24 Frames Per Second - The Belleville Fright Night Experiment - 5

[lea_ndra]

5.

It was easy getting out of Frank's way, because Frank wasn't looking for him anymore. At school they only had one class together, and he could just concentrate on his algebra problems and fucking formulae without looking over his shoulder to where Frank was sitting in the second to last row. He hated that he missed him, that he flinched whenever somebody mentioned his name.

At the cinema they acknowledged each other with a short nod, but never engaged in conversation. Gerard didn't know what to say to Frank. Frank hadn't shown up in his booth for the last couple of days either. Suddenly, his time in the projector booth was incredibly lonely without Frank around to shoot the shit with him, entertaining him with little stories while Gerard worked. After a week, having been with Frank seemed a strange and distant thing. Gerard told himself it was better this way. He wasn’t Frank, who was ready to take on the world if necessary. He was Gerard, who felt most comfortable being on his own and avoided confrontations.

“If you just told me what the fuck is wrong, maybe I would be able to help,” Mikey said, eyeing him from the other side of the table in the lounge. It was both their day off, but the amount of moviegoers now coming to the screenings made it necessary that they jumped in to help out as ushers or behind the concession stand whenever the audience reached a critical mass.

“There's nothing wrong,” Gerard said, trying to sound normal and not agitated, concentrating on the drawing in front of him. He had had this character in his head, a teenage geek turned superhero, whose special power was that he was able to command the undead and speak to ghosts. He was also very lonely, because people were scared of him, so he sat around in cemeteries, holding séances or digging up corpses. His best friend was a vampire. Together, they raised an undead army to fight evil.

Mikey sighed. “Maybe if you keep telling yourself that, it comes true. You're such a bad liar, man.”

Shrugging, Gerard wondered if he wanted to have his superhero wear a special costume, then decided against it. Costumes and capes were kind of lame. Maybe this superhero would fight in torn jeans and a t-shirt. Like maybe Wolverine, just not as hairy.

“Is this one of the posters for the Halloween display?” Ray, who had walked past and now stopped behind him, asked, leaning over Gerard's shoulder, looking at the page with a frown on his face.

Gerard shook his head, working on a detail on his superhero's shirt - he was giving him an Iron Maiden shirt. “Just a character I've been thinking about.”

“There's a line at the ticket booth. Again,” Ray observed, looking pointedly at Mikey.

Mikey heaved a sigh, then pushed himself up from the bench. “Guess I gotta help Frank out. Maybe you,” he said, looking at Ray just as pointedly, “can figure out what's wrong with my fucking brother. I mean, I’m used to his moping, but this is getting ridiculous.”

“Fuck you, nothing's wrong,” Gerard muttered, glaring over the table at Mikey. His brother just shrugged and rolled his eyes before sharing a meaningful look with Ray. Gerard suppressed a growl, and bent his head back over his drawing, attempting to find a way to add Eddie to the Maiden shirt.

He was aware that Ray had sat down in the place Mikey had vacated, but unlike his annoying little brother, he didn't force Gerard to make conversation. A familiar electronic beep made Gerard look up, seeing that Ray had gotten out a Game and Watch. Maybe he was finally switching the Rubik’s Cube for another toy to busy his hands.

“What are you playing?” he asked absentmindedly, bending once more over his sheet of paper. He wasn't content with how the print on the shirt had come out, but he decided to clean that up later. Another idea came to him, and he started on filling in swirly tattoos on the character's forearms, all down to the wrists. He might add knuckle tattoos, too, because, hey, knuckle tattoos were tough shit.

“Lifeboat. Stupid little fuckers jumping burning ships,” Ray said, making Gerard laugh.

“I still prefer playing Zork.”

“Yeah, but this shit is portable,” Ray said, “You can take it everywhere.”

“They should make a portable text adventure,” Gerard commented.

Ray snorted. “Dream on. I tell you, text adventures will be a thing of the past soon, though.”

