You Can't Push It Underground

“He’s not coming is he?”

“You love him,” Brendon says shaking his head.

“I don’t! He’s not coming though is he?”

Brendon looks at his friend with amusement, “it has been ten minutes. Ten minutes, Frank. Give it some fucking time.”

“Oh god, but I’m nervous.”

“And you don’t like him?” Brendon asks.

Frank shrugs, “as a human being he seems niceish, but I don’t like him.”

“You so like him. It’s literally written all over your face. It’s almost like someone took a sharpie and wrote on your forehead ‘gaga for Gerard.’ It’s sort of the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You need to get out more,” Frank says, trying to bite down on his already stubbed nails. He’s normally not this nervous, ever. It’s not like him, and he’s really not sure why he’s acting this way today.

“Whether you are or not in love with Gerard, or at least totally crushing on him, I think I’m going to hold off on finding you another guy,” Brendon says.

“But you have until the end of November! November starts tomorrow, isn’t that going to give you like a time crunch?”

“Well I think I’ve already found the guy,” Brendon says, “I just have to wait for you to realize I’ve found the guy.”

“Wait. You think Gerard is the guy?” Frank asks, and he stops his pacing to look at Brendon.

“I think he’s the closest thing I’m ever going to find with my time limit, but yeah, I think he is the guy.”

“How do you mean? The guy who I’m going to date, or the guy who I’m going to marry or what? Because I think your head is in the clouds if you think I’m ever going to consider marrying anyone,” Frank says, though he even he considers that statement to be a little farfetched.

“Well I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, but I think you like him. I really do, so I’m going to wait it out and see how things go with you and him,” Brendon says.

“You’re a wishful thinker,” Frank says.

“I am, but I’m also pretty confident about this. Don’t tell him I said that, because I don’t want him to get scared. He likes you though, Frank.”

“No he doesn’t. Does he? No he doesn’t,” Frank says, contradicting himself, “he doesn’t. Do you think so? No don’t answer that. No, actually answer it.”

“Should I answer that?” Brendon asks.

“No. Yes. Maybe. No. Just tell me,” Frank demands.

“I think he likes you. I think he’s nervous about liking you because he’s not used to it, but I do think so. It’s not a guarantee though, so tread carefully,” Brendon says.

“Tread carefully? I wasn’t going to tread at all. I don’t like him!”

Brendon snorts, “You are such a fucking idiot. Yes, Frank. You like him.”

He groans, “You are making things up. Seeing things that aren’t there. You’re the weird one, not me. But do you think he’s going to come?”

Brendon puts his head in his hands, because Frank is honestly being such an idiot.

Frank clears his throat, “Okay, so I’m not saying I like him or anything, but suppose I did.”

“Which you do.”

Frank makes a sound, “just suppose I did. Hypothetically, is it obvious? If you were him would you be able to tell that I like him? Hypothetically?”

“Hypothetically,” Brendon says, playing along, “if I were him, I may not. As long as you maintain your bravado, but try to tone it down a little bit, so that you’re approachable.”

“Approachable? How would I go about doing that?”

“Well first of all, you look like an insect with your eyes bulging out of your head like that. Also let your shoulders relax, it looks like you’re on puppet strings,” Brendon says, evaluating his friend, who does look way too much on edge considering it’s his birthday.

“Better?” Frank asks, though he’s barely changed his posture at all.

“Not really,” Brendon says honestly, “Just avoid alcohol for now or you’ll end up saying something stupid.”

“Anything else I should avoid?”

“Black cats, and walking under ladders,” Brendon suggests.

“Thanks,” He says contemptuously.

“Yep, no problem,” Brendon answers. “Do you need anything else, or can I go find Ryan?”

“It’s so unfair. My birthday and you want to spend it sucking face.”

“Well are you offering?” Brendon asks sarcastically.

“Ew, no. Get the fuck away from me,” Frank says pushing him away.

“Suit yourself bro, just calm down, he’ll be here,” Brendon says, walking away and into the kitchen.

