The Chasing of Moons

The day has taken somewhat of a strange turn from how it had originally started. Now when Frank looks at Gerard, Gerard is looking at him. When Frank blushes, looking away because of the stare Gerard’s giving him, Gerard beams at it. It’s so sudden, and Frank feels like this is really all that he actually wants.

“I didn’t think that this would ever actually happen,” Gerard says, grinning at him when Frank trains his eyes on him.

“You say that like I’m some sort of celebrity.”

“Forgive me for being starstruck,” Gerard replies.

Frank knows that he could just come out and say I love you right here and now and it would be true. It wouldn’t be a lie. He’d be telling the truth. Frank doesn’t want to be Ted Mosby, however, and he doesn’t know how Gerard would feel about that so quickly. Frank only just kissed him like an hour ago, expressing his eternal adoration might not be the best thing to do right now.

“You liked me,” Frank says, giggling. At this point the band on stage does not exist. It’s only Gerard, and it’s only Frank. The hundreds of other people in this building don’t exist. No one exists. No one else is there but him and Gerard. Frank would even bet that no one on the planet exists anymore who isn’t Gerard and him.

“Shut up,” Gerard says, looking away finally, a red color all down his face.

“You liked me,” Frank says, almost gleeful, as Gerard shakes his head and looks up at the ceiling.

“So did you,” Gerard says, “You liked me.”

“Yeah, but you’re cute about it. You’re all embarrassed and blushing. I’m not embarrassed, you’re amazing, I’d announce it anywhere that I liked you. Well, like.”

Gerard is still a pinkish color, but Frank grabs his hand and holds it in his own to take his mind off of it. Then Gerard is smiling again, a cute little shy one that he’s trying to hide.

“I hate you,” Gerard says, shaking his head.

“I know. But you hate me in a you-still-think-I’m-hot kind of way.”

“When did I ever say that I think you’re hot?”

“You said it with your eyes,” Frank says, laughing.

“You’re so full of shit,” Gerard replies, barely getting his words in because seriously Frank needs to kiss him. He needs to kiss him at all hours of the day. He’s got to permanently be attached to Gerard and the time enough for it. He doesn’t want to ever be apart from him. Frank’s never felt this way before about anything. He has a codependence of sorts with his phone, but it’s nothing like the way he feels about Gerard right now. Frank thinks that the instant Gerard’s gone, Frank’s going to feel the weight of the world and it’s going to break him in half. He’s not going to feel this happy ever again without Gerard.

Frank knows, even if he feels that way, it won’t be true. But if Gerard’s there than at least life is a little bit lighter. A little bit easier to handle. A little more enjoyable as well. Frank has it in him to at least survive without Gerard by his side every waking hour, but he so wishes that he won’t have to. Being in love has literally got to be the worst thing that’s ever happened to his priorities.

“You can’t just kiss me to stop me making fun of you,” Gerard says.

“I can try.”

“Try again then.”

“I can do that,” Frank says.

Fifteen minutes later, Gerard really can’t actually tell you whether or not the concert was any good or not. The first half of it he’d spent trying to pretend he wasn’t attracted to Frank, and then the rest had been spent in completely awe at the fact that Frank kissed him, and is still kissing him.

It gets to a point where Gerard can’t actually believe that he’s sitting in Frank’s car what feels like a few seconds later. He missed the whole damn show. He’s not going to remember a single thing from tonight that isn’t the way that Frank looks in those jeans.

Frank’s only thought about tonight is going to be the way that Gerard keeps looking at his ass as they leave the club. He’s not offended though, in fact, he makes a mental note to thank Brendon for forcing him to wear these exact pants. And he should also send a thank you note to his mother for giving him a fantastic butt. He’s not going to do either of those things, but the thought is still there.

“My face is starting to hurt,” Gerard says. “I can’t stop smiling.”

“You have a good smile.”

“Oh my god this is so stupid! An hour and a half ago you were the straight guy I wanted to punch in the face, and now you’re the guy who keeps flirting with me, and I don’t get it, but I like it, so please, continue treating me like I’m your boyfriend.”

“Well would you want me to be?”

“Be what?” Gerard asks.

“Your boyfriend.”

“Would I want you to be my boyfriend? I don’t know... would you want to be my boyfriend.”

“Well if you’re offering up the position and it isn’t taken than I would gladly accept it.”

“I didn’t say I was offering up the position.”

“Then I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t like you, what were you saying?”

“But like, if you wanted to be then I guess I could offer up the position,” Gerard says.

“Wait so you are offering it up?” Frank questions.

“I am now. Yes. Unless you don’t want it then I never liked you, and I’m totally cool.”

“But I do want it,” Frank replies.