“What could be better?”

“Sierra came out with King's Quest. Dave told me about it - there's 3D like graphics. You still use a text parser for communicating with the game, though. It's like a mix between a jump 'n' run and an adventure.”

Ray's cousin worked as a game reviewer for a magazine called “Computer Gaming World”, which was a really cool job. Dave often mailed Ray copies or playable demos and the Way brothers had spent a lot of afternoons in Ray’s bedroom, playing what Dave had sent their way.

“Shit,” Ray suddenly said, “I lost one passenger to the shark. It's because we're talking - I can't concentrate and save my passengers. It's your fault.”

Snorting, Gerard looked up from his drawing. “Oh, shut up. Just because you're too fucking clumsy to play the game...”

Ray lowered the game and mock-glared at Gerard from across the table. “Not everyone is surgically glued to an arcade game like your brother. Bet he has wet dreams about Blinky, Pinky and Inky and… ”

He trailed off as the light over Cinema 1 went on and the people in the lounge trailed past them towards the cinema for their 9.15 showing. Gerard considered getting up and helping, but Mikey already beat him to it, and more than 2 people manning the entrance was just plain too much.

“Wow,” Ray said, and Gerard nodded, rounding up a head count in his head. “Yeah,” he agreed. There was nothing more to say to that.

With a sigh, Ray tossed the game onto the table, not caring that his last passenger was lost to the sharks. He leaned forwards, crossing his elbows on the table top, looking at what Gerard was drawing.

Gerard straightened from his hunched over position on the table as well, leaning back to critically look at his drawing from a distance. His superhero looked mischievous in his dirty sneakers and torn jeans, his floppy hair covering half of his face. The familiarity was not to be missed. Shit. Gerard bit his lip, considering changing his character's hair length - maybe long hair down to the shoulders or a mohawk? Had there ever been a superhero with a mohawk? - before letting out a groan of pure frustration. This was the fact - he had drawn another likeness of Frank in scuffed sneakers and with curly tattoos. Superhero!Frank even wore a tiny skull earring in his left ear. Fuck. There was nothing he could change now that would make his superhero look any less like Frank.

With a groan of dismay, Gerard tore the page from his notebook, balling it up in his hands.

“What the fuck are you doing!” Ray hissed, reaching out and pulling the balled-up paper from Gerard's hands. “Are you crazy? This is really awesome stuff!”

“It's not. It's bull,” Gerard said, but didn't protest when Ray gently unfolded the paper and flattened it on the table's surface with gentle, careful strokes of his hand so he wouldn't smudge the pencil.

“Don't ever do that again,” Ray admonished him, glaring at him.

“Give it back.”

“If you don't destroy it - otherwise I'm keeping it.”

“I won't. I promise,” Gerard said.

Ray held his gaze for a long moment, before slowly handing the drawing over. Gerard reached for it, pulling it gently from Ray's hand. The paper was a bit crinkled, and he felt bad for ruining a drawing.

He looked up when Frank pushed open the door from the ticket booth and walked into the lounge, before stopping in the middle of the room, looking exasperated.

“There's this unwashed guy outside who kind of scares me,” he said. “He keeps insisting on -”

The front door behind Frank swung open and a small man in a studded leather jacket with spiky hair and a tattoo high up on his neck walked in, his gaze stormy.

“What the hell is going on here?” he demanded to know, his eyes swiveling through the room, before finally landing on Ray.

Ray visibly flinched, before turning his head to regard Gerard. Gerard felt his stomach drop to somewhere around his knees.

“Uh, hi Brian,” he said, wishing he could vanish on the spot. Why was Brian already here? They had expected him back in two weeks at the earliest, and they hadn't yet developed a strategy to sell the theater's new direction to him. To be honest, they all had kind of pushed away the fact that Brian would show up eventually.

“What the hell, Way? I drive by and suddenly there's this line outside, buying tickets for Dark Star when the movie theater is supposed to be all boarded up!”

