When We're Both Thirty

Gerard leaves the bathroom a moment after he's finished snooping to see Frank busying himself with something in the kitchen. Gerard’s not too sure what, because he’s not really paying any attention.

“Do you still like cinnamon sugar on your toast?” Frank asks him, and Gerard’s both taken aback and confused by the words.

“What?”

“Well, when we were kids,” Frank starts, drifting off and looking uncomfortable, “that’s what you liked. I was just...”

“That was such a long time ago. How on earth do you even remember that?” Gerard asks.

“Well I just-” Frank starts, but stops himself. “You know what, never mind.”

“Why did you bother to remember that?”

“It’s not important!” Frank insists, “I just did. Okay? I didn’t mean to. You’re one to talk though, you completely forgot about you and I ever being friends. If you ask me, that’s a lot weirder than remembering things about a guy who did used to be my best friend.”

“We were never really friends though,” Gerard says, because he likes pretending they weren’t. Ever since the memories have resurfaced of how they used to hang out, it’s been easier to pretend that Frank was always his enemy. It’s better on his conscience. He remembers just how close they were though, and he hates feeling guilty about the fact that they lost that.

They were close though. Everyone thought they were fucking adorable, and they probably were. It’s kind of sad to think that they lost that so easily.

“Just, like, here,” Frank says, and he pushes a plate over to Gerard with a piece of toast on it. “You do whatever.”

“Yeah, okay,” Gerard says, furrowing his eyebrows at the weird exchange. Frank awkwardly walks around the kitchen counter and to the other side of the room. He does his best to look anywhere but at Gerard, which is confusing for the both of them, because Gerard doesn’t know why he’s avoiding eye contact, and Frank doesn’t know why he all of a sudden is incapable of looking at Gerard in the eye.

The painfully uncomfortable silence is mercifully broken a second later by someone hammering at the door.

“I will get that!” Frank says, jumping quickly to the door like it’s all he lives for. Gerard just watches and grabs the toast as is, because he feels weird meddling around in someone else’s kitchen. He likes to look through peoples stuff, but it’s weird when said person is in the room to watch him do it.

“Hello mikeyway,” Frank says when he opens the door.

“Where’s Gerard?”

“No, don’t say hi back. I’m just a human, no need to be polite,” Frank says sarcastically.

“Hello Frank, where is Gerard?”

“Hey Mikes,” Gerard calls from the kitchen.

Mikey walks past Frank and into the apartment, without any real invitation, but he’s got a way of making you do just about anything he wants. There’s really no questioning Mikey, especially when he’s got that look in his eye like he’s out for blood.

“You had me fucking worried, Gerard, you asshole,” Mikey says, crossing his arms as he looks at Gerard.

“You’re angry with me? What’d I do? I’m the victim here, Mikey!”

“I’m not saying it’s your fault!” Mikey replies, “but you didn’t even fucking call me to tell me that you’re not fucking dead. That’s why you’re an asshole.”

“I was unconscious!”

“That’s not a valid excuse.”

“Get angry at Frank then! I was asleep, he could’ve called you,” Gerard points out.

“You’re right,” Mikey says, and he turns around to look at Frank.

“What’d I do?” he exasperates.

“I’m just angry at the both of you, and myself. Gerard, you could’ve died, someone could’ve murdered you, or worse. I should’ve been there. I shouldn’t have left you.”

“Well that one’s on you,” Gerard shrugs, “but I’m not mad at you. Look at me, I’m in one piece, I’m fine. I’m not dead or anything. I’d say things turned out pretty damn well.”

“Yeah, but I feel guilty now, and I don’t want to feel guilty, so I’m blaming you for that,” Mikey says.

“Seriously? You’re just-” Frank starts.

“This is Mikey you’re talking to, Frank,” Gerard reminds him.

“Right.”

“Am I missing something?”

“Mikey, you could make a saint feel like a bad person with the way that you guilt trip people,” Gerard tells him.

