Fic: Skin of the Canvas, 6/6
The Skin of the Canvas 6/6
part one -- part two -- part three -- part four -- part five -- part six
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Frank manages to get a Friday off. Brian is free to grab coffee at noon. Gerard wakes up in a cold sweat, and spends most of his morning worrying. He's doesn't have any classes on Fridays, and he's switched shifts at the store with someone else. When he tries to do homework, he only produces confused doodles. He ends up smoking too many cigarettes and reading comics instead of doing anything remotely productive.
When it's finally time to leave, Gerard heads downstairs to find Frank sitting on the front stoop of his building. Frank's accepting his lighter back from the creepy guy who's always trying to bum cigarettes off of Gerard. "Thanks, man," creepy guy says.
"No problem," Frank says, "I'll catch you later."
The guy shambles off, and Frank stands up and dusts off the ass of his jeans. He looks good. He looks really good. Gerard doesn't think about it; he just dips his head and brushes a kiss against Frank's mouth. The grin he gets is worth it.
"Did you give him a cigarette?" Gerard asks, still close to Frank.
"Who, Dave?" Frank asks, gesturing after the creepy dude. Gerard laughs. "What?"
"Of course you know his name," Gerard teases, and pats the side of Frank's face. They start down the stairs, and Gerard tugs Frank in the direction of the coffee shop. "Did you tell him your life story?"
"Just that I was waiting for my boyfriend to come down," Frank says. Gerard almost takes a header over a crack in the sidewalk.
"What?"
"What?"
"You're a unicorn, aren't you?" Gerard asks, but he already knows the answer. "You are, you're a unicorn. How did you just out yourself to Dave the creepy cigarette dude?"
Frank looks at him for a long moment. Gerard stumbles again, and he has to look away to pay attention to the sidewalk. "I like to give people the chance to be jerks, y'know," Frank says evenly. "You can't just assume they're assholes."
Gerard stops in his tracks. Frank falters to a stop, and then comes back to stand next to him.
Gerard grabs his face and kisses him, hard, smashing their lips together. He ignores the people walking by them on the street, tunes out their stares and mutters. He pulls back after a moment, maybe an inch away, and says, "I know we're going to get over each other eventually--"
"Why are you so dead set on that?" Frank interrupts, and Gerard shakes his head.
"Let me be a pessimist," he says, and rushes on so he won't lose his momentum. "I know we're going to break up someday, but right now I am so in love with you that I'm going to explode."
"Sounds messy," Frank says, but he slides his arms around Gerard's waist and leans against him, resting the weight of his chin in Gerard's hands. "I love you, too," he murmurs, and Gerard reels like he's taken a punch to the gut.
Gerard states firmly, "This can only lead to disaster," just so the universe knows that he knows. "Disaster, heartbreak, and death," he adds. It doesn't kill the happiness he feels curling in his stomach, but it will have to do. He kisses Frank one more time, and then backs away. He slides his sunglasses down off of the top of his head and onto his nose. "C'mon," he says, "Don't make us late."
Frank snorts and flips Gerard off, but he follows. "Is there anything I should know?" he asks, when they're waiting at the corner for the light to change.
Gerard thinks for a long moment. "I mean, most of it's obvious. Like, don't drink alcohol or shoot up at the table, y'know?"
"Okay. I think can do that."
"Smoking cigarettes is okay. You drink your coffee black, he'll respect that. He's probably going to make fun of your band and your hair and maybe your clothes and probably your job, but that just means he likes you. It's okay if you punch someone, but only if they were mean to an old lady or a black guy or a kid or something."
"You think we're going to have a fistfight in the middle of coffee?" Frank asks, his forehead wrinkling, and then waves his hand when Gerard opens his mouth. "Never mind, you're probably right, keep going."
Gerard tries to think of all the things he worried about when he first got to know Brian. "Really, when he makes fun of you, he doesn't mean it. I mean, he means it. But he doesn't mean it for real."
"Okay," Frank says, "Is this the place?" Gerard nods, and tries not to squeak. Brian is leaning against the outside of the coffee shop, smoking a cigarette like he does when someone's pissed him off.
"So you're Frank," Brian says, when they walk up.
