Chance

Frank convinces Gerard to leave the warm intoxicating air of the tea store and he leads Gerard to what he would consider to be the most boring place on the planet. A garden. A flower garden.

Gerard doesn’t want to pretend that he can’t appreciate flowers because it’s not like he hates them or anything, he just thinks that they’re boring. Because they are. They don’t sing, or dance or anything. They just sort of wilt and make him sneeze and he doesn’t like that. He’s fond of ferns but that’s because ferns are easy to maintain and don’t have any pretense of excitement.

“You can’t tell me that you don’t like flowers, what’s wrong with you?” Frank asks, when Gerard just sort of lags behind.

“I mean, I don’t dislike them or anything, I just don’t see the appeal,” Gerard says.

“But they’re pretty to look at,” Frank says.

It’s a small garden, only a few blocks down from the tea store and it’s not necessarily well maintained either, because some of them look like they’re on their last days, but for New York he supposes, it’s a big garden. There’s signs between almost every single different flower that say ‘DO NOT PICK FLOWERS’ which kind of ruins the aesthetic if you ask him.

“I have a garden on my balcony,” Frank says, “I happen to like them.”

“There’s nothing wrong with liking them,” Gerard says. “I just don’t have any interest in them.”

“I think this is the first thing I’ve discovered that I don’t like about you. And the fact that you’re a cat person,” Frank says.

“Well that’s not fair then, I don’t dislike anything about you, tell me something that will make me on an even playing field.”

“I, uh,” Frank frowns, looking up as he tries to think, “I hate Superman?”

“Who doesn’t?” Gerard says.

“Okay, let me think of something else. I think The Ramones are overrated,” Frank says.

“You take that back!”

“Well I guess I succeeded in finding something you’d dislike about me.”

“I mean, The Ramones are iconic, you can’t dislike The Ramones. They were the first punk band!”

“Yeah, and I respect them for that but they couldn’t play their instruments for shit,” Frank replies.

“Well neither could Sid Vicious but he’s practically synonymous with bassists.”

“No one is pretending that he was in the Pistols for his music playing ability. I’m just saying that The Ramones were a sort of gag band that set the ball rolling for better bands to come,” Frank says, “Like The Clash beat them in every field, and the Misfits could play circles around The Ramones.”

“I’m not saying The Ramones are the best band of all time, I’m saying that The Ramones were still good,” Gerard says.

“It’s a matter of opinion.”

“I can’t believe you like flowers but don’t like The Ramones,” Gerard says. “We’re going to have to get a divorce soon, I don’t know how I could even have considered this marriage a good idea.”

Frank shakes his head. They’re not married quite yet, though he’s genuinely hoping someday, but it’s been about an hour now and he feels like you need to know someone longer than an hour to get married. And a disagreement in a band doesn’t make for a divorce, it’s only when someone says that they don’t like pizza that you have to get an attorney on the phone.

“What if I make up for it by saying that I really love your face?” Frank asks.

“Well, that gives you some credibility back.”

“Will you let me tell you about flowers now?” Frank asks, because this is the whole reason for why he’s here. He doesn’t just take beautiful men to flower gardens for the view, he’s a show off in his heart.

“Only if you use your teacher voice,” Gerard replies.

“You get kinkier and kinkier by the minute. And I fall more in love with you by the second.”

“You fall in love with me at a more rapid rate than I get kinkier. That is what we call exponential growth, sir.”

“Are you trying to be a teacher’s pet? Is that how deep this runs? If so, you should know that that’s not exponential growth, that’s just called addition.”

“Oh man I hate it when people correct me but I’d let you do it all night long,” Gerard says, and there is a very very small part of him that is joking. It’s very small. Gerard is almost completely not joking about having a thing for his teacher voice. He was an awful student, truly awful, and there might be a good reason for that.

“So board games and teachers,” Frank says, “that’s your thing?”

“And hands,” Gerard adds and then questions whether he had meant to say that or not. He doesn’t think he did. He’s kind of regretting it now.

“Well fuck,” Frank says, “I feel so vanilla now.”

“Oh man I bet you’ve got something weird. You like feet or something, don’t you?”

“No!” Frank says, pushing Gerard slightly. He tries to steer them off topic by pointing to a flower, and saying it’s a tulip. Gerard doesn’t know if he’s pulling his leg or not. Gerard doesn’t know the names or appearances of any flowers. He’s pretty sure he could safely pick a rose in a lineup, but after that he’s a toddler who lost his mom in a grocery store.