It’s not like Frank’s house is really big, and it’s not like it’s overly crowded right now, but it’s crowded enough. There’s people there that Frank would really prefer weren’t there at all, and people he’s pretty sure he’s never seen in his entire life, but fuck it. It’s Halloween, it’s his birthday, and he’s supposed to be the fun guy, so he’s not going to say anything.

He’s not about to let people puke in his sink though. Frank does make the announcement very early on, about half an hour after Brendon abandoned him, that if anyone feels the need to eject their insides, then they should eject said insides on his neighbor’s lawn. He will deal with the cops if they come, and maybe see what he can do about legal action against his neighbors, if it’s even possible. Only if it comes to that though, Frank doesn’t really like to seek out conflict, but it’s not that loud. Someone should maybe turn the stereo down, or at least change it to good music, but it’s not that bad.

Apparently Frank is not the only person who doesn’t like the music because someone, with a voice like a goddamn looney tunes character screams something at someone, and it all seems rather nonsensical. He honestly has no idea what was said, but one second it’s some top twenty song that is drowning in auto tune, and the next second it’s ABBA. He decides not to question it, and goes back to the other side of the house where he can sit on the staircase and check his watch adamantly.

He puts his head in his hands and tries to block out the world. He honestly has no idea why he’s not enjoying himself right now. He just can’t help but think about Gerard, which is weird.

He literally barely knows the guy. He has seen him maybe five times in total. Two times when they first met, and three times after that. It’s aggravating him. He shouldn’t be so hung up on the guy, because obviously he didn’t show any express interest in Frank, but part of him thinks that there was definitely something. He assures himself that he’s making things up, seeing things there aren’t there, because he’s caught up on what Brendon said about his one-night stands, but still it doesn’t feel like that. It’s the logical explanation, but logic just doesn’t seem to be the most effective tool when dealing with this.

Logically Frank shouldn’t like Gerard at all. Actually, logically he should probably hate Gerard, but that logic isn’t really, well... logical. He thinks that he might be going crazy.

Now obviously Brendon has a different take on it, saying that everyone has literally gone through the exact same thing that Frank is going through. Frank says that’s impossible because he’s pretty sure it’s some sort of illness, and that ‘crushes’ don’t exist.

To Frank, sex is really as far as it ever goes. That’s why he doesn’t accept the idea of a crush, because it simply isn’t a word in his vocabulary. There’s no way for someone to like someone else, and want to be with them, based off of their personality. Or that’s what Frank tells himself at least. No matter what proof he’s given he just doesn’t believe it. Frank is positive that he can’t like Gerard, because that simply isn’t something that can happen to a person. He’s decided it’s some sort of psychosis that he’ll get over. He’s so hopelessly obstinate that crushes are impossible that however hard Brendon tries, he just won’t give in.

This is one of the reasons why Brendon’s going to just wait it out and watch Frank’s and Gerard’s relationship do its own thing. He doesn’t want to interfere, because he believes, with all his heart, that if anyone is going to be able to really touch Frank emotionally, it’s Gerard. He doesn’t know why it’s Gerard. Brendon doesn’t even want to question why he’s so sure, but he is, and that’s that. Gerard is going to make Frank understand love, and all anyone can really do is wait it out with a popcorn and a Dr. Pepper.

Frank is still sitting on the staircase alone nearly an hour later, practically falling asleep when someone pokes him in the ribcage.

“The fuck,” he says, looking around to see the very guy he’s been lost in thought about for the last several minutes.

“Gerard!” Frank says trying to find a balance between excitement and neutrality in his tone, but it just sounds like he’s trying to talk with food in his mouth.

“Yeah, hey,” Gerard says, and he goes to sit on the step beside Frank. Frank is fairly sure he has some sort of chronic medical condition, because his heart did not just stutter when Gerard’s elbow brushed against his arm. That would be crazy.

“So... hi,” Frank says, smartly.

“Hey, you looked bored so I, well, I am now here to ask you why you’re bored,” Gerard says.