"Also don't be an oppressor," Gerard says in a rush, and Frank says, "What?"
Brian cracks a smile at that, and Gerard feels slightly better. "Are you trying to give him a primer on me?"
"No," Gerard says, just as Frank says, "Yes." Brian shoots Gerard a look that he can't read, and then holds out his hand for Frank to shake.
"I'm an easy guy to get along with," Brian says.
"So we're starting off with lies, then," Frank says, "I'm the Queen Margaret." He shakes Brian's hand, and Gerard makes a noise like he's having an aneurysm. Brian just quirks his mouth.
"So you're Gerard's type," he says, "Good to know. Gerard, can you go walk around the block for a while?"
"But--" Gerard halts. He wasn't expecting this.
"We just should talk privately," Brian says. Frank looks at him, overconfident, unaware of the fact that he's about to die.
"No," Gerard says, and Brian blinks. "No, I'm going to stay."
"It's okay--" Frank starts.
"I know," Gerard says, and adds "I know you'll be okay," when Frank looks like he's going to protest again.
"Okay." Frank shrugs.
"I'll stay at another table, where I can't hear you," Gerard says to Brian, and then bites his lip. "Please?"
"All right," Brian says slowly. He's looking at Frank. Gerard isn't sure what Brian's seeing, but he really, really hopes that it's good.
When Brian holds open the door to the coffee shop, Gerard lets Frank in ahead of him, and he stays in between them while they all order their coffee. He can't be a buffer forever, though; when they pick up their coffees, Brian points at a nearby table, and Gerard goes.
He sits at a table where he can look at them, though. Gerard sips his latte, watching carefully as they settle into chairs and square off against one another. Frank's reining in his legs more than he usually does, but he's fidgeting like normal, drumming his fingers on the table and jiggling one knee. Brian's lips are twitching like he already needs another cigarette. It's a hippy-dippy no-smoking kind of place. Gerard hopes that Brian won't flip out on Frank just because he's having a nic fit.
Gerard looks down at his coffee when they start to talk, and then forces himself to look around the shop at the other customers. He keeps straining to listen, no matter how often he realizes that he can't hear them over the hubbub, and finally he gets up and finds a paper that someone's left behind so that he can distract himself with the crossword.
He lets himself look up once, when he hears Frank laugh. Frank's gesturing, big swooping gestures, coming perilously close to knocking over his coffee, and his hair is standing up. What a fucking loser. Gerard smiles goofily at his coffee and crossword, hunching over them so he won't be tempted to look again.
A couple of minutes later, someone's hand closes on his shoulder. Gerard looks up. "We're going to take a walk," Brian says. Frank is behind him, an unlit cigarette in his mouth, jittering in place. Gerard just nods.
Brian stops to get a coffee to go. The three of them light up once they get outside the coffee shop door, passing around Frank's lighter. Brian leads the way, heading down the street; as soon as his back is turned, Frank transfers his cigarette and grabs for Gerard's free hand. Their palms are sweating together, even just during the short walk, but it's comforting to feel Frank's hand in his.
When Brian looks back, stopping at the entrance to a little schoolyard park, he snorts and shakes his head. "All right, girls," he says, "Frank, can you go play real quick?" Frank lets go of Gerard's hand and races for the playground, taking a flying leap and landing belly-first on a swing. Brian snorts again, and Gerard shrugs. They sit down at the edge of the park, squatting on a curb.
"So you're in love," Brian starts. "With that guy?"
Gerard startles hard, nearly putting out his cigarette on his own knee. He doesn't say anything, though. He can't even look at Brian, so Gerard just nods, looking at Frank swinging back and forth with his arms stretched out in front of him.
"It's okay," Brian continues. "But I don't like that he drinks." Gerard nods again. He can't bring anything like words up. "You're over a year now," Brian tells him, "You're past the helpless rage stage of getting sober, and you're doing okay in school, but princess--" He sighs and takes a few drags on his cigarette, then flicks the butt away.
Gerard watches Frank fall off of the swing, landing on one of his shoulders and getting his foot caught in the chain. Frank laughs, loud and clear in the still, slightly wintry air. He untangles himself, scrambles up, and heads for the jungle gym.