Frank, who had been regarding Brian with a mixture of respect and the kind of hesitation you give a mentally ill person, took a step back at Brian's new outburst.

Gerard didn't know what to say, looking helplessly at Ray, who shrugged.

“Where's Bryar? I want to talk to him!”

*-*

If it hadn't been all their asses on the line, Gerard would have probably laughed at the way Mikey flinched every time one of Brian's louder words traveled from the office to the lounge. Ray had relieved Bob from screening the movie, and now Brian was kind of tearing Bob's ass apart in Hank's office. They had been going on for the last 30 minutes and Brian wasn't getting any calmer.

Lindsey, who was sitting in the corner of a booth, legs up on the bench with her ankles crossed in Frank's lap, was chewing on her fingernails, inspecting them with single-minded concentration. She hadn't said a word ever since coming back into the lounge from ushering in theater 2 and had found Brian in the middle of the room, red-faced and kind of stunned-looking.

They couldn't really know what went on behind the closed doors of Hank's office, but from Brian's loud voice and Bob's answering quiet murmur, they were pretty sure it wasn't good.

They had been waiting in silence, when suddenly the voices behind Hank's door trailed off for a moment. Gerard looked up, catching Frank's wide, serious eyes. They turned their heads all as one when the doors of Hank's office were opened and Brian stepped into the lounge, trailed by Bob who looked like he had just been engaged in a most strenuous battle, his hair sticking up wildly as if he had carded his fingers through it repeatedly.

At least Brian looked marginally calmer, if tired. Life on the road must really take a toll on you. There were bluish shadows beneath his eyes, and his stubbled face was haggard and thin. Gerard hadn't realized Brian looked that exhausted earlier, when he had practically glowed with indignation and anger.

“All right, people,” Brian started, clapping his hands together, looking at each of them in return, “We got some serious talking to do here. I hope you all realize that what you have done here was very, very out of line.”

His words were greeted with silence, and Gerard saw Mikey duck his head, looking at anything but Brian. Only Lindsey and Frank glared back at Brian defiantly, obviously refusing to be admonished and berated, as if they were the last stand of resistance holding up the fort.

“That said,” Brian continued, “Bob has told me how much work you've been putting into keeping my uncle's movie theater open.”

Mikey and Gerard shared a confused look. Right, that was much nicer than they had expected Brian to react.

“But seriously, guys. I told you to close up shop and you disrespected my orders. As much as I'd like to honor my uncle's life achievement, I have no intention of taking over a movie theater.”

Gerard lowered his eyes, looking anywhere but at Brian's slightly reproachful and exasperated face. What was there to say? They knew they were doing something wrong. There was no use in defending themselves.

“Our concept worked,” Lindsey spoke up and Gerard raised his head, once more amazed by her courage. “We've been selling at least double the tickets we did in the past months and we made about three times as much at the concession stand every night. And it's not like we want anything for it, we just wanted to keep doing it.”

Brian heaved a sigh, his hand coming up to rub his cheek. “And I recognize that. You did a great job. But you just can't do stuff like that. I can't run this place and I don't want to run this place. It's going to be sold, and you have to accept that.”

“They will tear it down,” Mikey said, sounding accusing. “They will tear it down or make a fucking strip club out of it.”

Brian turned his head and looked like he was thinking very hard while trying to keep in control of the situation without yelling at a bunch of teenagers.

“I'd like to really thank you for loving this place so much that you come in here even though you know you won't be paid for it,” he said diplomatically, “but this is the way it goes. Businesses close.”

The silence that followed Brian's matter-of-fact words was deafening.

Finally, it was Bob who cleared his throat. “Brian has decided to pay your wages for the last weeks.”

Predictably, it was Lindsey who snapped, nearly kicking Frank in the groin when she pulled her legs out of his lap. “Fuck you,” she spat, “I don't care about the money.”

