When We're Both Thirty

“I got a text from Frank last night.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. At four in the morning. While I was trying to sleep.”

“Okay?” Mikey asks.

“Yeah, he said, and I quote, ‘just wanted to text you to let you know that you’re an asshole and that I hope you die in a freak accident.’” Gerard says.

“So you two haven’t changed much then.”

“No, we have. He’s gotten worse. I hate him even more now.”

“So, what are you going to do then?” Mikey asks.

“Well, we’re trying to set each other up to get our moms off of our backs.”

“Wait, you’re literally helping each other? Like actually. You’re not helping each other by giving the other a hand to jump off a cliff or something?” Mikey questions.

“If I knew where to find a cliff, I would surely help him off of it. Then again, there are a lot of skyscrapers in this city...”

“Gerard!” Mikey reprimands.

“Sorry. I’ll plot his murder another day.”

“How about not at all?”

“He texted me at four in the morning and woke me up!” Gerard says.

“Why was he awake that late? Or early?”

“I don’t know, I’ve decided that he’s a stripper,” Gerard shrugs.

“Really? That’s what you’re going with? Frank the stripper? Magic Frank?”

“Yeah, well or maybe he’s a porn star,” Gerard says.

“Frank A. Nal?”

Gerard snorts, “You got any other names?”

“Uh, Frank Cox? Frank S. Gaye? Frank Cumming,” Mikey suggests.

“Gross, Mikes. You’re just a weirdo,” Gerard says, shaking his head and laughing. He messes with the sleeve of his shirt absentmindedly and tries to figure out how to take the topic off of Frank. He’s not sure he wants to though. He hates the guy, but now that he’s reentered Gerard’s life, he can’t help himself from thinking about him. All he wants to say about Frank is that he’s awful, but he’s at the top of his brain now.

It’s almost like when he was in high school and he used to bitch about Frank at the dinner table. He would always rant on and on about how dumb he was, how much he hated Frank, how he couldn’t believe Frank lived only next door. It got to be so bad that people couldn’t bear to hang out with Gerard because all he would do was complain. Gerard worries now, that that might be happening again.

It doesn’t worry him enough to stop bitching about Frank though. There’s a lot of things to complain about. It’s like a buffet of insults, and Gerard gets to mix and match all the different ones he wants. That’s Frank’s fault for being so grotesque and easily offended.

“You asked,” Mikey shrugs.

“Since when do you have a plethora of porn star names at your disposal anyway, Mikes?” Gerard asks.

“Sometimes it’s better for something’s to be left unsaid. But if you must know, I have some strange coworkers. Did you know the guy who delivers our mail owns a pet hedgehog.”

“Why would anyone want a pet hedgehog?”

“Why wouldn’t you want a pet hedgehog? I guess everyone knows what you’d name it though,” Mikey says.

“Knuckles.”

“Knuckles isn’t even a fucking hedgehog, you nimrod.”

“Well forgive me for being a thirty year old man who probably shouldn’t even know who Knuckles is in the first place,” Gerard replies.

“You’re thirty, you’re not a zombie,” Mikey says, rolling his eyes, “and besides, you’re not a real adult. You never have been.”

“Oh, and I suppose you are?”

“I have a job.”

“Yeah, well I have a crippling existential depression from the fear of being overly in debt with no income to support my comic book addiction.”

Mikey shakes his head, “you were pulling it off until you admitted to the comic book addiction. Like I said, you’re not a real adult. You’re like one of those TV cliché’s where the little kid sits on another little kids shoulders and puts on a suit to pretend they’re an adult. You’re just clawing at the side of a crater, making whining sounds and calling yourself a grown up.”

“I resent that.”

“Yeah, well anyway, what’s your future husband’s actual job?” Mikey asks, “And besides the fact that you hate him, how’s Frank doing?”

“You traitor of a brother,” Gerard says.

“Hey, Frank and I got along pretty well in high school. We would complain about the things you do and spread the rumor that you were a vampire,” Mikey says.

“No I think my complete lack of any sunlight and my insatiable desire to hiss at people was what made people think I was a vampire.”

“Well we helped the rumor along then,” Mikey shrugs. “So how is Frank? What does he actually do?”

“I told you, I’ve decided that he’s a stripper.”

“He’s not a stripper,” Mikey rolls his eyes, “and by saying that, you’re admitting that he’s hot enough to be a stripper.”

“Butter face.”

“Yeah that’s it,” Mikey says, rolling his eyes once again, “so you find him attractive then? What’s that like? Having a crush on your greatest enemy.”

“I do not have a crush on Frank Iero. I am not a little kid. I don’t get crushes.”

“Except for the one you have on Frank.”

“I don’t have a crush on him!”

“That’s what you would say if you had a crush on Frank though,” Mikey says.

“But it’s also what I would say if I didn’t have a crush on him and was telling you the truth. Listen, he’s ugly, or maybe he’s not, but his face is of very little importance to me, as I hate him with a burning passion and I would never ever even consider him romantically ever. Never ever.”

“Yeah, so you like him,” Mikey says.