"I wish you would start with a plant like any sensible drunk," Brian finishes.
"I was going to get a hamster," Gerard says regretfully.
"You fucking got one," Brian says, "Jesus, I couldn't keep up with that." Frank has clambered up on top of the jungle gym and is doing some weird dance, shaking his skinny ass and waving his hands around. "You know he's maybe twenty, right?" Brian says.
"Yeah," Gerard admits, and picks at the leg of his jeans. "And I really don't care. About any of the reasons why I should care."
"Right." Brian leans back to get his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. "That could be fantastic or really shitty."
"Yup," Gerard says. "Give me one of your Reds."
Brian holds one out. "Don't quote me on this," he says, and gives Gerard his lighter. "But I think it's going to be fantastic."
Gerard chokes on his first inhale, and has to take the cigarette out of his mouth to catch his breath. "Really," he says.
"Really," Brian repeats, not looking at him. "Probably not forever, but it'll be good for both of you." He takes a deep drag on his cigarette and lets it out. "Make sure you nail his feet to the fucking floor early, though."
Gerard nods. "I'd thought of that."
"I figured." Brian sighs after another drag. He says, "You should ask him about his band."
"Was that what you guys were talking about?" Gerard asks, waving his hands in an imitation of Frank, but Brian shakes his head.
"I'm not telling you that," Brian tells him. "But I am telling you that you should ask him about himself more often."
"I ask him stuff," Gerard says, stung.
Brian shrugs. "I'm just saying, sometimes people who're sick are a little self-centered." He cuts his eyes towards Gerard. "I didn't say you don't have a right to be that way. It's just that if you want to hang on to him, you're going to have to make an effort."
Gerard looks away, looks at Frank sliding around on the jungle gym. He says, "This is why I hate talking to you."
"You're my fucking cross to bear, you know that?" Brian asks, smirking. After a beat, he says, more seriously, "Just because you have a boyfriend doesn't mean you're off the hook for the other thing, either."
"What?" Gerard blinks and coughs. "Off the hook for what?"
"You still have to make some other friends," Brian clarifies. Gerard rolls his eyes. Brian smirks and says, "Friends you didn't meet through Mikey or Frank, even."
"I had coffee with Maja," Gerard says, and takes a drag. "Classmate," he explains on the exhale.
Brian considers that, pressing his lips together, then nods. "That's a start," he says.
"Anything else?" Gerard asks. He tries to make it come off light and unconcerned, but Brian squeezes his shoulder and shakes his head, so he probably wasn't very successful.
They sit in companionable silence, smoking and watching Frank play. Frank flips upside down on the jungle gym, and coins rain out of his pockets. Gerard and Brian exchange a quick grin with each other. When Gerard cuts his eyes back to Frank, Frank waves, and Gerard lifts his hand in response.
"This is going to sound dumb," Gerard says abruptly. Brian sucks on his cigarette, his lips pursing, and nods for Gerard to go on before he exhales. "It's probably Disney's fault, but I thought-- well, I thought that I would meet a girl. And I thought that when I met someone, just meeting them would fix me." Gerard takes a last drag and drops the butt, grinding it out under his heel.
When he looks over, Brian's stubbing his out on the toe of his boot; Gerard offers him one of his, after he digs out his own pack, but Brian waves him off. Gerard lights up and exhales. "I know he won't, is the thing. I mean. He won't. And I was kind of sad, I think, when I realized that he wouldn't, maybe. But now it's kind of nice, that he's just, y'know, my boyfriend."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," Gerard says, believing it now more that he's said it.
"Shit, princess," Brian says. "I don't know what to tell you." He's grinning, the sharp and nasty grin he saves just for when Gerard does something right. He bumps his knee up against Gerard's, and Gerard bumps him back.
"Fuck off, dick," Gerard says, and takes an operatic drag.
"Hey, Frank!" Brian shouts, and Frank slides down off of the jungle gym and runs over. "You can have this shitsmear back," Brian says, "I decided I don't want him." Frank offers his hand and helps Brian up. They exchange manly hugs, complete with backslaps.
"You're the butch one, aren't you?" Gerard asks. Frank surveys him head to toe, then shakes his head.
"It's all a pose, darling," he lisps, and Brian actually laughs out loud.