“Most tulips only live for about five or so days,” Frank says, and Gerard, being the pest that he is, has started pitching weird kinks at Frank to get a reaction.

“Clowns,” Gerard says, “you like clowns.”

“Oh,” Frank says pointing to a particular white and rather boring looking flower, “that’s a moonflower. They only open at night.”

“Bellybuttons,” Gerard says, and Frank rolls his eyes.

“That there is a calla lily. They’re one of my favorites. Most, if not all types of lilies, are poisonous to cats.”

“It’s skirts. You’ve got a thing for a dude in a dress,” Gerard says, and Gerard finally sees a reaction because Frank is blushing. He’s actually blushing, and looking down, and trying to find a flower, and flower at all, to have a weird fact about.

Gerard likes the way Frank looks when he blushes. Some people go red all over, right to the tips of their ears. Frank’s not so red that he could be mistaken for a tomato from a huge distance, but he’s red enough that Gerard wants to do obscene things to him. That was already a given, but it’s multiplied by a lot now. Frank is just so damn cute, Gerard looks like Elmo when he blushes, Frank just looks more adorable.

“You have a thing for guys in dresses!”

“I didn’t say that!” Frank says as Gerard giggles to himself.

“You as good as,” Gerard says, “oh I bet it’s not just dresses. It’s probably pantyhose too.”

Frank just looks away and pretends to get really focused on the sky. It’s dark out, but there are very few stars. They’re there, it’s not like the stars packed it up and moved to Canada, they haven’t gone anywhere, you just can’t see them in the city very well. There’s too many city lights, all that can be seen is the moon which is bright enough to not even need most of the street lamps, which practically outnumber the people in this city. The moon is either almost full or it was a full moon recently. It really sets the mood though, because even if Gerard doesn’t like flowers, he can’t deny that there’s nothing more romantic than being in a flower garden with the moon up like that.

This is a Disney Channel first date, he imagines. This is what seven year olds think dating is like, minus the actual topic of conversation. There’s no underlying motivation to it besides just having a stroll through a garden and talking. It’s sweet, Gerard thinks, it makes him feel like he’s actually wanted rather than just an object.

“Oh my god, you are relentless,” Frank says, looking embarrassed but he’s smiling so Gerard doesn’t necessarily feel bad, because Frank’s not mad at him. If Frank were mad he’d stop, but he’s not so Gerard is going to tease the shit out of him.

“Maybe even heals,” Gerard says, “and lipstick.”

“What did I do to deserve meeting you?” Frank asks.

“Win the lottery?” Gerard offers.

“Well, yeah, probably. I just wouldn’t have expected this to be the ammunition you use to make fun of me.”

“Hey I never said I couldn’t dig it,” Gerard replies. Maybe he is far kinkier than he thought. Gerard’s up for a lot of things.

“What don’t you have a thing for?”

“Well, clowns, bellybuttons, and feet are big turn offs,” Gerard says. “I do love small men with tattoos, now there’s a fetish for you.”

“Oh my god, you’re awful,” Frank says.

“Yeah, but you love me,” Gerard says, and Frank doesn’t protest. Frank is genuinely getting closer to love with every word out of Gerard’s mouth. He doesn’t know why, he’s never been this cliché before, he’s never just liked someone this much after this short a time. Frank had a huge crush on Jeff Goldblum when he was a kid, but even then he had to watch like four different movies for that to really sink in, so he’s never had a crush on anyone that set in this deeply this quickly.

“Do you have a favorite flower?” Frank asks, trying to steer the topic off this subject. He would really love to buy Gerard flowers someday, try to prove him wrong on their merit.

“Not really. I like sunflowers, I guess,” Gerard shrugs. Gerard is really fond of art, and he really only cares for sunflowers because he likes the way that Van Gogh painted them. He probably wouldn’t know a sunflower from a daisy if it weren’t for that. Still, there is something quaint about sunflowers, in a good way.

“Sunflowers are my favorite actually,” Frank responds.

“Really? Or are you just saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear?” Gerard asks.

“No, I mean it. I like their simplicity. They’re not as traditionally elegant as other flowers, but they’re more beautiful to me.”

