Stop Playing Around

“Hey, uh, Frank,” Gerard says, wincing at how awkward he sounds, “You okay?”

“Oh I am just fantastic,” Frank says, his voice wrecked. He doesn’t look up, but he still sounds smarmy as always.

“Could you, ugh, I’m trying to be polite, Frank. Are you alright?” Gerard says, trying to keep himself calm despite the way he hates the guy he’s talking to.

“I...” Frank starts, but he doesn’t finish, and there’s the sound of whining, before he’s lifting his head just slightly above his knees. He doesn’t look up, but Gerard’s fairly sure he’s wiping tears from his eyes. Gerard’s heart kind of breaks a little bit, even though he doesn’t know why.

“I’m not here to judge you,” Gerard says, “I just, I mean, I feel bad for you.”

“Well don’t!” he snaps, “I’m perfectly fine.”

Gerard doubts that. He hates him, but there is some amount of humanity in the guy. He’s not just an indestructible ball. Seeing him crying makes Gerard realize that mortality like a kick in the stomach.

“I heard about your dad, I’m sorry. I’m not going to say I don’t hate the guy, because I do, but even I know he shouldn’t have abandoned you like this,” Gerard confesses. It’s incredibly selfish of him to have run away. He looks down at his phone and realizes that it’s still been ringing. Why is Mr. Iero still calling him?

“Why are you even here?” Frank asks, “You quit. I distinctly remember it. It’s kind of hard to forget.”

“Well, I mean,” Gerard doesn’t know how to say that he came here to yell at Frank’s dad, but he’s not going to lie, “to be honest, your dad’s been calling me ever since I quit, and I just wanted to tell him to cut it out.”

“He called you?” Frank ask, looking up at Gerard. The sight breaks his heart even further because he looks like a child. Red eyes, swelling with tears, and a face so hurt. Betrayed is the right word. He looks betrayed.

“Still calling me. I don’t know why,” Gerard confesses, and he feels guilty. Why should he feel guilty? It’s not like it’s his fault that Frank’s dad is calling him rather than Frank. It’s pretty confusing. Why could that be the case?

“Well he likes everybody better than me,” Frank says, and turns back to look at the pavement, silent.

“Do you have any, like, friends who you can stay with?”

“Friends,” he scoffs, “I have people who I pay to hang out with me, but no, I don’t have any friends.”

Gerard is painfully uncomfortable with how hard it is to be mad at the guy. He hates him. Literally hates him. It’s like Frank is the textbook example of all the things that tug at Gerard’s heartstrings though, and it’s annoying him that he isn’t mad. He really should be, but god, he can’t help but feel so bad for him.

“I’m,” Gerard says, but forgets what he was going to say. “I’m really sorry, Frank. I really mean that. I mean, you’ve got to understand that I was really angry the other day. Really fed up, already having a bad day, and I just exploded. I’m sorry about what I said, and I’m sorry that this is happening to you.”

Frank says the last thing that Gerard would have ever thought he’d hear come from his mouth. He gets a little dizzy by the word itself.

“Thanks.”

“What did you say?” Gerard asks.

“Thanks,” Frank repeats, and it’s even stranger the second time around.

“But...”

“I’m not a fucking robot! I understand that you’re trying to be nice, and I’m trying to be nice back, fuckface,” Frank says.

“Well the ‘fuckface’ at the end there really sealed the deal for you,” Gerard says, “and why, after three years of knowing you, is that the first time I’ve ever heard you say thanks?”

“Because I’m in a hopeless situation, and I’m smart enough to realize that pissing you off isn’t going to make anything better,” Frank replies.

“I didn’t know you were smart enough to work that out,” Gerard says. He decides to sit on the curb next to Frank, leaving about a foot between them.

“Why do you assume I’m an idiot?” Frank asks.

“Overwhelming evidence that points to that conclusion,” Gerard replies. That isn’t really true, but he doubts Frank is going to call him out on it.

He makes a noise somewhere between a cross of irritation and anger, but doesn’t say anything.

“Listen, Frank. I can’t just leave a guy sitting on a sidewalk crying to himself-”

“I’m not crying!”

“No of course not,” Gerard replies, “the red eyes, and sniffling is just a coincidence. Allergies.”

“It is allergy season,” Frank says.

“You really are an idiot if you think I’m going to believe that excuse, but whatever you say. My point is that I’m not going to leave you here, knowing you are technically homeless.”