Brian's fist clenched, but he took a deep breath, releasing it slowly through gritted teeth. Life on tour must be hard, but he surely didn't get yelled at by teenage girls every day. “It's the least I can do,” he said, sounding amazingly calm. He was clearly fighting hard to keep his cool.

“So what?” Frank asked, looking from Brian to Bob and back, “We just drop everything and stop screening this very moment?”

Bob and Brian shared a look, and Gerard could see Brian open his mouth to speak. The words burst out of him before he could hold them in. “We've been screening horror movies for all of October. Let us at least end it on Halloween in style.”

Lindsey shot him a dark look that clearly read, “Traitor”, but Mikey and Frank were both nodding enthusiastically.

For a moment, Brian seemed hesitant, annoyed, and he sighed, taking a look at each of them and studying them closely as if this was a test they had to pass. Maybe it was a test and maybe he found what he had been looking for, because finally, he nodded. “All right. Just until Halloween, though.”

Gerard had just bought them 5 more days.

“Thank you,” Frank said earnestly. “Really.”

Brian seemed almost sorry for having agreed, tiredly palming his face. “Yeah, don’t sweat it. We’re still closing after that, understood?”

They all nodded, but Gerard refused to acknowledge Brian’s words, pushing them away. One day at a time.

“It will be the best Halloween ever,” Mikey said, sounding almost convinced, “We promise, you won't regret it.”

“You kids are fucking crazy,” Brian just said, shaking his head.

Frank shot him a grin that bordered on maniacal, as if to prove his words.

*-*

“I thought he was going to kill me, he was so livid,” Frank recounted the moment Brian had stepped up to his ticket booth. Despite the late hour, he seemed energetic, bouncing around on his chair in the Ways' kitchen. After the screening had finished, they had filed into Ray's and Gerard's cars and driven to the Ways', too excited, too riled up by the evening's events to part already.

“Poor Bob,” Mikey said, “he got the brunt of it. Brian really kept it together when he talked to us in the lounge. You could see him twitching, though. There was this one muscle in his cheek - just kept ticking.”

“Brian's small, but he looks like a person who's able to demolish a whole room in his rage,” Frank agreed. “Thanks Mrs. Way,” he added, looking doubtfully at the plate of pancakes Gerard's mother had pushed in front of him, a frown building between his eyebrows as he sniffed.

“Bob really got his hide skinned.” Lindsey eyed the pancakes on Frank's plate with disgust, watching with fascination as he set to work on them with his fork.

Gerard wanted to tell Frank to put down the fork immediately, but he didn't want to embarrass his mother. It was Frank's own fault, though, because when Mrs. Way had offered food, everybody in the room had politely declined, except Frank who had happily announced that he was famished and would like nothing more than homemade pancakes. Gerard had frantically shaken his head at him, but Frank had just frowned, clearly not comprehending that eating Mrs. Way's food was a bad idea, especially at one in the morning.

Taking a drag from his cigarette, Gerard watched as Frank took the first bite, the expression on his face shifting to a badly hidden grimace. Gerard winced in sympathy. If it weren't for take-out, he and Mikey would probably starve to death. They only thing you could really eat in the Way household was frozen TV dinner. It was no wonder Gerard had lost all his baby fat since his grandmother's death; she had been the only one able to cook around here. God, he missed his grandmother's lasagna.

“Brian has every right to be displeased. Seriously, keeping his movie theater open when he gave you orders to shut it down,” Gerard's mother said, leaning against the kitchen sink, dragging on a cigarette. Without her make up and in her flowery night gown over a frilly nightdress, she looked about ten years older than she truly was. “You shouldn't have done that.”

“I don't regret it,” Ray said, “it was the most fun I've ever had screening movies, and screening movies itself is loads of fun.”

“You crazy projectionists.” Frank grinned, looking from Ray to Gerard. “You get off on fondling odd machinery nobody else gets.”

“Ray even names the projectors. One of them is called Audrey,” Lindsey revealed, smirking.

