Status: In Progress

All We Need Is Daylight

Sleepwalking

Wednesday’s are complete bullshit. You’ve made it two days into the week, congrats, but you’ve still got two fucking days left. It’s absolutely disgusting, and Frank would even argue that Wednesdays are unethical by nature.

This Wednesday in particular is fucking terrible. Frank is barely conscious in his last class, and even though he is awake, he’s not even really there. His body might be, but his mind is a million miles away, huddled under a pillow fight as a storm rages on outside. He feels like shit, he looks like shit, everything is shit, and he just wants it all to stop.

He was on ESPN. The biggest sports website and channel in the world. He was on that fucking website, and on that fucking show. That’s insane. It’s not real. He doesn’t know where Patrick is, doesn’t know that he cares. It’s not like he’s angry with Patrick, because really, it’s his own fault, that article wouldn’t have existed without him, even if Patrick is the one who wrote it. It’s still his own fault.

That just makes the internal feeling of dread all the worse. It’s corroding his insides, feels like sand is being poured into him, making him feel heavy, and sluggish.

He’s trying to look on the bright side of things, he honestly is, because he knows that there must be some silver lining to all of this but that’s not what it feels like. What it feels like is every pair of eyes in the country is now seeing through the sixteen guys on Frank’s team, and eventually, someone is going to put two and two together. There’s only so many people that they have to choose from. Frank is in danger and it’s his fucking fault.

It really is hard to look on the bright side when your life and future are put in the balance. He might lose everything. He’s on the brink of total breakdown, and things are only steadily getting worse. He doesn’t know how he’s going to make it to tomorrow let alone his birthday.

Frank doesn’t register getting up and leaving class when it’s over. His body is taking over, muscle memory at the steering wheel as his brain falls through an endless chasm of doubt. If he were paying attention, he’d probably notice that it’s cold outside and he isn’t wearing a jacket. He’d also probably notice that he’s going the wrong way.

“Hey, Frank,” a familiar voice says, and Frank’s entire world stops, rewinds and refocuses on what is going on around him. He plays the voice over in his head, and then thanks whoever it is that he needs to thank that it’s that voice he’s hearing. Frank turns in his tracks to see Gerard coming towards him. Gerard is the only person in the world who could make his shit day feel even a little bit better. He actually feels himself lighten up, like someone has blown air into him, breathing in life that he’d been losing.

“Gerard,” Frank says, smiling a little bit, the first smile he’s had since Patrick broke the news to him earlier. Gerard hasn’t talked to him in days, and it feels like it. It feels longer, in all fairness, because it’s Gerard, so it feels like it’s been centuries. Frank sighs happily at the mere sight of him, and hearing his voice honestly starts a fire within him that he hadn’t realized had gone out.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” Gerard says, and Frank nods, hoping that Gerard will be able to distract him from the inner turmoil he’s in. Gerard has that effect on him. Everything still sucks, even looking into Gerard’s gorgeous brown eyes, but things suck just the slightest bit less. Their suckage is the tiniest bit more bearable.

“Pete talk to you?” Frank asks, already assuming that Gerard’s topic of conversation is going to be the birthday bash that’s going to ensure Frank will never want to leave his room again. But in a good way. Maybe. You can never really know when Pete is involved.

“Oh, um, yeah,” Gerard says, the hint of something in his voice that Frank doesn’t realize is a lie.

Gerard’s not an idiot. He can tell that Frank is going to be Morgan’s target sooner rather than later. The fact that he heard about this whole story on the fucking news suggests that things are about to get a whole lot bigger a whole lot quicker. Yesterday, this was an article that pissed Morgan off but was only a local story. Today, everyone in the country has access to it. Not everyone has heard about it, but a large portion of people have. That’s not good for anyone.

Gerard is trying his best not to be angry with Patrick, because Patrick could never have expected this. Patrick never knew that he was going to start a witch hunt, but Gerard is still a little pissed and hasn’t talked to him since it came out. He’ll get over it eventually, he’s sure, but he needs someone to blame and Patrick is the scapegoat.

Gerard’s been canceling out much of the world lately, Frank, Patrick, even his own brother. It’s no one’s fault really, Gerard is just dissociating because it’s easier on his nerves. It’s hard to have to deal with everything all at once. There’s a gay hockey player, Frank’s a figure skater, Frank’s going to be skinned alive and then burned if anyone finds out, Pete’s still up to his same old tricks, and Mikey is trying to convince Gerard that Frank might be the gay hockey player, but he’s probably only saying that because he knows how much Gerard likes Frank. Everything is coming to a head all at once and it’s driving Gerard crazy.