Gerard hugs Brian goodbye, clinging tightly around his neck, and kisses him on the cheek. Brian makes a point of kissing him on the cheek, too, which is part of why Gerard likes Brian so much. "Ask him about his band, princess," Brian says, softly, right in his ear. Gerard nods, bumping his chin against Brian's shoulder. Brian lets him go. "Talk to me soon," Brian says.
"I will," Gerard promises. "And I'll take care of the hamster." Brian's still snickering as they walk away.
They hold hands on the way back, Gerard smoking slightly awkwardly with his left hand. About a block from his apartment, Frank tucks their joined hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt. Gerard looks over at him, and he says, "Hands were cold."
"We're as bad as the heteros," Gerard tells him. "Should I start calling you Poopsie?"
"If you do, I'll start calling you Sneezy," Frank promises. He just giggles when Gerard grinds his knuckles back against Frank's stomach.
"Fucker," Gerard says, without much heat. "So," he says, trying for casual and failing, "What did Brian say about me?" Frank blows smoke in his face. Gerard bats at it irritably, squinting. "Don't be a jerk, I'm just curious."
"He didn't say much, really," Frank says, "Said he loved you, worried about you." Gerard ducks his head, embarrassed. "He mostly asked about me, actually. How I thought dating was going, why I live in New York, what kind of music my band does. He said he'd come to one of our shows, actually." Gerard looks over when Frank falls silent. Frank is blushing.
Gerard's surprised by the wave of jealousy that washes over him. This is what Brian was talking about, he realizes. "I can come to a show," he says recklessly. "I want to come to a show."
"They're in shitholes," Frank says. "Bars, even. And they're kind of crowded sometimes."
"So?" Gerard flicks away his cigarette. "I can handle it if I know to expect it."
The blush is deeper, now, and Frank is squeezing Gerard's hand a little tighter. Gerard shouldn't feel as smug as he does. "We're not that good," Frank mutters, glancing up at Gerard. "I mean, we're better than anyone else on the punk scene right now," he says with a laugh, "But we're not that good yet."
"I'm not that good an artist," Gerard offers, and laughs when Frank shoots him a murderous glare. "You're not allowed to say you're not good if I'm not," he tells Frank. He finally has let go of Frank's hand so that he can dig for his keys. "You're coming up, right?"
"Yeah," Frank says. "And okay. Fine. We're decent for how long we've been together."
"What do you do in the band?" Gerard asks, and gives himself a mental high five.
"I sing. Sort of. Yell melodically? And I play lead guitar."
"The calluses," Gerard says, "That makes sense." Frank doesn't say anything else at first. Gerard looks back at him when they reach the first landing. "C'mon, tell me about your band."
Once he gets Frank started, Frank actually chatters, telling him all about the people he plays with and their personalities. Gerard asks him about the shows that they've done, and finds out that they've actually gone on tour, and they've talked to someone about doing a CD. Frank actually got taken out to dinner by a record company guy.
Gerard gapes at Frank when he says that, and Frank laughs. "He took me to a place that had, like, no vegan options," he tells Gerard. "I ate four special order side dishes and drank a lot of water."
"But that's like, that's a step," Gerard says, hearing the wonder in his own voice. "That's like getting an invite to a gallery or something. Holy shit!" Frank ducks his head down and grins at his shoes when Gerard says that. Gerard makes a mental note to get Brian some flowers, cigarettes, a hooker, something that will show his vast appreciation. "When's your next show?"
Frank makes a face. "It's next week. Are you sure you want to come?" Gerard nods. Frank hesitates, and then says, "Okay, I'll let you know when we've got a time."
Gerard grins. "Now make me a sandwich," he says. "I bought fake cheese."
Frank snorts. "Demanding bitch," he says.
"Well, I can't have any milk with my sandwich--" Gerard starts, and then remembers that he's the one who poured out the milk he did have. "I mean Tang," he tries. Frank shakes his head. "I meant Tang!"
"You suck at everything," Frank tells Gerard. "Where's your frying pan?"
Once he's gotten Frank set up with a frying pan and some Pam, Gerard picks up the phone. "Do you mind if I talk while you're cooking?"
