The Chasing of Moons

Frank collapses onto his bed as soon as he gets home and he has a panging fear of the book he now has to try to read in one night so that he has enough time to write an essay on it. He makes a whining sound before he actually pulls himself up, looks around his room and tries to find where he put the book. Frank’s mostly just glad that it’s not some massive book like War and Peace, but to be fair, he doesn’t want to be reading Slaughterhouse-Five either. Frank finds anything and everything to do with Vonnegut somewhat perverse and creepy. And when it’s coming from someone who’s seen several hundred horror movies, you know you’ve done a successful job at writing a freaky-ass book.

He sees the book wedged under his desk chair, where he put it because the chair wobbled considerably and it was the perfect size to keep it still. Frank makes a groaning sound, one that he’s sure even his mother downstairs can hear, and he stands up sulkily. He’s probably going to end up just reading the SparkNotes and bullshitting the everloving fuck out of this report. He won’t get anything higher than a C, but what does one C matter in the grand scheme of things? Literally nothing at all whatsoever.

Frank picks up the book, after pushing the chair to the side and he scowls at it, skimming the back cover and then riffling through the pages quickly. It’s at this point that a piece of notebook paper falls out and lands on the floor. Frank looks down at it, assumes that it’s some bookmark or other that the person who last had the book forgot there, and he leans down to pick it up. And that’s when he realizes that there’s words on the lines of the paper, which he now realizes is a couple sheets, and it’s addressed to him.

The writing is in pencil, particularly messy, in somewhat large print, but readable all the same. Each sheet of lined paper, three in total, is double sided.

Frank doesn’t know what to think as he looks at the top page, because Frank is a common name, it isn’t necessarily addressed to him, but he starts to read what it says anyway.

Dear Frank,

Okay so, wow, okay, jeez. First things first, an introduction is in order. I know you and you know me, it’s just the handwriting that maybe you’re not familiar with quite yet, but it’s me, Gerard. If my assumptions were correct, and they probably are in all likelihood, you’re reading this about three, maybe four days after we first met. I, well, this is going to be a complicated letter to write for me, because, well, you’ll see. See, I knew you wouldn’t start reading this book until a few days before your report on it is due, which, on that note I have to say, I’m really unimpressed Frank, wow, you put it off for this long, jeez, some things never change. Second, I had to write this letter, because, without it, you’d never have figured any of this out.

Basically, and I’m just going to be perfectly blunt about this and then explain a little further afterward, but basically, I, well, I time traveled. Okay, before you start thinking “whoa he’s fucking crazy”, let me explain a little more. What happened was, as far as, uh, I was about to say “as far as Frank and I have figured out” but then I realized, you are Frank. I know that. I meant future Frank. Future you, the guy I’m married to. As far as we’ve figured out, the reason I had to time travel backwards is because otherwise you would never have looked twice at me. I don’t even really blame you, I know how awkward I was back then, I was such a ditz, I wouldn’t have wanted to talk to me either, so I’m not angry about that. Well, a little bit, but I’ll get over it someday I assume. Ha, maybe another future me is going to travel back in time to tell me that I’m never going to be fully over the fact that you ignored me. Fuck, let’s hope not, this is already confusing enough.

Sorry, I’m digressing. I’m supposed to explain what’s going to happen here to make sure that you know what to do. First of all, I’m just going to say this now before I forget, don’t even bother trying to propose to me at that stupid fucking duck pond near our house, because you got goose shit on your shoes and it really made the whole ‘will you marry me’ thing much less romantic. Second of all, there’s some things that are really important for you to know, one of those being that you need to make sure Mikey stays home sick on Earth Day because that’s the day that he burned his eyebrows off in chemistry. It was really amusing, but he still grumbles about it at Thanksgiving, so I figure I’ll do him a solid and make sure it doesn’t happen.

Now, back to the important stuff. The most important thing is that you make sure that we end up together. You and I. I will fucking kill you if we don’t, because that would piss me the fuck off. Okay, second, as far as we’ve been able to tell, you have a flexible timeline, and what I mean to say is that I do exist, but I’m never going to exist quite the same way in your future. Okay, that’s confusing, but I’ll give you an example. You can change some small parts of your future, which will remain unchanged in my present. If you stop me from ever smoking, I won’t be a smoker in your timeline, but I’m still gonna be one in my timeline. Technically, our paths will never cross again after the time we spent together. What this doesn’t mean is that you’ll fuck it up, because I believe that there’s a broad spectrum of things that can’t be changed, can’t ever be altered. You and I will still end up together, I’m pretty sure, but don’t quote me on that, because that’s an important detail, while smaller ones are more malleable. Our future should stay the same, but I can’t guarantee that, so don’t be too hell-bent on changing the future, just to see what will happen. Just play it cool and hope for the best.

