Fic: Thing-Thing (3/5)
1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - master post
---
After that, even Gerard has to admit that he wants in Frank's pants.
And, okay, Gerard is not completely and totally dumb. He is aware of the unavoidable reality that he has actually been in Frank's pants now, and that his desire to be in Frank's pants could be proven in court.
Furthermore, Gerard can acknowledge that he wants and, what is more, has wanted to bone Frank. Or have Frank bone him. Or whatever. Gerard isn't really particular, is the thing; the important point is that Gerard knew that he would not mind if his bone and Frank's bone were to be intimately acquainted.
But now he's feeling all romantic about the boners.
"Like, you wanted to bone him, bone him, and now you want to hold hands and make out, bone him?" Mikey asks.
"Both," Gerard moans. "I want to bone him both ways. I have a crush, Mikey. It's horrible."
"I told him not to kiss you," Mikey says helplessly. "I told him you weren't into him like that and you weren't looking for a thing. It should have worked. It always works with girls."
"Dude, I know," Gerard says. "Fucking Frank managed to make me like him anyway. Even though he really doesn't want it to be a thing." He rolls to face the ceiling. "The handjob was part of his cunning plan, I bet," he says.
"Gross gross gross," Mikey says, and scrunches up his face.
"You're just jealous," Gerard tells him.
"I could probably get Frank to give me a handjob," Mikey says, because he's a bad brother with evil in his heart.
"Don't remind me," Gerard moans, and covers his face with his hands. "Why doesn't he want a thing?"
"He probably wants a thing, but not a thing-thing, you know?" Mikey says comfortingly.
"I want a thing-thing," Gerard says, and sighs.
---
"So, like," Gerard starts, when they're walking to school the next morning. "I feel like if it's not a thing, then I should maybe not talk to him too much, you know? Like, not-a-thing, does that mean not a friend thing? I know, were Frank and I even friends or whatever, I know. But like, am I not allowed to talk to him? I have to talk to him if he wants his character to do well in the campaign, you know, I can't, like, ignore the elf, right? Duh. But, so, I'm just wondering if I'm allowed to touch him, or if that's too much. I'm not going to fondle him! But, like, his shoulder." Gerard gestures helplessly. "Maybe just his shoulder."
Mikey pulls one earbud out. "What?"
Gerard sighs. "Nothing."
"Okay," Mikey says. He puts the earbud back in.
Gerard ducks his head and looks at his feet. "I don't know what to do," he says, soft, very soft. He thought about it all weekend, while Mikey was out partying and having a life, and he still didn't come up with an answer.
When they get to school, Frank is waiting for them in the front hall. Gerard hesitates with the door half-open, but Frank looks up and sees them, and Gerard has to walk in.
"Hey," Gerard says, with perfect nonchalance. Frank says, "Hey." Mikey says, "I didn't do my bio homework."
"I did," Frank says, and he and Mikey fall into step together, talking about things Gerard left behind three years ago. Gerard shuffles along behind them. He feels stupidly resentful for being ignored, even though he's pretty sure that's what he was hoping for.
Gerard gets his chance to test out the whole "not-a-thing" thing when they split up in the main hall. He touches Mikey first, just a quick pat on the top of Mikey's head. Then Gerard touches Frank, resting his fingers briefly on the knob of Frank's shoulder. It feels really, really awkward, but Frank gives him a smile. Gerard smiles back, and then walks away, towards his locker.
So the shoulder is okay, Gerard thinks. Okay. Okay.
---
See, the problem is that Frank's hand has been on Gerard's dick. Gerard would challenge anyone, absolutely anyone in the entire world to act normal around someone when that someone's hand has been on their bathing suit place.
Gerard has to revise that thought when he gets to the art room for lunch, though. Apparently Frank would win that challenge. Apparently Frank is the reigning champion of acting normal around someone he's had sexy times with. Gerard should have been able to predict that, what with the "Frank is a precocious slut" thing, but. Well, but Gerard has eaten Frank's semen. It isn't weird that Gerard expected at least a little awkwardness, right?
But all Frank does is say, "Hey! I want to increase my tiara level, can I do that?"
"No you can't," Gerard says automatically. "You haven't earned enough XP."
"XP?" Frank asks.
"Experience points," Gerard explains. "And there's no such thing as a tiara level, what the fuck."
"Tiara power!" Frank yells.
Gerard rolls his eyes and shoves Frank's shoulder, and boom, just like that, they're normal. Well, except for the part where Gerard knows what Frank's dick looks like, so his lame-ass yearnings have better accompanying visuals. Otherwise, though, it's just the same as before.
They get the game started pretty quickly. They're just wandering through the abandoned village they discovered; Matt finds a sword that glows at what seems like random moments, and Ray discovers that he can climb trees really fast. About ten minutes before the end of lunch, their characters find a girl hiding behind a booth in the market.
"Hey, Bob can be the girl," Frank says.
Gerard looks at Bob. Bob just shrugs. "You don't have a PC," Gerard says apologetically.
"Player character," Frank says, helpfully. "Normally Gerard has to play all the non-player characters, but it would be cooler if he could just mod."
Gerard blushes for, like, no fucking reason. Everybody here has heard Gerard bitch about playing NPCs, he does it every time they play. It's not like Frank noticing is special, or anything. Gerard ducks his head down towards the folder of character sheets to hide his face. "Yeah," he agrees. "That's true, that would be better."
"I'll be the girl, then," Bob says. Ray starts giggling, and Bob does one of his little sideways grins. "Fuck you, my tits are hot," he says, and Matt reluctantly laughs, too.
"Don't say 'tits,'" Gerard says automatically. Frank smiles at him for no fucking reason, and Gerard says, "What?"
"Nothing," Frank says.
"Sure," Gerard says, irritated. He pulls on Bob's shoulder and Gerard whispers what role the girl is supposed to play to him. Bob nods and sits back. "Hello there, boys," he says, in a girly-ass voice, and flutters his eyelashes. Everyone cracks up.
"Oh my god," Ray says, dragging out the last word. "That wasn't my character saying that," he adds hastily. Frank is bent over, giggling with his face pressed against his thighs. Gerard really wants to put his hand on Frank's back. He doesn't. Frank sits up a second later, anyway.
"I want to use my tiara!" Frank says. He taps his sheet and looks at Gerard with big eyes.
Gerard rolls his eyes. "Christ," he says.
"Can I have sex with the girl?" Matt asks.
"No," Gerard says. "No tiara. And definitely no sex. She's too pretty for you, seriously, there are not enough dice in the world."
"I told you my t-- my boobs are hot," Bob says. Gerard gives him an approving look. Bob grins at him.
"I'm going to talk to the girl," Ray says. Thank god for Ray, really.
They don't even need to act out the conversation, since it's a tabletop game, but Ray and Bob have a pretty good in-character conversation about how the village was abandoned, and it sets up the battle that the group is going to have to deal with in a couple of sessions. By the time they're done talking, though, the lunch period is over, so Gerard ends the session and starts packing up.
Gerard doesn't bother to try to organize everything, just shoves it all into his bag. When Gerard stands back up, he sees Frank looking at his butt. "Did I get something on my ass?" Gerard asks. "These stools always have fucking paint on them, goddammit."
"No, no, I mean," Frank says hastily. Mikey snickers, and Frank bites his lip, and Gerard realizes with sickening suddenness that Frank was looking at his ass because Frank was looking at his ass.
Gerard says "oh!" then, because he's the most awkward guy in the known universe. He feels his face warming up, and he slings his bag over his shoulder as quickly as he can. "Right, so," he says, and then has nothing else to add. "I have to go to class," he says desperately.
"Can I come over?" Frank asks. "After school?" Gerard whips around, but Frank isn't looking at him, he's looking at Mikey. Mikey shrugs and looks at Gerard, who shrugs helplessly back, like I thought it wasn't a thing.
"Are you hanging out with me, or with Gerard?" Mikey asks, and Gerard glares like what the fuck, assclown. Mikey ignores him.
Frank says, "Can't I hang out with both of you?"
"Oh, gross," Mikey says.
"Not hanging out like that," Frank says. "Don't be a dickface."
So not a thing, Gerard thinks. Okay, right. Whatever. "Whatever," he says, out loud. "You should come over, yeah."
"Cool, I will," Frank says. "Was that so hard?"
Gerard shrugs and doesn't say what he's thinking. He just leaves for class.
---
Ms. Mirkin agreed to let Gerard make up the test that he missed. Gerard's mom had to make a phone call on Gerard's behalf to the head of the school, to explain that her son is a loser retard who can't defend himself from guys his own age, but at least now Gerard won't fail math. Gerard worries about the test for the second half of the day. He has math last period, so it pretty much ruins his day. It feels like he bombed it pretty spectacularly, but that's not anything new.
The math test means that Gerard is actually able to forget that Frank is coming home with them. He's forcibly reminded, of course, when he goes outside after math class and sees both Frank and Mikey waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
"I forgot you were coming with us," Gerard says, like a total fucking tool. Mikey rolls his eyes, and Frank doesn't say anything. It's awkward. "Thanks for getting Bob to play all the NPCs," Gerard says, because apparently awkward is just how Gerard is going to roll today.
"No problem," Frank says. He looks surprised, like Gerard's weird for thanking him when Gerard is just showing good manners. Mikey rolls his eyes again and starts walking, and after a beat, Gerard and Frank follow.
They're quiet all the way home. Gerard tucks his thumbs under the strap of his bag and watches Frank covertly, the way he scuffs the leaves at his feet, the way he wipes sweat off of his forehead, the way he pulls his hair out of his eyes. Mikey walks between them, listening to his ipod. Frank doesn't look up from the ground.
---
So Mikey and Frank are friends, obviously, and Frank and Gerard are-- well, Gerard is a big loser weirdo, and Frank is friends with Gerard but sometimes looks at Gerard's ass. So everything is normal, kind of, or as normal as Gerard ever gets to be.
Maybe making things normal after sex-stuff is Frank's superpower, Gerard thinks. He doodles a picture of Frank in a superhero costume, with normalcy beams coming out of his hands.
"Who's that?"
Gerard jerks, and his headphones slip off his ears. The cord wraps around his neck. "Gack," Gerard says, and tugs on the cord until it lets him breathe. Frank just stares at him. "No one. What. Where's Mikey?" Gerard asks.
"He's got stuff to do upstairs," Frank says.
"Uh," Gerard says, and squints. "Did you kill him or something? My grandma will be pissed if you kill him. And my mom."
"No," Frank says, laughing. "Dude, no."
"I don't want to have to punch you," Gerard says, and Frank laughs even harder. "Seriously, if you killed Mikey I will figure out a way to punch you without you punching back."
"Dude," Frank says. "No, he's seriously just going to be upstairs for a while."
"Oh," Gerard says. "Okay." He fiddles with the cord of his headphones.
"So," Frank says, dragging the word out. "Do you want to maybe mess around?"
"What?" Gerard says, even though he heard Frank just fine. Frank doesn't repeat himself. He doesn't help Gerard out at all; he just shrugs his shoulders stiffly. "Wait," Gerard says, "Who says that?"
Frank shoves his hands into the pockets of his uniform slacks. "I was just thinking," he says, and then doesn't finish the sentence.
The top button of Frank's shirt is undone, and his tie is loose. He's wearing an honest-to-God undershirt, like James Dean, or like his mother dresses him. Frank's smiling, too, a big weird smile that doesn't make any sense. He won't look Gerard in the eye.
Gerard says, "Okay, yeah," before Frank can open his mouth again. "Yeah, let's go."
"Okay," Frank says.
Gerard half-rises out of his chair, then has to stop to untangle himself from his headphones. Frank comes closer, and Gerard fumbles the headphones and gets the cord even more twisted up.
"Here," Frank says. His fingers are a little sweaty on Gerard's neck. Gerard is blushing. His hand jerks, and he almost chokes himself with the cord. Frank finally bats Gerard's hands away and gets the headphones off of Gerard's neck. "Okay, you're free," Frank says.
"Free Willy," Gerard says, and makes a noise like a whale. He isn't even thinking straight, or he would never have done that; still, it makes Frank burst into giggles, so it can't be all bad.
"Hoongh!" Frank says. It takes Gerard a second to recognize the noise.
"You're really terrible at whale sounds," Gerard informs him. He presses his hands to his cheeks, trying to cool them down. Frank just says "Hoongh," again. "You sound like a goose, that's what you sound like," Gerard says.
"Hoongh hoongh," Frank says, softer now, like he's saying something romantic. It's kind of romantic, actually, if Gerard doesn't think about it, if he just looks at Frank and listens to his voice. Gerard takes his hands away from his cheeks and shuffles forward when Frank touches his hip. Gerard thinks it's going to take them a while to kiss again, but Frank just does it.
Gerard has to stoop down to kiss Frank. Frank's slightly sweaty, even through the layers of his shirt and undershirt. Gerard can feel the puffs of breath from the noises Frank makes while he's kissing.
Gerard's pretty much sober, yet again, which is fucking weird. His thoughts are spinning in circles, the same way as it does when Gerard's drunk or tipsy and kissing someone, but they're weirdly clear. Like, he still doesn't know what the fuck he's doing, sure, but now he's sober enough to think about it, to try things and listen for Frank's noises to tell him if he's wrong. It's weird, like Gerard is learning something, like kissing is something you practice instead of doing kamikaze-style.
