When We're Both Thirty

Gerard’s been in a state of confusion for about an hour and a half now. He hasn’t really done anything. Mostly he’s just stood here staring at the wall and trying to come up with a formation of words to describe how he feels right now.

He feels like an idiot. He’s pretty sure he is an idiot as well. He can’t even wrap his brain around the sheer number of things that encompass the immensity of how much of an idiot he is. He’s literally standing here, barely even moving since Frank left and he’s trying to stop himself from thinking about Frank. In doing so however, he’s forced to try not to think about Frank which just means that the only thing he can possibly think about right now is Frank.

He’s thinking about Frank’s hair which is always messy no matter when Gerard sees him, but it’s really cute too with the way that it frames his face. He’s thinking about Frank’s eyes which are a really pretty shade of dark brown like chocolate and they make Gerard melt a little just thinking about them. He’s thinking about Frank’s fingers which are literally one of the hottest things he’s ever seen, because they’re tattooed and strong, but also really gentle, and Gerard really wants those hands tugging on his hair or holding his own hands. He’s thinking about Frank’s smile and the way it seems to light up every room he’s in, but he always tries to stop himself from smiling whenever he’s around Gerard which means that it ends up being even more adorable and sweet. He’s thinking about Frank’s voice and the way he’s so articulate, even though half of the time Gerard’s heard him talking it was to call him something unflattering, but sometimes it’s hard to feel offended when it’s Frank on the offense.

He’s thinking about Frank’s laugh and the way that it seems to come from a deep part of him rather than just on the surface, and it’s a little feminine, also somewhat of a pot laugh, but it’s cute and it probably gives a fairy its wings. He’s thinking about the way that Frank’s eyebrows seem to loosen up when he’s concentrating on something, or when he’s trying to look serious about whatever subject he’s talking about. He’s thinking about the way Frank doesn’t like it when people make fun of his height, but he’s all for making fun of his own height so long as he’s the one who says it first.

He’s thinking about the way Frank had kissed him, like it was some secret the two of them were sharing that couldn’t be told to anyone else. He’s thinking about the way Frank remembers all the little things, knowing smaller little things about Gerard that even he wasn’t completely aware of about himself.

Gerard’s thinking about everything and only anything to do with Frank when someone starts hammering on his door. Gerard almost forgot where he was, or more, accurately what he was. He was just so lost in thought that he forgot about his own existence.

Gerard walks over to the door, hoping it’s Frank and also hoping it’s not. He also kind of wants it to just be death so that he doesn’t have to think about the royal mistakes he’s made over the past few weeks, but he doubts death would knock on the door.

When Gerard opens it, forgetting to look through the peephole in his state, he’s almost run over by Mikey pushing past him.

“Do you think they have AA meetings for people who have the dumbest brother in all of existence?” Mikey says.

Gerard turns around, looking out the doorway for a moment longer to check the halls for he’s not sure who. Maybe Frank, or maybe Satan coming to laugh at him. He turns, closing the door behind him, and feeling like his brain was just assaulted by too many words all at once.

“What?”

“Like, can I find an anonymous group where you go and you tell everyone about how dumb your brother is because he’s so unbelievably stupid that it literally hurts the very core of your own existence that someone this wholly stupid could ever possibly be related to you? Not even related, someone that stupid could even possibly exist. Like, he’s so dumb, so idiotic, so fucking daft that it doesn’t seem possible that he hasn’t accidentally choked on air by now.”

“I’m lost,” Gerard says.

“Of course you are, you’re just that dumb!” Mikey exasperates.

“What’d I do?”

“You forced Frank to call me in hysterics that you turned him down after he laid his soul out for you, and I came here to see if it was true, but you’re just staring off into the distance like someone stole your car but you haven’t been able to accept that reality yet.”

“I don’t have a car,” Gerard says.

“I know that you pissbrain!” Mikey shouts, “I was just trying to measure the look on your face in real words, but I don’t even think that does justice to how dumb you look right now. Gerard, I cannot believe you. I cannot even look at you right now, I’m so angry at you.”

“Why?” Gerard asks, innocently. He walks over and sits down in a slouch on one of the stools at the counter.

