Fic: Thing-Thing (5/5)
1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - master post
---
Having a thing-thing is pretty amazing. It's not like what Gerard imagines dating is like; a lot of it is exactly the same as being friends with Frank. Frank will come over to their house, most nights. They watch movies or read comics. Unlike if they were friends, though, when Mikey leaves to have a life, Frank and Gerard stay home and make out. It's a good system, Gerard thinks.
"I like this," Gerard says. Frank stops with his hand hovering over the bowl of popcorn, and Mikey arches an eyebrow at him. "This," Gerard says expansively, gesturing at the room. "It's nice."
He assumes they both agree with him -- Frank grins, and Mikey rolls his eyes -- but that night, when Mikey's gone off to a party, Frank says, "Do you want to maybe do something?"
"Now?" Gerard asks. He blinks at the ceiling, evaluating how drunk he is. Pretty drunk. "I'm kind of--"
"Not now," Frank interrupts. "But later, maybe? The Roxy has Evil Dead 2 on the big screen."
"Oh, cool!" Gerard says. He sits up. "Wait, call Ray, he'll want to see that."
"Oh," Frank says. Gerard squints at him, and Frank says, "I could, but." He looks at Gerard beseechingly.
"But?"
"I was thinking it could be just us," Frank says.
"Oh!" Gerard says, and feels abruptly, horribly stupid. "Oh my god, I'm sorry."
"No, I mean--"
"I would love to," Gerard says, finally salvaging his manners. Frank smiles at him, and Gerard adds, "Then, I mean. It's a date. Whenever it is."
"Thursday," Frank says. He's looking at Gerard like Gerard's someone cool. Gerard isn't selfless enough to tell Frank that he's got it backward; he just kisses him, instead.
---
“Mom,” Gerard says. She looks up. Gerard swallows hard, and says, “Okay, so. I kind of have a boyfriend.”
“Kind of?” she asks.
“I mean, it’s a real thing. We’re not just, y’know. Messing around,” he says, and swallows again. She finally looks up from her horoscope and fixes him with a beady-eyed stare. Gerard fidgets. “He‘s fifteen,” he says, even though he was kind of hoping to avoid sharing that information.
“Fifteen,” she repeats. “Does his mother know?“
“She knows he’s gay,“ Gerard says. “And I think he probably told her?“
“He should tell her,“ his mom says.
Gerard nods and says, “Totally, I‘ll-- I‘ll tell him that‘s a good idea.“
“Don’t be with someone who’ll be ashamed of you,” his mom says. Gerard ducks his head to look at the floor. “You’re a special boy. If this person is worth anything, they should be proud of dating you.”
“God, Mom,” Gerard says, embarrassed. Quieter, he adds, “If anyone’s acting like that, it’s me.”
After a long pause, his mom rests her chin on her hand and says, “It’s good to be safe, I guess. Just don‘t be ashamed of yourself, baby, there‘s no reason to be.”
“I won‘t,” Gerard says. “I’ll try not to.”
She grimaces, but then she holds out her arms for a hug. “I love you,” she murmurs. Gerard’s mouth is pressed up against her shoulder, but he mumbles it back, closing his eyes and holding her tighter.
---
On Thursday, when Gerard walks down the front steps, Frank and Mikey are waiting together. When Gerard reaches them, though, Mikey stands up and says, "Okay."
"Are you going home?" Gerard asks.
"Yeah," Mikey says. He shrugs and shoves up his glasses. "I'll see you later."
"Yeah," Gerard says awkwardly. He watches Mikey walk away. When he turns back to Frank, Frank looks concerned. "I'm not used to-- I don't know, it's weird," Gerard says, flapping his hand like that will illustrate his point.
"What is?" Frank asks.
"Mikey walking home by himself," Gerard says. "Not that, like, he's too young to do it or whatever. I'm just used to walking with him."
"Do you want to catch up with him?" Frank asks. "We could."
The offer makes Gerard stop and see Frank, see him properly. Frank's got his thumbs tucked under the straps of his backpack, and he's got an earnest expression on his face. He'd probably let Gerard walk Mikey home, if Gerard were really worried about it.
"You're amazing," Gerard says. It's the first thing that comes to his mind. Frank turns a little pink and looks away, shifting in place. Gerard insists, "No, really, you're just-- I can't believe you want to hang out with me."
"Shut up," Frank mutters. "I can't believe you want to hang out with me."
"Don't be dumb," Gerard says. He shuffles closer, putting the toes of their shoes together, watching for Frank’s smile.
“Your mom,” Frank murmurs.
They separate before anyone can see them, but Gerard’s insides feel light and strange, like they’re trying to float up and out of his mouth.
The walk to the movie theater is shorter than the walk to Gerard's house. They get there early for the showing, so they stop to buy snacks at the convenience store down the street from the theater. Frank shoves the candy and drinks into his backpack, with the giggling help of the spotty-faced checkout girl.
When they’re half a block away from the movie theater, Frank suddenly stops in place. “Shit,” he says.
“What?” Gerard asks, faltering to a stop a few steps away.
“I forgot my fake ID,” Frank says. “They might check if I‘m seventeen.”
Gerard takes a deep breath and tilts his head back, looking at the sky before he lets his breath out. “Way to make me feel like a pedo,” he says.
“Fuck you,” Frank says. Gerard drops his head again and rubs the back of his neck. Frank says, “Well, I could hide around the corner--”
“No way,” Gerard interrupts. His voice sounds harsher than he meant for it to sound. Frank looks startled, falling back a step. Gerard continues, more gently, “If they don’t let us in together, then we’ll do something else.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Gerard says firmly. He has no idea why it’s so important to him, but it is.
When they get to the tiny box office at the front of the movie theater, Gerard grabs Frank’s hand impulsively. “Two tickets for Evil Dead, please,” he says. “Together.”
The woman sitting behind the glass doesn’t say anything; she just rings him up, takes his money, and slides the tickets through the opening at the bottom of the window. She doesn’t even look at Frank.
Gerard murmurs, “See?” when they’re walking away.
“You totally thought she was going to stop us,” Frank says, but he’s smiling, and he hasn’t let go of Gerard’s hand. Gerard’s pretty sure Frank is just as relieved as he is.
Neither of them are paying attention, so they don't the group walking toward them. One of the guys walks right into Frank. Frank loses his balance and falls, knocked back suddenly with a startled yelp. He’s only kept on his feet by his grip on Gerard’s hand. Gerard reels him back in automatically. “Dude,” Frank says.
The guy -- one of a group, five teenagers walking lazily down the ramp toward the doors -- doesn’t even look back. Gerard calls, “Watch where you’re going.”
“Fuck you,” the guy tosses back.
“No,” Gerard says, blurting the word out loudly. He takes a step forward, still holding onto Frank’s hand. “You go fuck yourself.”