Frank digs his fingers into the middle of Gerard's shoulder blade. Even though it makes no sense, Frank pressing his fingers there sends little zinging electric shocks through Gerard's belly, right to his dick. His hips push forward, nearly knocking them both off-balance, and he makes a noise into Frank's mouth without thinking about it.
He doesn't think Frank will notice the noise, but Frank must be paying attention. He keeps kneading Gerard's shoulder right there, first constantly and then at random intervals. His other hand is in Gerard's hair, holding on too hard, but Gerard can't pull together the words to tell him that's kind of annoying, not with him touching Gerard's shoulder like that.
When Frank tugs on Gerard's hair, though, Gerard makes an irritated noise and pulls his mouth away. "Stop pulling my hair," he says.
"Sorry," Frank says, ducking his head like he's embarrassed. He's breathing hard, and his cheeks are pink. Gerard takes one of his hands off of Frank's waist and awkwardly laces it into Frank's hair, giving it a pull -- just to show Frank how irritating it is -- but it backfires. Frank tips his head back and moans.
Gerard's vision goes hazy. He bites Frank's neck, which makes Frank moan harder, and Gerard very nearly comes. Frank's clinging to his shoulders like he's some kind of boy-maiden and Gerard's a vampire and fuck, Gerard is seriously going to actually come in his pants.
"Pants off," Frank gasps, like he's reading Gerard's mind. "My mom will be pissy if I get come on my uniform."
"Mikey could come down," Gerard says, ignoring the part of his brain that's screaming BONER BONER BONER.
"I, uh. I told him we might, y'know," Frank says. Gerard blinks, still mystified. "I told him we might be busy," Frank says.
"Oh my god," Gerard says. Frank just shrugs. Mikey is staying upstairs so that Gerard can get his rocks off with Mikey's underage friend, and-- well. It's embarrassing, hideously embarrassing, but--
"Fine," Gerard says. "Okay, fine, whatever, take your pants off."
They disentangle from one another. Gerard sets to work on his fly a beat after Frank does, fumbling with the button and the zipper.
Frank sits down on Gerard's bed. He wrestles off his shoes and shoves off his pants, baring his thighs. He's chunk-style, definitely, but Gerard can see the lines of his muscles under his skin. There's a bulge of flesh where the elastic leg of his underwear presses into his ass, but it looks good, like the sparse hairs on his legs do.
When Frank says, "Should I-- I mean, I'm gonna take my shirt off, too?" Gerard is too distracted by looking to do anything but nod. Then, of course, Gerard realizes that he has to take his shirt off if Frank does. Fuck.
Frank unbuttons his shirt and yanks off his tie. While he's pulling up his undershirt, Gerard quickly strips off his own shirt. He sits within arm's reach of Frank on the bed, leaving his shirt and his pants crumpled on the floor by his desk chair. Frank seems to be stuck in his shirt for a second, but he fights it off and throws it on top of the rest of his clothes. He's panting slightly.
His nipples are dark against his pale skin. His nipples don't do the annoying peaking thing that Gerard's do; they're flat on his chest, so that the pudge he has looks like pecs instead of breasts. His chest has the same faint lines of definition that his legs have, like if he tried a little harder he could be muscular. Gerard crosses his arms over his chest, then realizes that that means his girl-thighs and boner are hanging out, unprotected by anything but his underwear.
Before Gerard can figure out some sort of system where he can cover his entire body with just his arms, Frank leans over and smashes their lips together. It kind of hurts, but when Frank pulls back, Gerard follows him. They end up falling back against Gerard's pillow, which smells kind of like Gerard's hair and kind of like sleep-sweat. Frank doesn't seem to mind, though; he's kneading at Gerard's shoulders, and when Gerard remembers to pull on his hair he starts gasping against Gerard's mouth.
Gerard gropes down blindly until he finds the waistband of Frank's underwear. Gerard rubs his thumb over the curve of Frank's belly, up to his belly button and then down to the waistband of his underwear, back up to his belly button and then finally smooths his hand down over the front of Frank's underwear.
Gerard breaks away from the kiss to look down at his hand. He rubs the outline of Frank's cock, pressing the cotton down around it. The fabric rasps against the pads of his fingers. It's damp at the head of Frank's dick, and when Gerard presses his thumb there, over the head, Frank whines and shoves his hips up. Gerard tears his eyes away from the outline of Frank's dick to his face. Frank's mouth has dropped open, and his eyes have closed.
Gerard says, "So, is that, I mean--" He cuts himself off. He sounds like such a tool, Christ.
Frank just breathes out, "Please, please."
Gerard's not precisely sure what Frank's asking for, but he figures that taking Frank's underwear off won't go amiss at this point. He pulls up the waistband and maneuvers it over Frank's cock. He only gets them halfway down Frank's thighs before Frank sits up and shoves them the rest of the way off. Frank flops back on the bed, his dick slapping against his stomach. Gerard laughs. "Shut up," Frank says.
"You shut up," Gerard says, and grabs Frank's cock.
"Okay," Frank gasps agreeably.
Frank's underwear left a thin red line on his belly. Gerard ducks his head down and touches his tongue to it. The skin doesn't taste any different, really, but Frank makes a harsh noise and splays his knees wider. Gerard bites his lip. Now that he's down here, he figures that maybe he could try, possibly, even though he doesn't really know what he's doing, not really. Gerard licks the seamed skin at Frank's belly again, thinking.
"Please," Frank repeats.
Okay, Gerard thinks, and just goes for it.
Gerard figures what he's going to do is pretty obvious, but Frank still gasps when Gerard licks his cock. The skin is slick and salty-tasting. Gerard tries sucking the head into his mouth, like they do in the porn he's watched. He can't do it like a porn star, obviously, but he can get a rhythm going.
It's sort of boring and interesting at the same time. Gerard likes the taste, and likes having something in his mouth, but he's just sort of bobbing his head, not doing anything special. They always do that in the porn he's watched, but they tend to be better at deepthroating than Gerard is. Mikey told him once that you're supposed to use your hand when you're blowing someone. Gerard's not exactly sure what the fuck that means, though, so he just strokes one of his thumbs along the underside of Frank's dick, kind of out of tempo with his mouth.
Gerard draws back, just to catch his breath. He's drooled all over the place, he realizes; he slides his hand up Frank's cock and starts jerking him, just to get the saliva more spread around. He would feel gross about the spit puddle, but Frank doesn't seem to mind. He's twitching all over the place, and his face is beet red.
"Can you-- fuck, please," Frank says.
"What?" Gerard asks, because he's not a mind-reader, seriously.
"Have you done this before?" Frank asks.
Gerard stops his hand, shocked. He thought he was doing pretty okay. "I can stop," he offers.
"No, no, that's not what I meant," Frank says, with a satisfying amount of desperation in his voice. "I mean, fuck, can you use your hand like that and your mouth like before? Please?"
Gerard frowns. He starts jerking Frank off again and -- with Frank's encouraging noises as a soundtrack -- ducks his head down to suck on the head of Frank's dick again. It makes more sense when Gerard actually starts doing it, working his hand in time with his mouth. It's probably what Mikey meant by using your hand. Gerard kind of feels dumb for not realizing it before.
Gerard doesn't have long to feel dumb, though; after a couple of strokes like that, Frank bucks his hips up twice, says, "shit, fuck, sorry," and comes in Gerard's mouth.
Gerard mentally shrugs and keeps sucking. It's not like he hasn't eaten it before, he figures, and this is less messy. He keeps swallowing until Frank says, "Holy Mary mother of God," and pushes Gerard's head off his crotch.
"Was that okay?" Gerard says, and immediately wants to die.
Frank doesn't make fun of him for being a total girl, though; he grins at Gerard and says, "Dude, yeah."
Gerard crawls back up the bed, feeling pudgy and awkward and weird again now that he's not sucking Frank's dick, but Frank doesn't seem to notice. He puts his arms around Gerard's shoulders and kisses Gerard, open-mouthed.
Gerard braces himself on the pillow and concentrates on making out with Frank; he feels horny and stupid, his hard-on rubbing right on the seam of his underwear, but he's not sure what to do about it. He wants to hump Frank's leg, but he figures that has to be kind of rude. It feels pretty rude, just rubbing his dick on someone's leg. So does pushing Frank out of the way and jerking himself off, which Gerard only considers for about two seconds. So does going to the bathroom to jerk off, though he considers that one for a little longer.
Gerard is just trying to Jedi mind-trick his boner out of existence when Frank finally solves the problem for him by reaching for Gerard's dick.
"Oh shit yeah," Gerard says, like a total freak, and then, "Oh shit, shit yeah," when Frank scoots down the bed and pulls down Gerard's underwear.
"I haven't done this a whole lot," Frank says. "So don't, like, pull my hair or anything, okay?"
"Okay," Gerard breathes. By concentrating really, really hard, he's able to keep from coming on Frank's face right that very second.
---
So maybe Frank and Gerard have a fooling-around thing, like Mikey said. This should be all fine and dandy. Guys are supposed to like no-strings blowjobs. Gerard totally loves Frank's blowjobs, from the experience he's had thus far. He wants to marry Frank's throat.
That's the problem, though. While guys maybe like no-strings blowjobs, Gerard is not totally technically a guy. Okay, fine, Gerard is technically a guy, he's got a penis and everything, but Gerard doesn't have the "normal guy" fear of commitment. Fuck normal, anyway. Gerard just wants to commit to Frank in a very deep, what some assholes might call "girly," way.
Frank is hot. Frank has had both his hand and his mouth in Gerard's bathing suit place. Frank likes comics and D&D. Gerard would like for Frank to be obligated to continue having sex and conversations with Gerard. Gerard wants a goddamn thing-thing, and it is getting stupidly difficult not to beg for one.
Frank isn't helping, either.
"I got you coffee," Frank says.
"Oh my god," Mikey says. "Dude, don't do that."
"Do what?" Frank asks, innocently, like he isn't acting like the centerfold from Gerard's Fantasies, Issue #47 (The All Frank Special).
Gerard takes a second to appreciate the image of Frank holding a steaming cup of coffee for a second. He is never going to need to watch porn again. This is all the porn he will ever, ever need. Hot guy, who is willing to put his mouth on Gerard's penis, holding coffee for Gerard. God. There aren't even any fucking words.
"That," Mikey says. "That face is what you did." He waves his finger in Gerard's face. Gerard dodges it, busy taking in every little detail of Frank's hand on the coffee cup.
Gerard breathes out slowly and reaches for the cup. "Thanks," he says. He holds the cup gently between his hands, cradling it. He's going to draw Frank later, holding out the coffee cup like that, all sweet-looking. With a scarf. Smiling. Gerard grins into his coffee and takes a sip.
"Now he's in love with you," Mikey says.
Frank flinches back and ducks his head.
"Shut up, fucktard, I'm not," Gerard snaps. He's not as mean as he might normally be, though, because he has hot-boy-brought coffee in his hands. He's actually getting a boner, and he doesn't even care if anyone sees. He puts his nose back over the edge of the cup and takes a deep sniff. "But thanks," he says.
Later, after Gerard's finished the coffee and surfed past the caffeine high, he pulls Mikey aside and says, "Oh my god, he brought me coffee."
"I know," Mikey says.
"And he likes comic books, Mikey. And he thinks my jokes are super-funny."
"I know," Mikey says.
They stare at each other in mutual appreciation of Gerard's misery. "My life is fucking tragic," Gerard says.
"I know," Mikey whispers, and hugs him.
---
When they get home after school, Gerard holds off on drawing Frank for as long as he can. Gerard is really good about it, too, until he gets through his second cup of rum and coke. After the second cup, Gerard's just tipsy enough to lose any impulse control he might have, and just sober enough that the stuff that he draws doesn't look like shit.
Gerard's still pretty good, after he starts drawing. He doesn't make it super in-depth or anything. It's a quick sketch, a cartoon version of Frank. Cartoon Frank has a scarf around his neck, and he's holding a cup of coffee in his hand. The coffee cup has "for Gerard!" written on the side. Gerard does spend kind of a while on cartoon-Frank's smile, but that's mostly because Frank was beaming, and that's kind of hard to get across.
When Gerard finishes the sketch, he looks at it for a long moment. He really did get the smile just right on the last try; it's got all of Frank's stupid impossible-to-read cheerfulness in it. Gerard puts the sketch in his desk drawer, and resolves not to look at it until tomorrow.
When he breaks that vow, fifteen minutes later, he figures that he'll just have to restrict himself to once an hour.
"You are such a loser," Mikey says, when he catches Gerard opening the drawer again, twenty minutes later.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Gerard says airily. He slams his hand in the drawer by accident when he closes it, and Mikey laughs. "Don't be a dick," Gerard says, mumbling around his smarting fingers. Mikey makes a face at him, but then he goes and mixes Gerard another drink, so Gerard feels like his wounded pride has been mollified.
Gerard takes the rum and coke when Mikey hands it to him, and tosses back a Percocet with his first sip. "How're you, anyway?" Gerard asks, after he's done swallowing the pill.