“Shut up,” Ray growled, rolling his eyes at Lindsey, who giggled.

Mikey sighed, thunking his head down on the table. “It's a damn shame it’s over,” he murmured, his voice muffled by where he had pressed his face into his arms.

“God, Mikeyway, stop. I don't even wanna talk about this,” Lindsey groaned before leaning over and stealing Gerard's cigarette.

“We're gonna end it right - go out with a bang.” Frank said, pushing his pancakes around on the plate with his fork, occasionally swallowing down a small bite in true defiance of death.

Gerard felt the lump in his belly, which had been present ever since Brian had entered the movie theater earlier today; tighten painfully at Frank's words. He didn't want to end it. He couldn't imagine not spending his afternoons and evenings at the Belleville Film Palace anymore. He couldn't imagine not breathing in the popcorn-saturated air, not sitting in the darkened projector booth, watching for marker cues. He loved his job. He loved the Belleville Film Palace. And although he had known for weeks that the days of the Belleville Film Palace were numbered, he had pushed the thought far away.

“We could start screening in the afternoon with a children's special,” Ray suggested. “I was thinking It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. What do you think, Gerard?”

Gerard shrugged. He really didn't want to talk about the last movies to ever screen at the Belleville Film Palace. It was like planning a funeral.

“Gerard is grumpy,” Lindsey observed, blowing a cloud of smoke into Gerard's face.

Angrily, Gerard waved the smoke away from his face, even though it usually wouldn't bother him. “Gerard is fucking tired, that's what he is,” he countered, slowly pushing himself up, his chair screeching on the tiles. “You guys can sit here and plan the fucking demise of the most important thing in my life - I'm going to bed.”

He didn't look back, leaving the others in stunned silence. He was already at the bottom of the stairs down to the basement when he heard a low murmur from above start up again.

He was so sick of it all. His fucking life was falling to pieces. He lay down on his bed in the darkness of his room atop the covers, fully clothed, his ashtray on his stomach, smoking another cigarette. He really didn't know what he was going to do. He had one more year in Belleville before he could get out of here for college. He had always thought that he would work at the Belleville Film Palace as long as he went to school here, that he would leave just like Pete had done when he went off to college. But that would have been okay, because the theater would continue to exist without him. He probably would have applied for another part time job as a projectionist in whatever place he would go to college. He hadn't decided yet what to do - probably study film, just like Pete.

He was just lighting his second cigarette when a knock on the door startled him out of his contemplation and he turned his head, watching as his door was pushed open a crack and someone stepped into his room.

“Fuck, it's dark in here,” Frank whispered, then, when Gerard didn't acknowledge him, “Where are you?”

For just one moment, Gerard wanted to tell him to go away. One more of his fucking problems. He was so fucking sick and tired of it. “Here,” he sighed, knowing he sounded resigned, taking another drag from his cigarette. Frank could just find his way by direction of the glowing cherry.

Frank huffed a nervous laugh before Gerard heard him stumble around, clothes rustling. Something banged to the floor and Frank cursed, rather close now, before a hand landed on Gerard's leg.

“Oh,” Frank breathed, patting Gerard's leg some more, “there you are.”

With a sigh, Gerard scooted over to make room on the bed for him. He didn't have the energy to tell Frank to get lost. He didn't want him to get lost, either. Strangely enough, Frank was the only one he felt he could stand to have around him right now.

The bed jostled when Frank lay down on his back, kind of mirroring Gerard's position.

“Your Mom's food is vile,” he finally said, and Gerard couldn't help but suppress a chuckle. Next to him, Frank giggled as well, his laughter making the bed shake as his shoulders shook. “Do you have a cigarette? Gotta get that taste out of my mouth.”

Gerard handed over his cigarette, watching as Frank took a drag, before handing it back. His eyes were pretty well adjusted to the darkness and he could make out the lines of Frank's face. They passed the cigarette between them, not speaking. Gerard was listening to Frank breathe. He felt the familiar antsiness rise in him whenever Frank was around, but he thought he understood now what it was about.

