All We Need Is Daylight

“Wait, you are actually kidding me, right?” Frank asks.

“What, are you disrespecting the team name?”

“’You’re a quizzard Harry?” Frank deadpans in response.

“It’s a good name!” Pete says, “Our forefathers sailed the seven seas, through thick and thin, massacring whole cultures, just to bring us that name, and you dare diss it? I think not, sir!”

“You’re taking the name too seriously, it’s a bad pun,” Patrick says, rolling his eyes at Pete. Pete makes an exaggerated frowny face, looks like a clown without the makeup, and Frank can tell just from the look in Patrick’s eyes that it takes everything in his power not to kiss him. Frank really wishes he had someone like that. Someone who is just a fucking idiot no matter what they do and it’s the most endearing thing in the world. Gerard’s a bit of a moron, to be fair, but Frank’s not allowed to kiss him which is a major bummer.

“It’s a beautiful pun, stop disrespecting the pun!”

“At least you’re pretty,” Patrick says, under his breath, and Frank is so fucking jealous that he clenches his fists a little bit. He’s trying not to be that guy though. He is actually happy for them, happy that they seem to be in love. He knows he’s a third wheel, though, and it fucking sucks. At least Gerard is going to third wheel with him. If it were up to Frank it’d be a double date, but the world just sucks sometimes.

“We’re going to win tonight, I can feel it,” Pete says.

“We haven’t won in a year because you keep putting joke answers to questions,” Patrick says. “The answer to ‘What year did man first walk on the moon?’ is not ‘the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.””

“Okay, but are you sure?” Pete replies.

“I’m fairly sure.”

“But are you absolute positive?”

“I would say so.”

“The answer is 1969,” Frank says.

“Can’t say the Even Stevens never taught you anything.”

“I really want that free coffee, Pete,” Frank says. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

“I mean, if a golden opportunity shows up for a pun, I’m not going to say no.”

“Don’t worry,” Patrick says, “I can punch him if he really pisses you off.”

“He’s pissing me off a little bit right now,” Frank says, and because Patrick is a good friend, he punches Pete in the side of his arm.

“You’re a bitch,” Pete shakes his head.

“So, where’s Gerard?” Frank asks in his best casual voice, peering around at the busy campus around them, looking for that jet black hair that he’s come to know too well.

“He’ll meet us there,” Pete assures. The coffee shop that holds trivia night is one of the only ones in the town that is not a Starbucks. It’s a little family owned place that supposedly makes the best fucking chai in the world, or at least that’s what he keeps hearing from Pete, who, being the obnoxiously gay man that he is, keeps tabs on the places that make the best tea. There are only three types of people who enjoy tea, British people, people who wish they were British, and gays. Everyone else is able to understand that tea just kind of tastes like pond water.

Frank focuses more on the ground as they walk through the part of campus that is also technically town but is still campus. Frank wonders to himself where Gerard lives, as he’s never seen in what direction Gerard goes, other than the knowledge that it is to the left of the ice rink somewhere, but that doesn’t tell him much. Frank can’t imagine Gerard adulting, it’s just a such an alien concept in his brain. He can’t picture Gerard in his own apartment, paying bills, cooking things. Gerard seems like the kind of guy who could find a way to burn juice.

Frank could, however, picture Gerard living in an apartment above a record store or a comic book shop. Maybe even above a coffee shop, like in Friends. He can imagine Gerard ordering pizza every other day and having a stack of empty pizza boxes ceiling high in his kitchen, never bothering to throw them out. Gerard’s also the kind of guy who would just take his socks off and leave them in the living room. Who would for some reason, keep a box of Cheez-Its on his bedside table. He can even imagine Gerard’s Netflix queue, filled with shitty horror movies and superhero shows, probably a couple animal documentaries for some reason. He probably falls asleep on the couch more often than in his bed, either too comfortable to relocate or too tired during the middle of a TV show to finish it.

Frank gets lost in his train of thought, filled to the brim of thoughts about how domestic Gerard must be, and how much he would love to have that with him. It’s annoying, really, that Gerard is so cute, and is also kind of amazing. What a dick. Thinking he can just be everything Frank wants, but straight. Honestly, it’s just cruel. It’s proof that if there is a God that he just likes to taunt people. Like when you remove the ladder from the pool when you’re playing the Sims. That’s Gerard for Frank. Gerard is everything he wants and more, except someone up in heaven forgot to flip the switch that made him gay.