"You know," Mikey says, and shrugs.
"Are you dating somebody?"
Mikey gives him a suspicious look, and Gerard throws up his hands, sloshing his drink over his wrist. "I don't know, you could go on a monogamy kick," he says. He sucks the drips off of his wrist.
"I guess," Mikey says. "I'm just hanging out right now."
"You're still young," Gerard says. He sighs and takes another gulp of his drink, careful this time not to spill.
Gerard knows, obviously, that he's pretty young himself. His mom says it to him all the time: she reminds him that he's only seventeen, that things will be different in a couple of years. She's always laughing at him when he's sad about stuff, because, "Oh honey, I promise you it gets better." Elena is better, but that's mostly because she only talks to him about art and poetry and music, and tells him she's proud of him all the time. "One day people are going to see how special you are," she tells Gerard. Sometimes he can even believe her.
Gerard's just impatient, that's the problem. Gerard wants to find someone now, anyone really, who would be worth all the special-feeling Gerard has waiting in his chest, all the potential Gerard has to love someone. Mikey gets some of it, sure, and his mom, and Elena, but Gerard doesn't get to write love letters to them, doesn't get to hold their hand and whisper idiotic things in their ears. Gerard is pretty sure that he'll make a superior boyfriend. The guy Gerard loves won't have to do anything except be his amazing self. All he'll have to do is let Gerard love him.
The only problem is that Gerard needs to find a guy who will take him up on it. That's the fucking kicker of it.
Gerard stays up for maybe thirty more minutes, but between the rum and the Percocet, he pretty much can't avoid passing out. On the upside, he doesn't have another opportunity to look at the picture in his desk drawer, so technically he hasn't looked at it in five hours when he wakes up in the morning.
---
"This place is a shithole of death," Gerard says. He throws his empty coffee cup at the foot of the stairs leading up to the main school building. Then he picks up the coffee cup and puts it in the trashcan.
"Fucking see you at fucking lunch," Mikey returns, and slouches off to class.
Gerard checks his arm. Math first. "Fuck a fucking dog," he mutters, but he goes.
Gerard sort of zones out on life for the first half of math class, once he sees that they're not going to have a pop quiz. When he finally tunes back in, Ray and Matt are having some kind of conversation about someone, and Gerard has to play catch-up.
"Dwayne told me that they cut his toes off, but that's Dwayne."
"What did Roodley say?"
"He's out sick."
"Shit-- maybe Bob would know for sure?"
"Yeah, I want to ask Bob."
"Bob, like, Frank's Bob?" Gerard asks.
"Yeah," Ray says, and rolls his eyes.
Gerard rolls his eyes right back. Ray has yet to accept how long it takes for Gerard's brain to switch on in the morning, even though he's known Gerard since before Gerard got acquainted with coffee. "Just tell me what happened," Gerard says.
"Boys," Ms. Mirkin says, exasperated. "Are you done your worksheet?"
"Yes, Ms. Mirkin," Ray says. Gerard covertly copies Ray's numbers onto his own worksheet while Ray blocks her eyeline with his body. "Frank got roughed up," Ray whispers, excited.
"What?" Gerard says, and nearly turns a 2 into a 4. He scribbles it out and rewrites it. "Wait, okay, hang on," he says, and finishes filling in the blanks as quick as he can. Ms. Mirkin will probably bitch at him for his handwriting again, but whatever. "What happened?" he asks.
"No one's seen him and these guys in our year said they kicked his ass for punching that guy in the crotch and they hid him somewhere in school and no one knows where!" Ray says, all in one breath.
"Raymond!" Ms. Mirkin says.
"Sorry," Ray says.
Gerard raises his hand. "May I go to the bathroom?" he asks.
"What're you doing?" Matt says, apparently deciding to reenter the conversation.
"I think I might know where he is," Gerard says, out of the corner of his mouth.
Ms. Mirkin takes a couple of loud, deep breaths. She puts both her palms flat on her desk and leans over. She shakes her head and takes another loud breath.
"Ms. Mirkin?" Gerard asks. He leaves his hand up, in case she forgot.
She looks up, finally, and grimaces at him. "Fine, get out," she says.
"Thanks," Gerard says. He wedges himself out from under the desk and tries to look as casual as possible when he sidles out of the room.
Gerard is planning on running all the way there, obviously, but then he gets winded after the first hallway and has to slow down. He keeps it at a brisk walk. By the time he gets to the section of lockers he wants, his undershirt and button-down are both sticking to his pits and his belly. He feels weird and gross. He really hopes he was right about where Frank would be.
Gerard says, "Hi?"
There's a brief pause, but before Gerard can berate himself for getting it wrong, he hears, "Hi."
"Frank!" Gerard says.
"Yeah," Frank says. He rattles the door of the locker so that Gerard can find him. Gerard peers in between the slats in the front of the locker. He can just make out Frank's eyes, and if he focuses really hard he can see Frank's wobbly smile.
"Can you get Mikey to come get me out?" Frank asks.
"Okay," Gerard says. "I think he's in gym, though. Um. I'll get the janitor."
Getting the janitor involves asking Ms. Tilg at the head's office where he is, then going all the way down to the Lower School -- where there is apparently a serious tempura spill -- then going outside and hunting around until he finds the janitor smoking by the lacrosse team's storage shed.
"Hey," Gerard says. "Um. Hi?"
"Hi," the janitor says. He takes a deep drag. "Is there another spill?"
"No," Gerard says. "My friend's in a locker."
"Christ," the janitor says. He takes one last drag on his cigarette and then grinds it out on the side of the shed. "I'll be there after I deal with the paint pool in there, okay?" he says, jerking his thumb back towards the school.
"It's locker forty-three, in the senior hall," Gerard says hesitantly. The janitor jerks his head in a nod and heads back inside. Gerard stands there wringing his hands for a moment, wondering whether he should have been more insistent, and then decides to go back to talk to Frank.
He's feeling seriously gross and sweaty by the time he gets back. "I smell like funk," he says, into the slats of Frank's locker.
"Did you know Greg has pin-ups of Bebe Neuwirth in his locker?"
"Seriously?" Gerard asks. He cranes his head, like that'll help him see.
"Yeah. She's got pretty nice legs, though," Frank says.
"Cool, yeah," Gerard says, inanely. "I got the janitor, but there's this paint spill in the Lower School, he said he'd be up as soon as he took care of that."
"Fucking hell," Frank says.
"Sorry," Gerard says.
"It's okay," Frank says, but he doesn't sound like he's okay with it.
"I'll--" Gerard starts, but he doesn't have anything helpful to say. "I'll just sit here, then!" he says, too brightly, and then wants to beat his head against the lockers. That would probably be really noisy for Frank, though, so he doesn't. He sits down on the ugly grey carpet, leans his back against the ugly beige lockers, and tries to think of something interesting to say.
"So," Gerard says.
"So," Frank says.
His voice sounds really weird, inside the locker. All that metal does weird things to the acoustics, probably. Gerard should try being inside a locker sometime, just to see what his voice sounds like in there. One time he and Mikey walked all the way around the house, testing the acoustics in each room. It meant that they'd had to switch off emitting a consistent tone -- this was science, it was important -- but Mikey had proven pretty awesome at monotone emission. Gerard should probably get Mikey to get in a locker, really--
"Gerard?" Frank asks.
"Yeah?" Gerard says.
"Okay," Frank says. "Look, could you talk to me? I mean, could we talk?"
"Oh," Gerard says. "Sure. What about?"
"I don't care," Frank says. He sounds kind of panicky. Gerard tells him this, and Frank says, "I am in a metal box that is barely big enough to fit my fat ass, I am staring at Bebe Neuwirth's legs, and I have to pee. I think panic is okay."
Gerard evaluates Frank's statement. "Panic is fine, yeah," he agrees. "Are you claustrophobic?"
"New topic of conversation," Frank says abruptly.
"You said you didn't care what we talked about."
"I lied," Frank says.
"Oh," Gerard says.
"Yeah," Frank says. "So a topic of conversation that isn't claustrophobia. Or anything having to do with running water."
"Okay," Gerard says, slowly. "I'm not really good at coming up with conversation topics, is the thing. It's why I don't go on dates." He feels his face heat a little and adds, "I mean, I don't get asked very often, I mean. Or at all, really. But if someone asked me, I'd probably have to turn them down, because I'm not very good at conversation."
"Yeah, I got that," Frank mutters.
"Shut up, neither are you," Gerard says. He's a little hurt that Frank doesn't think he's good at conversation, but he figures Frank's stressed from being in the locker, and has to be given some leeway. "I would normally get all mad at you for that, but you're in a locker," Gerard says.
"Thanks," Frank says.
"Yeah. So anyway, I'm not good at conversation. Are you? Do you make good conversation on your dates?"
"What dates?" Frank asks. His voice is echoing off the metal locker, still, but he sounds kind of glum, which is weird.
"You don't go on dates? What about--" Gerard clears his throat. "What about Kyle?"
"What about him?" Frank asks.
Gerard opens his mouth, then shuts it. He considers this new information. "You mean you've slept with all those guys, and none of them have dated you?"
There's a long pause.
"I haven't slept with all those guys," Frank says, his voice ringing off the locker walls more loudly. "Wait, you think I've slept with tons of guys?"
"Well, you've kissed a whole lot of guys," Gerard says.
"That's so not the same," Frank says. "And-- what the fuck, are you like-- are you judging me or some shit?"
"No," Gerard says. "No! I mean, not really. I'm just saying, it's sad. That you-- kissed all those guys, right, and none of them asked you out."
The locker is silent.
"Frank?" Gerard says.
The janitor walks up right then and there. Gerard maybe gives a manly squeak of surprise. "Hi!" he says, to cover his squeak. "Frank is in this locker here."
The janitor considers the locker. He steps in close and considers the lock. "Brace yourself," he says to the locker front, and then gives the lock a good, vicious shake. He does it again, and kicks the bottom of the locker, and the door springs open. Frank tumbles out.
"Huh," the janitor says. "Bebe Neuwirth."
Frank pushes himself slowly to his feet, and brushes off his shirt and pants. He doesn't look at Gerard. "Hey," Gerard says, "so--"
"Shut the fuck up," Frank says, in a really snotty voice. Gerard snaps his mouth shut. Frank finally looks at him when he says, "I want you to stay the fuck away from me, if you think I'm such a slut."
"I don't!" Gerard gasps, when he can get enough air into his lungs. He feels like he's about to shit himself right then and there. It's fucking horrible. It's every nightmare he's ever had.
And it's still going, too, because Frank points a shaky finger at Gerard and says, "You do, and you're just like the rest of them, because you think it's okay to fuck the gay kid, but it's not okay to date him. So screw you, Gerard," Frank finishes. It's a pretty fucking dramatic exit, and it isn't even screwed up by how Frank trips over Greg's biology textbook, or how he goes the wrong way at first and has to turn around. It's that fucking dramatic. Gerard is devastated.
"I am devastated," he tells the janitor.
"I need a cigarette," the janitor says.
"Can I have one?" Gerard asks.
The janitor glances down the hallway. Gerard looks at him beseechingly, even though that means the tears welling in his eyes almost spill over. The janitor sighs. "Fine, c'mon."
After he's smoked two of the janitor's incredibly lethal cigarettes -- seriously, they're nastier than Reds -- and gotten over his initial crying jag, Gerard cuts the rest of school and goes home. Ray will bring him his bookbag. Gerard's pretty sure that his life has just ended, so it's the least Ray can do.
---
Ray brings Gerard his bookbag, but he doesn't stick around; he's got a history project due next week that he wants to finish. Gerard is really glad he didn't do AP History. Mr. Lieberman looks like a pushover, but he's actually an evil taskmaster. Mr. Moltz is way, way easier. Potheads almost always are.
"True," Mikey agrees. He's lying on his bed, his head hanging off the edge and his feet up on the wall. "I have Moltz this year, too."
"I forgot about that," Gerard says. "Does he still do that dance about the Russian revolution?"
"Tsariiiina," Mikey warbles, and waggles his feet.
Gerard laughs. "Man, it makes me want to be a pothead," he says.
"What does?"
"Moltz. He's just so easygoing, y'know?" Gerard shuffles through a few steps of the dance, what he remembers of it. He's only weaving a little, but it's enough that he's glad to have the bed right there behind him. Gerard flops back onto it, giggling. "Shit," he says, "I bet Frank wouldn't be mad at me if I were a pothead."
"Potheads don't get laid, though," Mikey says confidently.
"Lies," Gerard says.
"They don't. They talk about getting laid more than they actually do, you know? They're all like, 'oh man, fucking is soooo much better when you're high,' but when you actually try to get them to fuck, they totally douche out."
"Shit," Gerard says. His worldview has been radically blown. "Really?"
"In my experience," Mikey says.
"But you smoke pot," Gerard points out. "And you get laid, right?"
"Well, I smoke pot, but I'm not a pothead," Mikey says. Gerard mulls this over, and Mikey laughs. "You look like a duck when you make that face," he says.
"That's because you're upside down," Gerard tells him.
"Yeah," Mikey says meditatively. "Yeah, I am."