“I’m not that bad. You’re an asshole, Gerard. You didn’t call me, you should’ve called me.”

“You’re literally proving my point.”

“Gerard, you’re coming with me,” Mikey says, ignoring Gerard’s words, and reaching over the kitchen counter to grab his wrist.

“Am I allowed to object to the pulling?” Gerard asks, almost stubbing his toe on the counter. He’s not necessarily objecting to leaving Frank’s apartment, because it’s making him feel strange, but he doesn’t like being dragged.

It’s strange because he’s started to like it in here. Frank’s got a pretty nice place, in all honesty. It’s small, and it’s not that fancy, but it’s welcoming. It also smells really nice. It smells like Frank and soap.

“Come on, Gerard!”

“Thank you, Mikey. I don’t want him here anyway,” Frank says, opening the door further for them to walk through.

“Where are we even going?” Gerard asks.

“We just have to talk,” Mikey says, pulling Gerard past Frank, who smirks at the look on his face.

“Well that clears things up, thanks.”

“Frank, thank you for making sure he was safe,” Mikey shouts, already almost halfway down the hall. Mikey’s legs are longer than a normal humans. He’s more leg than he is anything else, so he would beat the crap out of you in a race. Gerard is more feet than he is legs. They’re quite big and he’s always tripping on them. He is not made for running in the slightest. Standing he is good at; running he is not.

“Why am I being dragged?” Gerard asks before stringing out Mikey’s name loudly.

“We need to talk,” Mikey says.

“About?”

Mikey doesn’t reply. He just drags Gerard through Frank’s building, almost making him fall down the stairs, and then out into the world outside. The wind hits Gerard as soon as they’re outside, making him shiver.

“I’m cold.”

“And heartless,” Mikey says, nodding.

“What? No! I meant that the temperature is making me chilly,” Gerard replies.

“You complain too much,” Mikey says.

“You’re going to take my fucking arm off. Just let go of me and we can talk, okay?” Gerard says.

“Fine!” Mikey says, letting go of him. “So what the hell is going on between you two then?”

“What?”

Mikey looks at him like he’s the dumbest person on the planet, and repeats, “what is going on between the two of you?”

“The two of who?” Gerard asks.

“You and Frank.”

“What about me and Frank?”

“You like him!” Mikey says loudly. Gerard has the instinct to shush him even though they’re standing on an almost deserted street, surrounded by people who have no idea who they are in the first place.

“I don’t like Frank. What the hell are you talking about?”

“I was joking at first, Gerard. I was completely messing around with you, because it was funny, but look at you. You actually do like him!” Mikey says.

“You’re wrong. I don’t like him. How could I like Frank? Have you met him? I hate him. You know I hate him.”

“But you like him. I can see it in your fucking eyes, Gee.”

“Then you need to get your eyes checked because I like Frank the same way I like rotten fish,” Gerard replies.

“Yeah? Then how come you were still in Frank’s apartment when I got there? If you really did hate him, then you’d have left that place the moment you woke up.”

“I have a headache,” Gerard shrugs, “Why is it such a big deal if I stayed for a few extra minutes? That is not a confession of undying love.”

Mikey scoffs, “oh right. So you don’t feel anything for him whatsoever? Is that really what you’re trying to tell me?”

“Yes.”

“Gerard, since when did you make a habit of lying to me? You never lie to me, but here you are now, lying your fucking ass off.”

“I’m not lying!” Gerard insists.

“Oh right. What else are you going to try to tell me? Frank doesn’t like you either?” Mikey says, making the second half of his words sound like it’s even more obvious than Gerard’s apparent liking of Frank. Gerard obviously doesn’t like Frank, and they both know that. He doesn’t know what the hell Mikey is on about with any of this. When you add in the insinuation that Frank supposedly likes him, then Gerard is forced to worry about Mikey’s sanity.

“What?” Gerard asks, “Frank doesn’t like me.”

“You’re such an idiot.”

“I am not.”