The guy and his friends don’t stop, even though Gerard’s sure they will, even though he‘s steeling himself for a fight. The guy murmurs something to his friends, and they’re laughing when they push out of the front doors, but they don’t stop and face them.
“Wimp,” Gerard says. He feels a rush of stupid pride when he says it, like saying it means he’s won. “C’mon, let’s go,” he says, and pulls on Frank’s hand.
Frank squeezes his hand, and after Gerard’s given the bored-looking employee their tickets, he says, “That was awesome,” in a shocked, low voice.
Gerard looks at him to make sure he’s not teasing, and Frank is looking at him like he’s a hero. “I should have had a better comeback,” Gerard says.
“No way,” Frank says. “That was the best comeback.”
“Whatever, it so wasn‘t,” Gerard says, but he ducks his head and smiles. “Thanks, though.”
“The best comeback,” Frank repeats, before they go into the theater.
When they sit down, Frank unpacks all of their snacks, slowly filling Gerard's lap with bright plastic packages of candy. "I think it'll last us," Gerard says, as he opens the Sour Patch Kids. He keeps a straight face, too, at least until Frank starts to giggle.
They're alone in the theater, thankfully; no one's there to be bothered by their laughter and whispering. Gerard can even resist the urge to look around before he leans in and kisses Frank.
He has the best of intentions. He's on a date with his boyfriend at an empty movie theater; they should totally make out through the entire film. He keeps his eyes closed and his attention on Frank when the Necronomicon shows up on screen. When the narrator is describing the Necronomicon, Gerard has to slit open one eye, just the barest amount -- it's written in blood -- but he manages to keep facing toward Frank.
When Linda becomes a Deadite, Gerard's mouth is still pressed against Frank's, but he's looking out of the corner of his eye, and his tongue is moving slower and slower. When Ash decapitates her with the shovel, Gerard suddenly realizes that he's sitting all the way back in his seat, and his head is completely facing the screen. "Sorry," he starts, turning back to Frank.
"Shh," Frank says. "He's about to get hit by it." He's gazing raptly at the screen, too, his face dimly illuminated by the reflected light. He looks over at Gerard after a breath and whispers, "Her head pops off like a Barbie doll."
"Yeah," Gerard whispers. He takes Frank's hand.
After the movie, though, when the prophecy has been fulfilled and the credits have rolled, Gerard starts to wonder if it's not some kind of sign. He hasn't been on many dates -- or, okay, any -- but he's pretty sure that watching the movie instead of sucking face isn't completely normal. Movies have told him that teenagers are supposed to be total horndogs with no self-control. Gerard always thought that the movies got away with that stereotype because the teenagers who might have protested were busy making out in the back row. It makes him worry that maybe he and Frank aren't meant to be together. He was kind of dreading the date earlier, too. What if it's a sign? It’s not like he has other experience to compare it to.
Gerard stops to light cigarettes for him and Frank when they get out of the theater. When he hands Frank his cigarette, Frank says, "You're kind of quiet."
Gerard bites his lip. "Just thinking about the movie," he says.
"I fucking love that movie," Frank says feelingly. He takes a big drag, like he’s making a dramatic point, and coughs a little on the exhale. Gerard laughs, and Frank smiles at him, a little embarrassed.
“It’s an amazing movie,” Gerard says truthfully. It is, after all, one of the best movies of all time.
Still, it seems a little weird to watch the movie instead of making out, like they're doing something wrong, or there isn't enough chemistry. Gerard smokes contemplatively, until the cherry is hot against his fingers and he has to ditch the butt.
Gerard's kind of busy contemplating whether or not Frank and he are made for each other, and he doesn't notice where they're walking. Frank startles him by taking his hand.
"Huh," he says. He looks around the dilapidated playground, takes in the squat brown brick building next to it. "I always remember this place as bigger than it actually is," he says.
"I know, right?" Frank says. He walks over to the slide and kicks the bottom of it. Gerard crosses to the swings and settles into one of them. The windows of the school reflect the sunset, gleaming gold and orange. The swing creaks when he shifts his weight.
It's chilly, even though the sun is hot on his back. Gerard shivers. He wants a drink, some pills; he wants a guarantee that he's not doing something stupid. He doesn't have any of those things, though. "So what are we doing here?" Gerard asks.
Frank walks over, walks right up to Gerard until their knees are touching. He grabs the chains on either side of Gerard, rocking him a little on the swing. "I wanted to hang out more," he says, and shrugs.
Gerard tries to think of something to say back to that, but his brain isn't helping him out. After a beat, Frank lets go of the chains and crosses his arms, sticking his hands in his armpits and hunching his shoulders. "You're cold," Gerard says stupidly.
"Yeah," Frank says. Gerard holds his hands out, not really thinking about it. Frank hesitates, but then he puts his hands in Gerard's. Gerard just chafes Frank's hands with his, trying to rub some warmth back into them. He huffs a warm open-mouthed breath over the tips of Frank's fingers, and then goes back to rubbing them. When he looks up again, Frank is smiling at him.
"What?" Gerard asks.
"Nothing," Frank says. The way his mouth curves, the goofy sweetness of his grin, suddenly catches Gerard; Gerard uses his grip on Frank's hands to pull him closer and tip him forward, to bring their mouths together.
It isn't like he knows then that they're meant to be; it's not like he gets an answer, or feels any less like a loser. But they kiss until it feels like where their mouths meet is the only warmth he has left, until Gerard's ears are numb, until the streetlights come on and reflect as blinding yellow blobs in the warped windows of the school. Gerard's mind whirls the entire time, like it always does when he kisses, but it's whirling around Frank.
Gerard only pulls away when his ears start to hurt from the cold. Frank is shivering, and his teeth are chattering now that his mouth isn't occupied. "Jesus," Gerard says, and laughs. His lips are sore, and it hurts to smile, but he does it anyway. "Let's go back to my house," he says.
"Okay," Frank says, and kisses him again.
It takes them a little while to actually head back to Gerard‘s.
---
Gerard gets a crick in his neck that doesn't go away for days. Frank gets bronchitis.
On Frank's second day home from school, Gerard visits to bring him his homework. "Sorry," he says.
"Worth it," Frank rasps.
"Don't be stupid," Gerard says, but he knows his grin kind of undermines his point.
---
Formal comes up way faster than Gerard thought it would. He’s been hanging out with Frank at his house pretty much every day, going out to movies once or twice more; it doesn’t feel like it’s been more than a month, not at all.
"Do you want to come shopping?" his mom asks one day, leaning into their room.
Gerard minimizes the computer window he had open and shoots his mom an irritated look. She arches one eyebrow and taps her nails on the door, and he rolls his eyes. "No," he says. "Obviously not."