“So you want to be my boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. That’s good,” Gerard says, and then the conversation stops. Frank looks out the window, hands still not having touched his keys to move the car anywhere. He’s not sure he wants to drive right now while his entire mind is focused on literally anything but Gerard. Pedestrians everywhere are in danger if Frank tries to move this car while thinking about the way that Gerard talks out of one side of his mouth. Or the way that he has literally the smallest, tiniest, most delicate and adorable voice ever. Or the way that his face lights up when someone starts talking about the X-Men. Or the look on his face when he hears a particularly bad pun.

“So, wait, just to clarify, I am your boyfriend then, right?” Frank asks.

“Uh, you do want to be?” Gerard asks.

“Yes.”

“Then yes.”

“So I am your boyfriend,” Frank asks again, because the whole thing seems unclear to him and he’d rather be safe than sorry.

“Yes.”

“Okay, thank fuck, I was going to have some daytime soap opera worthy angst if I wasn’t,” Frank says, sighing. He’s kind of embarrassed that he actually had to clarify, in the way that one would when scheduling a get together at six through group chat.

“I’m pretty much certain that today isn’t real,” Gerard says, his forehead looking concerned at the dashboard. Frank, taking the queue, pinches Gerard’s hand. “Okay, so maybe it is. And never do that again or I’ll punch you in the face.”

“Fair enough,” Frank says, and he finally decides he’d better start driving otherwise he’s just going to sit here making out with Gerard for three hours and forget about driving home. Though, to be fair, that doesn’t exactly sound like a bad alternative.

“I’ve never had a pretty boyfriend before, this is exciting.”

“Well you still haven’t,” Gerard shrugs.

“I’ll push you out of the car, you know,” Frank says, pulling out of his spot and quickly after being blocked in by someone else trying to leave. This is another reason for why Frank feels like making out with Gerard in the backseat might just be simpler, and will cause him not to sentence so many people to death.

“Oh I will fuck them up,” Frank says, staring at the car in front of him. “I will literally murder their grandmother.”

“You’re rather violent, I don’t know that I was really aware of what I was signing up for before I agreed to it.”

“You do know you’re like really pretty though, right?” Frank asks him, still caught up on that, because this is vitally important. Gerard makes Frank’s heart stutter and his blood run cold, if he doesn’t think he’s cute than Frank is going to have to buy him a proper mirror.

“You can say what you like, but I think we both know who’d win a beauty contest.”

“Yeah I know. Probably Mikey, because we both know he’d cheat his fucking ass off.”

“He’s got a remarkably charming fake personality, he might not even need to cheat. He’s just got to use the tone of voice he uses when he lies to our mom.”

“You can lie to your mom?” Frank asks astounded, “How?”

“Well, I can’t, but Mikey is an evil genius. He was actually shortlisted to play Dr. Evil.”

“You know, that doesn’t surprise me,” Frank says, as he’s finally able to get out of the parking lot, but not before he’s imagined the death of whoever’s driving that car at least thirty different ways, each more painful than the last.

“I think he’s more suited to be Voldemort though,” Gerard shrugs, “Mikey may have a nose, but he’s much more villainous.”

“You know,” Frank says, “I’ve never had any kind of boyfriend at all. Cute or not.”

“So I technically am the prettiest boyfriend you’ve ever had. But I am also the ugliest,” Gerard says.

“Not if you count that one time this kid at my mom’s office’s Christmas party flirted with me. He would definitely be up for the ugliest award. Like, I mean he was good looking enough but let me tell you, that guy was so in love with himself I’m surprised he wasn’t busy in the other room screwing himself with a mirror. He hated pop music, his favorite pastime was taking pictures of twigs, and he was writing a screenplay about a guy based on him who realizes that the reason he’s never really fit in is because he’s smarter than everyone around him.”

“Was this person actually just a guy who works at an organic food store? Was it that checkout guy at the Trader Joe’s? Don’t even tell me, let me guess, his favorite book was Infinite Jest, he used the word pastiche like a regular person would use the word fuck, and I’m sensing that he had a huge crush on James Franco.”

“So you’ve met him,” Frank says.

“I’m pretty sure I dated him,” Gerard says, “before I snuck out the bathroom window of the restaurant.”

“Please tell me you ate dinner first and then left him with the check.”

“Please, I even milked dessert out of that twat,” Gerard says.

“You’re my hero.”

“Yeah, it was a bummer that I had to walk home though,” Gerard says, “but I never gave him my address so I still haven’t heard from him.”

“Why did you go out with him in the first place?” Frank asks.

“Well it’s not like he preemptively gave me a pamphlet about his shitty personality! How was I supposed to know?”

“Well was he wearing a beanie?”

“No. He was wearing a Star Trek shirt.”

“Well that should’ve told you!” Frank groans. “You should’ve asked him who his favorite captain was and when he said Luke Skywalker you would have known!”

“I wasn’t thinking that far in advance. He was cute, I was distracted.”

“Well if it helps any my answer is Picard, and I have never once in my entire life used the word pastiche.”

