow.”

“Exactly,” he replies. Brendon manages to coax Frank into going to their bar, which was really the goal the whole time anyway. Get Frank to the bar, and things will be taken care of. Hopefully.

Brendon discreetly sends a text while he’s getting himself and Frank drinks, and then waits. Is it the best plan ever? No. But it just might work.

“Why am I here again?” Frank asks with his head buried in his arms. Brendon doesn’t even know how on earth Frank knew he’d sat down because his head is completely enclosed, but he doesn’t care enough to ask.

“You are such a fucking crybaby, Frank. Cheer up, you’ll live. You’re a dumbass, but you’re not going to fucking die because of this,” Brendon says.

“How do you know?”

“I know that you’re quite the hypochondriac, and for good reason to, because you’re never not sick, but seriously dude. People only died of heartbreak and shock in Shakespeare.”

“God, Lady Montague was a fucking pansy. Who the fuck dies of a broken fucking heart? Stupid Shakespeare and his intolerably misguided understanding of the human circulatory system,” Frank groans. Apparently when Frank’s upset he overanalyzes Shakespearean plays. Forget about the era in which the plays were actually written where no one knew anything about the human body. Frank’s an eternal cynic.

Brendon says in dialogue that is not at all stale and rehearsed, not at all, “oh look, it’s my friend Mikey.”

“Ugh, I don’t like people. I like my pillow and fictional talking sponges,” Frank says, still not looking anywhere with his head in his arms. Mikey walks over to Brendon giving Frank a onceover and he’s not impressed. Maybe it’s because Frank is making noises like he’s about to throw up or the fact that he’s literally whining like a little toddler, but Frank just isn’t all that striking at the moment.

“Spongebob?”

“No the other one,” Frank replies.

“What other one?”

“That’s the fucking point, dipshit,” Frank retorts.

“Well he seems like a real charmer,” Mikey says making a face as he looks at the mess that has also on occasion been referred to as ‘Frank.’

Brendon shrugs, and mouths, ‘what the fuck do you want from me?’

“I wanna go home,” Frank groans.

‘Not that,’ Mikey mouths back.

“Frank, we have company,” Brendon says.

“Make it go away,” Frank says, “I want to be by myself.”

“He’s a train wreck,” Mikey says outwardly.

“I’m not deaf!” Frank says pulling his head up. He gives the new person a scowl and then rests his head in his hands, but at least he keeps it up this time.

“That did the trick,” Brendon says.

“Do you think I’m a dog?” Frank asks, “Because I will throw your shoe in a toilet if you cross me.”

“Delightful,” Mikey says.

“You know what, who the fuck are you?” Frank asks.

“He’s a friend of mine, who’s only stating the obvious,” Brendon says with a shrug.

“I don’t like him,” Frank says pouting. He honestly looks like a little kid throwing a temper tantrum. Brendon is tempted to go tell him to sit in the corner for a time out.

“You don’t like anybody,” Brendon says.

“I like most people,” Frank says, “but he looks like he just ate a lemon.”

Mikey does actually look a bit like he’s just eaten something sour. That’s his usual expression though, so he’s not surprised by the remark.

“Why is he here?” Frank complains extremely immaturely.

“I’m meeting my brother here, and we just totally bumped into each other,” Mikey says, and it’s so fake it kind of hurts Brendon’s ears. Frank of course, doesn’t notice because he’s too busy feeling sorry for himself.

“Brendon!” Frank groans, “Will you take me back home. I wanna go back!”

“Would you stop whining?” Brendon asks.

“No, because I hate you,” Frank pouts.

“I’m in desperate need of more malleable friends,” Brendon says, looking up at the ceiling, like he can’t believe he got here.

“Hey look, my brother is here,” Mikey says turning.

Frank groans and glances at the door, but then he sees a certain redheaded man, and his heart stutters a bit. It’s like someone stuck a pole down his back, because Frank shoots up in a flash. His posture is so straight that he’s almost bending backward.

He wants to hit himself now though. Brendon met Gerard through a friend of a friend of his brother. Mikey would be that brother, and Frank is incredibly gullible.

Gerard steps over to where his brother is, but then he catches sight of Frank, and he gets all nervous, and chalky. He tries to play it off as resentment, so he loosens his stance and looks at Frank contemptuously.

“Gerard!” Frank squeals fearfully.

