I Didn't Mean to Fall in Love (But I Did)

“You look really cheerful, and honestly it’s kind of freaking me out,” Pete says.

“What?” Frank asks, “Oh it’s nothing.”

“No it’s not nothing,” Pete says, “you look like one of those clowns that has a smile painted on their face. It’s scaring me a little bit, because a clown killed my family.”

“That’s absolutely not true,” Patrick says. “But you do look happy. Have you been sniffing air fresheners again?”

“That implies that there was a previous incident where Frank was getting high off of Febreze,” Pete says.

“You’re right,” Patrick nods, “though I don’t know it always smells really canned in here. Maybe Frank’s got some extracurricular activities that he hasn’t told us about.”

“Am I even here?” Frank asks, because Patrick and Pete have started having a conversation without him in his own apartment.

“Yes, why do you ask?” Pete says, “Oh, and why are you so happy?”

“I’m just going on a date tonight,” Frank says, “and Aaron said it would be special.”

“Frank’s getting laid tonight,” Pete says grinning like a little kid hearing a dirty joke in the schoolyard.

“You are so immature,” Frank says.

“You denied nothing,” Patrick says, raising an eyebrow.

Frank shrugs, and Pete snorts, “oh my god, he actually is going to get laid tonight.”

“Would you shut up?” Frank says, because he’s starting to feel himself blush. It’s only been a few hours since last night, and Frank’s not quite over what happened. On one hand, it’s really awkward and uncomfortable to listen to someone else jerk off, but add in the fact that Frank’s head over heels in love with the guy, makes it so much worse. It couldn’t get any worse. Frank’s trying to psyche himself out, because telling himself that he’s attracted to Aaron is the only thing he can do to stop himself from liking Gerard. It’s not working very well.

“Your face says it all, bro,” Pete smirks.

“Can’t a guy just be happy without being a sex crazed lunatic?” Frank asks.

“No,” Pete deadpans.

“Yeah, I’m going to go with no.”

Frank shakes his head, “You two are literally the worst people I know.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Pete replies, “Where’s Gerard?”

“He’s been in his room all day,” Frank shrugs, “I think he might be coming down with something.”

“Should you be going out if Gerard is sick?”

“He told me to,” Frank responds, “I literally tried to cancel, but he insisted. He’s always like that when he’s sick. Always trying to make sure he doesn’t ruin someone else’s plans. He told me to go, so who am I to refuse?”

“So are you still in love with him or did you finally get off of Gerard’s hook?”

“Why the fuck is everyone asking me that?” Frank exclaims, “Mikey asked me the same thing last night. Did I do something? Am I acting differently or something? Do I look like I’m over him?”

“Well are you?” Patrick questions.

“Of fucking course not.”

“So Aaron’s effect on you isn’t even working?” Pete asks.

“You make him sound like a prostitute,” Frank frowns, “he’s my boyfriend, not an object. We’ve only been dating for a little while, of course I don’t love him yet, but maybe I will someday. Maybe. We just need to wait a while.”

“You’re putting a lot of faith into that idea,” Patrick replies, “He is just a guy, Frank. Not a miracle worker.”

“You’re making it sound really depressing,” Pete says, “Frank, if you don’t have confidence than you’re never going to get anywhere. Seriously, you’ve got to do some trying if you’re ever going to get anywhere. Aaron’s not the one who’s going to change your life, Frank, you are. I believe you can, you’re a pretty strong guy.”

“Too sappy,” Frank makes a face of revulsion, and shudders.

“I thought it was uplifting,” Pete says looking sad.

“Elevators are uplifting,” Patrick says.

“No, elevators just lift you upward.”

“Why do I even try making inspirational speeches? No one listens? They just call me a twat and tell me to go away,” Pete asks no one in particular.

“It’s because you’re a sentimentalist,” Patrick says, “and no one likes you.”

“You live with him,” Frank points out.

“Don’t remind me,” Patrick rolls his eyes.

