When We're Both Thirty

“Why the fuck are you staring at me right now?” Gerard asks.

“I’m trying to figure out how long it would take for all the blood to drain out of your body if I were to slit your throat,” Frank replies.

“Well, we’re in your kitchen. Please do, take me out of my misery.”

“I make you miserable?”

“Worse than that,” Gerard says.

“Good.”

“Go away.”

“I live here, you go away,” Frank says.

“Not until we make a game plan. And also, I want you to spill on what you did to disappoint mommy dearest.”

“You can pry as much as you like, I’m not going to tell you.”

“So is it your job then?” Gerard asks, “It’s your job that disappoints your mother?”

“Among other things,” Frank replies.

“Oh what an insight on things I don’t care about.”

“You asked!”

“You were stupid enough to think I actually cared,” Gerard replies.

“Fuck you.”

“I know you want to, but we’ve got other things to deal with.”

“You’re infuriating. So what do you propose we do then? Like set each other up like mad in the hope that at least one of us can fall in love before my birthday?” Frank asks.

“That seems like the plan, yes. Only one of us has to find a guy then, because I feel like our mom’s might have a thing or two to say about cheating.”

“Technically that would be polyamory.”

“Technically, they don’t give a fuck what the proper word is. One of us has to get a guy because if one of us is in a relationship than we don’t have to be in a relationship,” Gerard says.

“Well that’s good news for me, because we both know who’s more likeable.”

“Yeah, me,” Gerard replies, “Why would that be good news for you then?”

“You’re a fucking wanker.”

Gerard pulls his eyebrows together, “Why’d you get British all of a sudden? Have you been watching too much Skins or something?”

“None of your business what I watch,” Frank says.

“Is that your way of telling me that you’re addicted to gay porn?” Gerard says, “and I don’t mean no sexist lesbian shit, I mean ‘oh I’ve never had sex with another guy before’ who then proceeds to ride a dick like a fucking pogo stick?”

“I don’t think I’m the one who just admitted to watching too much porn, Gerard,” Frank says.

Gerard frowns, because that did backfire on him a little bit. He decides to shrug it off and not let it get to him. Or, more accurately, not let Frank get to him.

“My point is that we need to get this problem solved fast, and I mean fast, because if I even so much as have to go on a date with you, I will tear my hair out,” Gerard says.

“Probably not a good idea, as you’re not very pleasing to the eye as it is, and if you went bald you’d be even worse. People would be advised to wear horse blinders whenever having to come into close contact with you.”

“The horse blinders are so they don’t look straight at me and end up madly in love.”

“Arrogant,” Frank scoffs.

“If you’ve got it, flaunt it,” Gerard says.

“But it’s sad that you’re so disillusioned into thinking that you have anything. The only thing you have is an overlarge head, and a dumb haircut.”

“My hair is better than yours at least.”

“It looks like you skinned Elmo and decided to wear his carcass as a hat,” Frank says.

“Your face looks like a plastic surgeon tried to fix it, but it ended up being too hard a job to handle so he had to toss you away mid-surgery.”

“At least my insult was fact based while you’re just talking out of your ass,” Frank says, “Your mouth must get lonely with how little you talk with it.”

“Your hand must be sore from how much you have to fuck yourself with it,” Gerard replies.

“You have no idea how much I want to punch you in the face right now.”

“Oh yeah? Well then fucking punch me then!”

“No, because the thing is that you’re just not worth it,” Frank says.

“Or you know I could totally knock your headlights out with one swing.”

“You couldn’t lift a gallon of milk.”

“You couldn’t lift a pint of milk,” Gerard replies.

“We’re not even getting anywhere right now!” Frank says, “We’re just fucking yelling at each other and we’re not going anywhere! Like, I’m not any further away from being thirty, and neither of us is anywhere closer to finding a soul mate.”

“It’s just so easy to insult you. Nothing’s changed, you’re still such an easy target.”

“You’re proving my point.”

Gerard groans, “ugh, fine. So we need to do this fast, and we can’t be too picky.”

“Right,” Frank says, “So, like, I have to set you up with people I know then? Ugh, I pity them.”

“I just hope none of my friends have an overly sensitive gag reflex, because when they see you, they’ll certainly have the need to hydro pump.”

“That’s not at all the danger they’d have with me if they have a sensitive gag reflex,” Frank says, grinning.

“You disgust me. And I think you’re being generous.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I’m sorry but I don’t have a magnifying glass with me.”

That’s right about the moment where Gerard is certain Frank’s going to throw him across the room, but instead he just gets this face like he’s been possessed by a demon who’s out for blood or something. Gerard smirks at him, feeling somewhat comfortable because he just has this gut feeling that Frank’s not actually going to hurt him. He just doubts Frank actually would, he’s not sure why, but it doesn’t seem like the kind of thing he’d do. It’s not like Gerard knows him well enough, but they’re not exactly teenagers anymore, and have moved passed that sort of animalistic reflex.

“Ugh, shitdick,” Frank whispers under his breath, and then turns to walk into his living room. Gerard stays where he is, waiting for Frank to say something of intelligence. That’s not likely.

“So, like what’ya want in a guy then?” Frank asks, which is the last thing Gerard had expected to hear him say.

“Excuse me?”

“If I’m going to set you up I have to know!”

“Oh,” Gerard says, and then suddenly becomes uncomfortable because he does not want to tell Frank about all the things he wants in a guy. “The exact opposite of you.”