Frank kind of reminds Gerard of a sunflower. Frank’s bright and open, unique compared to others, and not as appreciated as he deserves. Gerard understands what he means about them not being as elegant, because in a way, they don’t have that fancy, picturesque sort of image. They’re a little offbeat, a little eccentric, and they’re beautiful. Gerard is starting to appreciate them more by the second, just thinking about the way Frank must see them.

“Do you teach your kids about flowers?” Gerard asks.

“I do! I have them growing flowers actually. I’ve had them growing marigolds for a week or so now. They get really into it.”

“You must be the teacher that all the kids love, and kids who don’t have you wish they did,” Gerard says. “My teacher had us grow grass.”

“I am pretty awesome,” Frank says. “I’m the youngest teacher at my school by about ten years, and I think it shows. My coworkers aren’t necessarily bad people, or bad teachers, they just don’t really get it. They don’t understand kids the way that they deserve. I like to treat my kids as equals, even if they don’t know as much of the world as I do. I don’t want to make them hate school by teaching them all the same old things that I was taught and had no interest in when I was a kid. Like, they don’t deserve having to read hundred-year-old books that no one actually likes. I don’t make them read boring ass books, like who the fuck actually cares about Charles fucking Dickens?”

“Don’t insult my man Dr. Seuss though. That dude was chill as heck, I loved his stuff, still do. The Sneetches? That shit was real,” Gerard says, and he manages to draw Frank away from the garden at last, thought it seems like it took forever. He’s not sure where there is to go around here, there’s no real destination in Gerard’s mind, they’re not explicitly going north anymore, so it’s anyone’s guess where they’ll end up.

“I love Dr. Seuss,” Frank says, “he was a genius, kids are never too old for him. But I refuse to read The Giving Tree in class, the last thing I need is to cry in front of a bunch of second graders.”

“That shit was too real.”

“Most depressing book ever, I swear it,” Frank says, and Gerard cannot help but to picture Frank reading in front of a class, and it drives him absolutely insane. Even the image of it, just imagining what he must look like, what his voice sounds like as he reads to those kids. They have no idea how lucky they are to pay witness to Frank’s voice for that long. Gerard would gladly let Frank read him the entire Harry Potter series. He could fall into the warmth of Frank’s voice and he wouldn’t get tired of it. Hell, he’d let Frank read him the dictionary.

The thought of it sends Gerard’s brain into a frenzy. He is crazy for a guy who’s good with kids. There’s almost nothing more attractive about a man then the way they are with kids, and the idea that Frank is a teacher? He just can’t be real; this man has checked off too many marks on the list of Gerard’s ideal guy. He’s basically just a wet dream come to life which Gerard is trying to pretend is impossible, but honestly Frank is just too perfect. He’s got to be a serial killer or something in his spare time because no one is this flawless. Then again, Frank doesn’t like The Ramones which is pretty much equivalent to being a serial killer.

It’s cold outside, but Gerard’s not particularly cold. He feels all warm and fuzzy and it’s Frank’s fault. Frank makes him feel like he just had a mug of hot chocolate. It’s not because of the cold when Gerard shivers, it’s because of Frank being so absolutely fucking cute that it tickles his goddamn spine.

Almost instinctually, Frank pulls off his coat before Gerard can even say anything and puts it over Gerard’s shoulders. If Gerard had felt warm and fuzzy a moment before than the English language has not come up with a term for this. He’s practically bursting with adoration.

Gerard turns to say thank you for the jacket and to be all sentimental about how sweet is, but that’s when his mouth drops.

“Fuck,” Gerard says, practically yells, loud enough for people streets over to hear him.

“What?” Frank asks, looking concerned and confused.

“Your covered in tattoos, why didn’t you lead with that?” Gerard asks, stopping in his tracks, mesmerized with this tiny man. He’s wearing a stiff button up shirt, but the sleeves are rolled up past his elbows and Gerard’s gaze is hungry and ferocious.

“It’s not usually the best way to introduce myself to new people,” Frank says. “’Hi have you met me I have tattoos,’ it just doesn’t really work.”

“It would work on me,” Gerard replies, “you should lift up your shirt. No wait, that’s a weird thing to ask someone I barely know. Forget I said anything.”

Frank just grins and pulls it up a little bit as if to make Gerard drool at the mouth. And he’s damn close to it, Gerard is literally in awe of Frank. Gerard’s got half a mind to ravish him right in the middle of the street.

“Fuck,” Gerard repeats, louder than the first time, which is to say that he could deafen a person at close range. Frank is barely spared.

