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

“How long has this been going on?” Patrick asks.

“I think five years?” Gerard says.

Patrick’s eyes literally get so wide that there’s a serious danger of them falling out of his head.

“Five years?” Are you sure you didn’t mean to say days? Or hours? Maybe minutes?”

“No, it’s been about five years,” Gerard nods.

“How did we not notice that?” Pete exclaims. He’s stood up, and has made his way to stand beside on the couch to look down at Gerard who looks thoroughly dolorous.

“I’m having a really bad day,” Gerard mumbles.

“Okay, so you need to explain what’s going on, because Frank’s been-” Pete tries to say ‘in love with you for that long too,’ but Patrick kicks him in the shin. After a mewling sound and an attempt to give Patrick an angry look, Pete just sighs and lays his arms on the back of the couch, and puts his head in the center of them.

“Frank’s what?” Gerard inquires.

“Pete just meant that you’ve known Frank for five years. If you’ve been in love with the guy all this time, how come you never... never said anything? Never told him, or Pete, or anything. What’s up?” Patrick says, “I mean Gerard, I’ve known you for three years, and you’ve never shown the slightest interest in Frank before.”

“Well it’s just that I didn’t know I was in love until yesterday. I just thought he was like my best friend. My really really close best friend. I thought it was just that, because I didn’t know it was anything else. I mean, I’m content if we stay where we were a month ago. That would be okay, if it’s just us watching Batman too much, and horror films on Friday’s, I’m okay with that. I don’t need the rest and the works, I just want... I don’t know, I want him to not be with someone.”

“So you’re saying that you don’t even care what kind of relationship it is as long as it’s with Frank,” Pete summarizes.

“Basically. I just really want to be with Frank. I don’t care how. I mean, I thought that that was all I wanted for forever. I thought I just wanted to have a best friend who I play video games with and throw noodles at when we’re cooking, I thought that’s what I wanted. It never really occurred to me that a relationship entails those things too. I don’t want him to be with anyone else. I don’t want Frank to throw noodles at someone else, I just want him to be with me,” Gerard says.

“But why now?” Patrick says sounding disparaging, “why do you have to be in love with him now? He’s with Aaron!”

“I didn’t know I wanted him!” Gerard repeats, and he’s getting really tired of having to say this, “I thought he was my best friend. I thought was it, and that’s all it ever was. I never knew he was the person who I wanted to wake up to every morning. I thought that he was just Frank. And then I picture my life without him and I don’t want to live that life. I don’t want to suffer that torture. I picture Frank waking up next to someone else and it kills me. It feels like someone is pulling my heart out. I can’t live in a world where Frank is happier off with someone else than he is with me. I want to be the one to make him happy. Happier than anyone can ever possibly make him.”

“But you realize that you can’t have him right now,” Patrick says, “because you missed your shot.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t want him. It’s all been coming at me like a cannon over the last few hours. It’s like five years of lusting over Frank is hitting me all at once in full force. It fucking hurts! Loving him hurts. I don’t get it. I thought that love was supposed to be this warm, pacifying thing, but it’s not! It’s not. It was always supposed to be. You watch enough movies and you just see so many different portrayals of people in love, and it never occurred to me that that wasn’t what it was. It’s the most fucking painful thing in the world, so why do we all chase after this dumb thing? Why do we chase after something that stupid? I love him, I love Frank, and it’s ruining my life.”

“That’s the thing that adults never tell you is that everything is fake. Almost everything is artificial nowadays. Love stinks,” Patrick says.

“Well then why do people want it? Why do so many people spend their whole life searching for this dumb fucking thing when they could be playing Portal 2? What’s the point?”

“That’s a good question. A lot of it is mostly just hating each other, but wondering how you survived without them before you met,” Pete says.

“So there’s no way to make this hurt go away? I don’t want to like Frank, I really don’t,” Gerard says shaking his head and he lets it fall into his hand. His tangled mess of a mop of hair offers a welcome distraction to the fact that he’s crying into his palms. His hair looks like a meticulously detailed enchanted forest from a creepy hand drawn old animated movie.

“I’ve heard the cure for this is ice cream,” Pete options.

“Ice cream is not some magical cure for a broken heart. It’s like an ice pack on a burn. The burn is still going to hurt when you take the ice pack off,” Patrick says, shaking his head at Pete.

“Well I’m trying to lighten the situation. Gerard is sad.”

“Gerard is pathetic and heartbroken,” Gerard says.

“Gerard is talking in third person, which is greatly confusing Pete,” Pete says.

About two hours later the only antidote that they can actually come up with is a marathon of the classic Scooby Doo show on Cartoon Network. Though Pete is still a child at heart and keeps spoiling the ends of the episodes.

“It’s the bank president, I’m sure of it,” Pete says.

“Dude, we have all seen this one, just shut up,” Patrick replies, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Well Jeepers, someone’s a bit testy.”

“I don’t know why I even hang out with you anymore,” Patrick shakes his head like he’s regretting his life decisions.

“It’s because you live in my apartment and eat all my food,” Pete says.