"I was just thinking about the dance," his mom says.
"What dance?" Gerard asks, but she's already climbing back up the stairs. Gerard turns back to his computer and pulls the internet window back up. He's vaguely thinking of calling Frank--
"Shit!" Gerard says. He scrambles out of his chair and flings open the door. "Mom! I'm coming with you!" he yells.
"Hurry up!"
"One sec!" Gerard yells back, already digging through the crap all over their floor. He finds his wallet under a pile of dirty laundry, stuffs it in his back pocket, and shoves on his shoes. "Wait up!" he yells, just in case, as he runs up the stairs.
---
When they finally get home from shopping, Gerard has a navy blue suit.
"A suit," Gerard says.
Mikey takes out one earbud. "What?"
"I got a suit," Gerard repeats patiently.
"Oh," Mikey says, and puts his earbud back in.
Gerard tugs it back out, ignoring Mikey's annoyed noise. "Do you think a suit will look stupid?" he asks.
"What's Frank wearing?"
"I-- I don't know," Gerard says. "Should I know?"
Mikey shrugs. "You should find out, I guess."
"Yeah," Gerard says.
---
He really does plan on asking Frank about his formal outfit. When he finds out what Frank's wearing, Gerard figures he'll concoct a way to make their outfits at least sort of match.
The problem is that Gerard remembers that he had that plan when Frank rings the doorbell on the night of the dance. Gerard pauses before he opens the door, taking a second to hope desperately that Frank is wearing brown or gray. He opens the door and destroys those hopes. “Oh,” Gerard says.
Frank's not wearing any one color. He's wearing hot pink sneakers, a yellow t-shirt, black slacks and a gray blazer. Gerard stands there and gapes at him, his hand still on the doorknob, torn between laughing and falling over.
"What?" Frank says. He palms the back of his neck. "I-- fuck, my mom told me to wear something nicer."
"You look amazing," Gerard says. He still feels kind of hysterical. "I mean, you look amazing, but we don‘t match. I should have worn something like that."
"No way," Frank says. He reaches out and pinches the hem of Gerard's jacket. "I like the suit. It's so blue."
"It is really blue," Gerard agrees, looking down at his stupid suit.
"Is your date here?" Gerard's mom calls.
"Oh my god," Gerard mutters, but Frank just shuffles in the front door. Gerard hollers back, "Yeah, we're going to go!"
"Sit your butt down, mister!" she yells back, and Gerard hears something crash. He winces and shuts the door with a sense of doom.
"Sorry, I think she wants pictures," Gerard says.
"That's cool," Frank says. He's poking around the living room, even though he's been there before and seen all their creepy decorations. "My mom will want doubles," he admits.
"Moms are lame," Gerard informs him. Frank laughs and nods.
Gerard watches him putter around a little longer. He only works up the nerve to say "You really do look good" just as his mom walks into the room, brandishing her camera.
"Exactly what you should say," his mom tells him.
"Mom," Gerard says, horrified. She shrugs, apparently unaware of the dire embarrassment she's just caused him.
"Hi, Mrs. Way," Frank says.
"Donna," Gerard's mom says sternly.
"Donna," Frank says. He turns slightly pink.
"Hi, Frank. I hope you don't mind if I take some pictures of you two," she says. “We need extra, since Gerard’s grandma isn’t home tonight.”
“Sorry,” Gerard tells Frank.
Frank shrugs. "That's fine."
"Good! Let's have you stand in front of the dolls over here," she says cheerfully. Frank starts giggling. He almost always ends up giggling when he talks to Gerard's mom. It can be funny to him, Gerard thinks sourly; it’s not Frank’s mom making them pose in front of the doll collection.
"Put your arms around him," Gerard's mom directs. Gerard obeys, and she says, "Oh, honey, you're allowed to touch him."
"Mom," Gerard repeats.
"Ge-rard," she mocks, and takes a few pictures of him rolling his eyes. "You two look so cute together."
Frank just keeps giggling. His stomach is twitching under Gerard's fingers. Gerard hides his reluctant smile against the side of Frank's head, hiding his face from his mother's camera and making her tsk. Frank's hair is crunchy with gel, and it smells like flowers. "Your hair smells nice," Gerard whispers in Frank's ear, and then picks up his head and faces his mom's camera again.
After approximately twelve million more pictures -- his mom stops to put new film in her camera not just once, but twice -- his mother finally puts down the camera and says, "All right, we're done."
Her eyeliner is smeared under one eye. Gerard gestures at his own eye a few times, but she doesn't get it; he finally sighs and goes over to her, says "Look up," and fixes it himself. "There," he says, "Perfect."
She turns and looks at herself in the greenish mirror over the mantel, smiles at herself to check her teeth, pats her high cloud of blonde hair, and turns back around. "Perfect," she says, "You're an angel."
"Mom," Gerard mutters again, glancing over at Frank. Frank's poking at a doily that's pinned to the living room wall, though, and Gerard's pretty sure he wasn't paying attention.
His mom just smiles and says, "Ready to go, then?"
"Yeah," Gerard says. "I just need the keys." He holds out his hand expectantly, but she doesn't hand them over. Gerard's heart sinks even before she opens her mouth.
"Didn't Mikey tell you?"
"Mikey!" Gerard yells.
Mikey thumps up the stairs and bursts through the door to the living room. He looks the same as when he went downstairs, though his eyes are a little more bloodshot. "I'm ready," he says.
"What were you supposed to tell me?" Gerard asks.
Mikey looks genuinely confused. Their mom jangles her keys helpfully, and his face clears. "Oh!" he says, smiling helplessly. "I forgot."
"You forgot?" Gerard prompts.
"Mom's got to drive us, because she needs the car for a work thing," Mikey says. His smile fades, and he adds, "Sorry."
"It's cool," Gerard says, even though it's the exact opposite of cool. Well, Mikey forgetting to tell him about it is fine, but their mom driving them to a dance is completely, totally uncool. Gerard manfully represses the urge to mutter a curse word.
Frank pipes up, "It's totally cool," and Gerard gives him a slightly weak grin for being so awesome.
"You can give me a call when you're ready, or you can walk home," his mom says. "I'm sorry, baby, I would let you have the car if I could--"
"It's fine," Gerard assures her. If there's anything worse than his mom driving him to a dance, it's having her apologize for it like he's being some kind of bratty teenager. "It's totally fine, mom, it'll be fun."
She smiles at him, relieved, and Gerard can't help but smile back. She's not exactly cool -- she's his mom, she can't be really cool -- but she's pretty amazing all the same.
---
When they get there, there's a limo in between the front gates of the school. Gerard rolls down the window and peers past it, craning his neck. "Dude, there are a lot of cars lined up," he tells his mom. He turns around in the seat and asks Frank, "Do you mind walking?"