It’s a shock for Frank when he finds himself standing in the definitely-too-warm-for-the-current-whether coffee shop which smells like what dreams are made of. It’s incredibly crowded, with every single table in the place occupied, and a good portion of the wall space is filled up too. Everyone in the place is clearly a college kid, some of them Frank recognizes because he’s walked past a lot of them.

Frank frowns, worried that they’re not going to have anywhere to sit and that he’s going to have to stand, or that they might have to just leave altogether. That is until Pete spots Gerard in the corner of the building, sitting all alone getting some seriously nasty glares from people around him who think he’s hogging the table for himself while they’re all forced to stand. Gerard locks eyes with Pete and he looks beyond relieved at their arrival.

When Frank sees Gerard for the first time, he doesn’t know if it’s because it’s one of those rare weekends where they don’t have practice, or something else, but for some reason Gerard looks way fucking prettier than usual. His pants are maybe a little too tight, and he’s wearing a Misfits shirt, and he might have actually taken a shower recently because his hair looks all soft and fluffy. Gerard must be trying to impress somebody, probably some girl who’s also a regular to trivia night, because he never makes that much of an effort for practice.

Of course, Gerard is trying to impress Frank, whether intentionally or subconsciously, he’s not sure even himself, but he sure as hell is trying to impress him. Frank mentioned something about liking the Misfits, so Gerard is trying to get a shoe in. Gerard knows Frank is in love with some girl he’s known since he was like five, but Gerard is an optimist in his heart, and his hope is to someday look so irresistible that he just fucking turns Frank. It could happen. Strangers things have happened.

Gerard hadn’t expected Frank to be here until he got a last second text from Pete, about an hour before he left his apartment. It forced him to have to completely change his clothes, actually take a shower and then spend nearly half an hour and way too much product to make his hair look perfect. It’s all worth it though, because he needs to look beautiful for Frank. Even if Frank is straight and he doesn’t have a chance with him, it’s still Gerard’s duty to look as good for him as he can. It’s a mental thing, really.

“Hey guys,” Gerard says, attempting for a fraction of a second to make eye contact with Frank before he realizes that it’s a bad idea. Gerard knows that if he meets those brown eyes of his, that he’ll likely become too intoxicated to look away. He doesn’t think he’d ever be able to think straight again with Frank’s eyes haunting him like that. Gerard’s a sucker for brown eyes, which makes things all the worse. If Frank had only had blue or green eyes Gerard’s life would have been so much easier, but no, of course Frank’s eyes have to be the color of longing. Frank’s eyes are a dark shade of brown, the lighter they are the more innocent a person looks, but with the dark brown ones that Frank has it just makes him look sinful. Gerard can’t complain.

Frank is mesmerized by Gerard, practically stops dead in his tracks at the mere sight of him. It gives Patrick an opening to talk to him in relative privacy, as Pete walks around the side of the table to take the seat next to Gerard.

“Frank,” Patrick whispers to him, and Frank turns to look at him, seeing something in his eyes that he recognizes but can’t quite pinpoint.

“What’s up?” Frank asks, trying to be as quiet as Patrick is, which is hard considering that it’s very busy and this of course means that it’s also very loud.

“You’ll consider the interview, won’t you?” Patrick asks, which evokes recognition in Frank. He had all but forgotten what Patrick had asked him to do earlier, but now he remembers.

He’s not sure where he stands on that topic, as he doesn’t know whether or not he would want to do that. On the one hand, he doesn’t get much out of it at all. It’d just be an interview he’d give Patrick about his own existence. It’s nothing really that could ever come back to affect him positively in anyway. Except the repercussions of that interview could be enormous. What if the hockey team isn’t okay with it? What if they go on a witch hunt once they find out that someone among them is gay? What will he do then? If they try to attack him or anyone else on the team for being gay, Frank doesn’t know what he’d even do. He can’t allow them to bully any of the other team for what he’s done. What if they find out about Pete? Ultimately, it’d be Frank’s fault if Pete’s secret were to leak because of an interview that Frank gave. He can’t have that on him.