"I see how it is," Frank teases, "you've got me barefoot and in the kitchen, now you're going and taking me for granted."
"You've got sneakers on," Gerard points out, just to see Frank roll his eyes. "Okay, I'm calling my brother."
Gerard barely has any time to prepare himself; Mikey picks up on the third ring. "Wow, someone's jumping on the phone," Gerard says, "Should I call back later?"
"Nah," Mikey says. "They can leave a message."
"Someone from school?"
Mikey coughs. "I guess. Yeah." They sit in silence together. Gerard picks at the edge of the counter. "So," Mikey says. "What's up?"
"Nothing," Gerard says, and sighs. "How was school?"
"Fine," Mikey says, but now he sounds suspicious. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Gerard says. He drums his fingers on the counter top and finally admits, "I think I might be a little self-centered, sometimes."
"No," Mikey says, his voice a dead monotone. "How could you possibly think that."
"Don't be a dick, I just realized," Gerard whines. Mikey laughs, and next to him Frank sniggers. Gerard rolls his eyes at both of them and folds down to sit on the floor. "It's hard to start something like this, y'know." He reaches over and puts his hand around Frank's ankle, absentmindedly, rubbing his thumb over the curve of his ankle bone, along the top of his sock.
"One day at a time," Mikey says.
Gerard hums his agreement. "So tell me about school already," he pushes.
Mikey is silent for a long, awful minute. Gerard chews on his lip.
"I hate school," Mikey says, finally. "Ask me about records."
"Fine," Gerard huffs. "What records did you buy yesterday?"
Mikey coughs again, an embarrassed sound. "I missed homeroom yesterday," he says, his voice rising at the end like a question. Frank flips a sandwich over, and the bread sizzles. "Because I saw this yard sale? And I'm so glad I did, because they sold me a box of records for two dollars."
"And they were good records?"
"No," Mikey says, practically bubbling. "Mostly Captain and Tenille, Sedaka, that stuff. But one thrashed old copy of Fistful of Metal."
"Holy shit!" Gerard says, and laughs. "Anthrax vinyl for under a dollar," he tells Frank, and Frank whoops.
Mikey burbles on about records, and Frank starts humming a Sinatra tune while he's making his own sandwich.
Gerard leans back, a smile on his face, and listens.
---
END
---
Feedback is obviously welcome, but I am also always happy to hear constructive criticism. If you don't want to criticize publicly, you can email me at sinsense at yahoo dot com. I did not go to SVA, so there may be some inaccuracies in my representation of the school.
If you know someone with alcoholism, the only thing you can do is detach with love. If they (or you) are ready to seek help, however, Alcoholics Anonymous is only one of several options they can pursue. You can find an AA meeting here.
Thank you for reading this.
part one -- part two -- part three -- part four -- part five -- part six
---
Frank manages to get a Friday off. Brian is free to grab coffee at noon. Gerard wakes up in a cold sweat, and spends most of his morning worrying. He's doesn't have any classes on Fridays, and he's switched shifts at the store with someone else. When he tries to do homework, he only produces confused doodles. He ends up smoking too many cigarettes and reading comics instead of doing anything remotely productive.
When it's finally time to leave, Gerard heads downstairs to find Frank sitting on the front stoop of his building. Frank's accepting his lighter back from the creepy guy who's always trying to bum cigarettes off of Gerard. "Thanks, man," creepy guy says.
"No problem," Frank says, "I'll catch you later."
The guy shambles off, and Frank stands up and dusts off the ass of his jeans. He looks good. He looks really good. Gerard doesn't think about it; he just dips his head and brushes a kiss against Frank's mouth. The grin he gets is worth it.
"Did you give him a cigarette?" Gerard asks, still close to Frank.
"Who, Dave?" Frank asks, gesturing after the creepy dude. Gerard laughs. "What?"
"Of course you know his name," Gerard teases, and pats the side of Frank's face. They start down the stairs, and Gerard tugs Frank in the direction of the coffee shop. "Did you tell him your life story?"
"Just that I was waiting for my boyfriend to come down," Frank says. Gerard almost takes a header over a crack in the sidewalk.
"What?"
"What?"