“I don’t-” Frank’s interrupted by knocking at the door, and he puts on a nervous smile, that is somewhat plastic. He hopes it doesn’t look forced, but it is. He feels guilty about going on a date with Aaron after the events that took place last night. He hasn’t even talked to Gerard about it, and he never will, because that would be a hundred different types of awkward.

It’s hard not to let those memories affect him now though. He’s going on a date with someone who is not the guy he was thinking about last night.

“Oh he’s here,” Frank says, and part of him is actually excited to get away from Gerard. His feelings always seems to gain power when he’s around Gerard, because being in close proximity makes all the feelings rush at him like a moth to a flame. It’s kind of like Frank is a riverbed, and Gerard is the river, only there’s a dam that separates the two, but when the dam is open, there’s nothing stopping the raging current that knocks Frank off his feet. Being away from Gerard is the dam, and being near him, talking to him, looking at him, that’s the release of overflowing water.

“Frank’s gonna have sex,” Pete says in a singsong voice.

“I hate you both so much more than you know,” Frank says through his gritted teeth, “Whether or not that’s true is none of your business-”

“When was the last time you got laid anyway? You’ve been in love with your roommate for-fucking-ever, so how could you have gotten lucky anytime in the last, like, five years?” Pete states.

“We’re not having this conversation!”

“It’s fairly one-sided,” Patrick chips in.

“I... ugh, just check on Gerard to see if he’s okay,” Frank says as he grabs his things, and heads to the door.

“I will avoid telling him that you’re getting laid.”

“Like he’d even care, he doesn’t like me anyhow,” Frank grumbles, “Patrick, keep Pete away from anything flammable.”

“Will do.”

“You have such little faith in me,” Pete sighs.

“Can you blame him?”

“No, not really, but still, I have feelings.”

Frank rolls his eyes, and makes a hasty escape out the door. Aaron’s gotten used to being ushered away from Frank’s apartment quickly, and it’s not because he doesn’t want to show off his gorgeous boyfriend, he’s just sure that his friends would scare Aaron away. They can lay it on a little heavy. They’d probably somehow convince Aaron that Frank escaped from an insane asylum without ever even having to say the words ‘insane asylum.’

Pete does make an attempt to engage Aaron in conversation before the door closes, but Frank gives him a look that is known to have stopped hearts in the past. Frank’s got a whole stack of bodies to his name from that death glare alone.

“Is he gone?” A voice yells from Gerard’s room.

Pete turns to look at Patrick asking the silent question, ‘do we run away from him, or stay here to find out what he wants?’

Patrick’s silent response is something to the extent of, ‘of course dumbass, he’s our friend. What kind of friends would we be if we ran the fuck away?’ Something like that, but without the swearing, because Patrick reacts like a sheltered fourth grader whenever he hears the cursed ‘F-word.’

“Yes, Gerard, Frank’s gone. Why?” Patrick shouts back.

The door opens to unveil a heavily unkempt, and dejected looking Gerard clinging to a duvet that’s wrapped around his back, and held on by his pale fingers. His hair looks like it was the battleground for a genocidal massacre, and he’s wearing a severely battered looking Ramones shirt. It’s probably not even classifiable as a shirt at this point in its lifeline, because it honestly looks more like a giant dishrag.

“I’m having a bad day.”

“You look like hell,” Pete states the obvious.

“Frank said you were feeling sick,” Patrick says, and Gerard walks over to the couch where he then collapses, like a weight was dropped onto his shoulders out of nowhere. It kind of looked like a cheap stage dive from a half-assed stunt double on a shitty action movie.

“I feel like shit. I feel worse than shit. I feel like the shittiest shit that’s ever fucking existed,” Gerard announces.

“Well that’s not good, what’s wrong?” Patrick asks, walking over to the couch to look down at Gerard over the back. Gerard doesn’t look back he just looks at the ceiling with a glazed over expression. He has some pretty substantial bags under his eyes that make him look like a cadaver.

“Can I tell you something that you guys are going to laugh at me for, because it proves that I’m the worst human being on the planet?”

“Uh... yes?” Patrick says in the form of a question.

“Well I may or may not have been the biggest fucking idiot in the world for a total of five years,” Gerard says.