He took the cigarette back and dragged on it once more, before putting the stump out in the ashtray on his stomach. He set it on his nightstand before flopping back down on the bed. For a little while, they were completely motionless. A question burned on Gerard's tongue.

“Aren't you ever afraid?” he asked.

It took Frank a long while to answer and Gerard wasn't sure Frank had understood him correctly, but then Frank shrugged, the motion making his shoulder bump against Gerard's.

“Of course I am,” he said, sounding calm. He was silent for a bit, and Gerard wasn't sure if Frank wanted him to say something to that or not, but he was hesitant to probe him. “It doesn't mean I'm gonna deny who I am,” Frank finally continued, sounding defiant. “I'm gay. I know that - I've known for a couple of years. That's not gonna change. Doesn't mean I never struggled with it.”

Gerard was glad it was so dark, because Frank's words made him embarrassed.

Frank laughed a sudden, unhappy laugh. “You wouldn't believe how many boys in Catholic school wouldn't be against jerking each other off, only if they met you in the hallway, they would still call you a fucking faggot to your fucking face.”

Not knowing what to say and feeling guilty as hell, Gerard decided to keep silent.

“Wanting to be with another boy just isn't something you talk about, right? It's like people think you shouldn't want that, so nobody talks about it. I hate that this part of me is something I have to be afraid for,” Frank continued, his voice suddenly stronger, more forceful, as if to put more intent behind his words. “Admitting you like a boy shouldn't make you afraid to be punched to death in the school yard. Or not getting a job, even though you're just as qualified, or more so than the other applicants. Or not being able to go down a street, holding hands. Or having to hear how you deserve to die of AIDS,” he said bitterly.

Gerard could feel the anger brewing in Frank's body; he was vibrating with it. He felt so guilty for being a jerk to Frank, for pushing him away, for causing him pain, but yes, he was fucking afraid to admit to anyone, maybe even himself, how he felt. He had never really thought about it until a couple of weeks ago. He had only ever assumed that someday he would meet some girl and the thing movies and books told you would happen - the world would stop and across a crowded room, he would fall in love. Instead this thing with Frank had happened. He couldn't remember any falling in love or happy butterflies in his stomach. Frank had grated on his nerves, had made him nervous and antsy, had caused his body to thrum with need. Half of the time he had agonized about him, about how his presence had made him twitchy and irritable. The other half of the time he had thought about all the ways he wanted to make him come.

“I'm fucking afraid,” Gerard finally said, because he needed to say something, and this was the best he could offer.

On the pillow next to him, Frank shifted. “That's okay,” he said softly, his voice having lost the bitterness and agitation from earlier. “I understand. There's enough reason to be. I don't want to judge you - if you don't want this” (he didn't clarify what this was, but Gerard could guess), “it's totally okay. Everyone has to decide for themselves.”

He was silent again and they lay together in the darkness, not really touching.

“I think you're very brave,” Gerard finally offered, only to have Frank snort.

“Brave would mean getting out there and rubbing it in their fucking faces. Fighting for a right nobody thinks I should have. Speaking up when there's somebody I really like.”

Gerard swallowed, feeling heat rise in his face. He didn't know what to say to that. “Being different takes some balls,” was what he finally ended up saying, like he wanted to defend himself. It sounded stupid and lame, as if he himself didn't have any balls.

“If you're going to say that being gay isn't normal, I'm gonna punch you in the fucking face,” Frank said, but it lacked fuel. He suddenly sounded tired.

Gerard felt himself get sleepy too. He turned onto his side, pushing his arm underneath his head, looking at the dark outline of Frank's shape next to him.

“Did you ever have a boyfriend?” Gerard asked, dreading that Frank would say yes.

He more felt than saw Frank shake his head on the pillow next to him.

“How... how do you think that would be?”