“I guess that settles it then. I can already hear the wedding bells.”

Frank forces a really awful fake laugh from himself at that, because Gerard is seriously making it really hard for Frank not to just let it all out and tell him everything. But really, Frank only just got the guy to realize he likes him, so maybe he can hold off on the inevitable call Gerard is going to make to a psychologist. Frank really wishes that the truth weren’t so ludicrous.

“You’re really great at handling a joke,” Gerard remarks.

“Sorry,” Frank says, and it’s almost a blessing that he has to drive so that he doesn’t have to look over at Gerard right now. He seriously wants to smack him for being so cute, and making Frank want to write poems about his hair.

Then Frank remembers that he’s apparently now Gerard’s boyfriend and he grins to himself, because this is so abrupt and amazing. He couldn’t have imagined today turning out the way it has, but now he’s sitting here with Gerard staring at him, Frank can feel his eyes on him, and Gerard is his actual boyfriend.

Frank’s feeling somewhat jealous of the fact that Gerard’s dated people before, but he casts that thought away because it’s dumb. Of course he has, Frank has no grounds to be jealous of anybody. He doesn’t know how many people Gerard’s dated though. Or how far those relationships ever went. Frank’s blood turns to lead at the mere thought that Gerard’s probably kissed tons of boys and the only guy that Frank has ever kissed who wasn’t Gerard was still Gerard.

But Gerard still had a crush on him after those relationships ended so they can’t have been too serious. But still, Frank can’t banish the fact that he wants to have been the first and only. Gerard is kind of that for him. Frank doesn’t like to include any girls he kind-of-sort-of-not-really dated, because there was never any actual potential there.

Frank stops in front of Gerard’s house not too long after they’d left the club. Time is still on the fritz so Frank’s not sure if the ride feels really long or too short. He had gotten lost in Gerard’s long, mostly unimpeded rant about how much better the second Star Wars trilogy could have been if only they’d forced George Lucas to sit on a cactus. Frank low key agrees.

Frank doesn’t say anything as he parks the car, he just sort of stares in front of him and dreads the fact that Gerard is going to leave now. He would much prefer the whole making out in the backseat thing to having Gerard leave.

“Hey Frank,” Gerard says, “You could come in and hang out for a while if you want.”

Frank doesn’t know how to respond to that, because it forces a million and five different scenarios to flood into his head as to what Gerard intends for them to do if Frank were to come in and hang out for a while. But really, the biggest message on repeat in his head is the fact that it’s midnight and Gerard just invited him inside, and Frank doesn’t know how to feel about that.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Frank, I invited you inside, I didn’t invite you to hop on my dick,” Gerard says, apparently reading him better than Frank expected.

Frank turns pink and he looks anywhere but at Gerard, but it’s dark outside so the only thing he can actually look at is a lit window of his house, so someone’s probably awake in there. He hopes it’s not Mikey, but also hopes it is Mikey, and it’s hard to explain why he feels that way.

“Uh, okay,” Frank says. He’s not sure why, but he doesn’t want to say no. He doesn’t know what he wants really. He wants to hang out with Gerard longer, but he’s also terrified of what being alone with Gerard entails, not because he’s scared of Gerard, but because he’s scared of what being in Gerard’s house means. That makes everything way more real. That’s, on one hand, a good thing, but there’s multiple things that could go wrong. There’s a lot of thing that he could fuck up, or that he might let slip.

“You can say no,” Gerard says, “I wasn’t ordering you or pressuring you or anything.”

“No but I want to,” Frank says, unbuckling his seat belt, and pushing open his car door. His legs still won’t allow him to stand up, but he’s proud of himself for doing that much. “I’m just not used to this. Like, I’ve seriously never had a boyfriend before, I don’t know what it’s like.”

“Mostly it’s like not knowing what to say because you don’t want to embarrass yourself and then accidentally getting into a really deep philosophical conversation about something stupid like the quality of Lee Pace’s eyebrows, or how much better Pacific Rim is than any other movie made ever by anyone.”

“It’s like 90% got to do with the fact that Idris Elba is in it.”

“No, it’s because of the fantastic platonic friendship between the male and female leads.”

“Or the undeniable homoerotic subtext between the guy from It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia and the dude with a stick up his ass.”

“Yeah, see this is what it’s like. And also making out and quite a bit of calling each other names, but we can’t do that while you’re sitting there, so get off your ass, Iero!”

“I can still call you names from here,” Frank replies, “fuckwad.”

“Congratulations,” Gerard says, “but which would you rather do?”

“I’m getting up,” Frank says, pulling himself up, and slamming the car door closed. Gerard grins at him, looking magical in the half light of a waning moon. Frank’s pretty sure that this is what Hilary Duff was singing about in that one song from the Lizzie McGuire Movie. This is, indeed, what dreams are made of.