“Don’t say that word,” Frank says, grabbing his head by the hair, and pulling it into his arms. It looks painful actually.

“It’s not untrue,” Gerard says.

“But I can’t,” his voice actually does crack for real this time, and he sounds like he’s going to start balling, “I just can’t be. I’ve... I’ve never been... how do I even...”

This is the period of time where, if Frank weren’t a complete douchebag, Gerard would probably try to comfort him by putting an arm around him. The fact of the matter is that Frank is a douchebag, and he doesn’t want to do that. He doesn’t really even want to touch him.

“I’d say it’s not too bad, but you’re worse off than I am,” Gerard says, “I have a home, and you don’t. It might surprise you to learn that there are different degrees of lower class. One of them is middle class, which a rich guy like you might not even know about. I make enough money to get by, and live. You are, right now lower on the ladder than myself, but I’m not going to look down at you for that. No, I’m going to look down on you for the way you’ve treated me.”

“I’m even less than you,” Frank says weakly.

“Well I wouldn’t say that. I’d say that you’re finally on the same level as me. You can look me in the eyes now, without breaking some rich person law or something.”

“What law is that?” Frank asks defensively, turning his face to look at Gerard. His eyebrows are slanted at Gerard, and it doesn’t suit the redden eyes.

“Isn’t that a rich person thing? Like a proverb of the wealthy?”

“Where the fuck did you hear that?” Frank asks, “It’s horribly fallacious.”

“I, um, never mind,” Gerard replies. Maybe Mr. Blog runner’s beliefs aren’t widespread. He’s also quite alarmed to hear that Frank knows a word as big as ‘fallacious.’

“You judge me so violently and still think your better than me,” Frank says.

“Well you think you’re better than me,” Gerard replies.

“You’re right,” Frank says, “well you were. I don’t need you to throw it in my face that you’re better than me right now, okay?”

“I didn’t say... god you’re infuriating!” Gerard says, “bottom line, do you have anywhere to go, or not?”

“Didn’t I just answer that question?”

“Not really,” Gerard says, “you just said that you have no real friends, and no offense, but I’m not surprised.”

“Offense taken,” Frank says.

“A lesser person would leave you here on the sidewalk crying to yourself for what you’ve done and said to me. I’m tempted, because, Frank, I’m not going to underplay how much I dislike you. I can’t just leave you here though, because I’d never forgive myself.”

“What are you saying?” he asks.

Gerard shrugs, “I’m saying that I’m a decent person, who happens to have an unoccupied couch.”

“Oh god,” Frank groans, “is that what I’ve amounted to? A fucking couch in my dad’s ex-assistant’s house?”

“Well apartment,” Gerard corrects.

“Ew,” Frank says, and Gerard wants to slap him, but he restrains himself.

“Look at it this way, you have a couch with a semi-reliable food supply, or you have a box next to a dumpster with whatever you can scrape by with,” Gerard shrugs, “I’m not keen about it either, but I’m too good a person to leave you the way you are.”

Frank looks up at him, with eyes that are so wide and scared that Gerard is almost convinced he’s talking to a little kid, “is that a real offer though?”

“Well my roommate won’t be too happy about it, but it’s the best you’re going to get. Spencer has this idea that you deserve this. Part of me doesn’t disagree with him, but part of me also is willing to give you a chance. It’s a chance though, not a guarantee. I’m not saying it’s a right of yours, it’s an opportunity. You can’t expect it to still be an offer if you act like, well if you act like yourself.”

“I hate that I have no other choice,” Frank says.

“No, you really don’t,” Gerard says.

“Are you going to treat me really badly?”

“Like the way you’ve treated me?”

Frank doesn’t say anything but nods. Gerard almost gets the feeling that he feels bad about his behavior, which is quite a strange thing to think about Frank.

“No, I’ll try not to,” Gerard huffs, and then stands up, “Well is that a yes or a no?”

“It’s really embarrassing for me,” Frank says quietly.

“I know it is, but I’ll have you know, that I do not judge you for the amount of money you have, but rather the person you are.”

“I’m a bad person, aren’t I?”

Gerard stumbles on his words slightly, looking down at Frank who hasn’t moved from his perch. He looks so broken, just sitting there.

“You’re not a very nice person, though I wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re necessarily bad,” Gerard says.

Frank nods soberly, and pulls himself up. The only thing Gerard can think, in seeing him standing in front of him, is how hopeless and terrified the look in Frank’s eyes is.