“Nice,” Frank said, turning his head. Gerard could feel his gaze on him in the darkness. “I think it would be really nice.”

*-*

Gerard must have fallen asleep at some point, because when he woke up next it was light outside - the kind of gray, cold autumn light that promised a rainy, cloudy day.

Next to him, Frank was snoring softly into Gerard's pillow, curled in on himself, his mouth slightly parted. His eyes were moving behind his closed eyelids - he was dreaming. They weren't touching, but Frank was still lying so close that Gerard could feel the heat coming off his body. His fingers were twitching a bit in his sleep where his right hand was lying on the bed sheets between them.

Gerard tore his gaze away with some effort and looked at the alarm clock on his night stand. 8;31 - way too early for a Saturday morning. He tried to get back to sleep, but Frank's presence unnerved him. He was constantly opening his eyes to watch his sleeping face and his fingers itched to reach out and smooth the frown off his brow. The soft skin visible between the waistband of his jeans and his ridden-up t-shirt was calling for him to touch. He couldn't quite believe that Frank was in his bed, lying next to him.

Carefully, Gerard pushed himself up and climbed over Frank, managing to not wake him in the process, which was short of a miracle. Maybe Frank was just that deep a sleeper. He didn't expect anyone to be up at this time of day, not even his mother, but he found Mikey sitting at the kitchen table, already nursing a cup of coffee.

“Morning,” Gerard said, tiredly rubbing his eyes. “You're up early.”

Mikey shrugged. “Couldn't really sleep,” he said, his eyes curious on Gerard.

Gerard evaded his gaze and walked over to the coffee machine, pouring himself a cup before adding about 3 spoonfuls of sugar and a generous amount of cream. When he turned back towards the table, Mikey was still looking at him.

“What?” Gerard asked, a bit annoyed, sitting down on the table across from Mikey. The first taste of coffee was heaven. He could almost forget that Frank was sleeping downstairs in his bed. He could almost forget that everything in his body wanted him to go back down there, crawl back into bed and wake him up with a couple of well-placed touches and damn the consequences.

“I finally figured it out,” Mikey said, taking a sip from his coffee, looking over the rim of his cup at Gerard.

“What?” Gerard repeated. His brain wasn't working yet, and Mikey speaking in riddles didn't help.

“What's wrong with you,” Mikey said pointedly, putting his cup down, before leaning forward, almost conspiratorially. “It's Frank.”

Gerard, who really hadn't seen that one coming, choked on his coffee and spluttered. “What do you mean?”

“Oh c'mon, G,” Mikey said, rolling his eyes, “Seriously, I'm kind of disappointed in myself, because it's so glaringly obvious and it took me so long to figure it out. You were practically inseparable and now you’re suddenly barely speaking. And you're both staring when nobody thinks you're looking.”

“I don't know what-” Gerard started, his voice a bit uneven, but Mikey cut him off with a snort.

“Oh please. You're twitchy and horrible and doodle tiny Franks in all possible mutations - don't think we don't notice. And he's talking about nothing else but you. All the fucking time. It's always G this and G that. If I didn't know you forever, I could start to think you really were as awesome as he makes you out to be.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Gerard said, knowing he was lobster-red in the face. Mikey, on the other hand, was grinning as if he had won the jackpot.

“So,” Mikey said, leaning over the table, “what is it?” He was doing a weird thing with his eyebrows that was probably supposed to be a conspiratory wiggle, but turned out to look ridiculous.

Gerard plunked his face down hard on the table, groaning into his arms. “I hate my life,” he said melodramatically.

“Hmph,” Mikey said, sounding disappointed. “I was pretty much counting on you having a hump day last night and being annoyingly chipper today. Didn't Frank sleep in your room?”

“Shut up,” Gerard moaned, embarrassed, “nothing happened.”

“Man, you're such a fucking loser,” Mikey said. Something hit Gerard in the head and he looked up to see that Mikey had tossed him a pack of cigarettes. With a sigh, Gerard straightened and lit one, trying to shake his hair into his eyes so he could cover his burning face.