Gerard gets up. It's kind of a struggle, since he's wasted, his bed is soft, and he's a fatass. He gets himself up, though, and surfs through the headrush. Mikey is staring at him. Gerard says, "Hey, are you okay?" He goes over to Mikey's bed and sits down next to Mikey. Mikey picks his head up and looks at Gerard groggily. "Are you okay, Mikeybear?"
"Don't call me that," Mikey says. He frowns at Gerard. "I'm okay. Are you okay?"
"Sort of," Gerard says. His stomach doesn't hurt anymore, but he just feels sort of numb. It's not even a useful kind of numb, either; every time he thinks about Frank he still wants to cry.
"Yeah," Mikey says. "Yeah, that's what I meant too." He pushes himself up and moves awkwardly around until he's sitting next to Gerard on the bed. He drapes his arm over Gerard's shoulder and leans on him, tipping his head to rest on Gerard's shoulder. "What're you going to do?" he asks.
"I don't know," Gerard says. "Nothing, probably."
"You should do something," Mikey says.
"Like what?" Gerard asks.
He expects Mikey to be defeated by that, but Mikey says, "Ask Frank out," like it's that obvious.
"He'll say no," Gerard says. He leans his head on top of Mikey's.
"He likes you, though," Mikey says.
"No he doesn't," Gerard says. He thinks that maybe Mikey is right, that maybe Frank likes him just a little bit, but he doesn't want to jinx it, not when he's screwed things up so badly already. "Anyway, he didn't want a thing-thing, he said. And he really won't want one now, because, y'know."
"You called him a slut," Mikey says.
"Yeah," Gerard says. "Not really, but. Yeah."
"You should ask him out," Mikey reiterates. "But do it right, like, romantically or whatever. So he'll know you want a thing-thing."
"Like, with roses?"
"With coffee," Mikey says firmly. "And, like, a cookie or something, he loves cookies. Or, like. Like, a drawing of his character in the game?"
Gerard thinks about it. There are a lot of things that could go wrong with the plan. He doesn't want to just ask Frank out, anyway. That's just dangerous; Frank could laugh at him, and then Gerard would be stuck feeling like an idiot.
"I'm going to woo him first," Gerard decides. "I'll woo him, and then maybe I'll ask him out, once he's wooed."
Mikey considers this. "Okay," he says, finally. "Okay, that's a plan."
"Mix me a drink," Gerard says. He's feeling kind of celebratory.
"Fuck you," Mikey says, but he gets up willingly enough.
---
Gerard puts Project Woo into effect the next day.
"Are you seriously fucking calling it Project fucking Woo?" Mikey asks.
"Shut the fuck up, for fuck's sake," Gerard says. He probably should have waited for the afternoon; neither he nor Mikey is at their best in the morning.
The slats in the locker looks like they ought to be able to take a folded-up piece of paper, but they're too skinny. Gerard hasn't had his third cup of coffee yet, and he's getting frustrated. "This won't fit," Gerard concludes, and sits back on his heels.
"That's what she said," Mikey says, but he takes the folded-up paper out of Gerard's hand and bumps his shoulder so Gerard will get out of his way. Mikey flips the note over, gets one corner wedged into the slat, and wiggles it through. The paper drops into the locker.
"Goddammit," Gerard says, but he puts his arm around Mikey's shoulders and hugs him tight in thanks. "I'll buy you a coffee on the way home."
"You'd fucking better," Mikey grumbles, but he leans up against Gerard.
Gerard spends the time before lunch in an agony of anticipation. Well, he spends the time in English, World History, and gym class, but while he's drawing a vampire bat lady on his notebook and ignoring the asshole jocks in gym he is also fretting about what Frank will say.
The drawing that Mikey helped him shove into Frank's locker is of Frank's character, the warrior elf, with his broadsword in mid-swing. Gerard combined permanent markers and crayons to give the armor he's wearing a sort of exoskeletal look. He thinks it looks amazing. It should be enough to win Frank's heart, if there's any justice in the world.
When Gerard gets to lunch, though, Frank's not there. "He said he was busy," Mikey says apologetically.
"Oh," Gerard says. "Well-- yeah, it's not like I care."
Ray shoots him a questioning look, but Gerard shrugs it off. He's pretty good at acting like himself, right? He can totally cover up his anxiety for an hour.
He has to go to the bathroom to shit at least four times, but he's pretty sure he does a superb job.
At the end of the lunch period, Matt puts a hand on his shoulder and asks, "Dude, are you okay?"
"What are you talking about?" Gerard says. "I'm fine."
"Right," Matt says. "Uh, man." He scratches the back of his head and bites his lip. "If you want, like-- to talk, or something?"
Gerard blinks, stupefied. In all his acquaintance with Matt Pelissier, Gerard has heard him talk about feelings exactly twice. Both times involved sex. "I'm okay," Gerard says slowly, "But thanks?"
"Cool," Matt says, dropping his hand and looking relieved. "See you in math."
"Okay," Gerard says. He turns to Mikey and says, "I thought I was covering up well."
"You were," Mikey says loyally, but Gerard can tell the difference between honesty and bold-faced lying.
Gerard sighs. "This sucks," he tells Mikey. Mikey nods.
---
"Bob!" Gerard says, whispering as loudly as he can. Bob finally looks up. His eyes widen, and he glances over at where the teacher probably is. Gerard beckons for him to come out. Bob makes a covert gesture for Gerard to wait.
Gerard backs out of the line of sight of the doorway and leans against the wall. A teacher passes, and Gerard nods to her, very casually. He has his shirt tucked in and everything. It is imperative to his mission to avoid getting thrown back into class; he is willing to look like a tool for the mission.
Bob finally comes out after Gerard has practically sweated through his uniform shirt. "Bob," Gerard whispers.
"What," Bob whispers, "Jesus Christ, are you the least stealthy person ever?"
"Shut up," Gerard says, "You're like, what, a sophomore? You know shit about stealth."
"Right," Bob says. "What do you want?"
Gerard would tell him to fuck off, but he kind of needs Bob on his side. "Do you know Greg Bock?"
"He's the jerk with the weird bracelet thing?" Bob says. Gerard nods. "Yeah, I know him. Why?"
"It was his locker Frank was locked in, and I bet it was James and Greg who put him in there," Gerard says.
"Okay," Bob says. Gerard grins and shoves his hair out of his face. Bob adds, "Why should I care?"
"Bob!" Gerard says, exasperated. "Beat them up!"
"Oh," Bob says. "Are you serious? I can't."
"What?" Gerard says. He feels his face fall. "No way."
"I'm not supposed to fight anymore," Bob says. "If I get suspended or anything--"
"Oh," Gerard says. "I mean. I guess it doesn't matter."
"My parents said I can't go see my boyfriend if they hear about another fight," Bob says.
"Oh, you're," Gerard says, like a tool. "I mean, whatever. That's cool." Gerard expects that Bob will just slap him on the back after that and head back to class, but Bob stands there, fidgeting.
"I could--" Bob starts. He bites his lip. "I don't know."
"Are you, I mean--" Gerard says, but Bob interrupts.
"I'll do it," Bob says. "I bet-- Jesse will understand, whatever. "
"Okay," Gerard says. He wishes he were a better person, but he totally isn't. He probably should give Bob a phone card to call his boyfriend with, or something. "Okay, when can you do it?"
"Today after school," Bob says, "I'll spit on him, right, that'll probably get him started. And there's always his mom."
"Jesus," Gerard says. Bob gives him a high-five and goes back to class. Gerard stays out there in the hallway for a while, shuffling around in his victory dance, before he finally goes back to his class.
---
He has to buy Mikey a coffee on the way home, and Bob a phone card, and he owed Matt some money for the Percocets he got from Jenny's sister's boyfriend, and they're nearly out of vodka again, so they have to make a pit stop to pay a guy to buy them some, which is always a nerve-wracking experience. When they get back home, Gerard is out of both cash and energy.
"Fuck it," he says. "I'm getting drunk and watching Halloween."
"Ray said Frank said he might go by the record store tonight," Mikey says.
Gerard doesn't say anything right away; he just stares at the ceiling. "It would probably be trying too hard if I showed up there, right?" he asks finally.
"Probably," Mikey says.
---
When Gerard walks into Blind Eye, conversation abruptly stops. Ray looks embarrassed.
"Hey," Gerard says awkwardly.
"Hey," Ray says.
Frank looks away. Matt looks up from his magazine, waves, and goes back to reading.
"So," Ray says.
Frank turns abruptly, his shoes squeaking on the dirty linoleum, and goes over to the gospel section. He doesn't like gospel. Gerard is willing to bet both money and cigarettes that Frank even hates gospel music, actually, but he's flipping through the CDs like they're fascinating. The cases clack together.
"I just thought I'd stop by," Gerard says.
"Cool," Ray says. "We were just talking about Frank's party tomorrow night."
"Oh?" Gerard says. His voice squeaks, and he clears his throat. "What time's--"
"I'm not having a party," Frank says. He turns and glares at Ray over his shoulder.
"Um--" Ray says. "Oh." Matt looks up with a perplexed expression on his face, but he ducks back down behind his magazine after he catches Frank's glare.
"Well, I mean. Tomorrow's the day before Halloween, isn't it? There's probably a couple of other parties," Gerard says inanely.
"Yeah," Ray says. "It's, um. Frank's birthday is on Halloween."
"Oh," Gerard says. He fidgets. "I forgot. That's cool."
"Yeah," Ray says. He looks miserable. Gerard would feel sorry for him, but he's busy feeling sorry for himself.
"Well," Gerard says, "if there's no party, maybe we could hang out?"
"Ray's going to be busy," Frank says. He doesn't turn around.
"Oh," Gerard says. His voice comes out in a whisper, and he clears his throat before he adds, "Um. Okay."
Frank shoves back the CDs he's been flipping through. Gerard startles at the sound, and then hunches his shoulders when Frank turns around. "I'm going to go," Frank says to Ray.
"But you just got here," Ray says.
"Whatever, I've got shit to do," Frank says. "And-- and it smells bad in here, all of a sudden. Like someone didn't shower."
Gerard tries to swallow, but it doesn't work; it feels like when he tries to dry-swallow his pills and gets them stuck in his throat. "Don't--" he manages, and swallows fast before the stuck feeling can come back. "Don't leave. I have to go, anyway."
Gerard thought that maybe, maybe Frank will still leave, that they'll walk out together and Gerard will get a chance to apologize. Frank just jams his hands in his jeans pockets and says, "Well, fine. Why don't you go, then?"
"Whatever," Gerard mutters. "Okay, fine. Whatever."
"I'll talk to you soon," Ray promises. He looks torn. Gerard wants to remind him of how long they've been friends, how new Frank is to their circle, but he can't do that to Ray. He doesn't want to, anyway; he doesn't know for sure that Ray would pick him.
Gerard leaves without saying anything else. The windchime smacks against the door behind him; before it closes all the way he can hear Frank say, "Fucking asshole--" and Ray saying, "Hey--"
Gerard doesn't throw up, doesn't cry, doesn't do anything that he wants to do. He trudges home. He doesn't let himself think about it. When Gerard gets home, Mikey is still out. Gerard lies down on top of his bedcovers, still wearing his clothes and his shoes. He really can't bring himself to take them off. He falls asleep like that, without pills or booze, just dropping off thinking don't think about it.
---
The next morning, when Mikey prods at Gerard's shoulder, Gerard says, "I'm skipping."
"Fuck you, no," Mikey says.
"I'm sick," Gerard says. "It's a Friday, there aren't any tests, I'm staying home."
Mikey sits on the edge of Gerard's bed. "You're fucking sick," he says, flatly.
"I feel sick," Gerard tells him. He turns over onto his belly and wraps his arms around his pillow. Mikey doesn't say anything, and the silence stretches out so long that Gerard has to look over his shoulder. Mikey just stares at him, his eyebrows drawn together over his glasses. "What?" Gerard snaps.
"Do I have to fucking punch Frank again?" Mikey asks.
Gerard turns back away. "No," he says, "It's not Frank."
"It's not," Mikey says, doubtfully.
"It's me," Gerard says. "I'm-- I'm such a fuck-up." Gerard presses his cheek against his pillow. He feels like shit, almost like he's really sick. He feels the mattress shift under Mikey's weight, and then Mikey's curling up next to him, his bony hip digging into Gerard's side. "You're bony," Gerard says, but he doesn't tell Mikey to go away, and Mikey doesn't move.
Mikey puts his head on Gerard's pillow, his neck bent awkwardly over Gerard's arm. His glasses are crooked. "Come to fucking school," he says.
"Why?" Gerard asks.
"Because," Mikey says.
They stare at each other. "That's the shittiest reason ever," Gerard says. Mikey shrugs, as much as he can lying down. Gerard takes a deep breath, holds it for a second, and lets it out. "Fine," he says.
"Okay," Mikey says. "That Jon kid gave me some Ritalin."
"Can I have one?" Gerard asks. Mikey nods and rolls up and off the bed. Gerard pushes himself up while Mikey digs around in the mound of crap next to his bed, and tugs on his uniform from yesterday. It's easier to get himself rolling than he thought it would be; he just has to put one foot in front of the other, at least until the drugs kick in.