He just wants everything to return to normal. He wants to continue the awkward contact with Frank that leaves him feeling depleted, wants the team to be easy going, even if they were shit. He wants everything to just go back to how it used to be, because everything is changing all at once and he can’t take it. Gerard has never been much one for change, but this particular change is threatening everyone, especially the people he cares most about. Namely, himself, Patrick, and Frank.

Gerard’s come to the conclusion that Frank needs to be warned to be careful, because if he doesn’t, he’s going to wind up hurt. Gerard doesn’t want to have to admit that he saw Frank figure skating, but Frank needs to know to cut it out, because if Morgan catches him doing that, Frank won’t turn out so lucky. Gerard catching him is a blessing for Frank, Gerard’s probably the only person on the team who won’t turn Frank into a laughing stock. Now to be fair, it’s because Gerard’s falling for him, but still, he’s the only one who would understand, and even then, he doesn’t understand it particularly well.

Frank needs to know the kind of danger he’s putting himself in. There’s no excuse for it, not right now. This is the most precarious position the team has ever been in, and if anyone finds out, everything will fall apart. Not only will Frank be forced off the team, either by threats of violence or by his own shame, but the team will also suffer dramatically, because Frank’s their best goddamn player. Everything will fall apart so completely, and there’s a good chance they won’t be able to mend it.

“You’re birthday, huh?” Gerard says, smiling, because he can concentrate on this first, if it spares Frank the embarrassment for a few moments.

“Yeah, Saturday.”

“Halloween,” Gerard replies with a smile. There’s something oddly fitting about Frank’s birthday being on Halloween, and Gerard can’t pinpoint exactly what it is about it. Frank’s kind of an odd person, and it’s no secret that he’s got a love of B-horror films. The fact that his birthday is the night on which all horror films take place is something very suiting. It kind of makes Gerard love him more in a weird way. Gerard could learn just about anything about Frank and it would make him love the guy more.

“Pete’s trying to make a big deal out of it, but it’s not. I don’t want to do anything exciting or glamorous.”

“Oh, Pete’s probably just pulling your chain, I really doubt that it’ll be anything that big,” Gerard says, and this time, even Frank can see through his lie.

“Oh shit, it’s going to be terrible, isn’t it?” Frank asks.

Gerard shrugs, “probably. But like, you’ll still probably have fun. It’s Pete we’re talking about. You won’t end up dead or anything, but it’ll be a weird fucking night, that’s for sure. I’d prepare for anything.”

“Did he ever do anything weird for you?” Frank asks.

“Oh yeah, for sure. He took me bungee jumping last year.”

“Oh shit, what did you do?” Frank asks.

“Well, I bungee jumped,” Gerard shrugs matter-of-factly. It had been a bit of a surprise, Pete hadn’t even told him where they were going, until he came face to face with the side of a bridge and was told to suit up. It was an interesting birthday, he’ll say that much.

“What?”

“Yeah, I figured why not. It was an experience, never would have done it if it weren’t for Pete, but it was fun. Don’t knock it, I guess. Pete’s an important person to have in your life, because I’m always trying new things. Need someone like that, you really do. You don’t know what you’re missing out on until Pete comes around.”

“I don’t know if I could bungee jump, man,” Frank says, “If he tries to make me, I’ll push him off wherever without the bungee cord.”

“You’ll be fine,” Gerard shrugs, laughing.

“’Fine’ doesn’t do much for me, I’d really rather be not dead,” Frank responds.

“Oh, just calm yourself down, Pete’s eccentric not psychotic. Whatever it is he’s planning, I’m sure it’ll be fun. Weird, very very weird, and it might be out of your comfort zone, but it’ll be fun.”

“So, are you coming?” Frank asks, and Gerard’s heart stops for a moment, because really, he should just say no. He should make up an excuse about why he can’t go, because being even closer to Frank is not a good idea and he knows that. Frank makes him lose all of his senses. He can’t think when he’s around Frank. Being so close to him even now is only making him fall even more for the boy, and he can’t do that. Gerard may be an assistant coach, but even he isn’t entirely safe from Morgan’s wrath. Gerard has to be careful where he steps the next few weeks, just like Frank. Gerard can’t be getting so close to Frank when everyone is on edge like this. They’ll only pick up on the things that Gerard is trying so desperately to hide.