I’ve never told you this, but I guess you already know, because some other past Gerard wrote this letter and wrote down these words, but, I’ve liked you since seventh grade. I think this is a good place to confess that because I think it’ll get you to work harder for me if you don’t necessarily want to right now. The Frank I know has probably read these words before because he went through the same shit you’re going through now, so, I guess that’s kind of cool when you think about it. Really though, yeah, I’ve had a crush on you since about seventh grade. We were in Public Speaking class together, I don’t know if you remember that. I don’t know if you remember much of anything about me from middle school, but we sat at the same table for a couple of weeks in that class, and our teacher had us write these speeches about one of our classmates, and she picked the partners so you and I got paired and we had to write a speech about each other. It was really short, and you weren’t really into it, but that’s about when I started to like you. When I interviewed you, you were like completely ignoring me, you thought I was uncool, and geeky or something. I should’ve hated you, because you were just really brief and short with me, you barely even put any effort into that speech, but I was little and naive and you were kinda cute.

I have a crush on you now though too. The Gerard that you know, he likes you. I really liked you. I didn’t know how to handle talking to you. I tried to avoid eye contact at all times with you, you just gave me such butterflies. I knew it was stupid too, because you were popular, you had lots of friends, you got good grades, you were just the coolest guy, and I was a dork who played Dungeons and Dragons and read comics. You were just so out of my league. And then you started talking to me, and it was right after I guess you met future me because the way you reacted at first, I thought you were insane. Like, don’t get me wrong, you came up to me that day at lunch and I was so jittery, so nervous and scared and happy that you noticed me, but you were acting mental. You remember, I’m sure, ‘cause for you that was like a day or two ago, you were weird! But I got all hot and bothered, and scared, and I just could not handle how much I liked you. Mikey made fun of me after that, because that was when he figured out that the Frank I had a crush on was you. He knew I liked a guy called Frank, but he didn’t know that the guy called Frank was you. But then you started to follow me around a little and I was so flustered and confused. I thought you were playing a prank on me or something, lost a bet, but you weren’t. You liked me. It was so thrilling. No one had ever paid any attention to me and then you came along, and god... you were so nice. Clueless, you were completely clueless and helpless, but you were good. You still are, you’re a good person.

I just want to tell you that you need to hang in there, fight for me if you have to. Take me to prom, it was the best night of my life. People made fun of us, I remember that, but not everyone. A lot of people were really supportive. My brother, Ray, Brendon, Pete, and a bunch of girls who wanted to use us as accessories which was creepy, but whatever. Oh by the way, I don’t think you’ve come out yet, but I just want to tell you that you don’t need to be afraid of anyone’s reactions. Like, no one you care about is going to like you any less because of that, you can trust me. I would know. I get that it’s a hard thing to address, because I remember coming out, way before you, the middle of eighth grade, and it was scary, but it felt better ultimately to not be afraid anymore. So just hang in there, it’ll be alright.

I’m not sure what else there is for me to say. I hid a few pictures of us, me and you, or future you, the you that I am currently with who is not you you because you’re past Frank and I’m talking about future Frank... and I got off track. I hid some pictures of us in another place that I knew you wouldn’t discover until I told you about it, in that bible that your mom makes you keep on your night stand. So like, if you don’t believe me than there’s those, which I figured you would need because I wouldn’t believe me either. Although you are the one who made me watch a Back to the Future marathon and then started citing scientific research about time travel being perfectly plausible just really really really unlikely. That was a perfect date I liked that, you bought pizza and we discovered that it is impossible to eat pizza seductively if you put extra sauce on the pizza, because the cheese just slides off and hits you in the face.

Yeah, digressing again, I tend to do that, I have a lot of things to say and there’s never enough time to say it. I’m probably the only person who talks more than you do Frank. So yeah, like I don’t have any important updates to bring you from the future, not really. The Pop Tart flavors become more exciting, that’s a thing. Uh, Pete’s totally in love with my brother, which is fine I guess, but he’s definitely the weirdest brother in law a guy could have, because he’s literally a grown man and he dyed his hair pink last month, what a fucking weirdo. Contrary to every young adult fiction story that exists, the future is not actually a dystopian society with only white people, so that’s good. I would tell you about Leonardo Dicaprio’s Oscar status but I think I should just keep that a secret because you need a few surprises for the future.

Also, you’re a cutie and I love you.