“Frank,” he replies, in the exact opposite tone. He does not look happy to see Frank. He looks so unamused that Mikey is preparing for Gerard to stab him. It’s not even an unlikely eventuality at this point.

“Ge-” Frank stops, “hi.”

“Why don’t you sit with us?” Brendon asks, batting his eyelashes innocently.

“I was supposed to meet my brother here. Just him.”

“I’m fine here,” Mikey says.

“Of course you are,” Gerard says with narrowed eyes. Frank is looking at Gerard as if mesmerized. He can’t believe how gorgeous he is, especially after Frank gave him up. Why is it that all the best things are things you can’t have? Or even more particular, why is it that all the things you own are inadequate, but as soon as you no longer have them their priceless?

Gerard is nothing short of flawless, and Frank can’t help but notice it now that he’s ruined everything.

There is now absolutely no chance that it was a coincidence that Brendon and Mikey left the only empty seat, the one next to Frank. No chance that was an accident at all.

Frank feels Brendon kick him from under the table, or at least he thinks it’s Brendon. He sends the man a venomous stare, and Brendon’s cheeky grin confirms that it was, in fact, him.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” Brendon says, and Frank just squints at him. Brendon hasn’t even opened his first one, so no, he does not need another.

“Yeah, I’ll help you,” Mikey says.

“Why does he need help?” Gerard asks.

“I am very indecisive,” Brendon says, “I probably wouldn’t be able to make a choice by myself.”

“Well then I’ll come,” Frank says, turning to get up, and hopefully make a quick escape.

“No, Frank,” Brendon says hurriedly, “Don’t you remember your ankle injury?”

“What ankle inj-” before he can finish his sentence Brendon gives him an extremely painful kick to the shin, “Fuuu- ow!”

“That ankle injury,” Brendon says.

“You fucking cock-sucking motherfucker!” Frank shouts, attracting the attention of a few people nearby, “we don’t kick our friends in the shins, you fucking asshole!”

“I did no such thing,” Brendon says, pretending to be offended, and then he runs away. Quite literally, he just runs away in another direction, and Mikey is not long to follow.

“They couldn’t have been more obvious,” Gerard says. “They should have just made a giant cardboard sign with an arrow on it.”

“Yeah, but I wish their plan could have excluded the part where he kicked me,” Frank mopes.

“Oh c’mon, the guy can’t have that hard a kick,” Gerard says.

“Well how about you call him over here and ask him to kick you!” Frank says, angrily. “It won’t be too hard, you know they’re probably watching us from behind a pillar or something with binoculars and popcorn.”

Gerard grins, “you’re right. They’re kind of perverse. Especially Brendon.”

“You’re brother wasn’t a bed of roses! He called me a train wreck!”

“Well you are a bit of a train wreck,” Gerard sighs.

“Well yeah, but you don’t say that to a stranger.”

Gerard nods but says nothing. When he doesn’t say anything though it makes it hard for Frank to say anything. He wants to say so many hundreds of things to Gerard, but he can’t. He doesn’t know how to.

“They’re not coming back are they?” Frank asks.

“No probably not,” Gerard replies.

“We have the worst friends in the whole fucking world,” Frank says, sitting back in his seat.

“How’ve you, uh, been?” Gerard asks.

“Oh, I’ve been absolutely dandy,” Frank replies.

“So, I’m going to sound stupid, because I’m the one who got angry at you when you called, but I’ve felt like shit the last week, and it’s kind of your fault,” Gerard says.

“What! That’s a little rude, don’t you think?” Frank asks.

“No, because I’m a fucking idiot, who should be mad at you and want you to accidentally fall into a hole or something, but I don’t because I miss you, and I shouldn’t because, really, you’re kind of a dick, but I don’t know, I kind of like it,” Gerard says, all in one breath.

“Yeah, you really should hate me,” Frank says, “I wouldn’t blame you.”

“But I don’t,” Gerard sighs.

“I’m stupid,” Frank admits.

“No one ever accused you of not being stupid,” Gerard says.

“No, I am. I have, what might as well be my first crush ever and it’s on this stupidly attractive guy with this vibrant red hair, and he’s so perfect. Like, literally anyone could see that, and he’s so funny, and fantastic. He’s really sweet, but he’s not the kind of sweet that disarms you with potency. Honestly, he’s way too perfect to be human, and any human in the world would call me a fucking moron for doing what I did to him, because I am, really. I pushed him away when I should have grabbed him and never let him go. I like him so much, but I’m not with him.”