“Alright so you want an ugly, untalented, stupid giant?” Frank asks.

“Who’s arrogant?”

Frank rolls his eyes, “alright just make it quick, I want to stop seeing you as soon as humanly possible.”

“Ugh, fine. I don’t know. I just want, like, a guy who isn’t a dick? Likes music and comic books. Doesn’t hurt if he looks good, but I care more about whether he is good. Don’t want someone who’s mean to people,” Gerard says, “You know, or something like that.”

“Really?” Frank asks.

“Yeah? What? Why? Gonna tell me that’s stupid?”

“No,” Frank says, “just, uh, same.”

“Same?”

“Yeah, whatever! Just, like, that’s what I want to,” Frank says, looking uncomfortable at his own words, like they were forced out of him.

“Ew,” Gerard says, “We have the same taste.”

“Well I guess I can’t insult you there then. I would love to, because you deserve to have someone insult you every minute of your life, but I just don’t have the time to waste.”

“And you’d run out of things to say after a few seconds,” Gerard replies.

“Yeah, because I would just be overflowing with insults that I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything long enough to get the words out.”

“Why am I even here still?” Gerard asks, “We both have the information we need, I should just leave.”

“Yeah, you should,” Frank says, not moving as Gerard makes his way towards the front door. “Oh wait, no, actually!”

“What now?” Gerard asks, with such exasperation in his voice that Frank almost cares that he’s distraught over still being there.

“Well I don’t have any, like, ew, I can’t believe I’m about to say this. I don’t have any contact information from you. How am I supposed to tell you what the plans are for your date, and vice versa, if I don’t even have your phone number?”

“The last thing in the entire world I want to do is give my phone number to Frank Iero.”

“Well I don’t want to give mine to you, Gerard. This isn’t exactly ideal, but it’s just the way we’re going to have to roll right now. As soon as this is all over, you can lose my number and we can pretend we’ve never met.”

“It won’t be hard to pretend I never knew you,” Gerard says, “I really wish that were the case.”

“Me too. I just, I loathe you so much that I don’t think ‘loathe’ is even a strong enough word.

“It most definitely isn’t, fuckhead.”

Frank stares daggers into Gerard, and in his head he’s actually stabbing Gerard with real daggers. If only he knew how to hide a body.

Gerard reluctantly writes his number down for Frank and specifically instructs him that he absolutely may not call him under any circumstances whatsoever. Instead, he tells Frank that they will text. He will not let Frank call him though. The only circumstances Frank’s been given where he’s allowed to actually call Gerard are if he’s dying, because apparently, Gerard would enjoy watching that with a bowl of popcorn.

“Hopefully, we won’t have to actually see each other ever again,” Gerard says, standing in Frank’s doorway. He’s itching to run out now, but he at least wants to tell Frank he hates him one more time before leaving.

“That would be ideal,” Frank says, “We’ll just set each other up, and then one of us will get a boyfriend, and that’ll be it. Indefinitely.”

“I look forward to never having to see you again,” Gerard says with a fake smile.

“Back at ya,” Frank answers.

Gerard makes a disgusted face at Frank one more time before turning on his heels and walking back down Frank’s hallway. He makes quick work of the stairs, feeling as though Frank’s eyes are still on him, even though they can’t be with the bends in the hall. He just feels all dirty, like part of Frank still lingers on him.

When Gerard makes it outside of the apartment he shiver slightly, and it’s not because of the gust of wind that greets him. Mostly he just can’t believe he was in the lair of his least favorite guy on the planet. He never wants to go back there ever.

It’s like a nightmare coming true, where you find yourself in the middle of some big scary castle with people chasing you. Or maybe that’s just an episode of Scooby Doo. Whatever the case, it felt wrong in all the wrong ways to be in Frank’s apartment. Gerard had half-expected to see monsters in the windows, or cobwebs in the corners, because he imagines Frank living in some dank, murky cave.

Why on earth did Frank have to be all mysterious about his job though? Gerard doesn’t understand that. Maybe he’s a porn star. That image makes Gerard’s eyes widen, and he brushed it away, because on the one hand, that’s nasty, and on the other, that sounds oddly hot.

Gerard winces at his own thought and is almost tempted to go home and wash that depravity away, but then he realizes it’s not actually possible to take a sponge to your own brain. You could probably take a sponge to someone else’s brain, but you would have to kill them first. Gerard’s first pick would be Frank.

He’s also just really annoyed that Frank looks the way he does. That’s just aggravating. Why did Frank get to become hot? Gerard didn’t turn into a worm or anything, but he certainly didn’t age as gracefully as Frank did. Maybe that’s just jealousy though, because no one really cares for their own appearance. Gerard hopes that maybe, Frank thought the same of him.

But he did get hot that’s for sure. He still looked like a little punk, the kind of kid that got sent to detention too often in high school. He was that kid though. Frank was the little punk kid. He was the kid who got a not-so-legal tattoo when he was sixteen and had his fifteen minutes of fame in the limelight of their high school popularity contest because of it. Gerard wasn’t surprised to see that he had more. He was fairly inked up. If Frank weren’t Frank, Gerard would have thought he looked cool. But he is Frank so he looked like an Oompa Loompa.

He makes his way quickly back down the street, hoping that if he gets far enough away, he’ll be able to forget about Frank for a little while. He doesn’t want to have Frank in any corner of his mind, least of all at the top of it. Gerard only just left the guys apartment though, so obviously he’s still thinking about him. Or at least, Gerard hopes that’s why.