"No, I'm cool," Frank says.
"I want to sit," Mikey says, but he starts giggling when Gerard tells him to shut up.
They wave to Gerard's mom, who waves her cigarette out the window at them, and then turn to walk down the front road. Passing by all the cars is a little weird; Gerard doesn't look, but he feels like the people in cars are staring at them when they walk past. He lights them all cigarettes, even though they’re on campus.
"Why would you take a limo to formal?" Frank asks.
There are only a few limos -- maybe two or three -- but Frank's right, even that's a little weird. "Seriously, they could use that money to feed the hungry," Gerard mutters to Frank. Frank beams at him, and Gerard ducks his head and blushes.
“You guys are so gross,” Mikey observes.
“Fuck off,” Frank shoots back. Gerard grins at the ground.
Gerard's expecting the same set-up as last year, and he's not disappointed. The school always does the same thing for dances. Every dance is held in their cafeteria. It’s a really nice room, at least, full of carved wood and shit, but it's still the cafeteria. They always have tablecloths over the dining tables and streamers hung off the arched ceiling, like tablecloths and streamers make a party. Gerard's pretty sure that they'll do exactly the same thing for prom.
Gerard also expects that he'll get hassled worse than ever, if only because he's there with the infamous gay kid. After they've gotten drinks, doctored them with whiskey from Gerard's flask, and settled down at an empty table, though, Gerard realizes that they haven't been bothered at all. Well, James slammed into Gerard at the drinks table, someone gave Gerard a wedgie when he walked by a knot of cool kids, and two guys called them "the fag table," but that's no worse than last year. In fact, it's better.
Gerard brings up the lack of hate crimes to Mikey and Frank, and Frank says, "I don't think they know we're here together."
"We held hands, though," Gerard points out.
"Yeah," Frank says. He shrugs. "I think they're all kind of drunk and high. And we hold hands with people pretty often."
"Huh," Gerard says. He looks around the dance floor. "Well. Do you want to dance, then?"
"This music sucks," Frank comments, but he levers himself up out of his chair and says, "Don't finish my drink" to Mikey.
"Your drink's done for," Gerard says, confidentially, as he leads Frank toward a back corner of the dance floor, far away from everyone else.
"I know," Frank says, smiling sideways at Gerard. Gerard has to stuff one hand into his pocket and pinch his thigh to keep himself from kissing Frank right then.
In their corner of the dance floor, they both sway awkwardly for a minute, but then a decent song comes on and they start to get into it. They're both terrible dancers. Gerard keeps catching himself singing along with the song, and he can't seem to make his hips move separately from his shoulders; Frank just thrashes around like he's dancing to punk music instead of the greatest hits of the '80s.
"I think this is the most fun I've ever had at a school dance," Gerard gasps, after they've danced through five or six songs. Frank grins and grabs Gerard's hand, swinging their arms together between them in time with Madonna's warbling.
"I want to kiss you," Frank yells, his voice loud enough to carry over the music. Gerard glances over his shoulder and then turns back to Frank.
He yells back, "That'd get us beat up for sure."
"Yeah," Frank says, like that's an exciting idea. It probably is, for him.
Gerard considers the idea for a long moment, their hands still suspended between them. Finally he shrugs and says, "Okay." He reels Frank in, pulling him close and pressing their hips together. "You look really good, seriously," he tells Frank, and pushes his fingers through Frank's gel-stiff hair. Frank tips his head back and half-closes his eyes, smiling. His throat works, and Gerard bends to put his lips just under Frank's jaw, over his pulse.
"You guys are drunk, aren't you?" Mikey asks, out of nowhere. Gerard flips him off without looking, but he looks up a beat later. Mikey's standing between them and the rest of the dance floor, apparently trying to block them from sight with his three-inch-wide body.
Frank says, "Nope." He and Mikey engage in a glare-off. Finally Frank says petulantly, "We just felt like kissing."
"I know," Mikey says miserably, and unfolds his arms. "But, I mean--" He pushes his glasses up his nose and says, "If you get beat up we get beat up, and then Bob can't see his boyfriend, and Ma'll get mad, and--"
"Fuck," Gerard says. "Okay, yeah."
"But--" Frank says, but Gerard tugs on his hand, and he deflates. "Yeah," he says. “It would be cool, though.”
"Sorry," Mikey says. He's staring at his toes, but he looks up when Frank pulls on his tie. "Jerks," he says, but he smiles when he says it, so Gerard figures he's fine.
"Let's go in the hallway and slowdance," Gerard suggests to Frank, and Frank lets go of Mikey's tie. Gerard smiles at his brother one last time before he pulls Frank across the cafeteria, toward one of the doors that leads to the rest of the school.
The quiet of the hallway is abrupt. The door bangs shut behind them, and Gerard can barely hear the thump of the bass line. Frank clears his throat, and Gerard startles. "There's no music," Frank observes.
"That's cool," Gerard says. "We don't need music."
"We don't?" Frank asks.
"No," Gerard says. He puts his arms around Frank's neck, feeling awkward and unsure -- he's never really slow-danced before -- and after an excruciating pause, Frank puts his hands on Gerard's hips.
"How will we dance without music?" Frank asks. He's very close; Gerard can see the faint marks of freckles across the bridge of his nose.
"I'm never gonna dance again," Gerard sings, very softly. Frank giggles. He tips his head forward, resting his forehead against the left lapel of Gerard's suit jacket. "Guilty feet have got no rhythm," Gerard continues.
He sings steadily, dropping into "la la la" when he can't remember a line. Frank fills in a few lyrics, murmuring "I wish that we could lose this crowd" in a raspy singing voice. When Gerard's sung the whole song through, they keep swaying to the sound of the music that leaks through the door into the hallway.
"How did this happen?" Frank asks, eventually. They've mostly stopped dancing, though they're still wrapped up in one another.
"What?"
"You," Frank says. He presses his forehead against Gerard's chest, not looking up at him. "School was supposed to suck."
"Shut up," Gerard says. "School did suck for me, and then-- and then, I don’t know, you showed up. You jerk."
"You shut up," Frank says. He laughs, but it sounds a little wet, like Frank might cry or something. Gerard's never been someone to cry over.
"I'm going to sing 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' next," Gerard says.
Frank laughs, right on cue. "No you're not," he warns.
"Turn around," Gerard warbles. "Every now and then I get--"
Frank finally lifts his head and kisses Gerard, pressing their lips together. Gerard mumbles the rest of the line, just for pride's sake, but then just grins helplessly into the kiss. When Frank pulls back, Gerard keeps grinning. He presses their foreheads together, bending his neck to do it. "Life sucks, high school sucks, get over it," he tells Frank.
"Yeah, well. Your mom," Frank says back, and they giggle in unison.