But at the same time, Patrick makes a point. There are no gay sports players at this school, period. No one. But there have to be a dozen or so, maybe more. This is still a fairly large campus and for literally no one to be gay, it’s statistically impossible. They all must be so scared, that’s why none of them are out. Frank can imagine what it’s like for them, because it’s the same thing he feels. If Frank were to read an article about an anonymous gay baseball player or football player, or any other sport, he thinks he’d feel a little relieved. He’d feel better about himself, he’d feel more valid. He’d feel like he’s not fighting against a current that’s sure to sweep him off into a whirlpool. He’d actually feel like he’s allowed to exist, which is a feeling that he honestly hasn’t felt before.

Frank doesn’t say anything to Patrick, he just turns his attention to the other two at the table. He doesn’t actually remember sitting down, but here is. Gerard is sitting across from him, and he’s glad of that much. If Gerard’s across from him than he can’t accidentally brush up against his arm, so he’ll be fine. Merely having Gerard’s arm an inch or two away from him gives Frank this emotion that he can’t even describe. Until meeting Gerard, he’d never even felt it before. It’s a feeling that’s weird and a little off. Knowing that Gerard is right there, a few centimeters away, so ungodly close but just far enough that he can’t touch him, it’s just completely insane, and it’s aggravating. It makes him want and yearn more than he usually does. Their proximity makes it so much harder for him to embrace the fact that Gerard’s not his. He needs to avoid that feeling, because it really tormented him on the plane last night, which is why he’d escaped Gerard on the flight this morning. He didn’t think he could bear that again.

Sitting across from Gerard is pretty hard too, though. It’s definitely not as hard, because it doesn’t feel like someone’s holding something over him, but it does remind him of the fact that Gerard is really attractive, more so than usual. He’s just… Frank doesn’t know how does that. How does he just look like that? How is anyone that perfect? How is Frank supposed to even think when he’s near Gerard? It’s awful. He hates how much he likes him. He just wishes he could have him, and have him all to himself. He wants to love Gerard, shower him in adoration.

Frank would be the best fucking boyfriend, he knows it. He’d pull chairs out for Gerard if they went out for dinner, and he’d open the car door. He’d buy Gerard stuffed animals from the drugstore when he’s having a bad day, and he’d probably be the big spoon everyday if it made Gerard happy. He’d cook for him, would probably spend way too long making sure everything is perfect, and then do the dishes so that Gerard doesn’t have to. He’d go out to buy him Oreos at three in the morning if Gerard was having a craving, and he’d push the grocery cart when they’re out shopping. He’d just be fucking fantastic at it, it’s the job he was born for, and yet he’s never had the opportunity to be that guy. He wants so much to be that guy, to be the perfect boyfriend, and the fact that he hasn’t gotten that shot sucks more than he can put into words.

“I’m ready to fucking own at trivia,” Pete announces to the rest of the table.

“There’s like, gotta be at least two hundred people in here,” Frank says.

“It’s a slow night compared to usual,” Gerard says. “When the weather is nicer they usually have to do it outside.”

“Why do so many people show up?”

“Have you not heard about the free coffee?” Gerard asks. “Twenty-five whole dollars in free coffee? I’d give my left arm for that much free coffee.”

“To be fair, for a college student, twenty-five bucks of coffee covers about a day and a half.”

“But that’s a whole day and a half of not paying for coffee,” Pete points out. “I can barely afford to not die.”

“How does a team split twenty-five dollars four ways?” Frank asks.

“We’ll figure that out when we win,” Pete says. “The last time we won, Patrick and I were freshmen so it’s been a while.”

“We blew it all on muffins,” Patrick says, and he looks off into the distance like he’s reminiscing.

“Worth it,” Pete says, and he raises his hand, waiting for Gerard to high five him. Gerard shakes his head, and he clearly doesn’t want to, but he’s still Pete’s friend and there is nothing in this world worse than being left hanging, so he does, reluctantly, high five him back.

“Pete ate my muffins,” Gerard says, looking at Frank, but not in the eyes because he can’t.

“I saved you one!” Pete says.

“Yeah, but you ate it.”

“You don’t like peanut butter,” Pete shrugs.

“You specifically saved the peanut butter muffin ‘for me’ because you know I don’t like peanut butter so you knew I wouldn’t eat it.”

“Me?” Pete says, in an exaggerated tone as he holds his hand up to his chest, looking scandalized. “I would never.”