---
part four
---
After that, even Gerard has to admit that he wants in Frank's pants.
And, okay, Gerard is not completely and totally dumb. He is aware of the unavoidable reality that he has actually been in Frank's pants now, and that his desire to be in Frank's pants could be proven in court.
Furthermore, Gerard can acknowledge that he wants and, what is more, has wanted to bone Frank. Or have Frank bone him. Or whatever. Gerard isn't really particular, is the thing; the important point is that Gerard knew that he would not mind if his bone and Frank's bone were to be intimately acquainted.
But now he's feeling all romantic about the boners.
"Like, you wanted to bone him, bone him, and now you want to hold hands and make out, bone him?" Mikey asks.
"Both," Gerard moans. "I want to bone him both ways. I have a crush, Mikey. It's horrible."
"I told him not to kiss you," Mikey says helplessly. "I told him you weren't into him like that and you weren't looking for a thing. It should have worked. It always works with girls."
"Dude, I know," Gerard says. "Fucking Frank managed to make me like him anyway. Even though he really doesn't want it to be a thing." He rolls to face the ceiling. "The handjob was part of his cunning plan, I bet," he says.
"Gross gross gross," Mikey says, and scrunches up his face.
"You're just jealous," Gerard tells him.
"I could probably get Frank to give me a handjob," Mikey says, because he's a bad brother with evil in his heart.
"Don't remind me," Gerard moans, and covers his face with his hands. "Why doesn't he want a thing?"
"He probably wants a thing, but not a thing-thing, you know?" Mikey says comfortingly.
"I want a thing-thing," Gerard says, and sighs.
---
"So, like," Gerard starts, when they're walking to school the next morning. "I feel like if it's not a thing, then I should maybe not talk to him too much, you know? Like, not-a-thing, does that mean not a friend thing? I know, were Frank and I even friends or whatever, I know. But like, am I not allowed to talk to him? I have to talk to him if he wants his character to do well in the campaign, you know, I can't, like, ignore the elf, right? Duh. But, so, I'm just wondering if I'm allowed to touch him, or if that's too much. I'm not going to fondle him! But, like, his shoulder." Gerard gestures helplessly. "Maybe just his shoulder."
Mikey pulls one earbud out. "What?"
Gerard sighs. "Nothing."
"Okay," Mikey says. He puts the earbud back in.
Gerard ducks his head and looks at his feet. "I don't know what to do," he says, soft, very soft. He thought about it all weekend, while Mikey was out partying and having a life, and he still didn't come up with an answer.
When they get to school, Frank is waiting for them in the front hall. Gerard hesitates with the door half-open, but Frank looks up and sees them, and Gerard has to walk in.
"Hey," Gerard says, with perfect nonchalance. Frank says, "Hey." Mikey says, "I didn't do my bio homework."
"I did," Frank says, and he and Mikey fall into step together, talking about things Gerard left behind three years ago. Gerard shuffles along behind them. He feels stupidly resentful for being ignored, even though he's pretty sure that's what he was hoping for.
Gerard gets his chance to test out the whole "not-a-thing" thing when they split up in the main hall. He touches Mikey first, just a quick pat on the top of Mikey's head. Then Gerard touches Frank, resting his fingers briefly on the knob of Frank's shoulder. It feels really, really awkward, but Frank gives him a smile. Gerard smiles back, and then walks away, towards his locker.
So the shoulder is okay, Gerard thinks. Okay. Okay.
---
See, the problem is that Frank's hand has been on Gerard's dick. Gerard would challenge anyone, absolutely anyone in the entire world to act normal around someone when that someone's hand has been on their bathing suit place.
Gerard has to revise that thought when he gets to the art room for lunch, though. Apparently Frank would win that challenge. Apparently Frank is the reigning champion of acting normal around someone he's had sexy times with. Gerard should have been able to predict that, what with the "Frank is a precocious slut" thing, but. Well, but Gerard has eaten Frank's semen. It isn't weird that Gerard expected at least a little awkwardness, right?
But all Frank does is say, "Hey! I want to increase my tiara level, can I do that?"
"No you can't," Gerard says automatically. "You haven't earned enough XP."
"XP?" Frank asks.
"Experience points," Gerard explains. "And there's no such thing as a tiara level, what the fuck."
"Tiara power!" Frank yells.
Gerard rolls his eyes and shoves Frank's shoulder, and boom, just like that, they're normal. Well, except for the part where Gerard knows what Frank's dick looks like, so his lame-ass yearnings have better accompanying visuals. Otherwise, though, it's just the same as before.
They get the game started pretty quickly. They're just wandering through the abandoned village they discovered; Matt finds a sword that glows at what seems like random moments, and Ray discovers that he can climb trees really fast. About ten minutes before the end of lunch, their characters find a girl hiding behind a booth in the market.
"Hey, Bob can be the girl," Frank says.
Gerard looks at Bob. Bob just shrugs. "You don't have a PC," Gerard says apologetically.
"Player character," Frank says, helpfully. "Normally Gerard has to play all the non-player characters, but it would be cooler if he could just mod."
Gerard blushes for, like, no fucking reason. Everybody here has heard Gerard bitch about playing NPCs, he does it every time they play. It's not like Frank noticing is special, or anything. Gerard ducks his head down towards the folder of character sheets to hide his face. "Yeah," he agrees. "That's true, that would be better."
"I'll be the girl, then," Bob says. Ray starts giggling, and Bob does one of his little sideways grins. "Fuck you, my tits are hot," he says, and Matt reluctantly laughs, too.
"Don't say 'tits,'" Gerard says automatically. Frank smiles at him for no fucking reason, and Gerard says, "What?"
"Nothing," Frank says.
"Sure," Gerard says, irritated. He pulls on Bob's shoulder and Gerard whispers what role the girl is supposed to play to him. Bob nods and sits back. "Hello there, boys," he says, in a girly-ass voice, and flutters his eyelashes. Everyone cracks up.
"Oh my god," Ray says, dragging out the last word. "That wasn't my character saying that," he adds hastily. Frank is bent over, giggling with his face pressed against his thighs. Gerard really wants to put his hand on Frank's back. He doesn't. Frank sits up a second later, anyway.
"I want to use my tiara!" Frank says. He taps his sheet and looks at Gerard with big eyes.
Gerard rolls his eyes. "Christ," he says.
"Can I have sex with the girl?" Matt asks.
"No," Gerard says. "No tiara. And definitely no sex. She's too pretty for you, seriously, there are not enough dice in the world."
"I told you my t-- my boobs are hot," Bob says. Gerard gives him an approving look. Bob grins at him.
"I'm going to talk to the girl," Ray says. Thank god for Ray, really.
They don't even need to act out the conversation, since it's a tabletop game, but Ray and Bob have a pretty good in-character conversation about how the village was abandoned, and it sets up the battle that the group is going to have to deal with in a couple of sessions. By the time they're done talking, though, the lunch period is over, so Gerard ends the session and starts packing up.
Gerard doesn't bother to try to organize everything, just shoves it all into his bag. When Gerard stands back up, he sees Frank looking at his butt. "Did I get something on my ass?" Gerard asks. "These stools always have fucking paint on them, goddammit."
"No, no, I mean," Frank says hastily. Mikey snickers, and Frank bites his lip, and Gerard realizes with sickening suddenness that Frank was looking at his ass because Frank was looking at his ass.
Gerard says "oh!" then, because he's the most awkward guy in the known universe. He feels his face warming up, and he slings his bag over his shoulder as quickly as he can. "Right, so," he says, and then has nothing else to add. "I have to go to class," he says desperately.
"Can I come over?" Frank asks. "After school?" Gerard whips around, but Frank isn't looking at him, he's looking at Mikey. Mikey shrugs and looks at Gerard, who shrugs helplessly back, like I thought it wasn't a thing.
"Are you hanging out with me, or with Gerard?" Mikey asks, and Gerard glares like what the fuck, assclown. Mikey ignores him.
Frank says, "Can't I hang out with both of you?"
"Oh, gross," Mikey says.
"Not hanging out like that," Frank says. "Don't be a dickface."
So not a thing, Gerard thinks. Okay, right. Whatever. "Whatever," he says, out loud. "You should come over, yeah."
"Cool, I will," Frank says. "Was that so hard?"
Gerard shrugs and doesn't say what he's thinking. He just leaves for class.
---
Ms. Mirkin agreed to let Gerard make up the test that he missed. Gerard's mom had to make a phone call on Gerard's behalf to the head of the school, to explain that her son is a loser retard who can't defend himself from guys his own age, but at least now Gerard won't fail math. Gerard worries about the test for the second half of the day. He has math last period, so it pretty much ruins his day. It feels like he bombed it pretty spectacularly, but that's not anything new.
The math test means that Gerard is actually able to forget that Frank is coming home with them. He's forcibly reminded, of course, when he goes outside after math class and sees both Frank and Mikey waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
"I forgot you were coming with us," Gerard says, like a total fucking tool. Mikey rolls his eyes, and Frank doesn't say anything. It's awkward. "Thanks for getting Bob to play all the NPCs," Gerard says, because apparently awkward is just how Gerard is going to roll today.
"No problem," Frank says. He looks surprised, like Gerard's weird for thanking him when Gerard is just showing good manners. Mikey rolls his eyes again and starts walking, and after a beat, Gerard and Frank follow.
They're quiet all the way home. Gerard tucks his thumbs under the strap of his bag and watches Frank covertly, the way he scuffs the leaves at his feet, the way he wipes sweat off of his forehead, the way he pulls his hair out of his eyes. Mikey walks between them, listening to his ipod. Frank doesn't look up from the ground.
---
So Mikey and Frank are friends, obviously, and Frank and Gerard are-- well, Gerard is a big loser weirdo, and Frank is friends with Gerard but sometimes looks at Gerard's ass. So everything is normal, kind of, or as normal as Gerard ever gets to be.
Maybe making things normal after sex-stuff is Frank's superpower, Gerard thinks. He doodles a picture of Frank in a superhero costume, with normalcy beams coming out of his hands.
"Who's that?"
Gerard jerks, and his headphones slip off his ears. The cord wraps around his neck. "Gack," Gerard says, and tugs on the cord until it lets him breathe. Frank just stares at him. "No one. What. Where's Mikey?" Gerard asks.
"He's got stuff to do upstairs," Frank says.
"Uh," Gerard says, and squints. "Did you kill him or something? My grandma will be pissed if you kill him. And my mom."
"No," Frank says, laughing. "Dude, no."
"I don't want to have to punch you," Gerard says, and Frank laughs even harder. "Seriously, if you killed Mikey I will figure out a way to punch you without you punching back."
"Dude," Frank says. "No, he's seriously just going to be upstairs for a while."
"Oh," Gerard says. "Okay." He fiddles with the cord of his headphones.
"So," Frank says, dragging the word out. "Do you want to maybe mess around?"
"What?" Gerard says, even though he heard Frank just fine. Frank doesn't repeat himself. He doesn't help Gerard out at all; he just shrugs his shoulders stiffly. "Wait," Gerard says, "Who says that?"
Frank shoves his hands into the pockets of his uniform slacks. "I was just thinking," he says, and then doesn't finish the sentence.
The top button of Frank's shirt is undone, and his tie is loose. He's wearing an honest-to-God undershirt, like James Dean, or like his mother dresses him. Frank's smiling, too, a big weird smile that doesn't make any sense. He won't look Gerard in the eye.
Gerard says, "Okay, yeah," before Frank can open his mouth again. "Yeah, let's go."
"Okay," Frank says.
Gerard half-rises out of his chair, then has to stop to untangle himself from his headphones. Frank comes closer, and Gerard fumbles the headphones and gets the cord even more twisted up.
"Here," Frank says. His fingers are a little sweaty on Gerard's neck. Gerard is blushing. His hand jerks, and he almost chokes himself with the cord. Frank finally bats Gerard's hands away and gets the headphones off of Gerard's neck. "Okay, you're free," Frank says.
"Free Willy," Gerard says, and makes a noise like a whale. He isn't even thinking straight, or he would never have done that; still, it makes Frank burst into giggles, so it can't be all bad.
"Hoongh!" Frank says. It takes Gerard a second to recognize the noise.
"You're really terrible at whale sounds," Gerard informs him. He presses his hands to his cheeks, trying to cool them down. Frank just says "Hoongh," again. "You sound like a goose, that's what you sound like," Gerard says.
"Hoongh hoongh," Frank says, softer now, like he's saying something romantic. It's kind of romantic, actually, if Gerard doesn't think about it, if he just looks at Frank and listens to his voice. Gerard takes his hands away from his cheeks and shuffles forward when Frank touches his hip. Gerard thinks it's going to take them a while to kiss again, but Frank just does it.
Gerard has to stoop down to kiss Frank. Frank's slightly sweaty, even through the layers of his shirt and undershirt. Gerard can feel the puffs of breath from the noises Frank makes while he's kissing.
Gerard's pretty much sober, yet again, which is fucking weird. His thoughts are spinning in circles, the same way as it does when Gerard's drunk or tipsy and kissing someone, but they're weirdly clear. Like, he still doesn't know what the fuck he's doing, sure, but now he's sober enough to think about it, to try things and listen for Frank's noises to tell him if he's wrong. It's weird, like Gerard is learning something, like kissing is something you practice instead of doing kamikaze-style.