“Because you’re such a dunderhead! Frank likes you, fucking loves you, and what do you do about it? Nothing. You’re just sitting there looking like a pathetic walnut. I know you’re in love with Frank, that is not something that you can just pretend isn’t true, because I know it, but when you finally have your chance to just accept that and jump into Frank’s arms and be happy, what do you do instead? Nothing! I don’t know how you could possibly have decided that was the best thing for you to do, but here you are now, and you’re such a fucking disgrace.”

“You think I’m a disgrace too, great, can I do nothing right?”

“Evidently not,” Mikey says, and Gerard looks at him to see that he looks like he’s being absolutely serious. That only makes Gerard feel infinitely worse about himself because literally no one believes in him. It’s impossible to voice what that means, and how it feels. It feels so unbelievably awful that he’s not sure that there’s even a word in any language, dead or not that could ever describe just how utterly sickened he feels with himself. He literally feels like the hair clogging a drain or the gum at the bottom of a shoe. He doesn’t even think that’s disgusting enough to describe how he feels.

“Would you just save it,” Gerard asks, “Please? I’m not in the mood.”

“In the mood? Gerard, you just essentially ruined any chance you had with Frank, because now he’s just fucking pissed at you. He went through the progression of being so head over heels in love with you that I thought I was watching a teen movie about first love, to so uncharacteristically negative about everything in the world, to hating every single fiber of your existence, all while I was on the phone with him. Like, the dude hates your face, and your hands, and your arms... he even hates your left pinky toe.”

“I know,” Gerard says, “and I probably deserve that.”

“You think?” Mikey asks, “Like dude, I can’t even believe you. You just let him walk away. Now, don’t judge me for knowing this, but aren’t you supposed to run after the guy when he leaves? Isn’t that what all the songs on this planet are about? And all the movies? And every book ever? And you just didn’t? Because why? Because you’re so full of pride that you can’t even admit to yourself that you’re in love with that son of a bitch?”

“That’s not it.”

“Then what is it, Gerard?” Mikey asks, “What could possibly have come over you which made you decide you’d just let the love of your life walk out of that door?”

“How do you know he’s the love of my life, Mikey? What if we’re just behaving like teenagers and it’s our hormones convincing us we like each other.”

“Because you and I both know that’s not the case between you two,” Mikey replies.

“I’m just, sorry. I don’t know?”

“Well why the hell are you apologizing to me? I’m not the one whose heart you just shattered into a million pieces.”

“I know, but Frank’s not the one who’s yelling at me about it!” Gerard says, feeling hurt by Mikey’s words even though he knows they’re true. Really, what does he expect? What did he think would happen? He just completely ignored Frank and called him a bitch when he cut himself open for Gerard, and Gerard’s the one behaving like a kid. Gerard’s acting like a baby, and he knows that. He should just suck it up, pick himself up and be able to admit that he did something really wrong. Completely wrong. He should have gone after Frank, but he didn’t and now Frank rightly hates Gerard’s guts.

He did before of course, Frank’s hated Gerard’s guts for a really long time, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t like, or even love Gerard. He’s just having trouble fathoming the concept of Frank being in love with him. He’s having trouble understanding most concepts right now. He can’t believe that Frank is actually in love with him, but he knows that Frank hates him too, and he doesn’t know how those two things can correlate and yet they do. It’s just too much to try to figure out while his brain feels oversensitive. It feels like learning one more new thing, anything at all, will make his brain give in on itself.

“Gerard, I don’t know how to say this any other way, because you look too winded to even reply, but you may have ruined any chance you had. He’s so angry, you might have completely blown your shot altogether,” Mikey says.

“I know.”

“That’s it?” Mikey asks, “No witty response? No insulting me or denying that you like Frank? Nothing?”

“No. I just don’t have it in me to pretend anymore,” Gerard says, “I mean, I’ve made my whole life about dissing Frank, like every second of high school I spent planning new mean things to say to him, call him new names, or planning new demises, but right now, I just don’t care about any of that.”

“You don’t care? So that’s it, you’re giving up.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Gerard says, shaking his head.

“Then explain it to me.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” Gerard sighs.

“You’ve already done a fantastic job at fucking up your life, Gerard, why would I be at all surprised that you’ve ruined something else? That’s all you seem to do these days, is make your life harder than it had to be. All you have to do is get a job, and keep it, but you can’t do that. All you have to do is admit to yourself that you like Frank, and maybe he’d be human enough to tell you that he likes you back, but you can’t do that either. You can’t seem to do anything right, and I don’t think you understand how stupid it is that you’ve completely lost you’re interest in even trying to make your life something livable,” Mikey says.