“I-I wouldn’t miss it,” Gerard says. He may be an idiot, but he’s an idiot whose falling in love with this guy; he’d be an even bigger idiot not to see him on his birthday. Frank’s so fucking pretty though, Gerard bites his lip as he stares down at him, at his tiny little self, and it makes his heart ache, like an actual physical stabbing inside of him that he can’t really put into words.

“Good,” Frank says, and he smiles for real, a big one that actually makes him forget about how awful he feels for all of a couple of seconds. Gerard’s going to be there, and he’s going to be fucking gorgeous and Frank couldn’t ask for more. He’s steadily falling harder and harder for this boy.

Gerard looks at him, and Frank’s smile wipes his mind of the warning he’d been meaning to give Frank. Frank eradicates all of his brain cells, all at once, like a nuclear bomb going off in his head, leaving only Frank behind. Gerard’s left to pick up the pieces, stumbling on both his words and his feet.

“I’ve gotta go eat and get ready for practice, okay? See you later, Gerard!” Frank says, and he starts walking off in a different direction.

“Wait!” Gerard only mumbles, not nearly loud enough for Frank to hear. It’s too late anyway, Frank has already turned his attention away, is walking in the opposite direction, the way they had originally come, like he walked in the wrong direction to begin with. Gerard doesn’t notice, he just sighs after him, feeling a sickening sense of longing that is slowly eroding away his senses.

Thursday is a blur of people buzzing about the article, which is steadily garnering itself more room in the world, gauging out a ten-minute slot on ESPN, featuring itself as a blurb in a notable national news outlet, and further galvanizing Frank’s insides. Things are getting worse. On the plus side, Armstrong is getting its first bout of publicity in about ten years. People are actually talking about the school, and it’s partially due to Frank. He should probably feel good about this, but he does not. He feels very much dead about the whole thing. His every sensation, word, and action is that of a ghost, tracing the tendencies that he’s grown used to, but not really carving out anything for Frank to really do. He’s a shell, an empty one, that’s vacant in both body and mind.

Pete has to nudge him several times on Thursday to remind him that he needs to be a functioning member of society or else people will know the article is about him. He can’t be acting so depressed, because then everyone will connect the dots. Frank forces a smile, downs more caffeine than he’s ever required to function before, and he suffers through the day. Every second is a lifetime, but he passes. Passing is growing harder, he feels like an alien in disguise amidst a world full of strangers. He wears a mask, though, and the mask is convincing enough.

Frank isn’t entirely prepared for the game on Friday. That’s not to say that he’s not prepared for the game itself, because he’s totally ready for that, it’s the crowd he’s not expecting. When Frank steps out onto the ice for warm up, what he sees shocks and amazes him. Filling the stands are at least three or four times the number of people they usually get. They have maybe one or two hundred people in the arena during a home game, if they’re lucky. There’s got to be at least seven or eight hundred right now. They fill up nearly half of the rink, which for any other hockey team is a sorry state, but for this hockey team, it’s got to be the highest attendance in at least five, maybe even ten years.

Frank is actually amazed. He stops dead in his tracks, which is not as easy a feat on skates as it is on the ground, but he’s genuinely stunned by the turnout. It’s the only thing that brings him back to life. Frank is suddenly snapped into reality, and it’s as if he’d been completely absent since Wednesday afternoon, the last time he had a real conversation with anyone, and it had been with Gerard. It’s startling, like waking up from a sleepwalking state, but he’s somewhat relieved that he’s managed to make it this far into the week and that’s it’s not still Tuesday like his nightmares have been suggesting.

The crowd has all got to be due to the article, he’s sure. He doesn’t know what these people are expecting, though. There’s a gay hockey player, yes, but none of them know who it is. Even if they did, what are they expecting, for some guy to pull his pants down and start doing another guy in the middle of the ice? They’re idiotic to attend just because of the article. They won’t be able to tell, even if they were to interview the team they still wouldn’t be able to tell for certain. They all move so fast on the ice, there’s a good chance no one will even be able to pick them apart from each other, so if they’re expecting to play ‘pin the tail on the homosexual’ than they’re in for a bit of a letdown.