Gerard frowns, “that sounds like a problem. Why aren’t you with him if you like him so much?”

“Because I’m a little girl who doesn’t want to be hurt. I don’t want to be hurt, I hate being hurt. I’ve seen what it does to people and it fucking terrifies me. It’s so dumb though, because this guy, who I like, he actually likes me back, me of all people. Who would be dumb enough to like me?”

“You’re right. You’d have to be pretty damn stupid to like you,” Gerard agrees.

“Right? So it’s kind of unbelievable that this guy likes me back, and I like him. That’s the stupidest part about it! I like him, he likes me, anyone with a brain would say, that yeah, we should be together,” Frank states.

“So what’s stopping you?”

“I’ve never actually believed in love. I’ve seen it but I’ve written it off, and all my life I got used to caring about no one but myself. I’ve spent so many years just as a ‘me’, and I never fathomed I could be a part of a ‘we’. So imagine my surprise when this siren-headed dork walks into my life, and for the first time in my life I actually care about someone else’s feelings. It makes what I did even dumber, because I pushed him away, knowing full-well that I’d be hurting him. The guy whose feelings I care so much about him, and I just went and hurt him like that anyway!”

“And how have you felt about all this?” Gerard asks.

“If there’s a stage past miserable, I am below that. If a trench at the bottom of the ocean is the lowest thing in the world, I am below that. I’m, uh... what’s that big trench thing in the ocean called?”

“Marianas Trench,” Gerard says.

“No that’s a band.”

“Which is named after a trench,” Gerard says giggling.

“Oh. Okay, well I’m that, and I am so fucking miserable. I miss the guy so much that I haven’t left my house in a week, and I’ve eaten staggering amount of fruit roll-ups. I haven’t even had the courage to get out of bed until my friend literally had to drag me out of it, and now I’m here.”

“What’s your conclusion then? What have you taken from this experience?”

“Well for one thing, not to watch too many episodes of Lets Make A Deal at a time because you end up being way too depressed about all the people who picked curtain three when they should’ve just taken the money,” Frank says.

“Anything else?” Gerard says smiling at how stupid and adorable Frank is.

“I just... I don’t care, I guess. I’m scared that he’s going to hurt me, so I’m preventing myself from being hurt by him, but in doing so, I’m hurting myself a million times more than I would if I just sucked it up and said that I don’t care. So I’m saying that I don’t care. I don’t care if he’s going to hurt me, because I want to put myself into a new situation where I have the chance of being hurt,” Frank says.

“That’s a good progression in character,” Gerard says.

“So do you think that this guy would ever go for me? After all the shit I’ve put him through? Even if I promised that I really, truly, honestly, want to be with him so much?”

“I think it’s possible,” Gerard says, “I’d say it’s really likely. Really really likely. I’m pretty sure, whoever this guy is, with his stunning sounding hair, is probably really into you.”

“Even though I’m afraid of being hurt by him?” Frank asks.

Gerard drops the act to look bluntly at Frank, “You seem to think I’m intent on hurting you.”

“Well no. I’m afraid that it’s not going to work out. You know, it’s like you have so many breakups and all you need is one person not to breakup with. Though everyone always says that it’s the ride that’s important, not the destination.”

“I can’t guarantee you that it’s going to work,” Gerard says.

“But it’s worth it to see if it will,” Frank says, “and I just don’t care.”

Across the bar, behind a pillar, Mikey and Brendon sit, trying to hide from sight.

“Do you think it’ll work?” Brendon asks.

Mikey shrugs. He’s not the most talkative person in the world. He peaks behind the pillar for a moment to check their progress.

“Oh yeah, I think it’ll work,” Mikey replies, turning back to look at Brendon.

“How can you be so sure?” Brendon asks. Mikey just gives him a look, that there is no way to describe. It doesn’t need to be described even.

Brendon peeks around the pillar himself, and yeah, Mikey was right. The two of them are making out. Not even trying to hide it. That was easier than Brendon had anticipated. It says something about how much they totally wanted each other though.

“I would make so much more money than eHarmony,” Brendon says, proudly.

It occurs to Frank that Brendon and Mikey have not come back. He doesn’t exactly expect them to, but he totally knows what’s going on through their heads right now.

“They’re getting a field day out of this,” Frank whispers.

“Fuck them, just don’t stop kissing me.”