P.S. I realized the emotional breakdown that reading this letter would have, so on your computer, in the folder marked “English” you will find the book report for Slaughterhouse-Five that you may turn in, so you may now freak the fuck out without having to worry about writing an essay! You’re welcome.

Frank’s pretty much had it with weird things going on in his life at this point so finding this letter isn’t even that much of a surprise to him. That doesn’t change the weird glowing pride he feels in his chest at the fact that he was spot on, as well as the unapologetic terror he feels at the fact that he was right all along.

He quickly walks over to his nightstand, pulls said bible that his mother makes him keep there from its drawer, and shakes it out to see two photos drop out of the pages.

When he picks them up, he’s kind of disappointed to find that they’re not moving, because he had such high hopes for the future and moving photographs, or maybe he’s just read Harry Potter too many times, but it’s a bit of a letdown all the same.

But then his heart stops when he realizes what it actually is that he’s looking at, because that’s Gee, and that person next to Gee is... him. That’s Frank’s face, he’s positive of it, but he’s older. He knows that’s the logical conclusion to be drawn, because, obviously he’s older. If the picture hasn’t been taken yet then he is obviously going to be older in it.

This is probably just some elaborate prank and the picture is photoshopped, and he knows that, but it doesn’t change the fact that he believes it’s a real picture. It looks real. He wants it to be real.

He’s looking at a picture of himself with his arm around Gee or Gerard, and it’s different to either of the Gee’s or Gerard’s that he knows, because it’s older than Gerard, but younger than Gee. Frank’s brain is going to turn to jelly with all of this information that he’s being forced to accept. How on earth can this picture be real? He feels as though it has to be, because it’d be some damn good photoshop to pull this off, though he supposes it’s possible. He thinks it must be real though. The detail is uncanny. Gerard’s grin is wide and his tiny teeth are so real that it can’t be fake. Frank’s not an expert on his own face, but he’s pretty sure that that’s him, somehow it must be what he looks like.

He looks at the second picture and his heart swells a little bit, because that’s unmistakably a wedding photo. Like, he’s wearing a suit, and so is Gerard and on either of their sides there’s Pete making bunny ears over Mikey’s head, as well as Brendon, Ray, and a few people that Frank doesn’t know. He’s assuming that they’re people he’s going to meet someday, there’s three in total. And the Frank in the picture is looking directly at him, huge grin plastered on his face, and he can’t believe that this is a photo that he is now holding. He flips the picture over, hoping that there might be some writing there, and he sees only the date and then some scribbling in almost completely undecipherable print. He thinks that the writing is a list because he sees what looks like his name, but the only thing he makes out from the text about the people he doesn’t recognize is that one of their names starts with a P and another’s ends in an S.

The only thought going through his head, really, is that Gerard, in both pictures, is fucking beautiful. Like, Frank is sure that he’s the prettiest guy that has ever walked this planet, or maybe he only thinks that because he’s hopelessly caught in the romantic idealism of all of this. It’s just too great a story for Frank to think it’s untrue. It’s too fantastical and too beautiful for him to be the skeptic of it he should be. Besides, this would take a hell of a lot of skill to photoshop, because everyone in the photo looks older, but still the same. They’re still the same person that he knows, and he can actually see a few years added onto all of them. Like, for example, Brendon has a different haircut, Gerard’s hair is a shorter version of the way it is now, Frank looks like he’s had at least a dozen different hairstyles since the time that this photo was taken, which, according to the date on the back, is five years from now.

So that would mean that he and Gerard got married just after college. Going off of what Gerard said, they’ve been together for eight years, almost nine. If this photo was taken five years into the future, and Gerard was 27 when Frank met him the other day, then the addition should all match up to mean that he has to start dating Gerard sometime in the next few months. And if Frank takes him to prom than that further backs that up.

There’s literally so many things to digest about all of this information. He’s married to Gerard, Pete dyed his hair pink, they live next to a duck pond, Pete marries Mikey, Frank doesn’t have to worry about bad reactions to coming out, Pete was a groomsmen at their wedding, Gerard has a crush on him right now at this very moment, Pete is still literally seven years old even five years from now, and Mikey burned his eyebrows off. There’s just a lot of things that he needs to let sink in. What new Pop Tart flavors are there in the future? Gerard has a fucking crush on him.

Frank, because he has his priorities in order, walks over to his computer, and goes to the folder Gerard told him to, finds the essay, and he opens it to find that it’s an actual, real essay. When he realizes that, it gives him the freedom to go back to his bed, crash into the bundle of blankets and have a minor existential crisis about the logistics of this fucked up timeline.