“Adding tattoos to that ever growing list,” Frank says, “I’m gonna have to kinkshame you soon the way these keep piling up.”

“But can you blame me?” Gerard asks, “can you honestly tell me you wouldn’t want to bang you?”

“I mean, I don’t know?” Frank asks, “I’ve never really considered it?”

“Fucking hell, dude, you are gorgeous. There must be something seriously wrong with you for you to look like that and have such a great personality,” Gerard says. He pulls Franks coat around himself some more, because he’s cold and honestly Gerard is selfish, he doesn’t want to give it back. Gerard has a habit of stealing clothing from all of his boyfriends. Not in a twisted way, he doesn’t steal underwear, more in a way that if they have a warm sweatshirt, a cozy T-shirt, anything at all that he likes, Gerard will just wear it so much that it’s practically his anyway.

Gerard doesn’t intend to steal Frank’s jacket, but he has every intention not to give it back until they’re in a place with furnace. Besides, he likes the way it smells. Frank’s coat smells like that cinnamon chewing gum that Gerard is afraid to try, and a warm woody smell, like from a campfire, only not as strong.

“Well, I do sacrifice virgins to Satan every other week, so that’s probably it,” Frank says.

“And the sad thing is that you’re so goddamn amazing that that’s not even a deal breaker.”

“Aww, well if you can accept that of me I suppose I can accept the fact that to you, I’m just a sugar daddy.”

“On a teacher’s salary?” Gerard asks. “I mean, I don’t even have a job and I make more money than you. I can pick up a penny on the sidewalk and have a larger net worth.”

Frank sighs, “fuck, I know it’s true and yet it pains me.”

“Well, for richer or for poorer, right?”

“I do,” Frank says, and Gerard doesn’t have to be the one to initiate the first hand hold, because Frank does. And Gerard is a little giddy about it. Gerard is a fourteen-year-old girl holding the hand of the only guy in her grade who doesn’t smell like axe under the lunch table for the first time.

Gerard beams, not necessarily because Frank’s holding his hand, but because he managed to get him to hold his hand. He’s had enough of an effect on Frank that he feels like he can hold Gerard’s hand. Gerard’s so lost in the thought of it all, he can’t stand to think of anything but the sheer innocence of it.

This is the most innocent, honest, real interaction he’s ever had with anyone. He’s talking about flowers and dreaming about hand holding for fucks sake. Sure they were talking about kinks a couple minutes ago, but it’s not about what they’re talking about, it’s the fact that they’re talking. The fact that he’s excited about holding Frank’s hand. It’s about the fact that this is the most PG interaction Gerard’s ever had with another human being. Truthfully, he kind of prefers it this way.

Gerard’s not a little kid, usually when he meets people for the first time and has a ‘connection’ it’s so that he can get into a dude’s pants. And that ‘connection’ lasts about fifteen minutes, or in some very unfortunate cases, five, and the ‘connection’ doesn’t leave him his phone number. Gerard’s not exactly amazing at actually achieving the whole one-night stand thing, he’s really rather bad if you factor in all the times he’s struck out, but it’s not really his scene anyway. It’s a once a year sort of deal. Nevertheless, any ‘connection’ he has with a stranger is simply for a goal of getting naked.

The fact of the matter is that Gerard doesn’t really just hang out with guys he doesn’t know at all for any reason, other than because he’s been dragged to a party and has to act like he wants to be there by socializing. So the fact that he has not even kissed Frank, and doesn’t even feel like he needs to yet, that’s a huge anomaly. That’s unheard of. The fact that he’s been able to talk to the same person for more than an hour now without getting bored, and in fact still being interested, this has probably never happened before, and it probably never will again.

So yeah, Gerard’s a little in awe at Frank holding his hand. He’s got a couple butterflies in his stomach. His mouth is starting to hurt from how much he’s smiling. He’s feeling a little floaty. He’s holding the hand of the guy who he really likes, and it’s as innocent as it gets. He’s not going to say that he doesn’t want to kiss Frank, and he’s not going to say that he doesn’t want to fuck Frank either, it’s just that he doesn’t feel like he needs to yet. It doesn’t feel like an imminent goal. It’s something that can happen with time, and he wants it to happen eventually, it just doesn’t need to be so immediate. Because when it gets down to it, Gerard’s genuinely happy just to hold Frank’s hand.