Except, Frank isn’t complaining, not even slightly. They’ve got a real crowd, an honest to god audience, for a home game. Frank’s genuinely happy about it, actual excitement in his very veins at the fact that people from his school have actually come to see them play. Sure, they might be here under odd and rather unfortunate circumstances, but they’ll be seeing Frank play, they’ll be seeing the Green Knights, the hockey team that no one gives a second thought. They have an actual fucking crowd.

Frank just hopes he doesn’t disappoint them. They aren’t a very great team. He does hope that the first game ever attended by many of these people is one that they’ll be happy to have witnessed. He’d really hate for the team to be beaten when they have their first actual crowd.

“Some turnout, huh?” Pete says, coming up from behind him and stopping there, holding his stick to his side as he looks around with the same look of awe that Frank has.

“Yeah,” Frank nods.

“I know things are tough right now, Frank, but Patrick’s article is already doing some good,” Pete says, with a smile that Frank can’t help but to match. He’s nervous, more than he has been for a hockey game in a long while. He wants to impress his fellow students, wants to make his school proud. He is starting to feel like it’s his school, and it’s a school that he’s not particularly proud of yet, so he wants to do everything within his power to change that. Nerves or not, Frank is excited, and he is beginning to see some of the positives from the article.

He hadn’t expected the sudden raise in attendance, but he’s not complaining about it. Frank loves hockey, loves it like nothing else. To him, hockey is all that there is to love. Not loving hockey is like not loving the air you breathe. Not loving hockey is a crime against all logic and sanity. He wants to share his love of hockey with anyone he can. He just loves it so much, he wants other people to feel the same way about the sport that he does.

Frank and the rest of the team all crowd back into the locker room after their warm up, and Frank feels excitement in his bones, he actually can’t wait for the time to come where they actually get to go out there and play this game. He usually has crippling anxiety before games, even the ones he expects to be good at, like back in high school. It’s a sort of stage fright, because you are, at the end of the day, playing to entertain an audience. The fact that they have a real audience this time makes things a whole lot different. They aren’t playing to an empty room, no longer left in the dark. They have real people who have come to really see them, and he’s now worried that he won’t be good enough.

“Alright, team,” Gerard starts his pep talk, looking quite disheveled, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing. “We’ve got a really big crowd out there. Like, the biggest I’ve ever seen for this school ever. There’s a lot of people out there counting on us to do win this for them. I don’t want people to feel that pressure though, I want you guys to pretend it’s just practice. Pretend there’s no one out there, that no one is watching, it’s just us guys. Don’t think about impressing them or making them proud, just think about the game. Play your hardest. If you play the way I know you’re all capable of, we’ll have no trouble in showing the people out there what this team is really made of. Just go out there and play your best. It doesn’t matter if we win or lose, just put on a good game. Give the school something better to talk about. Make sure that when people talk about the Green Knights, the first thing they think about isn’t a scandal or a secret, it’s about how damn good the team is.”

Frank smiles, widely, and for the next three hours, he forgets about the article completely. He’s aware that the article is the reason for why so many people are watching the game, but he doesn’t feel any of the negativity which has been plaguing him all week. He doesn’t think about Morgan being a dickhead, doesn’t think about ESPN, doesn’t think about anything at all. Frank just plays, and he plays his heart out.

The Green Knights win five to one.

It’s a fucking massacre. They get out there on the ice, and to say that they’re playing their best is an understatement. They are absolutely unstoppable. Frank is inside all of his teammates heads, when he’s on the ice and even when he’s off it. He’s playing the game even when he’s not out there. It’s perfect, flawless, everything is executed with finesse and fluidity. They take about four times the number of shots they usually do, and it’s such a bombardment that the other team crumbles under their force. It’s like watching a professional hockey team, almost. They’ve still got their flaws, which Gerard is probably the only person in the entire room to notice, but they are about as good as any hockey team could ever hope to be. They’re better than they’ve ever been before, even in practice.

The crowd is like fuel, kindling to a fire. Frank is unbeatable, terrifying even, if you saw him coming at you while you were on the ice, you’d get out of the fucking way. Frank doesn’t make more than one goal, but he assists on three of them. He, Morgan, and Pete all make one shot each, one was a ricochet off of the goalie’s stick, and the last is made by Travie.