“Our apartment,” he corrects.

“Well it was mine first.”

“This is love? This is what everyone slits their throat over?” Gerard asks.

“Well I told you that it was about hating each other,” Pete says. “And besides, it’s not like he actually hates me.”

“No I do. I actually hate you,” Patrick says.

“Go fuck yourself,” Pete says, “but anyway, we don’t actually hate each other. I mean a little bit, but that’s part of the fun.”

“Except for when Pete almost burns down the apartment building. That’s not fun,” Patrick says.

“I’m never going to live that one down as long as I live,” Pete shakes his head.

“You started a fire with a hair dryer, Pete,” Patrick reminds him.

“I also put out the fire. I never get credit for that part. You only noticed my mistake, not the solution. I’ve used plenty of hair dryers without starting fires, thank you very much. It was just once!”

“But you started a fire with a hair dryer,” Gerard says.

“Oh c’mon, you kidding me? Even the guy with a broken heart has the nerve to make fun of me! I should just move to Idaho where no one knows about my blunders.”

“Why Idaho?”

“Because I hear they have good potatoes, and I like potatoes,” Pete responds.

“We have potatoes here,” Patrick states, “you can even buy potatoes that were imported from Idaho.”

“Yeah but here people make fun of me for misusing a hairdryer, and reference that Stephen King novel at me.”

“Firestarter?”

“No Cujo,” Pete replies sarcastically, “yes dumbass.”

“Can we discuss the literary history of Stephen King some other time?” Gerard asks.

“Why? Is that invigorating chase scene through a barn more important to you than the many books of one of the greatest contemporary authors?” Pete asks as Shaggy gets his head stuck in a bail of hay.

“I’d say Gaiman, but whatever,” Patrick says.

“An argument could be made for him as well,” Pete nods.

“Please,” Gerard scoffs, “Gaiman is better.”

“Why can’t we just say they’re both good, and get back to the man in a mask with an outlandishly pedophilic name?” Patrick says.

“’The Creeper’ does sound like he wants to feel up little boys and girls doesn’t it?” Pete agrees.

“Where is Frank?” Gerard asks apropos of nothing. “He should be home by now, it’s getting late.”

“Oh he’s probably just... never mind,” Pete says, and then looks over to Patrick who seems just as disarmed by the question as he is.

“What do you mean by that?” Gerard asks, and he pulls his head out from under his blanket to stare at them both with so much innocence it physically pains them both. He looks like a little kid who lost his dad in a mall, and the last thing anyone would ever want to do is give him bad news.

“Gerard, it’s nothing,” Patrick says, because it’s really only speculation. They don’t actually know if Frank’s having sex or anything so it’s absolutely possible that he’s just late coming home. Although Frank was in kind of a nervous mood, and he’ll literally do anything to stop his feelings for Gerard, so now it’s almost more likely than ever that he’d throw himself at Aaron. He’d do that just to test out whether that helps him get over Gerard. They neglect to mention that to Gerard though because he’d probably start balling even more tears.

“What do you mean it’s nothing?” Gerard asks, with his pupils trembling like he already knows the answer. He’s breaking both of their hearts too, and it’s getting a little unnerving how good Gerard is at making people empathize with him. He’d probably convince a guy who just won the lottery that it’s the worst thing to ever happen to him, just by frowning a little bit.

“It’s seriously nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Why would I worry? You’re making me worry! What’s going on?” Gerard asks.

“We don’t even know for sure, it’s probably nothing,” Patrick says.

“Well then tell me, because if it’s ‘probably nothing’ than I can’t be upset about it right now.”

“Well no, because the world’s probably not going to end tomorrow, but now that I’ve brought it up you might worry,” Pete says. “This is probably nothing, but there’s always a possibility.”

“What’s going on with Frank? Is he going to blow up earth or something? If not, I want to know!” Gerard says, “Actually I want to know if he is planning to blow up the world too, because I feel like that’s something I should be informed about.”

“Well Gerard you’re not going to like what we have to say, so it’s better if you don’t know at all. Ignorance is bliss.”

“No it’s not!” Gerard complains. He makes one last fleeting attempt at a puppy dog face before his head falls into his hands again, and he starts whimpering.

“Gerard?”

“He’s having sex isn’t he?” Gerard snivels.

“That’s not a guarantee,” Pete says, trying to find some way, any way to make it seem better than it is.

Gerard lifts his head up from his hands, looks around the room with an apparently calm face and then sighs. He looks pretty much unruffled for the most part, but also like he’s trying not to scream.

“Well then,” Gerard squeaks, but his voice sounds strained and high, “if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to crawl into my bed and cry for twenty years.”

With that, Gerard stands up, with as much composure as a man could have given the situation. He then walks over to his room, dragging his duvet behind him in a trail that makes a soft sound against the carpet. The door to his room closes, and there’s a thumping sound followed by Gerard cursing, and then a wailing sound like he’s being murdered slowly and painfully.

“Well that did not go well,” Pete says.

“I cannot even begin to describe how important it is to have someone in your life who states the obvious as much as you do, Pete,” Patrick replies.