Frank digs his fingers into the middle of Gerard's shoulder blade. Even though it makes no sense, Frank pressing his fingers there sends little zinging electric shocks through Gerard's belly, right to his dick. His hips push forward, nearly knocking them both off-balance, and he makes a noise into Frank's mouth without thinking about it.
He doesn't think Frank will notice the noise, but Frank must be paying attention. He keeps kneading Gerard's shoulder right there, first constantly and then at random intervals. His other hand is in Gerard's hair, holding on too hard, but Gerard can't pull together the words to tell him that's kind of annoying, not with him touching Gerard's shoulder like that.
When Frank tugs on Gerard's hair, though, Gerard makes an irritated noise and pulls his mouth away. "Stop pulling my hair," he says.
"Sorry," Frank says, ducking his head like he's embarrassed. He's breathing hard, and his cheeks are pink. Gerard takes one of his hands off of Frank's waist and awkwardly laces it into Frank's hair, giving it a pull -- just to show Frank how irritating it is -- but it backfires. Frank tips his head back and moans.
Gerard's vision goes hazy. He bites Frank's neck, which makes Frank moan harder, and Gerard very nearly comes. Frank's clinging to his shoulders like he's some kind of boy-maiden and Gerard's a vampire and fuck, Gerard is seriously going to actually come in his pants.
"Pants off," Frank gasps, like he's reading Gerard's mind. "My mom will be pissy if I get come on my uniform."
"Mikey could come down," Gerard says, ignoring the part of his brain that's screaming BONER BONER BONER.
"I, uh. I told him we might, y'know," Frank says. Gerard blinks, still mystified. "I told him we might be busy," Frank says.
"Oh my god," Gerard says. Frank just shrugs. Mikey is staying upstairs so that Gerard can get his rocks off with Mikey's underage friend, and-- well. It's embarrassing, hideously embarrassing, but--
"Fine," Gerard says. "Okay, fine, whatever, take your pants off."
They disentangle from one another. Gerard sets to work on his fly a beat after Frank does, fumbling with the button and the zipper.
Frank sits down on Gerard's bed. He wrestles off his shoes and shoves off his pants, baring his thighs. He's chunk-style, definitely, but Gerard can see the lines of his muscles under his skin. There's a bulge of flesh where the elastic leg of his underwear presses into his ass, but it looks good, like the sparse hairs on his legs do.
When Frank says, "Should I-- I mean, I'm gonna take my shirt off, too?" Gerard is too distracted by looking to do anything but nod. Then, of course, Gerard realizes that he has to take his shirt off if Frank does. Fuck.
Frank unbuttons his shirt and yanks off his tie. While he's pulling up his undershirt, Gerard quickly strips off his own shirt. He sits within arm's reach of Frank on the bed, leaving his shirt and his pants crumpled on the floor by his desk chair. Frank seems to be stuck in his shirt for a second, but he fights it off and throws it on top of the rest of his clothes. He's panting slightly.
His nipples are dark against his pale skin. His nipples don't do the annoying peaking thing that Gerard's do; they're flat on his chest, so that the pudge he has looks like pecs instead of breasts. His chest has the same faint lines of definition that his legs have, like if he tried a little harder he could be muscular. Gerard crosses his arms over his chest, then realizes that that means his girl-thighs and boner are hanging out, unprotected by anything but his underwear.
Before Gerard can figure out some sort of system where he can cover his entire body with just his arms, Frank leans over and smashes their lips together. It kind of hurts, but when Frank pulls back, Gerard follows him. They end up falling back against Gerard's pillow, which smells kind of like Gerard's hair and kind of like sleep-sweat. Frank doesn't seem to mind, though; he's kneading at Gerard's shoulders, and when Gerard remembers to pull on his hair he starts gasping against Gerard's mouth.
Gerard gropes down blindly until he finds the waistband of Frank's underwear. Gerard rubs his thumb over the curve of Frank's belly, up to his belly button and then down to the waistband of his underwear, back up to his belly button and then finally smooths his hand down over the front of Frank's underwear.
Gerard breaks away from the kiss to look down at his hand. He rubs the outline of Frank's cock, pressing the cotton down around it. The fabric rasps against the pads of his fingers. It's damp at the head of Frank's dick, and when Gerard presses his thumb there, over the head, Frank whines and shoves his hips up. Gerard tears his eyes away from the outline of Frank's dick to his face. Frank's mouth has dropped open, and his eyes have closed.
Gerard says, "So, is that, I mean--" He cuts himself off. He sounds like such a tool, Christ.
Frank just breathes out, "Please, please."
Gerard's not precisely sure what Frank's asking for, but he figures that taking Frank's underwear off won't go amiss at this point. He pulls up the waistband and maneuvers it over Frank's cock. He only gets them halfway down Frank's thighs before Frank sits up and shoves them the rest of the way off. Frank flops back on the bed, his dick slapping against his stomach. Gerard laughs. "Shut up," Frank says.
"You shut up," Gerard says, and grabs Frank's cock.
"Okay," Frank gasps agreeably.
Frank's underwear left a thin red line on his belly. Gerard ducks his head down and touches his tongue to it. The skin doesn't taste any different, really, but Frank makes a harsh noise and splays his knees wider. Gerard bites his lip. Now that he's down here, he figures that maybe he could try, possibly, even though he doesn't really know what he's doing, not really. Gerard licks the seamed skin at Frank's belly again, thinking.
"Please," Frank repeats.
Okay, Gerard thinks, and just goes for it.
Gerard figures what he's going to do is pretty obvious, but Frank still gasps when Gerard licks his cock. The skin is slick and salty-tasting. Gerard tries sucking the head into his mouth, like they do in the porn he's watched. He can't do it like a porn star, obviously, but he can get a rhythm going.
It's sort of boring and interesting at the same time. Gerard likes the taste, and likes having something in his mouth, but he's just sort of bobbing his head, not doing anything special. They always do that in the porn he's watched, but they tend to be better at deepthroating than Gerard is. Mikey told him once that you're supposed to use your hand when you're blowing someone. Gerard's not exactly sure what the fuck that means, though, so he just strokes one of his thumbs along the underside of Frank's dick, kind of out of tempo with his mouth.
Gerard draws back, just to catch his breath. He's drooled all over the place, he realizes; he slides his hand up Frank's cock and starts jerking him, just to get the saliva more spread around. He would feel gross about the spit puddle, but Frank doesn't seem to mind. He's twitching all over the place, and his face is beet red.
"Can you-- fuck, please," Frank says.
"What?" Gerard asks, because he's not a mind-reader, seriously.
"Have you done this before?" Frank asks.
Gerard stops his hand, shocked. He thought he was doing pretty okay. "I can stop," he offers.
"No, no, that's not what I meant," Frank says, with a satisfying amount of desperation in his voice. "I mean, fuck, can you use your hand like that and your mouth like before? Please?"
Gerard frowns. He starts jerking Frank off again and -- with Frank's encouraging noises as a soundtrack -- ducks his head down to suck on the head of Frank's dick again. It makes more sense when Gerard actually starts doing it, working his hand in time with his mouth. It's probably what Mikey meant by using your hand. Gerard kind of feels dumb for not realizing it before.
Gerard doesn't have long to feel dumb, though; after a couple of strokes like that, Frank bucks his hips up twice, says, "shit, fuck, sorry," and comes in Gerard's mouth.
Gerard mentally shrugs and keeps sucking. It's not like he hasn't eaten it before, he figures, and this is less messy. He keeps swallowing until Frank says, "Holy Mary mother of God," and pushes Gerard's head off his crotch.
"Was that okay?" Gerard says, and immediately wants to die.
Frank doesn't make fun of him for being a total girl, though; he grins at Gerard and says, "Dude, yeah."
Gerard crawls back up the bed, feeling pudgy and awkward and weird again now that he's not sucking Frank's dick, but Frank doesn't seem to notice. He puts his arms around Gerard's shoulders and kisses Gerard, open-mouthed.
Gerard braces himself on the pillow and concentrates on making out with Frank; he feels horny and stupid, his hard-on rubbing right on the seam of his underwear, but he's not sure what to do about it. He wants to hump Frank's leg, but he figures that has to be kind of rude. It feels pretty rude, just rubbing his dick on someone's leg. So does pushing Frank out of the way and jerking himself off, which Gerard only considers for about two seconds. So does going to the bathroom to jerk off, though he considers that one for a little longer.
Gerard is just trying to Jedi mind-trick his boner out of existence when Frank finally solves the problem for him by reaching for Gerard's dick.
"Oh shit yeah," Gerard says, like a total freak, and then, "Oh shit, shit yeah," when Frank scoots down the bed and pulls down Gerard's underwear.
"I haven't done this a whole lot," Frank says. "So don't, like, pull my hair or anything, okay?"
"Okay," Gerard breathes. By concentrating really, really hard, he's able to keep from coming on Frank's face right that very second.
---
So maybe Frank and Gerard have a fooling-around thing, like Mikey said. This should be all fine and dandy. Guys are supposed to like no-strings blowjobs. Gerard totally loves Frank's blowjobs, from the experience he's had thus far. He wants to marry Frank's throat.
That's the problem, though. While guys maybe like no-strings blowjobs, Gerard is not totally technically a guy. Okay, fine, Gerard is technically a guy, he's got a penis and everything, but Gerard doesn't have the "normal guy" fear of commitment. Fuck normal, anyway. Gerard just wants to commit to Frank in a very deep, what some assholes might call "girly," way.
Frank is hot. Frank has had both his hand and his mouth in Gerard's bathing suit place. Frank likes comics and D&D. Gerard would like for Frank to be obligated to continue having sex and conversations with Gerard. Gerard wants a goddamn thing-thing, and it is getting stupidly difficult not to beg for one.
Frank isn't helping, either.
"I got you coffee," Frank says.
"Oh my god," Mikey says. "Dude, don't do that."
"Do what?" Frank asks, innocently, like he isn't acting like the centerfold from Gerard's Fantasies, Issue #47 (The All Frank Special).
Gerard takes a second to appreciate the image of Frank holding a steaming cup of coffee for a second. He is never going to need to watch porn again. This is all the porn he will ever, ever need. Hot guy, who is willing to put his mouth on Gerard's penis, holding coffee for Gerard. God. There aren't even any fucking words.
"That," Mikey says. "That face is what you did." He waves his finger in Gerard's face. Gerard dodges it, busy taking in every little detail of Frank's hand on the coffee cup.
Gerard breathes out slowly and reaches for the cup. "Thanks," he says. He holds the cup gently between his hands, cradling it. He's going to draw Frank later, holding out the coffee cup like that, all sweet-looking. With a scarf. Smiling. Gerard grins into his coffee and takes a sip.
"Now he's in love with you," Mikey says.
Frank flinches back and ducks his head.
"Shut up, fucktard, I'm not," Gerard snaps. He's not as mean as he might normally be, though, because he has hot-boy-brought coffee in his hands. He's actually getting a boner, and he doesn't even care if anyone sees. He puts his nose back over the edge of the cup and takes a deep sniff. "But thanks," he says.
Later, after Gerard's finished the coffee and surfed past the caffeine high, he pulls Mikey aside and says, "Oh my god, he brought me coffee."
"I know," Mikey says.
"And he likes comic books, Mikey. And he thinks my jokes are super-funny."
"I know," Mikey says.
They stare at each other in mutual appreciation of Gerard's misery. "My life is fucking tragic," Gerard says.
"I know," Mikey whispers, and hugs him.
---
When they get home after school, Gerard holds off on drawing Frank for as long as he can. Gerard is really good about it, too, until he gets through his second cup of rum and coke. After the second cup, Gerard's just tipsy enough to lose any impulse control he might have, and just sober enough that the stuff that he draws doesn't look like shit.
Gerard's still pretty good, after he starts drawing. He doesn't make it super in-depth or anything. It's a quick sketch, a cartoon version of Frank. Cartoon Frank has a scarf around his neck, and he's holding a cup of coffee in his hand. The coffee cup has "for Gerard!" written on the side. Gerard does spend kind of a while on cartoon-Frank's smile, but that's mostly because Frank was beaming, and that's kind of hard to get across.
When Gerard finishes the sketch, he looks at it for a long moment. He really did get the smile just right on the last try; it's got all of Frank's stupid impossible-to-read cheerfulness in it. Gerard puts the sketch in his desk drawer, and resolves not to look at it until tomorrow.
When he breaks that vow, fifteen minutes later, he figures that he'll just have to restrict himself to once an hour.
"You are such a loser," Mikey says, when he catches Gerard opening the drawer again, twenty minutes later.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Gerard says airily. He slams his hand in the drawer by accident when he closes it, and Mikey laughs. "Don't be a dick," Gerard says, mumbling around his smarting fingers. Mikey makes a face at him, but then he goes and mixes Gerard another drink, so Gerard feels like his wounded pride has been mollified.
Gerard takes the rum and coke when Mikey hands it to him, and tosses back a Percocet with his first sip. "How're you, anyway?" Gerard asks, after he's done swallowing the pill.