It’s a game Frank would be proud for his children to see, let alone a crowd full of eight hundred strangers. He wishes his mother were here, because she’d be so damn proud of him now. Anyone watching the game can see that this is exactly what Frank was meant for. He could never do anything else, Frank was built for hockey, and no one can beat him when he puts his all into it.

“Honestly, I don’t even have anything to say to you guys except for way to fucking go!” Gerard says as they pile into the locker room afterwards. Frank is so sweaty that his clothes are sticking to him, and his hair is plastered in awkward directions all over the place. “You guys were unbelievable out there, where have you been hiding that shit in practice? You’re hardly the same team you used to be, and I am so proud of each and every one of you.” Gerard trails off there, making eye contact with Morgan and reconsidering his final statement. The two of them squint at each other, loathing blossoming from the glare.

Eventually, Gerard’s eyes focus on something a little less dark. Frank has felt Gerard’s eyes on him more than usual today. It’s like they’re glued to him. Every now and again when he was on the bench, he would catch Gerard looking at him rather than at the game, and he still can’t put his finger on why that would be. First Gerard was ignoring him, and now he can’t stop looking at him.

After the game, they all go out for dinner at McDonalds, and Frank can still feel Gerard looking at him. He doesn’t know why. Frank adjusts his hair a few times, checks his own reflection in his phone to make sure he doesn’t have anything on his face. Nothing seems out of place, so he can’t say why Gerard’s looking at him.

It’s finally starting to sink in for Gerard that he doesn’t feel normally anymore. He doesn’t just like Frank, and it’s not just a crush. It’s a heart stopping, world reversing, unparalleled longing. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. Frank makes him feel like he’s on a rollercoaster, thrill and fear and adrenaline all pumping in his veins all at once, making it feel like they’ll explode, like the pressure will get to be too much.

On Saturday morning, Frank wakes up to heavy knocking on his dorm room door. He’s not fully aware of his own existence yet when a very loud voice starts yelling from the other side “Open the door, Iero, you’ve got some living to do!”

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Ray mumbles, half asleep, and Frank looks over to him, unsure of whether Ray is actually awake or not. He doesn’t appear to be. Frank groans, and he pulls himself up, feeling as though an elephant has perched itself on top of him, because it’s like pushing against a tide just to pull his body into a sitting position. He pulls his feet out from under the covers and then hangs them over the side of his bed, jumping down from it lazily, and very nearly breaking his ankle underneath him because of the shock of the gap from his bed to the floor that he’s still note entirely used to.

Frank walks over to the door, rubbing his eyes to try to get rid of the sleep there, but to no avail. He opens it, sees Pete on the other side and then just leaves it open as he walks backwards and tries to climb back into bed, because he just wants to fucking sleep some more.

“Happy birthday, my good man!” Pete says, upon entering, with a smile so wide and dorky that Frank almost returns it, but he’s too tired to give a shit.

“Fuck off,” Frank replies.

“Now, I’d tell you that’s no way to treat your bestest friend in the whole world, but it’s your birthday so I’m going to let it slide today,” Pete says.

“I want to go back to bed,” Frank says.

“Bed?” Pete asks, “it’s nearly noon! It’s your birthday, you can’t sleep till noon on your birthday.”

“Let the man sleep,” Ray mumbles, turning his head to the side and pulling his pillow over his ear to block out the thunderous sound of Pete’s voice.

“I want to sleep,” Frank repeats, stringing the last word out as he stops in the middle of the room, eyes not really open, as if he’s making to fall asleep standing up.

“Nonsense! You gotta get up, gotta get dressed, we gotta get some of your birthday stuff in before practice tonight,” Pete replies. “And then after practice, oh fuck, we are gonna raise some hell!”

“Shit boy, I just want to sleep,” Frank replies.

“Ugh, Frank! Oh! I know, you get dressed, I’ll be right back and bring you a Dr. Pepper, and maybe a five-hour energy, because you look like a zombie.”

“Pete,” Frank groans. “Just wanna sleep!”

“I’ll be back in ten,” Pete says. “I expect you to be up and ready to go too, Toro!”

“You’re not my mom,” Ray says, and he gives Pete the finger as he rolls over in his sleep, trying to ignore the both of them.

Pete leaves their room, and Frank closes the door behind him. He’s tempted to pull up his desk chair and block the door, or just lock the boy out completely, but he decides against it. He blinks a few times, squints at the sunlight streaming in through his window which he is not prepared to face, but he gets used to it as he starts to look around him.