---
end
---
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---
Having a thing-thing is pretty amazing. It's not like what Gerard imagines dating is like; a lot of it is exactly the same as being friends with Frank. Frank will come over to their house, most nights. They watch movies or read comics. Unlike if they were friends, though, when Mikey leaves to have a life, Frank and Gerard stay home and make out. It's a good system, Gerard thinks.
"I like this," Gerard says. Frank stops with his hand hovering over the bowl of popcorn, and Mikey arches an eyebrow at him. "This," Gerard says expansively, gesturing at the room. "It's nice."
He assumes they both agree with him -- Frank grins, and Mikey rolls his eyes -- but that night, when Mikey's gone off to a party, Frank says, "Do you want to maybe do something?"
"Now?" Gerard asks. He blinks at the ceiling, evaluating how drunk he is. Pretty drunk. "I'm kind of--"
"Not now," Frank interrupts. "But later, maybe? The Roxy has Evil Dead 2 on the big screen."
"Oh, cool!" Gerard says. He sits up. "Wait, call Ray, he'll want to see that."
"Oh," Frank says. Gerard squints at him, and Frank says, "I could, but." He looks at Gerard beseechingly.
"But?"
"I was thinking it could be just us," Frank says.
"Oh!" Gerard says, and feels abruptly, horribly stupid. "Oh my god, I'm sorry."
"No, I mean--"
"I would love to," Gerard says, finally salvaging his manners. Frank smiles at him, and Gerard adds, "Then, I mean. It's a date. Whenever it is."
"Thursday," Frank says. He's looking at Gerard like Gerard's someone cool. Gerard isn't selfless enough to tell Frank that he's got it backward; he just kisses him, instead.
---
“Mom,” Gerard says. She looks up. Gerard swallows hard, and says, “Okay, so. I kind of have a boyfriend.”
“Kind of?” she asks.
“I mean, it’s a real thing. We’re not just, y’know. Messing around,” he says, and swallows again. She finally looks up from her horoscope and fixes him with a beady-eyed stare. Gerard fidgets. “He‘s fifteen,” he says, even though he was kind of hoping to avoid sharing that information.
“Fifteen,” she repeats. “Does his mother know?“
“She knows he’s gay,“ Gerard says. “And I think he probably told her?“
“He should tell her,“ his mom says.
Gerard nods and says, “Totally, I‘ll-- I‘ll tell him that‘s a good idea.“
“Don’t be with someone who’ll be ashamed of you,” his mom says. Gerard ducks his head to look at the floor. “You’re a special boy. If this person is worth anything, they should be proud of dating you.”
“God, Mom,” Gerard says, embarrassed. Quieter, he adds, “If anyone’s acting like that, it’s me.”
After a long pause, his mom rests her chin on her hand and says, “It’s good to be safe, I guess. Just don‘t be ashamed of yourself, baby, there‘s no reason to be.”
“I won‘t,” Gerard says. “I’ll try not to.”
She grimaces, but then she holds out her arms for a hug. “I love you,” she murmurs. Gerard’s mouth is pressed up against her shoulder, but he mumbles it back, closing his eyes and holding her tighter.
---
On Thursday, when Gerard walks down the front steps, Frank and Mikey are waiting together. When Gerard reaches them, though, Mikey stands up and says, "Okay."
"Are you going home?" Gerard asks.
"Yeah," Mikey says. He shrugs and shoves up his glasses. "I'll see you later."
"Yeah," Gerard says awkwardly. He watches Mikey walk away. When he turns back to Frank, Frank looks concerned. "I'm not used to-- I don't know, it's weird," Gerard says, flapping his hand like that will illustrate his point.
"What is?" Frank asks.
"Mikey walking home by himself," Gerard says. "Not that, like, he's too young to do it or whatever. I'm just used to walking with him."
"Do you want to catch up with him?" Frank asks. "We could."
The offer makes Gerard stop and see Frank, see him properly. Frank's got his thumbs tucked under the straps of his backpack, and he's got an earnest expression on his face. He'd probably let Gerard walk Mikey home, if Gerard were really worried about it.
"You're amazing," Gerard says. It's the first thing that comes to his mind. Frank turns a little pink and looks away, shifting in place. Gerard insists, "No, really, you're just-- I can't believe you want to hang out with me."
"Shut up," Frank mutters. "I can't believe you want to hang out with me."
"Don't be dumb," Gerard says. He shuffles closer, putting the toes of their shoes together, watching for Frank’s smile.
“Your mom,” Frank murmurs.
They separate before anyone can see them, but Gerard’s insides feel light and strange, like they’re trying to float up and out of his mouth.
The walk to the movie theater is shorter than the walk to Gerard's house. They get there early for the showing, so they stop to buy snacks at the convenience store down the street from the theater. Frank shoves the candy and drinks into his backpack, with the giggling help of the spotty-faced checkout girl.
When they’re half a block away from the movie theater, Frank suddenly stops in place. “Shit,” he says.
“What?” Gerard asks, faltering to a stop a few steps away.
“I forgot my fake ID,” Frank says. “They might check if I‘m seventeen.”
Gerard takes a deep breath and tilts his head back, looking at the sky before he lets his breath out. “Way to make me feel like a pedo,” he says.
“Fuck you,” Frank says. Gerard drops his head again and rubs the back of his neck. Frank says, “Well, I could hide around the corner--”
“No way,” Gerard interrupts. His voice sounds harsher than he meant for it to sound. Frank looks startled, falling back a step. Gerard continues, more gently, “If they don’t let us in together, then we’ll do something else.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Gerard says firmly. He has no idea why it’s so important to him, but it is.
When they get to the tiny box office at the front of the movie theater, Gerard grabs Frank’s hand impulsively. “Two tickets for Evil Dead, please,” he says. “Together.”
The woman sitting behind the glass doesn’t say anything; she just rings him up, takes his money, and slides the tickets through the opening at the bottom of the window. She doesn’t even look at Frank.
Gerard murmurs, “See?” when they’re walking away.
“You totally thought she was going to stop us,” Frank says, but he’s smiling, and he hasn’t let go of Gerard’s hand. Gerard’s pretty sure Frank is just as relieved as he is.
Neither of them are paying attention, so they don't the group walking toward them. One of the guys walks right into Frank. Frank loses his balance and falls, knocked back suddenly with a startled yelp. He’s only kept on his feet by his grip on Gerard’s hand. Gerard reels him back in automatically. “Dude,” Frank says.
The guy -- one of a group, five teenagers walking lazily down the ramp toward the doors -- doesn’t even look back. Gerard calls, “Watch where you’re going.”
“Fuck you,” the guy tosses back.
“No,” Gerard says, blurting the word out loudly. He takes a step forward, still holding onto Frank’s hand. “You go fuck yourself.”