“That’s cold, man,” Frank says, shaking his head.

“And I’m the one who knew the winning question!” Gerard says. “Fuck, now you got me all steamed, man. You owe me muffins. With interest!”

“Great, so I’ll just go buy a couple peanut butter muffins-” and that’s when Patrick kicks him under the table. “Ow! Dude!”

“The man deserves a muffin,” Patrick says. Frank would give Gerard his muffin.

“I-” Pete starts, but is interrupted by the sound of feedback from what Frank supposes could technically be called a stage if you’re in desperate need of glasses. Frank locks eyes on the woman whose standing on the stage. She’s one of those definitely a hippie, but probably really nice, maybe even attended Woodstock, kind of older ladies. She also looks like she’d read your palm and definitely lights scented candles. She’s got a gaudy fare trade skirt, and exudes the aura of a lady you don’t want to mess with. Gerard calls her Trelawney. Frank decides that he likes her.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and individuals not limited by societal delusions, welcome to trivia night. I am honored that you would spend your Saturday evening here with two hundred of your closest friends.”

She then goes over the rules, advises the room that anyone caught cheating, such as using their phone, will be haunted by the spirit of an elderly man who doesn’t know when to shut up and starts every sentence with “back in my day.” Frank understands why that’s a serious threat, because he’s pretty sure he’d rather die.

After she finishes discussing the rules, she gives the first question which is about some treaty that Frank’s pretty sure was once the topic of a lecture that he fell asleep during. It’s safe to say that he does not know the answer. The first three questions go by and Frank is of no help at all.

“Alright which one is Kenneth Bianchi and which one’s Kenneth Branagh, I always get them mixed up,” Pete says.

“Well Kenneth Branagh played Gilderoy Lockhart and Hamlet. Kenneth Bianchi murdered twelve people,” Patrick says, with this tired look on his face like this is something that he deals with regularly. Not Pete mixing celebrities and serial killers up, but rather Pete’s general idiocy.

“How do you not accidentally walk into traffic?” Gerard asks, looking at Pete with this look of defeat on his face comparable to no other.

“Oh, I do it all the time,” Pete says, “I’m just a lucky bastard.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Gerard says, looking up, as if he’s asking God personally.

“Well both answers are wrong, because the answer is Willem Dafoe but it’s impressive how you pulled that out of your ass,” Frank says, shaking his head, and grabbing the paper, from in front of Patrick who’s been writing down most of the answers. Frank’s just proud to know the answer to one of the questions.

“What would we do without you?” Pete asks.

“Well I know what you would do,” Frank says to Pete, “fall through open man holes.”

“Well if you’re not supposed fall in why do they call it a man hole?” Pete asks.

“Oh Pete,” Patrick says, nodding at him, and also probably thinking that it’s just a wonder that Pete hasn’t accidentally killed himself by now. If Pete were a Friend’s character, he’d be Joey. Mikey was right the other day when he called Pete a special snowflake. He truly is. It’s really a blessing that Pete’s one of a kind, because honestly the world wouldn’t be able to put up with two.

Frank drifts in and out of attention, paying a little bit of his brain towards hearing the questions that Trelawney asks, but then going back to thinking about everything else when he determines that he does not know the answer. He contributes a few answers, he knows the name of a mountain range, knows a bulk of the questions about music, even the shitty music like the question about Katy Perry.

Mostly he’s thinking about Gerard. He’s also kind of looking at Gerard too much under normal social conventions, but he thinks he can get away with it because of the fact that Gerard is the person sitting directly opposite him.

“I know this one,” Pete says, looking serious before he says, “the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

“Oh fuck off,” everyone else at the table says, almost with synchronicity. Except Patrick, who apparently doesn’t swear and instead says “flip off” like a fifth grader would say before hiding behind their lunchbox and giggling.

Frank looks at Gerard who is honestly too pretty and it’s not fair. It’s not fair that the guy who Frank likes has to look like that. Can the world be any crueler? If you’re going to give a guy a face like that, at least make him a jerk. Give him some enormous flaw. Make him a murderer, or an asshole, or a Blood on the Dancefloor fan. It’s just not fair that he’s perfect. How is Frank supposed to not fall in love with him when he looks like Gerard? And when the guy you like is a comic book loving, punk music dork? He supposes Gerard does have one flaw though: heterosexuality.