He yawns widely, and noisily, stretching his arms out along with it. It’s a very satisfying yawn, one of the ones that makes you feel lighter once it’s over, and Frank decides that he might as well get dressed if Pete’s going to be acting like that all day. Grin and bear it, today is the day where he gets to take a break from the article and just celebrate his birthday.

Frank kicks around at the floor where he’s been throwing his clothes, and pulls on something that he hopes is clean. He doesn’t really care if his pants are clean either, and then he looks himself in the small mirror on the door and tries to figure out if he looks passable or not, but he doesn’t really care if he does. He fixes a few strands of hair that are out of place, but his hair is short enough that not much work needs to be done. He sighs and decides that he looks good enough. Good enough for what he’s still not sure, because he doesn’t know what’s happening today.

Ray doesn’t budge, and when Frank nudges him in the shoulder, he finds that the guy is asleep again already. Frank doesn’t want to bother him, so he decides to let him sleep. They were out pretty late last night celebrating, so Frank figures that if he doesn’t get to sleep in late, than he can at least let Ray.

Pete returns a few minutes later, five-hour energy and Dr. Pepper in hand, both of which Frank accepts gladly, because he never says no to free caffeine.

“Are you ready to take on the fucking town?” Pete asks.

“I’m not awake yet, gimme a minute,” Frank replies, uncapping the Dr. Pepper and taking a long swig of it, waiting for it to settle in before he’s ready to say or do anything. He pauses, blinks his eyes again just to make sure that he is actually conscious, and then he shrugs a little bit.

“Alright, I guess I’m awake,” he says.

“Awesome!” Pete says and he turns around and starts heading out the door, not even bothering to try to wake Ray up because he can tell that the guy is a brick right now.

“So where are we going then?” Frank asks, closing the door and then drudging along after him.

“I had a couple ideas,” Pete says.

“Please tell me it’s not bungee jumping,” Frank says.

“No, no, that was Gerard, you’re not really a bungee jumping kind of dude,” Pete says.

“So, then what?” Frank asks.

“Well I booked out the party room at Ihop, because it was such short notice and they were the only place available, so we’re going there after practice,” Pete says.

“Great, I like pancakes,” Frank says, feeling a little relieved at the prospect, because he can definitely handle pancakes. If pancakes are the wildest he gets then tonight is not nearly as scary as he had expected.

“But right now, I was figuring that since we’ve got about four or five hours to kill, we could go get you a tattoo,” Pete says. Frank should have known pancakes was not all Pete had planned.

“A what now?” Frank asks, stopping dead in his tracks while Pete continues walking. Pete senses rather than sees Frank stop, so he turns around, sees Frank halted completely in the hallway, and just rolls his eyes.

“It’s my birthday present to you!” Pete says.

“I don’t know if I want a tattoo,” Frank says, feeling agitated at the mere thought.

“Of course you do, Frank, have you looked in a mirror lately?” Pete asks, and Frank doesn’t know what he’s implying, but he feels a little offended.

“I really don’t think so,” Frank says, not really considering the idea more than that, because he’s fairly sure that this is just not the kind of decision you make on a moment’s notice.

Pete groans, and then walks back over to him, and says, “Come on! Dudes think tattoos are hot. You’ll honestly get at least twelve times hotter with a tattoo, and you know it! Everyone looks hotter with tattoos, especially nerds like you. Can’t believe you don’t already have one, I mean honestly, you’re such a fucking Hot Topic punk.”

“I am not!” Frank says, actually getting offended for real this time.

“You’re wearing a Misfits shirt!”

“Lots of people have this shirt!”

“That’s my fucking point, bruh,” Pete says, “you’ll look good with a tattoo, and you fucking know it. You might even get a boyfriend. Unless that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“I hate you, you know that? But I mean, yeah, I guess it’d be cool, but I don’t think this is the kind of decision you make in a split second,” Frank says.

“Then think about it for a minute,” Pete say, pausing, and pretending to freeze in place as he watches Frank who makes an overly exaggerated sighing sound.

“You’ve honestly never considered it?” Pete asks, looking very skeptical.

“Well… I mean-”

“Aha!” he shouts ecstatically. “You’ve thought about it a bunch, of course you have you’re a fucking nerd. You’ve even got an idea, I can see it in your eyes! Quick, hit me with it, first instinct is always the best one.”

“Well, so I guess I kind of want a jack-o'-lantern, because, like my birthday is Halloween?”

