The Chasing of Moons

Frank is not looking at Gerard’s butt as they walk up the stairs, what on earth would give you that idea? He has so much chill, it’s unreal.

Gerard even says, before the first step, “So like, it’s your turn to stare at my ass, but like, that’s fine, I don’t expect anything less.”

“I’ve been given your actual permission?”

“You’re a human, what am I supposed to think you’re going to do?” Gerard says, his voice calling out from in front of him as he climbs the stairs. “Not look?”

“You’re fantastic. I think I’m gonna marry you,” Frank says, commending himself on his excellent joke. He actually does think, or really knows, he’s going to marry Gerard, someone up above him who’s in on this whole shitstorm is probably laughing with him right now at how beautiful a joke he just made. Really though, it’s not even a good joke and Frank shouldn’t feel this much pride.

This house is very much outdated, from what little Frank’s seen of it. He can just imagine the snooty asshole voices of people walking through this house on House Hunters. He kind of wants to punch those people in the face though, because this house is so unbelievably Gerard that it hurts.

The whole place is carpeted, something that hasn’t been in style since at least the mid-seventies. Frank’s pretty sure that the only room that wasn’t carpeted was the kitchen which he only briefly glanced into, and it was in dire need of some new tile. On that note, when was green tiling ever in? It looks like a grandmother’s house, and Gerard’s personality, somehow resembles that of a grandmothers also, which is why Frank is grinning widely at literally everything.

The unbearably thin staircase that leads up stairs displays a gallery of pictures, Mikey on the left, Gerard on the right, and with each step, the pictures age with him. Gerard made a very adorable first grader, Frank notes.

“Do we have to worry about waking up your parents?” Frank asks, thinking back to his home where he shares a wall with his mother and she can literally tell if he turns a page in a book past midnight.

“Their room is downstairs. Unless you’re actually playing DDR in Mikey’s room, they can’t hear shit.”

“We should totally play DDR in Mikey’s room,” Frank says, when Gerard stops on the landing, and Frank is quick to follow.

“I don’t think we even have a DDR mat,” Gerard says, “because, surprisingly, I’m not a ten year old kid.”

“Well I am,” Frank says, “in my heart.”

“Aren’t we all,” Gerard says.

“Fuck,” a muffled voice says from a room on Frank’s left, and he grins to himself because he’s just spotted where Mikey is.

“So that’s where the troll lives,” Gerard points to Mikey’s room. There’s only four doors on the landing, and Gerard’s room is obvious because there’s a sticker on the top of the door that says ‘Gerard’s Lair’ in handwriting that he recognizes from the note that Gerard hasn’t written him yet. One of them must be a bathroom, and it’s anyone’s guess what the last one is.

Gerard points to one, and says, “linen closet. Do not open that thing unless you want to be physically assaulted by towels that were not properly stacked by someone. I’m not saying it was me, but, coincidentally, I don’t know how to properly fold and sort towels.” Gerard then points to the last door and says it’s the bathroom, his note on that being that if you don’t close the door properly, it flies open because the floors are uneven and everything is at somewhat of an angle. You can also, apparently, roll a ball down the hallway just by setting it on the ground and waiting.

Gerard then knocks on Mikey's door and he doesn’t wait before Mikey says anything to open it. Frank doesn’t know whether to stand next to Gerard and say hi to Mikey or pretend he’s not here at all. But presumably, Mikey already knows Frank’s here, because if Frank could hear Mikey behind the door, Mikey could hear him.

“Okay so let me guess,” Gerard says as Frank goes to stand next to him to peak into Mikey’s room, “Pete is either under the bed or in the closet.”

“Take a guess,” Mikey replies, barely even glancing at Frank. Mikey’s room is a mess, and Frank is pretty sure that there’s no way that Pete could possibly be under his bed because Frank is certain that there’s already a mountain of shit that was not properly put away under there.

“Closet,” Gerard says.

“Damn it!” Pete’s voice comes from the closet and Frank doesn’t know why he’s surprised. Of course Pete’s here, of course he is.

“I told you it was pointless,” Mikey says to the closet where Pete comes out, which is the second time that Frank’s experienced him doing that, but it’s far more literal this time.

“Why does it smell like socks in there?” Pete asks.

“Probably because that’s where I put all my socks so they don’t stink up my room,” Mikey shrugs.

“Gross,” Frank says.

“Oh if you think this place is a train wreck,” Mikey says, “just you wait until you see Gerard’s room.”

“I knew there had to be a vice somewhere,” Frank says.

“Well that and his personality,” Mikey says.

“Hi Frank,” Pete says, waving at him like they randomly bumped into each other in a Walmart. This is a weird place for Frank to find him he supposes, or at least it would be if he didn’t know that the two of them are basically in love with each other.

“Hey,” Frank says.