Little does Frank know Gerard doesn’t even have that. He’s probably the closest to perfect Frank will ever come across. To be fair though, Gerard thinks all the same things about Frank.

What Frank wouldn’t give for Gerard to be gay though. He’d literally sell his soul. He probably wouldn’t quit hockey, but he’d do anything except for that. Of course, that’s impossible because if Gerard was gay and into him he’d have to quit hockey anyway, unless he kept it a secret like Pete and Patrick. Frank doesn’t know if he could do that though, because he wants to have a boyfriend, and he wants to not give a fuck who knows. He wants to be open about it, not rude or obnoxious or overly affectionate in public, necessarily, he doesn’t want to do that. He just wants to hold Gerard’s hand while walking down a street. That’s really all he’d ask for. He’d like to be able to say he’s got a date with his boyfriend to his teammates and not have anything of them bat an eyelash. He would live with keeping it a secret though, if it was Gerard.

Frank has simple wants and desires. Unfortunately, the simplicity of them does not make them tangible.

Frank starts thinking about Patrick’s interview again, though. There’s so many gay people, at this school, who are alone. Even the ones who are out must feel lost and lonely. It’s kind of a position that you assume when you realize you’re gay. You just sort of feel like an outsider, like everyone else thinks your other. You’re not like them. Not quite wrong, but definitely not right. That’s how most straight people see it, even the ones who are okay with it, and to some extent they are okay with it, but at the same time, there’s always been and likely always will be an us and them dynamic.

There’s so many of them who feel left out on this campus, though. Not just gay people, there’s so many different people who feel like outsiders; anyone who’s not cis, and anyone who’s not solely attracted to the opposite gender. So many of them. Not all of them are out, some of them are totally out, some of them are only a little. Not all of them play sports, but all of them have friend groups; people they’re afraid to tell, people they want to know.

Frank’s just one fish in a very large sea. He’s not the only one who feels the ways that he does. He’s not the only one with a Gerard. He’s not the only one on a team of players they’re afraid to tell.

He’s not the only one who’s scared.

You’re a Quizzard, Harry does not win the twenty-five-dollar gift card. A team who clearly deserves it more wins, because they answered the most questions correctly. Frank does at least feel like he contributed to his team, even though they didn’t win. He wishes he knew where they placed comparatively, but there’s got to be at least fifty separate teams here and there’s no way that Trelawney or her staff can calculate that all so fast.

Nevertheless, Frank can’t say he didn’t enjoy himself. It’s one of his first nights out in, well… ever. Other than the first day he got to this school when he and some of the team all went out for coffee, it’s the first social gathering with friends he’s attended. Most of it was spent fawning over Gerard, but he wouldn’t say that’s a negative.

Despite how torturous it is to like Gerard, Frank does really enjoy spending time with him. Obviously, the downside of that is that he falls even more in love with Gerard the more time he spends with him, but it’s just a thing he has to accept. He likes Gerard’s company too much to be deterred by something like that. He can’t help it. Gerard’s laugh is infectious, his small voice is intoxicating. Even the little ways he expresses himself, by talking with his hands or using his eyes in as much a voice as his actual voice. The way he gets excited about little things, or the way his nose wrinkles a little bit when he’s smiling really widely.

Honestly, Frank thinks the best word for him is cute. It’s not to say he’s not hot or whatever, he’s just cuter than he is anything else. He’s giggly, and he makes an expressive face at every little emotion or after anyone says anything, like everything around him is worthy of a reaction. He’s lost in his own little world a lot of the time, it’s like you look at Gerard while he’s somewhere else, exploring other planets, meeting new species. He’s so full of life and it’s all hidden behind those bags under his eyes, but it doesn’t take much to see past the surface. The first time you see him smile you can tell what’s there. Gerard is a whole world just waiting to be let out.

Frank’s helplessly falling in love with him.

“If we were gonna lose anyway, I should’ve made all those puns. I should’ve pulled out Jenga Unchained when I had the chance.”

“What would we do without you, Pete?” Patrick asks.

“I don’t know but you’d probably have fewer vision problems, because of how much I make you roll your eyes.”

“That’s why I wear glasses,” Patrick says, looking like he’s just solved a particularly difficult math problem.