“What?” Frank only has a few seconds to try and come up with a lie for why he’s been sitting here for an hour rather than enjoying his own party. He decides that the truth that he’s been daydreaming about Gerard is better left unsaid. “Brendon was, like, trying to eat his boyfriends face or something. I didn’t want to be the third wheel.”

“Oh,” Gerard says with a nod. “Well happy birthday.”

“You too. No, shit!” Frank turns the color of a fucking beet, “I meant, thanks. I’m... fuck! I promise I’m not drunk.”

Gerard laughs, “I didn’t say anything.”

“I’m just,” Frank’s face still feels like it’s overheating and he decides that he doesn’t trust himself to talk right now. A side effect of the chronic medical condition that is getting worse because Gerard’s shoulder is rubbing against his.

“So...” Gerard says awkwardly, “how are your neighbors then? Still bugging you?”

“You remembered that?” He asks, because he’s sure they haven’t talked about his neighbors since the very first time they met, “they’re still annoying. I still hate them.”

“How bad is it?” Gerard asks.

“Well,” Frank thinks, trying to come up with the worst thing they’ve done, but there are so many contenders, “they stuffed my mailbox so chockfull of, like, brochures and stuff that the mailman got mad at me and said I was intentionally trying to make his job harder. I couldn’t even get them out, because that shit was really in there.”

“What, did they just cram a bunch of flyers in it or something?”

“Yeah,” Frank nods, “I had to buy a pry bar. I got back at them by duct taping their mailbox shut. I don’t think they even realized that they made it impossible to get that shit out.”

“Couldn’t you move or something?” Gerard asks.

“Yeah, if I had the time and money to move, I sure would. I’m thinking of just getting a PO Box and redirecting everything because they still do it. I have a collection of pamphlets and shit, actually. Did you know that homosexuality is a sin, and I’m going to end up hanging out with Sisyphus in hell unless I repent for it now? If you’re interested in learning more I can offer you four dozen different pamphlets on the subject. I just think it’s utter bullshit. It’s a waste of paper, but they are relentless,” Frank says.

“They just don’t get it?”

“Apparently not. I’ve literally thrown every obscenity I can think of at them, and told them, without any sugarcoating, that I do not want them to bother me, but they won’t stop.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Frank looks at him, trying to rationalize his thoughts right now. He just inexplicably wants Gerard to hug him, and he’s trying to shake that thought away.

“Uh so,” Frank says, because he’s petrified of making an idiot out of himself in front of Gerard, though he doesn’t know why. Another side effect of his nonexistent medical condition.

“I was kind of on the fence about coming because I didn’t really know if we were okay, because I did say a lot of shit that I shouldn’t when we first met, but I don’t know, I feel like we’ve gotten past that,” Gerard says without taking any breaths, and it winds Frank just hearing it.

“Yeah definitely. I guess you weren’t really wrong,” Frank shrugs.

“Well I was wrong,” Gerard says.

“Maybe wrong to say it the way you did, but you weren’t really wrong. I guess I do have a problem, but that’s me. It’s just who I am.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” he answers.

“Do you believe people can change? Like really?” Frank asks.

“Not structurally. Basic rudiments of a person can never really change, but on a smaller level I don’t see why not,” Gerard replies, “why? Do you want to change?”

Frank shrugs, because honestly he doesn’t know. He thinks he’s just delusional, and chasing after some twisted fantasy, but part of him almost does. Maybe part of him really does, but he’s suppressing it, because it’s so hard to even imagine it.

He doesn’t think it’s just Gerard that’s making him think that, at least he highly doubts it, because that’s always been something in the back of his mind. Frank’s always wanted to escape the narcissistic asshole that he’s made himself to be, but he’s so comfortable with it. It’s easy for him, and Gerard challenges that. It may not be because of Gerard that Frank has the desire to change, but Gerard’s introduction to his life has certainly played a key role in making him realize it.

“I think I do,” Frank says.