“Gerard, I will spell this out for you if I need to, okay? I will buy you a skywriter if you can’t get this message. Frank likes you. Frank has a crush on you. Frank looks at you the way you look at Han Solo. He doesn’t just want to get into your pants, he wants to steal your heart. Frank. Likes. You,” Mikey says.

“No he doesn’t,” Gerard replies.

“Oh come on!” Mikey says emphatically, “You are not that dumb! He likes you, Gerard. Frank has liked you for like twenty years. I know this because I hung out with him in high school. I know you’re starting to like him too, okay? You can hide, or deny it, but that won’t change the fact that I know you better than anyone else in the world! It’s literally the most obvious thing that you like him.”

“Frank has not liked me since high school. He’s never liked me. Maybe when we were five or whatever, but kids are stupid. They don’t know anything. We didn’t actually like each other back then. What’re you even talking about?”

“You don’t honestly believe he picked on you purely because of a grudge, do you? He was angry at himself for liking you. You don’t see that?” Mikey asks.

“No, because it’s not true.”

“God Gerard,” Mikey says, putting a hand on his forehead, probably to stop himself from punching Gerard in the face. “Okay, you know that episode of Friends where Brad Pitt guest starred and his character and Ross used to be friends in high school?”

“What the hell are you even talking about?”

“So Ross and Brad Pitt had started a rumor about Rachel because Ross was secretly in love with her, and decided to take it out on her by being an ass,” Mikey continues. “Gerard, Frank and I started the rumor that you were a vampire-”

“So?”

“Frank likes you,” Mikey states. “Frank picked on you all throughout high school, and always got carried away rambling about his supposed loathing for you because he liked you. He hasn’t changed that much. He’s still the dumb idiot who has a crush on my brother. He still goes on and on about you to literally everyone, insulting every tiny thing about you, because he doesn’t know how to deal with the fact that he really likes you.”

“No he doesn’t. He does not like me. And I don’t like him.”

Mikey rolls his eyes, “and you like him just as much! You’re trying to kid yourself, and honestly, I’m not sure if you’re even completely aware of the way you behave around him, but no one just reacts that way towards people. No one is just that passionate about their feelings for each other. Not solely out of hate, and especially not out of indifference. The point is that, no one is that passionate about any emotions toward someone unless they really care for them. I know that the passion is transmitted negatively, but that doesn’t change the fact that you have extremely strong feelings for him. I mean, yes, I believe without a doubt that you two hate each other, but you still like each other too. Do you know how fine the line between hate and love is, Gerard? It’s so fucking thin, that the line is barely even there at all, and you two are walking a tightrope between the two. You’re both trying to pretend that you aren’t falling for each other, but then you slip up, and I’m the only person who’s able to see it!”

“You’re just... insane. Okay? Frank doesn’t like me! You’re insane, Mikes,” Gerard says.

Mikey groans loudly and catches the attention of an old woman walking by. “You’re so stupid. If he doesn’t like you then tell me why on earth do you think he agreed to letting you set him up? He wants to be near you! He doesn’t know why, and you don’t know why you’re doing the same, but both of you are intentionally finding whatever excuses you can to keep in contact with each other. Sooner or later, you are going to realize how right I am.”

“Mikey, I can assure you that the hate I feel for Frank is not love wearing a carnival mask. I hate him. For real.”

“Yes, you do. You hate him. You hate me too, Gerard. You hate a lot of people, but you still like them, don’t you? You can’t have friends without hating them a little bit. With you and Frank though, you’re just letting the hate stand out more, when the like is still there, just not as obvious. I know I’m right, Gee,” Mikey says.

“So did he tell you that he likes me? I mean, has Frank ever explicitly told you that?” Gerard asks, skeptically.

“No, but I’m smarter than both of you combined. Times ten. To the fourteenth power. Plus a billion.”

“Whatever,” Gerard says, turning around and walking down the street. He’s doing his best to pretend that Mikey isn’t following him.

“This conversation is not over, Gerard.”