Pete grins back, and Frank wishes on their behalf that they could be all cutesy and coupley, but they don’t get that opportunity. It sucks, even secondhand. He can’t imagine how much it would suck for him to have to keep a relationship a secret. He knows that inevitably it might happen someday. Frank can’t just be celibate and single forever, not with how much he wants not to be. He’s going to have to keep under the radar, but eventually he’s sure he’ll pluck up the courage to actually try. He wishes it was with Gerard. He wouldn’t mind keeping it a secret as much if he got to come home to Gerard. That’s like when you go to the doctor when you’re a kid to get a flu shot but your mom buys you a piece of cake. Yeah, you got a shot and your arm kind of hurts, but on the other hand, cake.

Frank grabs his coat, and is really regretting having to leave Gerard. He wishes he could spend all night with him. In more ways than one.

Gerard watches Frank, studies him with an aching sort of feeling. He wants to walk over to him and kiss him so much that it’s hard not to. He’s got to actually restrain himself. It’s hard when he’s so close. Gerard wishes that he could push Frank away, emotionally. But he can’t. He’s beckoned by danger. Frank’s like a siren. He knows he shouldn’t, but he’s just too tempting to pass up. He knows he can’t kiss Frank, and he knows hanging around him all this time wishing that he could won’t get him anywhere. Being near him is not going to make Frank any less straight. But as much as he knows it’s pointless, he likes Frank too much to care. He’d rather be constantly tortured by how much he wants Frank than not have Frank in his life at all.

It’s only been a week but it feels like he’s known Frank for years. Probably because Frank, one way or another, is always there. Even when he’s not talking to Gerard, Frank will show up right under his nose. He studies in the rink a lot. In the bleachers, on the seats in the lobby, sometimes on the floor of the lobby. He also sees Frank walking to and from class a lot, because of how close Frank’s dorm is to the rink. He’s not looking out for him, not intentionally so, but he always notices him when he sees Frank walking by. He could never miss him.

“You alright?” Pete asks him when Gerard is sort of drifting off, staring at Frank as he puts his coat on.

“What?” Gerard asks, snapping out of his reverie like a sling shot. “I’m fine. Just spaced out, I guess.”

Pete shrugs, he doesn’t think much of it. Gerard spaces out a lot, it’s kind of just who he is. He’s never entirely there when you think he is. A part of him is always somewhere else. He’s a space cadet, but he’s a lovable one.

Frank doesn’t notice, he’s too focused on his own thoughts and problems. As the four of them make for the door, Frank starts to feel something in his stomach, and he realizes that he’s come to a decision concerning that article of Patrick’s.

There’s just so much at risk. There’s too much at risk. Frank’s own secret, and Pete’s. Then there’s the fact that the team might crumble under the weight of something like that, especially if they don’t know who the gay guy in their ranks is. If they know who it is, they can just kick him off the team, but if no one knows who the gay guy is, then everyone’s a suspect.

But so many people could benefit from an article like that. So many people could feel hope, could feel comfort, could feel a mess of positive emotions because of a sacrifice that Frank makes. They might actually feel less lost. May feel valid. Even if they don’t know who Frank is, to feel you belong is something every human deserves but so many people don’t have.

Gerard holds the front door for him as a dozen or so other people are all trying to leave the coffee shop at the same time. Frank mumbles out a thank you that he’s not sure if Gerard’s heard or not.

“Patrick,” Frank says, catching him once the fresh air hits their faces, as he’s about to start hurrying away off to his dorm. He doesn’t want Patrick getting too far before Frank changes his mind about this. He’s hesitant, it’s a big decision he’s making here, even if it doesn’t seem like it right now. But Frank tends to feel more clarity once he’s locked himself into things. Even earlier when he decided to tell Patrick his secret, telling Patrick that he’s got something to say solidifies what he’s going to do before he says it. That commitment somehow takes some of the weight off of him, even though he could say never mind.

“Yeah?” Patrick asks, puzzling his eyebrows, and looking uncertain about what he’s going to hear from Frank. Patrick’s still waiting for Frank’s answer, fairly sure of what it is that Frank’s going to say. He’ll say the same thing Pete had. It’s too risky, too little in it for him. It’s alright, it’s Frank’s decision to make, he just thinks that it would help so many people.

“That article, the interview?” Frank says, and Patrick nods, he’d already known what this was about. Frank takes a deep breath and then says, “Count me in.”