Gerard takes a deep breath before saying, “I feel like all I am is a waste of space. I feel like I’m incapable of making friends, and the one’s that I keep are only there because I put too much effort into keeping them there. I’m always the one who has to make the first move if I want people to talk to me. No one wants to talk to me, no one wants to hang out with me, and no one cares about me. They don’t. They don’t care about me, and when they do care about me it’s only because I pushed myself into their life. And it feels like someone’s filled my internal organs with boiling water. It feels so hot that it’s cold, and every single one of my nerves is just overreacting to this feeling of worthlessness, and it’s starting to get to be too much. It’s like... you ever get heartburn but it’s, like, throughout your whole body? Like it feels like your bones have been tied with rubber bands and they’re just burning and they’re so tight that you can’t even move your arm anymore and it’s just, like, that’s what it feels like right now. That’s how I feel. I feel like my bones are being burnt and squeezed and broken like twigs.

“I’m so lonely, and no one sees that. I’m so lonely that it physically pains me to have to remember that this is all I am. This is all I have ever been and all I will ever be and no one will ever care as much about me as I care about them, as much as I care about keeping them in my life. No one can or will ever think of me in that way, and knowing that is like being stabbed in the chest a million times over with a blunt object. It’s hard to let me breathe through this agony of hating who I am, and who I’ve become and sometimes I just wish I didn’t feel at all. I just wish that no one was there so that I wouldn’t have that hope. Because hoping is the worst feeling in the world, and it allows me to just pity myself even more than I already do, because when I hope, then I’m letting myself imagine what it would be like if people really did care. If they weren’t disappointed in me, I can picture it, and I can see a world where people actually want to talk to me, where they actually hang out with me because they want to, not because they feel guilty about the fact that I don’t have anyone to talk to which is my fault anyway. It’s because of this seclusion I’ve built around myself, and it’s starting to weigh me down more than usual. But hoping keeps me wishing. It keeps me thinking that maybe people will start to like me. It keeps me at the edge of my seat, but in doing so, it distracts me from my life. It makes me work harder for the things I don’t need and not hard enough for the things that keep me alive. But I keep hoping, still not letting myself convince the rest of me that I’ll always be the guy who has no friends, and it’s been hurting a lot more lately. It’s starting to feel like the whole world is out to get me. It’s starting to feel like I can’t do this anymore.”

“Okay, Gerard, slow down. You need to stop saying that, or you’re going to actually start to believe that the shit you’re saying is true,” Mikey tries to interrupt.

“But all I am is a national screw up. I’m like a zoo exhibit that people go to see when they’re feeling bad about themselves, because I’m a worse version of everyone else. I’m the guy who’s so dumb that he can’t get anything to work, and I’m the guy who everyone pities so much that it’s all I even am anymore. I’m just a giant trash shoot of pity and that’s all I’ve been for so long. And all the things I’m good at, or that I try to be good at, are things that other people are better at than me. Like, I’m not even that talented in those things that I tell myself I’m good at. I’m not as good and I never will be. I’ve never been an artist who turns heads, and I’ve never done anything that shines any more than what other people have done, and on top of that, I’m just a broken shell of a person who’s only capable of fucking up. That’s all I am. That’s all you see me as, and that’s all mom sees me as, and my friends all see me in the same way, and it’s come to a point that I’ve ruined everything so much, to this unimaginable degree, that it’s become okay to say it to my face. To tell me, outright that I’m a screw up and that’s all I’m capable of being. With anyone else, you would never say that to them, not directly. You might make them know it with the over the shoulder glances and the slight digs, but you wouldn’t say it. But with me, I’m so far past hopeless that saying it to me is almost something that you consider to be a compliment. You almost think I need to hear about how much of a failure I am, like I don’t see it at every minute of every day of my life,” Gerard finishes, feeling like he might cry.

“I didn’t know you were feeling like that,” Mikey says.