The guy and his friends don’t stop, even though Gerard’s sure they will, even though he‘s steeling himself for a fight. The guy murmurs something to his friends, and they’re laughing when they push out of the front doors, but they don’t stop and face them.
“Wimp,” Gerard says. He feels a rush of stupid pride when he says it, like saying it means he’s won. “C’mon, let’s go,” he says, and pulls on Frank’s hand.
Frank squeezes his hand, and after Gerard’s given the bored-looking employee their tickets, he says, “That was awesome,” in a shocked, low voice.
Gerard looks at him to make sure he’s not teasing, and Frank is looking at him like he’s a hero. “I should have had a better comeback,” Gerard says.
“No way,” Frank says. “That was the best comeback.”
“Whatever, it so wasn‘t,” Gerard says, but he ducks his head and smiles. “Thanks, though.”
“The best comeback,” Frank repeats, before they go into the theater.
When they sit down, Frank unpacks all of their snacks, slowly filling Gerard's lap with bright plastic packages of candy. "I think it'll last us," Gerard says, as he opens the Sour Patch Kids. He keeps a straight face, too, at least until Frank starts to giggle.
They're alone in the theater, thankfully; no one's there to be bothered by their laughter and whispering. Gerard can even resist the urge to look around before he leans in and kisses Frank.
He has the best of intentions. He's on a date with his boyfriend at an empty movie theater; they should totally make out through the entire film. He keeps his eyes closed and his attention on Frank when the Necronomicon shows up on screen. When the narrator is describing the Necronomicon, Gerard has to slit open one eye, just the barest amount -- it's written in blood -- but he manages to keep facing toward Frank.
When Linda becomes a Deadite, Gerard's mouth is still pressed against Frank's, but he's looking out of the corner of his eye, and his tongue is moving slower and slower. When Ash decapitates her with the shovel, Gerard suddenly realizes that he's sitting all the way back in his seat, and his head is completely facing the screen. "Sorry," he starts, turning back to Frank.
"Shh," Frank says. "He's about to get hit by it." He's gazing raptly at the screen, too, his face dimly illuminated by the reflected light. He looks over at Gerard after a breath and whispers, "Her head pops off like a Barbie doll."
"Yeah," Gerard whispers. He takes Frank's hand.
After the movie, though, when the prophecy has been fulfilled and the credits have rolled, Gerard starts to wonder if it's not some kind of sign. He hasn't been on many dates -- or, okay, any -- but he's pretty sure that watching the movie instead of sucking face isn't completely normal. Movies have told him that teenagers are supposed to be total horndogs with no self-control. Gerard always thought that the movies got away with that stereotype because the teenagers who might have protested were busy making out in the back row. It makes him worry that maybe he and Frank aren't meant to be together. He was kind of dreading the date earlier, too. What if it's a sign? It’s not like he has other experience to compare it to.
Gerard stops to light cigarettes for him and Frank when they get out of the theater. When he hands Frank his cigarette, Frank says, "You're kind of quiet."
Gerard bites his lip. "Just thinking about the movie," he says.
"I fucking love that movie," Frank says feelingly. He takes a big drag, like he’s making a dramatic point, and coughs a little on the exhale. Gerard laughs, and Frank smiles at him, a little embarrassed.
“It’s an amazing movie,” Gerard says truthfully. It is, after all, one of the best movies of all time.
Still, it seems a little weird to watch the movie instead of making out, like they're doing something wrong, or there isn't enough chemistry. Gerard smokes contemplatively, until the cherry is hot against his fingers and he has to ditch the butt.
Gerard's kind of busy contemplating whether or not Frank and he are made for each other, and he doesn't notice where they're walking. Frank startles him by taking his hand.
"Huh," he says. He looks around the dilapidated playground, takes in the squat brown brick building next to it. "I always remember this place as bigger than it actually is," he says.
"I know, right?" Frank says. He walks over to the slide and kicks the bottom of it. Gerard crosses to the swings and settles into one of them. The windows of the school reflect the sunset, gleaming gold and orange. The swing creaks when he shifts his weight.
It's chilly, even though the sun is hot on his back. Gerard shivers. He wants a drink, some pills; he wants a guarantee that he's not doing something stupid. He doesn't have any of those things, though. "So what are we doing here?" Gerard asks.
Frank walks over, walks right up to Gerard until their knees are touching. He grabs the chains on either side of Gerard, rocking him a little on the swing. "I wanted to hang out more," he says, and shrugs.
Gerard tries to think of something to say back to that, but his brain isn't helping him out. After a beat, Frank lets go of the chains and crosses his arms, sticking his hands in his armpits and hunching his shoulders. "You're cold," Gerard says stupidly.
"Yeah," Frank says. Gerard holds his hands out, not really thinking about it. Frank hesitates, but then he puts his hands in Gerard's. Gerard just chafes Frank's hands with his, trying to rub some warmth back into them. He huffs a warm open-mouthed breath over the tips of Frank's fingers, and then goes back to rubbing them. When he looks up again, Frank is smiling at him.
"What?" Gerard asks.
"Nothing," Frank says. The way his mouth curves, the goofy sweetness of his grin, suddenly catches Gerard; Gerard uses his grip on Frank's hands to pull him closer and tip him forward, to bring their mouths together.
It isn't like he knows then that they're meant to be; it's not like he gets an answer, or feels any less like a loser. But they kiss until it feels like where their mouths meet is the only warmth he has left, until Gerard's ears are numb, until the streetlights come on and reflect as blinding yellow blobs in the warped windows of the school. Gerard's mind whirls the entire time, like it always does when he kisses, but it's whirling around Frank.
Gerard only pulls away when his ears start to hurt from the cold. Frank is shivering, and his teeth are chattering now that his mouth isn't occupied. "Jesus," Gerard says, and laughs. His lips are sore, and it hurts to smile, but he does it anyway. "Let's go back to my house," he says.
"Okay," Frank says, and kisses him again.
It takes them a little while to actually head back to Gerard‘s.
---
Gerard gets a crick in his neck that doesn't go away for days. Frank gets bronchitis.
On Frank's second day home from school, Gerard visits to bring him his homework. "Sorry," he says.
"Worth it," Frank rasps.
"Don't be stupid," Gerard says, but he knows his grin kind of undermines his point.
---
Formal comes up way faster than Gerard thought it would. He’s been hanging out with Frank at his house pretty much every day, going out to movies once or twice more; it doesn’t feel like it’s been more than a month, not at all.
"Do you want to come shopping?" his mom asks one day, leaning into their room.
Gerard minimizes the computer window he had open and shoots his mom an irritated look. She arches one eyebrow and taps her nails on the door, and he rolls his eyes. "No," he says. "Obviously not."