“I would like to bury him,” Gerard corrects.

“With love,” Mikey says, grinning at the look of disgust on Gerard’s face.

“Saying that I am attracted to Frank is like saying I’m attracted to that pineapple on the counter,” Gerard says, pointing to his kitchen where there actually is a pineapple sitting on the laminate counter.

“Why do you have a pineapple?”

“I just do,” Gerard shrugs.

“Is Frank doing well? Surely he’s got more money than you unless he lives in a cardboard box, but he always seemed like he was going places.”

“What, and I’m not going places?”

“Gerard, you’re going to a thrift store to see if they have any secondhand Green Lantern T-shirts, and that’s not what I imagined Frank as doing. I thought he’d be like, some big rock star or something.”

“Please,” Gerard scoffs, looking like Mikey just told some sort of joke that only he gets. “Frank? He’s a dick. You’ve got to have charisma to be a rock star. The most extravagant job he could have would be to work at a convenience store in the middle of nowhere. Or a bathroom attendant at a brothel.”

“That sounds horrific.”

“That’s what I was thinking when I saw Frank’s face last night,” Gerard replies.

“I bet he’s actually attractive though,” Mikey says rolling his eyes. “Hold on, let me check.”

Mikey reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. Gerard just stares at him and draws his eyebrows together, because he doesn’t know what the hell Mikey’s doing.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m assuming he’s got a Facebook page or something. I want to know what he looks like nowadays. I just know he’s hot from the way you’re acting.”

“You’re supposed to be the straight one.”

“I’m a little bendy,” Mikey replies with a shrug.

“That was more information than I needed,” Gerard shakes his head, and tries to look over at his phone, but Mikey just pushes him away with a painful poke in the shoulder. “You’re an ass.”

“Gerard, I’m not going to have a philosophical conversation with you about the Lord of the Rings if you insult me before we’ve even put the movie in.”

“But I haven’t marathoned these in like two months, and I need someone to spew random knowledge about them to,” Gerard groans.

“Which is why you will shut up and let me find some sort of social networking profile of Frank!” Mikey says, “Oh wait, I found him.”

“That was easy.”

“Well it’s not like his name is John Smith.”

“So what do’ya think then?” Gerard asks, trying to sound neutral, but he actually wants to know what Mikey’s opinion of him is, somewhat. It’s not like he cares that Frank is kind of extremely attractive or anything, he just wants to know that he’s not the only one who thinks that. If someone else has a similar opinion, then he won’t feel as guilty about it.

“Yeah, not bad. At least, you wouldn’t kick him out of bed, would you? I mean, he looks better than you at least.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m your brother and you have an obligation to be an asshole towards me.”

“Well yeah, that, and also, he looks way better than you do,” Mikey says matter-of-factly, “Oh, did you know he’s in a band?”

“He’s what?” Gerard asks, trying to rip the phone out of Mikey’s hand.

“Calm your tits, Gerard,” Mikey says, elbowing him away. Mikey’s elbow is kind of like a spear except it doesn’t need to be sharpened. His elbows could seriously kill a man. It also doesn’t help that he has the strongest bones ever. Something to do with drinking milk. His bones are like diamonds, they don’t break. So he’s got these knifelike bones, and the same toothpick figure as David Bowie, which just makes for the deadliest elbows the world has ever seen.

“Mikey!” Gerard complains, “You know how sharp your elbow is, don’t point that thing at me.”

“Then don’t try to take things from me. I won’t tell you anything about Frank if you do that!” Mikey replies.

“Ugh, fine. So tell me all about him,” Gerard says.

Mikey shakes his head, “well he’s in a band.”

“You already said that. What does he do? Or, I mean, play?”

“Guitar,” Mikey says, “But I only know that because we used to hang out. I’d imagine he still does though. Seems logical. He’s got loads of pictures of them on his page.”

“Is his band good?”

“I don’t know, do I? You think it just says that on his page or something? How am I supposed to fucking know?”

“You know all about small bands and shit! How come you didn’t know he was in a band?” Gerard questions.

“Hm, I don’t know. It’s almost like there’s seven billion people on this planet, and thousands of bands, probably thousands just in New York alone.”

“Okay, fine. So you don’t know his band. I bet his band sucks,” Gerard says.

“Yeah, whatever. Bitter are you?”

“No, I just know it’s bound to suck if Frank is in it,” Gerard says.

“You are crazy.”

“I just really hate him okay, what do you want from me?”

“I couldn’t tell,” Mikey says. “Hey Gerard, don’t you have a thing for band members? You always used to, so you probably do now-”

“I do not have a thing for band members!”

Mikey looks at him skeptically, “Yeah, so I’m just making up all the times you told me you were in love with Morrissey.”

“That’s different,” Gerard answers defensively.

“I don’t have a thing for band members,” Gerard says, “least of all not Frank. So what if he can play the guitar? I can play Tetris with some amount of efficiency!”

“Yeah because a guitar and Tetris are two things that can be compared,” Mikey says with so much sarcasm, Gerard thinks his ears just might bleed.

“Shut up,” Gerard grumbles.