"You know," Mikey says, and shrugs.
"Are you dating somebody?"
Mikey gives him a suspicious look, and Gerard throws up his hands, sloshing his drink over his wrist. "I don't know, you could go on a monogamy kick," he says. He sucks the drips off of his wrist.
"I guess," Mikey says. "I'm just hanging out right now."
"You're still young," Gerard says. He sighs and takes another gulp of his drink, careful this time not to spill.
Gerard knows, obviously, that he's pretty young himself. His mom says it to him all the time: she reminds him that he's only seventeen, that things will be different in a couple of years. She's always laughing at him when he's sad about stuff, because, "Oh honey, I promise you it gets better." Elena is better, but that's mostly because she only talks to him about art and poetry and music, and tells him she's proud of him all the time. "One day people are going to see how special you are," she tells Gerard. Sometimes he can even believe her.
Gerard's just impatient, that's the problem. Gerard wants to find someone now, anyone really, who would be worth all the special-feeling Gerard has waiting in his chest, all the potential Gerard has to love someone. Mikey gets some of it, sure, and his mom, and Elena, but Gerard doesn't get to write love letters to them, doesn't get to hold their hand and whisper idiotic things in their ears. Gerard is pretty sure that he'll make a superior boyfriend. The guy Gerard loves won't have to do anything except be his amazing self. All he'll have to do is let Gerard love him.
The only problem is that Gerard needs to find a guy who will take him up on it. That's the fucking kicker of it.
Gerard stays up for maybe thirty more minutes, but between the rum and the Percocet, he pretty much can't avoid passing out. On the upside, he doesn't have another opportunity to look at the picture in his desk drawer, so technically he hasn't looked at it in five hours when he wakes up in the morning.
---
"This place is a shithole of death," Gerard says. He throws his empty coffee cup at the foot of the stairs leading up to the main school building. Then he picks up the coffee cup and puts it in the trashcan.
"Fucking see you at fucking lunch," Mikey returns, and slouches off to class.
Gerard checks his arm. Math first. "Fuck a fucking dog," he mutters, but he goes.
Gerard sort of zones out on life for the first half of math class, once he sees that they're not going to have a pop quiz. When he finally tunes back in, Ray and Matt are having some kind of conversation about someone, and Gerard has to play catch-up.
"Dwayne told me that they cut his toes off, but that's Dwayne."
"What did Roodley say?"
"He's out sick."
"Shit-- maybe Bob would know for sure?"
"Yeah, I want to ask Bob."
"Bob, like, Frank's Bob?" Gerard asks.
"Yeah," Ray says, and rolls his eyes.
Gerard rolls his eyes right back. Ray has yet to accept how long it takes for Gerard's brain to switch on in the morning, even though he's known Gerard since before Gerard got acquainted with coffee. "Just tell me what happened," Gerard says.
"Boys," Ms. Mirkin says, exasperated. "Are you done your worksheet?"
"Yes, Ms. Mirkin," Ray says. Gerard covertly copies Ray's numbers onto his own worksheet while Ray blocks her eyeline with his body. "Frank got roughed up," Ray whispers, excited.
"What?" Gerard says, and nearly turns a 2 into a 4. He scribbles it out and rewrites it. "Wait, okay, hang on," he says, and finishes filling in the blanks as quick as he can. Ms. Mirkin will probably bitch at him for his handwriting again, but whatever. "What happened?" he asks.
"No one's seen him and these guys in our year said they kicked his ass for punching that guy in the crotch and they hid him somewhere in school and no one knows where!" Ray says, all in one breath.
"Raymond!" Ms. Mirkin says.
"Sorry," Ray says.
Gerard raises his hand. "May I go to the bathroom?" he asks.
"What're you doing?" Matt says, apparently deciding to reenter the conversation.
"I think I might know where he is," Gerard says, out of the corner of his mouth.
Ms. Mirkin takes a couple of loud, deep breaths. She puts both her palms flat on her desk and leans over. She shakes her head and takes another loud breath.
"Ms. Mirkin?" Gerard asks. He leaves his hand up, in case she forgot.
She looks up, finally, and grimaces at him. "Fine, get out," she says.
"Thanks," Gerard says. He wedges himself out from under the desk and tries to look as casual as possible when he sidles out of the room.
Gerard is planning on running all the way there, obviously, but then he gets winded after the first hallway and has to slow down. He keeps it at a brisk walk. By the time he gets to the section of lockers he wants, his undershirt and button-down are both sticking to his pits and his belly. He feels weird and gross. He really hopes he was right about where Frank would be.
Gerard says, "Hi?"
There's a brief pause, but before Gerard can berate himself for getting it wrong, he hears, "Hi."
"Frank!" Gerard says.
"Yeah," Frank says. He rattles the door of the locker so that Gerard can find him. Gerard peers in between the slats in the front of the locker. He can just make out Frank's eyes, and if he focuses really hard he can see Frank's wobbly smile.
"Can you get Mikey to come get me out?" Frank asks.
"Okay," Gerard says. "I think he's in gym, though. Um. I'll get the janitor."
Getting the janitor involves asking Ms. Tilg at the head's office where he is, then going all the way down to the Lower School -- where there is apparently a serious tempura spill -- then going outside and hunting around until he finds the janitor smoking by the lacrosse team's storage shed.
"Hey," Gerard says. "Um. Hi?"
"Hi," the janitor says. He takes a deep drag. "Is there another spill?"
"No," Gerard says. "My friend's in a locker."
"Christ," the janitor says. He takes one last drag on his cigarette and then grinds it out on the side of the shed. "I'll be there after I deal with the paint pool in there, okay?" he says, jerking his thumb back towards the school.
"It's locker forty-three, in the senior hall," Gerard says hesitantly. The janitor jerks his head in a nod and heads back inside. Gerard stands there wringing his hands for a moment, wondering whether he should have been more insistent, and then decides to go back to talk to Frank.
He's feeling seriously gross and sweaty by the time he gets back. "I smell like funk," he says, into the slats of Frank's locker.
"Did you know Greg has pin-ups of Bebe Neuwirth in his locker?"
"Seriously?" Gerard asks. He cranes his head, like that'll help him see.
"Yeah. She's got pretty nice legs, though," Frank says.
"Cool, yeah," Gerard says, inanely. "I got the janitor, but there's this paint spill in the Lower School, he said he'd be up as soon as he took care of that."
"Fucking hell," Frank says.
"Sorry," Gerard says.
"It's okay," Frank says, but he doesn't sound like he's okay with it.
"I'll--" Gerard starts, but he doesn't have anything helpful to say. "I'll just sit here, then!" he says, too brightly, and then wants to beat his head against the lockers. That would probably be really noisy for Frank, though, so he doesn't. He sits down on the ugly grey carpet, leans his back against the ugly beige lockers, and tries to think of something interesting to say.
"So," Gerard says.
"So," Frank says.
His voice sounds really weird, inside the locker. All that metal does weird things to the acoustics, probably. Gerard should try being inside a locker sometime, just to see what his voice sounds like in there. One time he and Mikey walked all the way around the house, testing the acoustics in each room. It meant that they'd had to switch off emitting a consistent tone -- this was science, it was important -- but Mikey had proven pretty awesome at monotone emission. Gerard should probably get Mikey to get in a locker, really--
"Gerard?" Frank asks.
"Yeah?" Gerard says.
"Okay," Frank says. "Look, could you talk to me? I mean, could we talk?"
"Oh," Gerard says. "Sure. What about?"
"I don't care," Frank says. He sounds kind of panicky. Gerard tells him this, and Frank says, "I am in a metal box that is barely big enough to fit my fat ass, I am staring at Bebe Neuwirth's legs, and I have to pee. I think panic is okay."
Gerard evaluates Frank's statement. "Panic is fine, yeah," he agrees. "Are you claustrophobic?"
"New topic of conversation," Frank says abruptly.
"You said you didn't care what we talked about."
"I lied," Frank says.
"Oh," Gerard says.
"Yeah," Frank says. "So a topic of conversation that isn't claustrophobia. Or anything having to do with running water."
"Okay," Gerard says, slowly. "I'm not really good at coming up with conversation topics, is the thing. It's why I don't go on dates." He feels his face heat a little and adds, "I mean, I don't get asked very often, I mean. Or at all, really. But if someone asked me, I'd probably have to turn them down, because I'm not very good at conversation."
"Yeah, I got that," Frank mutters.
"Shut up, neither are you," Gerard says. He's a little hurt that Frank doesn't think he's good at conversation, but he figures Frank's stressed from being in the locker, and has to be given some leeway. "I would normally get all mad at you for that, but you're in a locker," Gerard says.
"Thanks," Frank says.
"Yeah. So anyway, I'm not good at conversation. Are you? Do you make good conversation on your dates?"
"What dates?" Frank asks. His voice is echoing off the metal locker, still, but he sounds kind of glum, which is weird.
"You don't go on dates? What about--" Gerard clears his throat. "What about Kyle?"
"What about him?" Frank asks.
Gerard opens his mouth, then shuts it. He considers this new information. "You mean you've slept with all those guys, and none of them have dated you?"
There's a long pause.
"I haven't slept with all those guys," Frank says, his voice ringing off the locker walls more loudly. "Wait, you think I've slept with tons of guys?"
"Well, you've kissed a whole lot of guys," Gerard says.
"That's so not the same," Frank says. "And-- what the fuck, are you like-- are you judging me or some shit?"
"No," Gerard says. "No! I mean, not really. I'm just saying, it's sad. That you-- kissed all those guys, right, and none of them asked you out."
The locker is silent.
"Frank?" Gerard says.
The janitor walks up right then and there. Gerard maybe gives a manly squeak of surprise. "Hi!" he says, to cover his squeak. "Frank is in this locker here."
The janitor considers the locker. He steps in close and considers the lock. "Brace yourself," he says to the locker front, and then gives the lock a good, vicious shake. He does it again, and kicks the bottom of the locker, and the door springs open. Frank tumbles out.
"Huh," the janitor says. "Bebe Neuwirth."
Frank pushes himself slowly to his feet, and brushes off his shirt and pants. He doesn't look at Gerard. "Hey," Gerard says, "so--"
"Shut the fuck up," Frank says, in a really snotty voice. Gerard snaps his mouth shut. Frank finally looks at him when he says, "I want you to stay the fuck away from me, if you think I'm such a slut."
"I don't!" Gerard gasps, when he can get enough air into his lungs. He feels like he's about to shit himself right then and there. It's fucking horrible. It's every nightmare he's ever had.
And it's still going, too, because Frank points a shaky finger at Gerard and says, "You do, and you're just like the rest of them, because you think it's okay to fuck the gay kid, but it's not okay to date him. So screw you, Gerard," Frank finishes. It's a pretty fucking dramatic exit, and it isn't even screwed up by how Frank trips over Greg's biology textbook, or how he goes the wrong way at first and has to turn around. It's that fucking dramatic. Gerard is devastated.
"I am devastated," he tells the janitor.
"I need a cigarette," the janitor says.
"Can I have one?" Gerard asks.
The janitor glances down the hallway. Gerard looks at him beseechingly, even though that means the tears welling in his eyes almost spill over. The janitor sighs. "Fine, c'mon."
After he's smoked two of the janitor's incredibly lethal cigarettes -- seriously, they're nastier than Reds -- and gotten over his initial crying jag, Gerard cuts the rest of school and goes home. Ray will bring him his bookbag. Gerard's pretty sure that his life has just ended, so it's the least Ray can do.
---
Ray brings Gerard his bookbag, but he doesn't stick around; he's got a history project due next week that he wants to finish. Gerard is really glad he didn't do AP History. Mr. Lieberman looks like a pushover, but he's actually an evil taskmaster. Mr. Moltz is way, way easier. Potheads almost always are.
"True," Mikey agrees. He's lying on his bed, his head hanging off the edge and his feet up on the wall. "I have Moltz this year, too."
"I forgot about that," Gerard says. "Does he still do that dance about the Russian revolution?"
"Tsariiiina," Mikey warbles, and waggles his feet.
Gerard laughs. "Man, it makes me want to be a pothead," he says.
"What does?"
"Moltz. He's just so easygoing, y'know?" Gerard shuffles through a few steps of the dance, what he remembers of it. He's only weaving a little, but it's enough that he's glad to have the bed right there behind him. Gerard flops back onto it, giggling. "Shit," he says, "I bet Frank wouldn't be mad at me if I were a pothead."
"Potheads don't get laid, though," Mikey says confidently.
"Lies," Gerard says.
"They don't. They talk about getting laid more than they actually do, you know? They're all like, 'oh man, fucking is soooo much better when you're high,' but when you actually try to get them to fuck, they totally douche out."
"Shit," Gerard says. His worldview has been radically blown. "Really?"
"In my experience," Mikey says.
"But you smoke pot," Gerard points out. "And you get laid, right?"
"Well, I smoke pot, but I'm not a pothead," Mikey says. Gerard mulls this over, and Mikey laughs. "You look like a duck when you make that face," he says.
"That's because you're upside down," Gerard tells him.
"Yeah," Mikey says meditatively. "Yeah, I am."