"I was just thinking about the dance," his mom says.
"What dance?" Gerard asks, but she's already climbing back up the stairs. Gerard turns back to his computer and pulls the internet window back up. He's vaguely thinking of calling Frank--
"Shit!" Gerard says. He scrambles out of his chair and flings open the door. "Mom! I'm coming with you!" he yells.
"Hurry up!"
"One sec!" Gerard yells back, already digging through the crap all over their floor. He finds his wallet under a pile of dirty laundry, stuffs it in his back pocket, and shoves on his shoes. "Wait up!" he yells, just in case, as he runs up the stairs.
---
When they finally get home from shopping, Gerard has a navy blue suit.
"A suit," Gerard says.
Mikey takes out one earbud. "What?"
"I got a suit," Gerard repeats patiently.
"Oh," Mikey says, and puts his earbud back in.
Gerard tugs it back out, ignoring Mikey's annoyed noise. "Do you think a suit will look stupid?" he asks.
"What's Frank wearing?"
"I-- I don't know," Gerard says. "Should I know?"
Mikey shrugs. "You should find out, I guess."
"Yeah," Gerard says.
---
He really does plan on asking Frank about his formal outfit. When he finds out what Frank's wearing, Gerard figures he'll concoct a way to make their outfits at least sort of match.
The problem is that Gerard remembers that he had that plan when Frank rings the doorbell on the night of the dance. Gerard pauses before he opens the door, taking a second to hope desperately that Frank is wearing brown or gray. He opens the door and destroys those hopes. “Oh,” Gerard says.
Frank's not wearing any one color. He's wearing hot pink sneakers, a yellow t-shirt, black slacks and a gray blazer. Gerard stands there and gapes at him, his hand still on the doorknob, torn between laughing and falling over.
"What?" Frank says. He palms the back of his neck. "I-- fuck, my mom told me to wear something nicer."
"You look amazing," Gerard says. He still feels kind of hysterical. "I mean, you look amazing, but we don‘t match. I should have worn something like that."
"No way," Frank says. He reaches out and pinches the hem of Gerard's jacket. "I like the suit. It's so blue."
"It is really blue," Gerard agrees, looking down at his stupid suit.
"Is your date here?" Gerard's mom calls.
"Oh my god," Gerard mutters, but Frank just shuffles in the front door. Gerard hollers back, "Yeah, we're going to go!"
"Sit your butt down, mister!" she yells back, and Gerard hears something crash. He winces and shuts the door with a sense of doom.
"Sorry, I think she wants pictures," Gerard says.
"That's cool," Frank says. He's poking around the living room, even though he's been there before and seen all their creepy decorations. "My mom will want doubles," he admits.
"Moms are lame," Gerard informs him. Frank laughs and nods.
Gerard watches him putter around a little longer. He only works up the nerve to say "You really do look good" just as his mom walks into the room, brandishing her camera.
"Exactly what you should say," his mom tells him.
"Mom," Gerard says, horrified. She shrugs, apparently unaware of the dire embarrassment she's just caused him.
"Hi, Mrs. Way," Frank says.
"Donna," Gerard's mom says sternly.
"Donna," Frank says. He turns slightly pink.
"Hi, Frank. I hope you don't mind if I take some pictures of you two," she says. “We need extra, since Gerard’s grandma isn’t home tonight.”
“Sorry,” Gerard tells Frank.
Frank shrugs. "That's fine."
"Good! Let's have you stand in front of the dolls over here," she says cheerfully. Frank starts giggling. He almost always ends up giggling when he talks to Gerard's mom. It can be funny to him, Gerard thinks sourly; it’s not Frank’s mom making them pose in front of the doll collection.
"Put your arms around him," Gerard's mom directs. Gerard obeys, and she says, "Oh, honey, you're allowed to touch him."
"Mom," Gerard repeats.
"Ge-rard," she mocks, and takes a few pictures of him rolling his eyes. "You two look so cute together."
Frank just keeps giggling. His stomach is twitching under Gerard's fingers. Gerard hides his reluctant smile against the side of Frank's head, hiding his face from his mother's camera and making her tsk. Frank's hair is crunchy with gel, and it smells like flowers. "Your hair smells nice," Gerard whispers in Frank's ear, and then picks up his head and faces his mom's camera again.
After approximately twelve million more pictures -- his mom stops to put new film in her camera not just once, but twice -- his mother finally puts down the camera and says, "All right, we're done."
Her eyeliner is smeared under one eye. Gerard gestures at his own eye a few times, but she doesn't get it; he finally sighs and goes over to her, says "Look up," and fixes it himself. "There," he says, "Perfect."
She turns and looks at herself in the greenish mirror over the mantel, smiles at herself to check her teeth, pats her high cloud of blonde hair, and turns back around. "Perfect," she says, "You're an angel."
"Mom," Gerard mutters again, glancing over at Frank. Frank's poking at a doily that's pinned to the living room wall, though, and Gerard's pretty sure he wasn't paying attention.
His mom just smiles and says, "Ready to go, then?"
"Yeah," Gerard says. "I just need the keys." He holds out his hand expectantly, but she doesn't hand them over. Gerard's heart sinks even before she opens her mouth.
"Didn't Mikey tell you?"
"Mikey!" Gerard yells.
Mikey thumps up the stairs and bursts through the door to the living room. He looks the same as when he went downstairs, though his eyes are a little more bloodshot. "I'm ready," he says.
"What were you supposed to tell me?" Gerard asks.
Mikey looks genuinely confused. Their mom jangles her keys helpfully, and his face clears. "Oh!" he says, smiling helplessly. "I forgot."
"You forgot?" Gerard prompts.
"Mom's got to drive us, because she needs the car for a work thing," Mikey says. His smile fades, and he adds, "Sorry."
"It's cool," Gerard says, even though it's the exact opposite of cool. Well, Mikey forgetting to tell him about it is fine, but their mom driving them to a dance is completely, totally uncool. Gerard manfully represses the urge to mutter a curse word.
Frank pipes up, "It's totally cool," and Gerard gives him a slightly weak grin for being so awesome.
"You can give me a call when you're ready, or you can walk home," his mom says. "I'm sorry, baby, I would let you have the car if I could--"
"It's fine," Gerard assures her. If there's anything worse than his mom driving him to a dance, it's having her apologize for it like he's being some kind of bratty teenager. "It's totally fine, mom, it'll be fun."
She smiles at him, relieved, and Gerard can't help but smile back. She's not exactly cool -- she's his mom, she can't be really cool -- but she's pretty amazing all the same.
---
When they get there, there's a limo in between the front gates of the school. Gerard rolls down the window and peers past it, craning his neck. "Dude, there are a lot of cars lined up," he tells his mom. He turns around in the seat and asks Frank, "Do you mind walking?"