"You're a unicorn, aren't you?" Gerard asks, but he already knows the answer. "You are, you're a unicorn. How did you just out yourself to Dave the creepy cigarette dude?"
Frank looks at him for a long moment. Gerard stumbles again, and he has to look away to pay attention to the sidewalk. "I like to give people the chance to be jerks, y'know," Frank says evenly. "You can't just assume they're assholes."
Gerard stops in his tracks. Frank falters to a stop, and then comes back to stand next to him.
Gerard grabs his face and kisses him, hard, smashing their lips together. He ignores the people walking by them on the street, tunes out their stares and mutters. He pulls back after a moment, maybe an inch away, and says, "I know we're going to get over each other eventually--"
"Why are you so dead set on that?" Frank interrupts, and Gerard shakes his head.
"Let me be a pessimist," he says, and rushes on so he won't lose his momentum. "I know we're going to break up someday, but right now I am so in love with you that I'm going to explode."
"Sounds messy," Frank says, but he slides his arms around Gerard's waist and leans against him, resting the weight of his chin in Gerard's hands. "I love you, too," he murmurs, and Gerard reels like he's taken a punch to the gut.
Gerard states firmly, "This can only lead to disaster," just so the universe knows that he knows. "Disaster, heartbreak, and death," he adds. It doesn't kill the happiness he feels curling in his stomach, but it will have to do. He kisses Frank one more time, and then backs away. He slides his sunglasses down off of the top of his head and onto his nose. "C'mon," he says, "Don't make us late."
Frank snorts and flips Gerard off, but he follows. "Is there anything I should know?" he asks, when they're waiting at the corner for the light to change.
Gerard thinks for a long moment. "I mean, most of it's obvious. Like, don't drink alcohol or shoot up at the table, y'know?"
"Okay. I think can do that."
"Smoking cigarettes is okay. You drink your coffee black, he'll respect that. He's probably going to make fun of your band and your hair and maybe your clothes and probably your job, but that just means he likes you. It's okay if you punch someone, but only if they were mean to an old lady or a black guy or a kid or something."
"You think we're going to have a fistfight in the middle of coffee?" Frank asks, his forehead wrinkling, and then waves his hand when Gerard opens his mouth. "Never mind, you're probably right, keep going."
Gerard tries to think of all the things he worried about when he first got to know Brian. "Really, when he makes fun of you, he doesn't mean it. I mean, he means it. But he doesn't mean it for real."
"Okay," Frank says, "Is this the place?" Gerard nods, and tries not to squeak. Brian is leaning against the outside of the coffee shop, smoking a cigarette like he does when someone's pissed him off.
"So you're Frank," Brian says, when they walk up.
"Also don't be an oppressor," Gerard says in a rush, and Frank says, "What?"
Brian cracks a smile at that, and Gerard feels slightly better. "Are you trying to give him a primer on me?"
"No," Gerard says, just as Frank says, "Yes." Brian shoots Gerard a look that he can't read, and then holds out his hand for Frank to shake.
"I'm an easy guy to get along with," Brian says.
"So we're starting off with lies, then," Frank says, "I'm the Queen Margaret." He shakes Brian's hand, and Gerard makes a noise like he's having an aneurysm. Brian just quirks his mouth.
"So you're Gerard's type," he says, "Good to know. Gerard, can you go walk around the block for a while?"
"But--" Gerard halts. He wasn't expecting this.
"We just should talk privately," Brian says. Frank looks at him, overconfident, unaware of the fact that he's about to die.
"No," Gerard says, and Brian blinks. "No, I'm going to stay."
"It's okay--" Frank starts.
"I know," Gerard says, and adds "I know you'll be okay," when Frank looks like he's going to protest again.
"Okay." Frank shrugs.
"I'll stay at another table, where I can't hear you," Gerard says to Brian, and then bites his lip. "Please?"
"All right," Brian says slowly. He's looking at Frank. Gerard isn't sure what Brian's seeing, but he really, really hopes that it's good.
When Brian holds open the door to the coffee shop, Gerard lets Frank in ahead of him, and he stays in between them while they all order their coffee. He can't be a buffer forever, though; when they pick up their coffees, Brian points at a nearby table, and Gerard goes.