“And then Frank was probably the only person in my entire life, the only one who wasn’t disappointed in me. Because he wasn’t there to watch my downward spiral so he didn’t know. He couldn’t see all the potential that I threw in the garbage by being myself, but being myself is what’s dug this giant hole around me that I can’t seem to get out of. He was the one person that didn’t look at me like I’m some big sympathy case. The only one person, and he fucking hates me! And I know he hates me, and I know he’s hated me for as long as I can remember because that’s what our relationship is, but that’s all there is to it, really. Frank treated me like a real human being, not as some big failure like everyone else has. He was mean, but he was real. He didn’t talk to me like you have, and like mom has, and like every one of my so called friends who text me back days after I’ve asked them if they want to hang out or whatever. Frank’s been a vacation from that, from my life which is such an utter mistake, and I finally got to look in someone’s eyes knowing that, sure, they hated me, but they hated me for reasons that didn’t extend from the fact that I’ve driven my own life into a lake. And now he hates me even more, and I’m literally living up to what people say about me. That’s probably the worst thing about my life right now, is that everyone keeps telling me how bad I messed up and they’re all saying what a failure I am, and it’s fucking true! It’s true, and I know it is and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I just keep driving my life off the track and I don’t even know how to stop this self-destructive thing I’ve got going on, because it’s all I’m good at. The things that I can’t do that I kid myself I’m good at are nothing compared to how absolutely fantastic I am at ruining my own life.”

“Gerard, I didn’t mean that, and you know I didn’t mean that. I was trying to snap you out of this dent you’ve had in your life for a while now, and in doing so I think I misspoke,” Mikey says.

“You didn’t misspeak, you said precisely what you think of me. You think I’m a big screw up, a gigantic blot on an otherwise spotless life that you’d be leading if it weren’t for how messed up your older brother is. We both know you meant what you said, and brutal honesty aside, you’re right. I’m a failure. I can’t make anything work. I can’t get a job, I can’t even let myself have the one nice thing that tries to enter my life. Because that’s what Frank would be, he’d be the one ray of sunshine in my big fucking mistake of an existence and maybe then I’d be worth at least a fraction of what I pretend to be, but no, no I just had to go and ruin that too. Just like I always do. I had to ruin my chance with Frank just like I’ve ruined everything else. At least you can hand it to me that I am very consistent in how good I am at fucking up.”

“You need to stop that, Gee,” Mikey says, “you need to stop saying that about yourself, and you need to stop being so negative about your life. Gerard, you’ve had a few bumps, we all have enough bumps in our lives to make a really impressive tragedy that each of us could fill a thousand pages describing, and I don’t say that to demean the shit that any of us go through at all. I just mean to say that Gerard, you’re not actually a failure. I said that, because I was pissed at you and you say dumb things you don’t mean when you’re pissed, but I don’t mean it, not really. Gerard, I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks, you’re really talented and you’re a good person, and you’ve screwed up. So what? You screwed up, it happens. Life gets in the way, we make mistakes, we push past them, and we fix holes that we thought we couldn’t. You can’t just tell yourself that you’re done and you’ll never be able to do anything right, because then you’re leaving out the possibility that anything could ever get better.”

Gerard’s eyes feel a little heavier than they had before, like someone’s added a couple weights to his eyelids. He’s afraid that he might cry, but he can’t, not in front of Mikey. If he’s going to do any crying, he wants to be by himself. He wants to be alone in his apartment, hiding under the covers of his bed playing some boring love song with only three chords. He just can’t let his guard down and give in with someone there to watch. So he sniffles, sucks it up, and tries to remember what they were just talking about.

“You just said-”

“I know what I just said, and that’s because I thought you were being pig-headed and rude, but now I realize that you’re not having an easy time right now, which I didn’t know. So I’m sorry. I accept full responsibility that I was harsh on you. What I want you to realize though, is that Frank still likes you. I mean, the dude fucking loves you for god’s sake. That doesn’t just evaporate after a day. It doesn’t just go away with a flash because you called him a bitch and let him walk away. He still loves you. That’s not something you can unlearn in an hour and a half. It can take years to stop loving someone, and sometimes you never can at all. I mean, Gerard, the dudes loved you since you were, what, like ten? If you think he’s just going to stop loving you today because of this, then you actually are stupid.”