“Oh, man, I knew you were a fucking nerd. But that’s sounds fucking cool, so I’m already on board. Let’s go fucking do it, Frank! I know the best guy, he’s done all of my tattoos, and he’s only a few minutes down the road,” Pete says, and he starts walking again.

“But, I don’t know for sure, and I mean, I should really think about it some more, and-”

“Unless you give me a definitive, foot down ‘no,' we’re going to go get you a tattoo. I get being afraid of needles or just not wanting one, so it’s cool if you don’t, but I really think you do, like I can tell that right now you’re thinking about how cool it would be. And if you’re trying to talk yourself out of it because you think it’s too expensive and you don’t want me to pay for it then stop that right now, because it’s your birthday, and there’s nothing I love more than spoiling my friends. If you say you want it, then I will shell out the fucking doe on your tattoo, because I think you need one.”

Frank considers for a long moment, walking in pace alongside Pete as he does so. He’s thinking about several different things all at once, and no tangible reason is actually coming to him for why he shouldn’t. Frank has always kind of wanted a tattoo, and he probably would’ve gotten one by now if he actually had a friend to go with. He’s kind of afraid of having small talk with strangers which is why he’s never gotten one by himself. That, and because he’s never worked a damn day in his life, even though he really fucking should have by now because he’s nineteen fucking years old. He’s just been too busy with hockey. Someday in the not too distant future hockey will be his job though and he’ll make money just by playing it. For now, however, Frank has five dollars and a bag of Funyuns to his name.

He is a little weary of Pete paying, obviously, because that’s at least a couple hundred bucks that he’s willing to lay down, and they’ve only known each other about three weeks now, which is a very short amount of time for someone to decide to spend that amount of money on him. He doesn’t know that he’s worthy of generosity like that.

“Pete, it’s a lot of money.”

“Yeah, and I fucking love buying people things!” Pete says, “I get a kick out of it, ask Patrick. I like spoiling people, it’s fun! And it’s your birthday, Frank. You’re only nineteen once! You gotta make the most of it. I’m not going to push you off a bridge like I did with Gerard. I did that because I knew he wanted to do it, but he never would’ve if I didn’t make him. You want a tattoo, I can see it in your eyes, but you’re never going to get one if I don’t make you. So I’ll do it, it’s your birthday present. That and the mountain of candy I’ve got stashed in my room.”

Frank frowns a little, still contemplating. Tattoos are damn fucking expensive and Pete is actually offering to buy him one for his birthday than really, he should be jumping at the very thought or sucking the boys dick or something, but he’s not going to do either because he’s cool and because Pete is gross.

“Will it actually make boys think I’m hotter or are you just saying that?” Frank whispers, though there’s no one around to overhear.

“Everyone thinks tattoos are hot, Frank. There’s only two types of people who don’t like tattoos: old people and boring people.”

Frank considers it some more, wonders how Gerard would feel about Frank having a tattoo. Not like Gerard would care, but he still wonders. Gerard loves horror movies about as much as Frank does, and everyone likes Halloween. Gerard would probably love it, and he’s an artist. Gerard must appreciate art in all forms, even tattoos.

“I mean, alright,” Frank says.

“Yeah?” Pete asks. “I’m only going to buy you a tattoo if you’re fucking jazzed.”

Frank laughs, and nods, “Yes, I want one! Tattoos are cool. And if you’re buying, then there’s really no good reason to say no.”

“Fuck yeah!” Pete says, excitedly. “And Patrick didn’t think you’d go for it, wait till I tell him! A jack o’-lantern, boy I really thought I was gonna get have to suffer through some tribal ass shit, but that’s fucking cool man. Halloween boy, best birthday ever, fuck.”

“Yeah?” Frank asks. “It’s not lame?”

“Fuck yes!” Pete says, excitedly. “Halloween is the best goddamn day of the year, and it’s your birthday no less! I can’t think of a better idea. It’s perfectly you in every way.”

Frank just rolls his eyes, feeling a huge kick of adrenaline start to pump through him at the prospect that he might have an actual fucking tattoo in a few hours, something that he really has wanted for several years, but never really gave himself permission to dream about. Frank grins widely to himself and follows off behind Pete on their grand adventure.
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I'm sorry that this chapter isn't much, I've been super stressed with school, but everything is finished now so updates I hope should become more frequent very soon!