“It's difficult,” he finally said, blowing out a line of smoke. “I mean, he's a guy. I'm not -” he caught himself, “I didn't think I was... gay.”

It sounded strange to say it out loud, but at the same time it felt... good. Yeah, he could say it in front of Mikey. He looked up to see his brother look back at him, a sympathetic expression on his face.

“Yeah. No big surprise here. You know that Lindsey gave up on you about one and a half years ago?”

“She did?” Gerard asked, seriously surprised.

“Jesus,” Mikey groaned, shaking his head. “Whatever.” He drained his cup before walking towards the coffee machine to pour another.

“So, you and Frank - is that going somewhere?” he asked over his shoulder, measuring out a spoonful of sugar. Coffee addiction was truly something that ran in the Way family.

“I dunno,” Gerard said honestly. “It's a bit of a mess,” he admitted.

Mikey turned and raised his eyebrows, but didn't ask. He sat down again, still not saying anything. Gerard smoked his cigarette in silence, staring at the table top in front of him.

“Did the others stay for long last night?” he finally asked.

Mikey shook his head. “After your stormy exit we really weren't that talkative anymore. Ray left soon after you went downstairs and Lindsey is still sleeping on the couch in the living room. You kill every mood, G, even a bad one.”

Gerard stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and pushed it away from himself, leaning back in his seat. “You know, I knew this day would come, but I really didn't expect Brian back so soon. I guess I kind of blocked out the reality of having to close at some point.”

“It's called living on borrowed time,” Mikey said wisely. Gerard rolled his eyes and tossed his pack of cigarettes back at him, hitting him square in the face. His aim was just as good as Mikey’s.

“Ow, you asshole,” Mikey complained, rubbing his face and glaring.

“I will miss screening movies,” Gerard sighed, pushing his fingers into his sleep-tousled hair, tugging at the strands and scratching at his itching scalp.

“I will miss the free candy. And the Pac-Man machine. And seeing films for free, even the shitty ones.”

“Do you think that if they tear it down, we can take some stuff with us?” Gerard asked.

“You mean like seats and movie posters?”

“Yeah. Also, what do you think will happen with the film archive? Brian should give it to the Library of Congress - they have an A/V conservation center. At least like that, Hank's collection won't get lost.”

“You should suggest that to Brian,” Mikey said, then looked over Gerard's shoulder and smiled. “Morning, Frankenstein.”

Gerard twisted around in his seat to find Frank in the doorway, his hair in disarray and standing up in every direction, looking rumpled overall. There was a pillow crease on his cheek like a scar. He was rubbing his eyes tiredly, blinking blearily at them.

“Nghmph,” Frank greeted them in what was supposedly meant to mean “Morning.”

He yawned and stepped into the room. “What time is it?” he asked, sounding a bit more coherent.

“About 9, I guess,” Mikey said, and Frank's eyes budged comically. “Shit! My Mom's gonna be so pissed when she comes to wake me up and I'm not at home!”

“You wanna call her?” Gerard suggested, but Frank shook his head frantically. “No, no. Maybe I can sneak in and pretend I just came downstairs.”

Frank had stepped up to the table and was now looking intently at Gerard's cup of coffee, as if he maybe could make it float towards him by using the Force. Gerard reached for it, and Frank made grabby hands, so he pushed the still half-full cup into his hands.

“Thanks,” Frank said once he had taken a huge sip, and pushed the cup back into Gerard's hands. “All right, I gotta run. See you guys later!”

He was out of the door not five seconds later, the kitchen screen door banging shut and startling them both.

”He must really like you - he drank from your cup, he doesn’t even care about your disgusting mouth germs,” Mikey said smugly, smirking.

Gerard regretted that he had no cigarette pack left to toss, so he just scowled at Mikey over the rim of his coffee and held his tongue.

*-*

>>6