He sits at a table where he can look at them, though. Gerard sips his latte, watching carefully as they settle into chairs and square off against one another. Frank's reining in his legs more than he usually does, but he's fidgeting like normal, drumming his fingers on the table and jiggling one knee. Brian's lips are twitching like he already needs another cigarette. It's a hippy-dippy no-smoking kind of place. Gerard hopes that Brian won't flip out on Frank just because he's having a nic fit.
Gerard looks down at his coffee when they start to talk, and then forces himself to look around the shop at the other customers. He keeps straining to listen, no matter how often he realizes that he can't hear them over the hubbub, and finally he gets up and finds a paper that someone's left behind so that he can distract himself with the crossword.
He lets himself look up once, when he hears Frank laugh. Frank's gesturing, big swooping gestures, coming perilously close to knocking over his coffee, and his hair is standing up. What a fucking loser. Gerard smiles goofily at his coffee and crossword, hunching over them so he won't be tempted to look again.
A couple of minutes later, someone's hand closes on his shoulder. Gerard looks up. "We're going to take a walk," Brian says. Frank is behind him, an unlit cigarette in his mouth, jittering in place. Gerard just nods.
Brian stops to get a coffee to go. The three of them light up once they get outside the coffee shop door, passing around Frank's lighter. Brian leads the way, heading down the street; as soon as his back is turned, Frank transfers his cigarette and grabs for Gerard's free hand. Their palms are sweating together, even just during the short walk, but it's comforting to feel Frank's hand in his.
When Brian looks back, stopping at the entrance to a little schoolyard park, he snorts and shakes his head. "All right, girls," he says, "Frank, can you go play real quick?" Frank lets go of Gerard's hand and races for the playground, taking a flying leap and landing belly-first on a swing. Brian snorts again, and Gerard shrugs. They sit down at the edge of the park, squatting on a curb.
"So you're in love," Brian starts. "With that guy?"
Gerard startles hard, nearly putting out his cigarette on his own knee. He doesn't say anything, though. He can't even look at Brian, so Gerard just nods, looking at Frank swinging back and forth with his arms stretched out in front of him.
"It's okay," Brian continues. "But I don't like that he drinks." Gerard nods again. He can't bring anything like words up. "You're over a year now," Brian tells him, "You're past the helpless rage stage of getting sober, and you're doing okay in school, but princess--" He sighs and takes a few drags on his cigarette, then flicks the butt away.
Gerard watches Frank fall off of the swing, landing on one of his shoulders and getting his foot caught in the chain. Frank laughs, loud and clear in the still, slightly wintry air. He untangles himself, scrambles up, and heads for the jungle gym.
"I wish you would start with a plant like any sensible drunk," Brian finishes.
"I was going to get a hamster," Gerard says regretfully.
"You fucking got one," Brian says, "Jesus, I couldn't keep up with that." Frank has clambered up on top of the jungle gym and is doing some weird dance, shaking his skinny ass and waving his hands around. "You know he's maybe twenty, right?" Brian says.
"Yeah," Gerard admits, and picks at the leg of his jeans. "And I really don't care. About any of the reasons why I should care."
"Right." Brian leans back to get his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. "That could be fantastic or really shitty."
"Yup," Gerard says. "Give me one of your Reds."
Brian holds one out. "Don't quote me on this," he says, and gives Gerard his lighter. "But I think it's going to be fantastic."
Gerard chokes on his first inhale, and has to take the cigarette out of his mouth to catch his breath. "Really," he says.
"Really," Brian repeats, not looking at him. "Probably not forever, but it'll be good for both of you." He takes a deep drag on his cigarette and lets it out. "Make sure you nail his feet to the fucking floor early, though."
Gerard nods. "I'd thought of that."
"I figured." Brian sighs after another drag. He says, "You should ask him about his band."
"Was that what you guys were talking about?" Gerard asks, waving his hands in an imitation of Frank, but Brian shakes his head.
"I'm not telling you that," Brian tells him. "But I am telling you that you should ask him about himself more often."
"I ask him stuff," Gerard says, stung.
Brian shrugs. "I'm just saying, sometimes people who're sick are a little self-centered." He cuts his eyes towards Gerard. "I didn't say you don't have a right to be that way. It's just that if you want to hang on to him, you're going to have to make an effort."