"No, I'm cool," Frank says.
"I want to sit," Mikey says, but he starts giggling when Gerard tells him to shut up.
They wave to Gerard's mom, who waves her cigarette out the window at them, and then turn to walk down the front road. Passing by all the cars is a little weird; Gerard doesn't look, but he feels like the people in cars are staring at them when they walk past. He lights them all cigarettes, even though they’re on campus.
"Why would you take a limo to formal?" Frank asks.
There are only a few limos -- maybe two or three -- but Frank's right, even that's a little weird. "Seriously, they could use that money to feed the hungry," Gerard mutters to Frank. Frank beams at him, and Gerard ducks his head and blushes.
“You guys are so gross,” Mikey observes.
“Fuck off,” Frank shoots back. Gerard grins at the ground.
Gerard's expecting the same set-up as last year, and he's not disappointed. The school always does the same thing for dances. Every dance is held in their cafeteria. It’s a really nice room, at least, full of carved wood and shit, but it's still the cafeteria. They always have tablecloths over the dining tables and streamers hung off the arched ceiling, like tablecloths and streamers make a party. Gerard's pretty sure that they'll do exactly the same thing for prom.
Gerard also expects that he'll get hassled worse than ever, if only because he's there with the infamous gay kid. After they've gotten drinks, doctored them with whiskey from Gerard's flask, and settled down at an empty table, though, Gerard realizes that they haven't been bothered at all. Well, James slammed into Gerard at the drinks table, someone gave Gerard a wedgie when he walked by a knot of cool kids, and two guys called them "the fag table," but that's no worse than last year. In fact, it's better.
Gerard brings up the lack of hate crimes to Mikey and Frank, and Frank says, "I don't think they know we're here together."
"We held hands, though," Gerard points out.
"Yeah," Frank says. He shrugs. "I think they're all kind of drunk and high. And we hold hands with people pretty often."
"Huh," Gerard says. He looks around the dance floor. "Well. Do you want to dance, then?"
"This music sucks," Frank comments, but he levers himself up out of his chair and says, "Don't finish my drink" to Mikey.
"Your drink's done for," Gerard says, confidentially, as he leads Frank toward a back corner of the dance floor, far away from everyone else.
"I know," Frank says, smiling sideways at Gerard. Gerard has to stuff one hand into his pocket and pinch his thigh to keep himself from kissing Frank right then.
In their corner of the dance floor, they both sway awkwardly for a minute, but then a decent song comes on and they start to get into it. They're both terrible dancers. Gerard keeps catching himself singing along with the song, and he can't seem to make his hips move separately from his shoulders; Frank just thrashes around like he's dancing to punk music instead of the greatest hits of the '80s.
"I think this is the most fun I've ever had at a school dance," Gerard gasps, after they've danced through five or six songs. Frank grins and grabs Gerard's hand, swinging their arms together between them in time with Madonna's warbling.
"I want to kiss you," Frank yells, his voice loud enough to carry over the music. Gerard glances over his shoulder and then turns back to Frank.
He yells back, "That'd get us beat up for sure."
"Yeah," Frank says, like that's an exciting idea. It probably is, for him.
Gerard considers the idea for a long moment, their hands still suspended between them. Finally he shrugs and says, "Okay." He reels Frank in, pulling him close and pressing their hips together. "You look really good, seriously," he tells Frank, and pushes his fingers through Frank's gel-stiff hair. Frank tips his head back and half-closes his eyes, smiling. His throat works, and Gerard bends to put his lips just under Frank's jaw, over his pulse.
"You guys are drunk, aren't you?" Mikey asks, out of nowhere. Gerard flips him off without looking, but he looks up a beat later. Mikey's standing between them and the rest of the dance floor, apparently trying to block them from sight with his three-inch-wide body.
Frank says, "Nope." He and Mikey engage in a glare-off. Finally Frank says petulantly, "We just felt like kissing."
"I know," Mikey says miserably, and unfolds his arms. "But, I mean--" He pushes his glasses up his nose and says, "If you get beat up we get beat up, and then Bob can't see his boyfriend, and Ma'll get mad, and--"
"Fuck," Gerard says. "Okay, yeah."
"But--" Frank says, but Gerard tugs on his hand, and he deflates. "Yeah," he says. “It would be cool, though.”
"Sorry," Mikey says. He's staring at his toes, but he looks up when Frank pulls on his tie. "Jerks," he says, but he smiles when he says it, so Gerard figures he's fine.
"Let's go in the hallway and slowdance," Gerard suggests to Frank, and Frank lets go of Mikey's tie. Gerard smiles at his brother one last time before he pulls Frank across the cafeteria, toward one of the doors that leads to the rest of the school.
The quiet of the hallway is abrupt. The door bangs shut behind them, and Gerard can barely hear the thump of the bass line. Frank clears his throat, and Gerard startles. "There's no music," Frank observes.
"That's cool," Gerard says. "We don't need music."
"We don't?" Frank asks.
"No," Gerard says. He puts his arms around Frank's neck, feeling awkward and unsure -- he's never really slow-danced before -- and after an excruciating pause, Frank puts his hands on Gerard's hips.
"How will we dance without music?" Frank asks. He's very close; Gerard can see the faint marks of freckles across the bridge of his nose.
"I'm never gonna dance again," Gerard sings, very softly. Frank giggles. He tips his head forward, resting his forehead against the left lapel of Gerard's suit jacket. "Guilty feet have got no rhythm," Gerard continues.
He sings steadily, dropping into "la la la" when he can't remember a line. Frank fills in a few lyrics, murmuring "I wish that we could lose this crowd" in a raspy singing voice. When Gerard's sung the whole song through, they keep swaying to the sound of the music that leaks through the door into the hallway.
"How did this happen?" Frank asks, eventually. They've mostly stopped dancing, though they're still wrapped up in one another.
"What?"
"You," Frank says. He presses his forehead against Gerard's chest, not looking up at him. "School was supposed to suck."
"Shut up," Gerard says. "School did suck for me, and then-- and then, I don’t know, you showed up. You jerk."
"You shut up," Frank says. He laughs, but it sounds a little wet, like Frank might cry or something. Gerard's never been someone to cry over.
"I'm going to sing 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' next," Gerard says.
Frank laughs, right on cue. "No you're not," he warns.
"Turn around," Gerard warbles. "Every now and then I get--"
Frank finally lifts his head and kisses Gerard, pressing their lips together. Gerard mumbles the rest of the line, just for pride's sake, but then just grins helplessly into the kiss. When Frank pulls back, Gerard keeps grinning. He presses their foreheads together, bending his neck to do it. "Life sucks, high school sucks, get over it," he tells Frank.
"Yeah, well. Your mom," Frank says back, and they giggle in unison.
---
end
---
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