“I just don’t know that I can ever be any better than I am now,” Gerard says, “I don’t know that I can ever stop being bad at everything I try to do. I don’t think I’ll ever be any good at making and keeping friends, finding jobs... creating. I don’t know that I’ll ever be any good at any of those things.”

“You already are,” Mikey says, shaking his head, “You’re just having a bad week. We all have bad weeks. Hell, maybe it’s a bad year, but so what? Just because everything’s not the way you want it to be, doesn’t mean you can give up. It doesn’t mean that it’s okay to just stew in how miserable you are. You’re not a screw up, Gerard, or at least you don’t have any real reason to think you are in the grand scheme of things. You’re doing a pretty good job at living, all things considered. You’ve managed to stay alive this long, gotten yourself here, and maybe things are looking bleak, but you haven’t ruined everything. You can still get a job, you can still get Frank and have weird little painfully sarcastic children with him. That’s not off the table. I mean, I know what I said to you, and I know it was pretty negative. I know that I said you couldn’t have that anymore, but that was mostly a scare tactic to make you realize what it means that you let him go. So what if you should’ve followed him? You also probably should’ve invested in some big company, but neither of us did that, and that’s the reason why neither of us are millionaires. That’s okay, lots of people aren’t millionaires. Most people aren’t millionaires.”

“I’m not asking to be a millionaire, Mikes. I’m asking to have enough money to actually survive. And I’m asking for Frank. That’s it.”

“I know, but Frank’s a lottery that you’ve just got to hope you’re going to win, but your odds are a lot higher than anyone else in the world. And yeah, I know your financial status is looking drab, and as soon as you get a job, you’ll be able to pay for things, but until then, I’m not going to let you drown and you know that. I don’t want you to think of me helping you as charity, but wherever you need it, you know I am here, and you know I will always help you.”

“It’s still charity,” Gerard mumbles.

“Well so what? Who cares? I’m your brother, and I love you, and sometimes you’re an idiot, but you’re still the best person I know. I will always think that, and if you need money, screw social conventions, I’m here for you. And if Frank decides he doesn’t want you in the end, I’ll be your shoulder to cry on. I see you as this amazing person, this artistic genius who’s down on his luck, but ultimately the kindest, most talented dude I know. If Frank doesn’t see that in you, and he doesn’t want you just because you made a few mistakes, than fuck him. If he doesn’t want you for who you are then you’re better than him anyway. Never forget that I’m on your side in everything, Gee. I am and will always be here to give you a hand if you need it.”

“It didn’t seem like that when you kept taking Frank’s side of things.”

“Gerard, you know I wouldn’t have been pushing you and Frank together if I didn’t honestly, truly believe that you two would be good for each other. I really do think that Frank will make your life a little better. It’s not that I think you need someone, and it’s not that I think you can’t be happy without someone, I just think that having someone there with you, who will love you and be nice to you and be there for you, I think that could make it easier for you to allow yourself to be happy. I don’t think you are in anyway incomplete without him, but I do think you two could be really good together, and that’s the fact of things.”

“I... sometimes I hate that you’re my brother because I’m the older one. I’m supposed to be the wise one, but you’re like, fucking Confucius.”

“Does this mean you’re going to talk to Frank?”

“I said you were wise, I didn’t say I feel any better,” Gerard sighs, moping down into his stool.

“Well at least you can accept me for the wise man I am,” Mikey says, not sounding all that happy. Gerard just sits, puts his head in his hands and tries not to cry.

He wants everything to go away. He wants to take a break from his life and just give himself room to breathe. He hasn’t had that in so long. He’s been worried about this or that, and he’s been especially anxious around Frank these last couple of days, but at the same time, he felt a little happier. Felt a little brighter with Frank back in his life. It’s been so long since high school. So long since their old rivalry. So long since they made the mistake to become enemies. So much time has passed and he’s let it fester all this time, and it’s enough. It’s been long enough now, and he knows that.

But he’s still so terrified. What if Gerard really did ruin everything? What if all hope is lost between him and Frank? He didn’t do anything and it’s because of the fact that he didn’t do anything that his shot may have been lost.

When Gerard thinks this, he finally does cry. And he doesn’t fucking care about keeping up his appearances anymore. He just hurts and he knows things aren’t going to get any better right now, so he just cries. He thinks, and part of him hopes, maybe somewhere not too far away, Frank might be crying for him too.