Gerard gets up. It's kind of a struggle, since he's wasted, his bed is soft, and he's a fatass. He gets himself up, though, and surfs through the headrush. Mikey is staring at him. Gerard says, "Hey, are you okay?" He goes over to Mikey's bed and sits down next to Mikey. Mikey picks his head up and looks at Gerard groggily. "Are you okay, Mikeybear?"
"Don't call me that," Mikey says. He frowns at Gerard. "I'm okay. Are you okay?"
"Sort of," Gerard says. His stomach doesn't hurt anymore, but he just feels sort of numb. It's not even a useful kind of numb, either; every time he thinks about Frank he still wants to cry.
"Yeah," Mikey says. "Yeah, that's what I meant too." He pushes himself up and moves awkwardly around until he's sitting next to Gerard on the bed. He drapes his arm over Gerard's shoulder and leans on him, tipping his head to rest on Gerard's shoulder. "What're you going to do?" he asks.
"I don't know," Gerard says. "Nothing, probably."
"You should do something," Mikey says.
"Like what?" Gerard asks.
He expects Mikey to be defeated by that, but Mikey says, "Ask Frank out," like it's that obvious.
"He'll say no," Gerard says. He leans his head on top of Mikey's.
"He likes you, though," Mikey says.
"No he doesn't," Gerard says. He thinks that maybe Mikey is right, that maybe Frank likes him just a little bit, but he doesn't want to jinx it, not when he's screwed things up so badly already. "Anyway, he didn't want a thing-thing, he said. And he really won't want one now, because, y'know."
"You called him a slut," Mikey says.
"Yeah," Gerard says. "Not really, but. Yeah."
"You should ask him out," Mikey reiterates. "But do it right, like, romantically or whatever. So he'll know you want a thing-thing."
"Like, with roses?"
"With coffee," Mikey says firmly. "And, like, a cookie or something, he loves cookies. Or, like. Like, a drawing of his character in the game?"
Gerard thinks about it. There are a lot of things that could go wrong with the plan. He doesn't want to just ask Frank out, anyway. That's just dangerous; Frank could laugh at him, and then Gerard would be stuck feeling like an idiot.
"I'm going to woo him first," Gerard decides. "I'll woo him, and then maybe I'll ask him out, once he's wooed."
Mikey considers this. "Okay," he says, finally. "Okay, that's a plan."
"Mix me a drink," Gerard says. He's feeling kind of celebratory.
"Fuck you," Mikey says, but he gets up willingly enough.
---
Gerard puts Project Woo into effect the next day.
"Are you seriously fucking calling it Project fucking Woo?" Mikey asks.
"Shut the fuck up, for fuck's sake," Gerard says. He probably should have waited for the afternoon; neither he nor Mikey is at their best in the morning.
The slats in the locker looks like they ought to be able to take a folded-up piece of paper, but they're too skinny. Gerard hasn't had his third cup of coffee yet, and he's getting frustrated. "This won't fit," Gerard concludes, and sits back on his heels.
"That's what she said," Mikey says, but he takes the folded-up paper out of Gerard's hand and bumps his shoulder so Gerard will get out of his way. Mikey flips the note over, gets one corner wedged into the slat, and wiggles it through. The paper drops into the locker.
"Goddammit," Gerard says, but he puts his arm around Mikey's shoulders and hugs him tight in thanks. "I'll buy you a coffee on the way home."
"You'd fucking better," Mikey grumbles, but he leans up against Gerard.
Gerard spends the time before lunch in an agony of anticipation. Well, he spends the time in English, World History, and gym class, but while he's drawing a vampire bat lady on his notebook and ignoring the asshole jocks in gym he is also fretting about what Frank will say.
The drawing that Mikey helped him shove into Frank's locker is of Frank's character, the warrior elf, with his broadsword in mid-swing. Gerard combined permanent markers and crayons to give the armor he's wearing a sort of exoskeletal look. He thinks it looks amazing. It should be enough to win Frank's heart, if there's any justice in the world.
When Gerard gets to lunch, though, Frank's not there. "He said he was busy," Mikey says apologetically.
"Oh," Gerard says. "Well-- yeah, it's not like I care."
Ray shoots him a questioning look, but Gerard shrugs it off. He's pretty good at acting like himself, right? He can totally cover up his anxiety for an hour.
He has to go to the bathroom to shit at least four times, but he's pretty sure he does a superb job.
At the end of the lunch period, Matt puts a hand on his shoulder and asks, "Dude, are you okay?"
"What are you talking about?" Gerard says. "I'm fine."
"Right," Matt says. "Uh, man." He scratches the back of his head and bites his lip. "If you want, like-- to talk, or something?"
Gerard blinks, stupefied. In all his acquaintance with Matt Pelissier, Gerard has heard him talk about feelings exactly twice. Both times involved sex. "I'm okay," Gerard says slowly, "But thanks?"
"Cool," Matt says, dropping his hand and looking relieved. "See you in math."
"Okay," Gerard says. He turns to Mikey and says, "I thought I was covering up well."
"You were," Mikey says loyally, but Gerard can tell the difference between honesty and bold-faced lying.
Gerard sighs. "This sucks," he tells Mikey. Mikey nods.
---
"Bob!" Gerard says, whispering as loudly as he can. Bob finally looks up. His eyes widen, and he glances over at where the teacher probably is. Gerard beckons for him to come out. Bob makes a covert gesture for Gerard to wait.
Gerard backs out of the line of sight of the doorway and leans against the wall. A teacher passes, and Gerard nods to her, very casually. He has his shirt tucked in and everything. It is imperative to his mission to avoid getting thrown back into class; he is willing to look like a tool for the mission.
Bob finally comes out after Gerard has practically sweated through his uniform shirt. "Bob," Gerard whispers.
"What," Bob whispers, "Jesus Christ, are you the least stealthy person ever?"
"Shut up," Gerard says, "You're like, what, a sophomore? You know shit about stealth."
"Right," Bob says. "What do you want?"
Gerard would tell him to fuck off, but he kind of needs Bob on his side. "Do you know Greg Bock?"
"He's the jerk with the weird bracelet thing?" Bob says. Gerard nods. "Yeah, I know him. Why?"
"It was his locker Frank was locked in, and I bet it was James and Greg who put him in there," Gerard says.
"Okay," Bob says. Gerard grins and shoves his hair out of his face. Bob adds, "Why should I care?"
"Bob!" Gerard says, exasperated. "Beat them up!"
"Oh," Bob says. "Are you serious? I can't."
"What?" Gerard says. He feels his face fall. "No way."
"I'm not supposed to fight anymore," Bob says. "If I get suspended or anything--"
"Oh," Gerard says. "I mean. I guess it doesn't matter."
"My parents said I can't go see my boyfriend if they hear about another fight," Bob says.
"Oh, you're," Gerard says, like a tool. "I mean, whatever. That's cool." Gerard expects that Bob will just slap him on the back after that and head back to class, but Bob stands there, fidgeting.
"I could--" Bob starts. He bites his lip. "I don't know."
"Are you, I mean--" Gerard says, but Bob interrupts.
"I'll do it," Bob says. "I bet-- Jesse will understand, whatever. "
"Okay," Gerard says. He wishes he were a better person, but he totally isn't. He probably should give Bob a phone card to call his boyfriend with, or something. "Okay, when can you do it?"
"Today after school," Bob says, "I'll spit on him, right, that'll probably get him started. And there's always his mom."
"Jesus," Gerard says. Bob gives him a high-five and goes back to class. Gerard stays out there in the hallway for a while, shuffling around in his victory dance, before he finally goes back to his class.
---
He has to buy Mikey a coffee on the way home, and Bob a phone card, and he owed Matt some money for the Percocets he got from Jenny's sister's boyfriend, and they're nearly out of vodka again, so they have to make a pit stop to pay a guy to buy them some, which is always a nerve-wracking experience. When they get back home, Gerard is out of both cash and energy.
"Fuck it," he says. "I'm getting drunk and watching Halloween."
"Ray said Frank said he might go by the record store tonight," Mikey says.
Gerard doesn't say anything right away; he just stares at the ceiling. "It would probably be trying too hard if I showed up there, right?" he asks finally.
"Probably," Mikey says.
---
When Gerard walks into Blind Eye, conversation abruptly stops. Ray looks embarrassed.
"Hey," Gerard says awkwardly.
"Hey," Ray says.
Frank looks away. Matt looks up from his magazine, waves, and goes back to reading.
"So," Ray says.
Frank turns abruptly, his shoes squeaking on the dirty linoleum, and goes over to the gospel section. He doesn't like gospel. Gerard is willing to bet both money and cigarettes that Frank even hates gospel music, actually, but he's flipping through the CDs like they're fascinating. The cases clack together.
"I just thought I'd stop by," Gerard says.
"Cool," Ray says. "We were just talking about Frank's party tomorrow night."
"Oh?" Gerard says. His voice squeaks, and he clears his throat. "What time's--"
"I'm not having a party," Frank says. He turns and glares at Ray over his shoulder.
"Um--" Ray says. "Oh." Matt looks up with a perplexed expression on his face, but he ducks back down behind his magazine after he catches Frank's glare.
"Well, I mean. Tomorrow's the day before Halloween, isn't it? There's probably a couple of other parties," Gerard says inanely.
"Yeah," Ray says. "It's, um. Frank's birthday is on Halloween."
"Oh," Gerard says. He fidgets. "I forgot. That's cool."
"Yeah," Ray says. He looks miserable. Gerard would feel sorry for him, but he's busy feeling sorry for himself.
"Well," Gerard says, "if there's no party, maybe we could hang out?"
"Ray's going to be busy," Frank says. He doesn't turn around.
"Oh," Gerard says. His voice comes out in a whisper, and he clears his throat before he adds, "Um. Okay."
Frank shoves back the CDs he's been flipping through. Gerard startles at the sound, and then hunches his shoulders when Frank turns around. "I'm going to go," Frank says to Ray.
"But you just got here," Ray says.
"Whatever, I've got shit to do," Frank says. "And-- and it smells bad in here, all of a sudden. Like someone didn't shower."
Gerard tries to swallow, but it doesn't work; it feels like when he tries to dry-swallow his pills and gets them stuck in his throat. "Don't--" he manages, and swallows fast before the stuck feeling can come back. "Don't leave. I have to go, anyway."
Gerard thought that maybe, maybe Frank will still leave, that they'll walk out together and Gerard will get a chance to apologize. Frank just jams his hands in his jeans pockets and says, "Well, fine. Why don't you go, then?"
"Whatever," Gerard mutters. "Okay, fine. Whatever."
"I'll talk to you soon," Ray promises. He looks torn. Gerard wants to remind him of how long they've been friends, how new Frank is to their circle, but he can't do that to Ray. He doesn't want to, anyway; he doesn't know for sure that Ray would pick him.
Gerard leaves without saying anything else. The windchime smacks against the door behind him; before it closes all the way he can hear Frank say, "Fucking asshole--" and Ray saying, "Hey--"
Gerard doesn't throw up, doesn't cry, doesn't do anything that he wants to do. He trudges home. He doesn't let himself think about it. When Gerard gets home, Mikey is still out. Gerard lies down on top of his bedcovers, still wearing his clothes and his shoes. He really can't bring himself to take them off. He falls asleep like that, without pills or booze, just dropping off thinking don't think about it.
---
The next morning, when Mikey prods at Gerard's shoulder, Gerard says, "I'm skipping."
"Fuck you, no," Mikey says.
"I'm sick," Gerard says. "It's a Friday, there aren't any tests, I'm staying home."
Mikey sits on the edge of Gerard's bed. "You're fucking sick," he says, flatly.
"I feel sick," Gerard tells him. He turns over onto his belly and wraps his arms around his pillow. Mikey doesn't say anything, and the silence stretches out so long that Gerard has to look over his shoulder. Mikey just stares at him, his eyebrows drawn together over his glasses. "What?" Gerard snaps.
"Do I have to fucking punch Frank again?" Mikey asks.
Gerard turns back away. "No," he says, "It's not Frank."
"It's not," Mikey says, doubtfully.
"It's me," Gerard says. "I'm-- I'm such a fuck-up." Gerard presses his cheek against his pillow. He feels like shit, almost like he's really sick. He feels the mattress shift under Mikey's weight, and then Mikey's curling up next to him, his bony hip digging into Gerard's side. "You're bony," Gerard says, but he doesn't tell Mikey to go away, and Mikey doesn't move.
Mikey puts his head on Gerard's pillow, his neck bent awkwardly over Gerard's arm. His glasses are crooked. "Come to fucking school," he says.
"Why?" Gerard asks.
"Because," Mikey says.
They stare at each other. "That's the shittiest reason ever," Gerard says. Mikey shrugs, as much as he can lying down. Gerard takes a deep breath, holds it for a second, and lets it out. "Fine," he says.
"Okay," Mikey says. "That Jon kid gave me some Ritalin."
"Can I have one?" Gerard asks. Mikey nods and rolls up and off the bed. Gerard pushes himself up while Mikey digs around in the mound of crap next to his bed, and tugs on his uniform from yesterday. It's easier to get himself rolling than he thought it would be; he just has to put one foot in front of the other, at least until the drugs kick in.
---
part four