“Okay, that’s really vague, can you add a little more detail?” Pete asks. He hasn’t moved from his spot at the kitchen counter, but he can see over the couch enough to see the tops of Gerard’s bent knees.

“I don’t know if I should tell you...” Gerard says.

“You just asked if you could tell us,” Patrick responds.

“But that was before I thought it through all the way. I shouldn’t tell you. You’ll only make fun of me for it.”

“If it’s got you this down in the dumps, I can promise you we won’t say anything,” Patrick says.

“Besides you must have told Frank whatever it is already, because he’s your best friend and you tell him everything,” Pete says, sounding a tad bitterer than he’d intended to. He doesn’t really mind that Frank and Gerard are better friends, because he and Patrick are better friends, he just really likes knowing secrets. Pete likes gossip. He doesn’t like to start it, but he likes being in on it.

“Trust me, I have not told Frank,” Gerard answers.

“What could you tell us that you can’t tell Frank? Unless... no!” Patrick looks scandalized, “Is it about Frank?”

Gerard pulls the blanket up over his head so that Patrick can’t see his face, but he makes a nodding gesture that is understandable despite the comforter being in the way.

“Is it about Aaron?” Pete asks, “Did you find some dirt on Aaron?”

Gerard sighs, because it is in part about Aaron. It’s about how he wants to throw Aaron off a bridge, because he’s in love with Aaron’s boyfriend.

“It’s sort of about him,” Gerard whispers in a tiny, childlike voice.

“Did he do something?” Patrick asks.

“It’s mostly about Frank,” Gerard confesses.

“Well, what about Frank though?”

“I don’t wanna say,” Gerard responds.

“Then Patrick and I can be of no assistance,” Pete declares.

“But I need moral support, because my life is so fucked up!” Gerard says, popping his head out from the covers. If his hair was an atrocity before, it’s a holocaust now.

“How fucked up?” Pete questions.

“Massively, calamitously, extraordinarily, unimpededly, tremendously, catastrophically, cataclysmically, and every other adverb or adjective or whatever the fuck part of speech those words are. That’s how fucked up.”

“So really fucked up,” Pete nods along.

“Yah, I guess you could say that,” Gerard spits vehemently. He’s not in a good mood, and apparently he’s irate as hell too.

“Alright Mr. Grumpyumpous,” Patrick says, because when you don’t cuss, you’re forced to think creatively, “just calm down.”

“He’s a riled up curmudgeon, isn’t he?” Pete says like it’s a matter of fact.

“That is a phenomenal word. Good job.”

“Thanks, I saw it in a crossword puzzle,” Pete smiles with pride.

“Can we get back to my life-ruining dilemma maybe?” Gerard interjects.

“Right, sorry,” Patrick turns to look back at Gerard, “but you have to tell us or we can’t do anything to help.”

Gerard huffs with pure frustration and slips his words out like word vomit, “I’m in love with Frank, okay?”

Patrick stops breathing for a moment, and he’s fairly sure that some deity is playing a practical joke on him, because he did not just hear those words come out of Gerard’s mouth. He did not just hear Gerard, the spokesman of uninterested, confess to loving Frank. He must need to get new glasses because that’s not Gerard there at all. It can’t be. Frank and Gerard switched bodies, that has to be it. This is a serious case of Freaky Friday and Gerard is Jamie Lee Curtis.

It’s a practical joke or something. Ashton Kutcher is about to hop out from behind the curtains, and this is all going to be some big prank. Gerard is going to burst out laughing at any minute, and the bags under his eyes are actually made out of makeup.

Except none of those things are happening, and Gerard is looking up at him with pure unadulterated adamancy in his face. Gerard looks like a combination between afraid, angry, and fucking sick, but he’s also sure of himself.

Patrick turns in his spot, like he’s about to start a show stopping dance number consisting only of The Twist, and he looks at Pete’s reaction. Pete looks like Patrick feels.

Pete’s face has turned to an expression of utter shock, and he gets a concerned look in his eyes before he says simply, “Well fuck.”