“So how’re things?” Pete says in a voice that he’s honestly trying his hardest to make casual, but he’s so bad at it. Frank’s ears hurt at how obvious the question he’s actually asking is.

“You don’t need to worry, I made out with him,” Frank says.

“Really?” Pete asks, looking relieved. This is almost definitely because he’s bad at keeping secrets, not because he’s actually relieved that Frank made out with Gerard.

“Yeah,” Frank confirms.

“Great,” Pete says, “I’ll be texting Brendon and Ray momentarily.”

“I assumed as much.”

“So how about you two then?” Gerard asks.

“What about us two?” Mikey asks, giving Gerard this evil glare that would most definitely cause him to have been burned at the stake if they lived in Salem circa 1692.

“Oh my god,” Gerard says, sounding so fed up with the two of them that it almost hurts Frank’s ears. Frank is proud of himself. He won the bet that didn’t exist.

“I’m missing something,” Pete says, frowning.

“You’re so stupid,” Gerard sighs, under his breath.

“It’s nothing Pete,” Mikey says, shaking his head and looking at Pete like one would look at the cutest cat in all of existence.

“We’re just going to leave you two,” Gerard says.

“Yeah whatever,” Mikey says. “Don’t be too loud.”

“No we’re not gonna-” Frank starts, panicked, but Mikey starts laughing at him, so he just decides to leave it. The Way’s are on some next level mind reading shit that Frank doesn’t need to get involved in. Not yet at least.

Gerard just rolls his eyes at Frank, and steps out of the doorway to close it behind him. Frank is somewhat relieved to not be with Mikey and Pete anymore, because that means he has Gerard to himself and there are several things he wants to do with Gerard that require being alone.

“I honestly did not think you and I would beat them,” Frank says quietly, because he doesn’t want them to hear. “I thought they wouldn’t be this stupid.”

“It’s probably Pete’s fault you know. Mikey’s not exactly subtle when it comes to these things. It’s almost definitely because of Pete’s complete and utter lack of reading the signs. I’ll bet you that Mikey has actively flirted with him, and I mean hardcore shit, like laughing at the bad jokes, fixing his hair for him, and maybe even a wet T-shirt contest or two, but Pete is so completely bad at reading him that Mikey literally needs to stick a tongue down his throat before he’ll so much as think Mikey might like him.”

“Are you sure you’re not the one who’s been Pete’s friend for his entire life?” Frank asks, because that was a freakily accurate analyzation of Pete’s skills in reading social situations.

“He’s easier to read than a children’s book,” Gerard says.

“You have a valid point,” Frank says as Gerard opens his door. Frank is not surprised by the scene that he is met with. He also has to check the window, just to be sure that he didn’t miss some freak tornado that just rampaged through the room.

“Oh my god. Does Alice Cooper sleep in here part time?”

“I have never once thrown a TV out the window,” Gerard says.

“So you don’t deny the other things,” Frank says, “You really live the life of a rock star don’t you? Just fewer groupies and a lot less sex.”

“That’s not my fault,” Gerard says, “I am always open to sex, it’s just that no one wants to take me up on that offer.”

“How about I give you a raincheck,” Frank says.

“Fair enough, but I’m taking that seriously,” Gerard says.

“That’s alright with me.”

“Well okay then,” Gerard says, blushing only a little bit as he walks over to his bed with expert ease that can only come from seasoned experience of this obstacle course of a landfill.

“This is the most I’ve ever learned about your personality in a small timeframe,” Frank says, looking around Gerard’s room. Someone, probably someone who was partially blind, painted his room a long time ago, the color of a very pale but still radioactive Kermit the Frog. It’s so green that Frank is pretty sure that you could lose Mike Wazowski if he were to stand with his back against it. That is, you’d lose him if Gerard weren’t a poster hoarder.

Frank’s not capable of comprehending just how many posters he’s got covering his walls, and the range of different brands is startling. Everything from Rocky Horror to Scott Pilgrim to The Clash to Toy Story 3. Either his favorite poster, or his most recent one is the gigantic Marvel superhero collection which is, Frank thinks, the only poster that isn’t being overlapped by another four posters in some way.

“Oh my god, you could hold comic con in here,” Frank says giddily. “How do you have sex with Buzz Lightyear staring at you like that?”

“That’s what this nifty little invention called a light switch is for.”

“Gerard, I’m literally making direct eye contact with David Bowie right now, how do you deal? Don’t his eyes watch you changing? Is Morrissey going to know if you jerk off? Will Buffy Summers judge you if you dance around your room to Uptown Funk? These are some serious questions.”

“Okay, but you want to know what the question that you have to actually worry about is?”

“What?”

“Will Joan Jett judge me if I make out with you?” Gerard asks.

“You know, I don’t think it really matters what she thinks.”

“Well in that case-”

“No!” Frank says, a little too loudly, “No! Wait wait, I just thought of the best joke ever, are you ready. Oh my god. Hold onto your hat.”

“I’m not wearing a hat.”

“Hold onto it anyway, cause this is going to blow your mind.”

“Alright Frank, lay it on me.”

“I don’t give a damn ‘bout her condemnation.”

“Oh my god,” Gerard says, either wanting to punch Frank in the face or wanting to tear his clothes off, but likely a combination of both. Gerard leans over and he grabs Frank by the belt buckle which is... different, and it gives him the butterflies. Frank all but swoons as he’s pulled closer to Gerard to a point where he literally falls on top of him on the bed. He feels weightless and he is sure that this is the same feeling you would get if you could actually fly. That’s what it feels like to be pulled on top of him and Frank is dying because it is not legal to be this good a kisser.

Someone, probably Mikey, Frank just knows it, throws something at Gerard’s door and shouts, “I told you to be quiet.” It’s Mikey.

“Well fuck but we were going to recreate the Trojan War in here, complete with sound effects.”

“Well bad luck for you,” Mikey shouts back.

“So then no war reenactments, how about extremely loud sex?”

“That’s even worse!”

“You’re telling me sex is worse than war?” Gerard asks, and Frank is laughing, the sound being muffled into Gerard’s shoulder.

“It is when it’s you two!”

“You have a staggeringly skewed sense of morality, baby bro.”

“You’re gross,” Mikey shouts back.

“Well it’s nice to see that you two can hold an intelligent conversation,” Frank says, “Is this what it’s like to have a sibling?”

“No,” Gerard says, “having a sibling entails that you sit on each other and steal the TV remote. This is just what it’s like to live across from someone.”

Frank decides that he doesn’t really care, and he leans down to kiss Gerard again. Either Mikey is gone or he’s waiting to give Frank a false sense of security. Frank does not care. What he does care about is that he’s found the holy grail of good kissers.

He knows that, in all likelihood, he’s got literally his entire life ahead of him to kiss Gerard, but that doesn’t mean that it’s hard to hold back now that he’s allowed to. He could kiss Gerard at all times of the day. Frank could make out with him in class and he wouldn’t even care that he’d probably get detention. Then he would have detention with Gerard, and that’s literally the opposite of a bad thing. Frank’s had detention before, the art teacher literally never comes in to check on people so Frank could just make out with Gerard for an hour. He’s starting to think that this is a good idea until he realizes that instead of getting detention they could just come here and make out in Gerard’s room and that way there is no voyeurism involved.

“This is probably the best day of my life,” Frank notes when Gerard pulls away to breathe, because apparently being in love doesn’t spare you from needing oxygen.

“It’s not even today anymore, its tomorrow. Or, I mean, like its past midnight so it’s not... you know what I mean.”

“It’s not tomorrow until I wake up,” Frank says.

“Well in that case keep kissing me. Let’s really make this a night to remember.”

Frank makes a literal groaning sound in his throat because this boy could not get any hotter. Frank can’t think of a single situation in the world that could make Gerard any less attractive. If he asked Frank to help him steal a car, Frank would probably think it was the cutest thing said by any person ever. Gerard could literally murder Frank’s mother and he’d probably giggle and blush over how cute his smile is.

As it is, Frank laughs airily, the kind of laugh typically heard when one is extremely high, and Gerard practically snorts back at him.

“Oh my god, so it looks like I’m not going to be the embarrassing one in this relationship.”

“No, but you’re gonna be the one who has to put up with having an embarrassing boyfriend,” Frank says.

“I’ll learn to deal,” Gerard says, which only makes Frank groan again and he’s seriously never been so happy in his life before now. Frank has been longing for this for a while, and only now is he finally able to understand why he’s been craving this. This is worth all the money in the world and then some.

Frank, for his entire life up until this point, has had a lot of trouble picturing his future. He’s never been able to picture himself in a cubicle job, or being a suburban dad with a huge lawn and a doggy door. He’s always found the mundane thought of a nine to five job and an unspectacular paycheck as being absolutely nightmarish. He gets it now though. As tedious as it sounds, it sounds nice, charming even. As long as Gerard is there with him than he doesn’t see how that could be a bad life at all. It actually sounds kind of fantastic.

Really, Frank can’t imagine anything bad happening with Gerard there with him, and Frank direly hopes that someday Gerard will be able to understand those feelings as well.

But for now, this is okay too. Kissing Gerard with no expectancy that anything else is going to happen right now is fine. Lying here with him is great, magical even. Frank is excited about his future with Gerard, but he’s more enthralled by the present with him, because this is all that he actually has control over.

“Fuck, my life is a Taylor Swift song,” Frank says.

“I don’t see how that’s a bad thing.”

“It isn’t,” Frank says, “I just never thought that I’d be this cliché.”

“You’ll live. Just, like, shake it off.”

“I hate you so much,” Frank frowns, and then continues to kiss the everloving fuck out of him.