Gerard looks away, looks at Frank sliding around on the jungle gym. He says, "This is why I hate talking to you."
"You're my fucking cross to bear, you know that?" Brian asks, smirking. After a beat, he says, more seriously, "Just because you have a boyfriend doesn't mean you're off the hook for the other thing, either."
"What?" Gerard blinks and coughs. "Off the hook for what?"
"You still have to make some other friends," Brian clarifies. Gerard rolls his eyes. Brian smirks and says, "Friends you didn't meet through Mikey or Frank, even."
"I had coffee with Maja," Gerard says, and takes a drag. "Classmate," he explains on the exhale.
Brian considers that, pressing his lips together, then nods. "That's a start," he says.
"Anything else?" Gerard asks. He tries to make it come off light and unconcerned, but Brian squeezes his shoulder and shakes his head, so he probably wasn't very successful.
They sit in companionable silence, smoking and watching Frank play. Frank flips upside down on the jungle gym, and coins rain out of his pockets. Gerard and Brian exchange a quick grin with each other. When Gerard cuts his eyes back to Frank, Frank waves, and Gerard lifts his hand in response.
"This is going to sound dumb," Gerard says abruptly. Brian sucks on his cigarette, his lips pursing, and nods for Gerard to go on before he exhales. "It's probably Disney's fault, but I thought-- well, I thought that I would meet a girl. And I thought that when I met someone, just meeting them would fix me." Gerard takes a last drag and drops the butt, grinding it out under his heel.
When he looks over, Brian's stubbing his out on the toe of his boot; Gerard offers him one of his, after he digs out his own pack, but Brian waves him off. Gerard lights up and exhales. "I know he won't, is the thing. I mean. He won't. And I was kind of sad, I think, when I realized that he wouldn't, maybe. But now it's kind of nice, that he's just, y'know, my boyfriend."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," Gerard says, believing it now more that he's said it.
"Shit, princess," Brian says. "I don't know what to tell you." He's grinning, the sharp and nasty grin he saves just for when Gerard does something right. He bumps his knee up against Gerard's, and Gerard bumps him back.
"Fuck off, dick," Gerard says, and takes an operatic drag.
"Hey, Frank!" Brian shouts, and Frank slides down off of the jungle gym and runs over. "You can have this shitsmear back," Brian says, "I decided I don't want him." Frank offers his hand and helps Brian up. They exchange manly hugs, complete with backslaps.
"You're the butch one, aren't you?" Gerard asks. Frank surveys him head to toe, then shakes his head.
"It's all a pose, darling," he lisps, and Brian actually laughs out loud.
Gerard hugs Brian goodbye, clinging tightly around his neck, and kisses him on the cheek. Brian makes a point of kissing him on the cheek, too, which is part of why Gerard likes Brian so much. "Ask him about his band, princess," Brian says, softly, right in his ear. Gerard nods, bumping his chin against Brian's shoulder. Brian lets him go. "Talk to me soon," Brian says.
"I will," Gerard promises. "And I'll take care of the hamster." Brian's still snickering as they walk away.
They hold hands on the way back, Gerard smoking slightly awkwardly with his left hand. About a block from his apartment, Frank tucks their joined hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt. Gerard looks over at him, and he says, "Hands were cold."
"We're as bad as the heteros," Gerard tells him. "Should I start calling you Poopsie?"
"If you do, I'll start calling you Sneezy," Frank promises. He just giggles when Gerard grinds his knuckles back against Frank's stomach.
"Fucker," Gerard says, without much heat. "So," he says, trying for casual and failing, "What did Brian say about me?" Frank blows smoke in his face. Gerard bats at it irritably, squinting. "Don't be a jerk, I'm just curious."
"He didn't say much, really," Frank says, "Said he loved you, worried about you." Gerard ducks his head, embarrassed. "He mostly asked about me, actually. How I thought dating was going, why I live in New York, what kind of music my band does. He said he'd come to one of our shows, actually." Gerard looks over when Frank falls silent. Frank is blushing.
Gerard's surprised by the wave of jealousy that washes over him. This is what Brian was talking about, he realizes. "I can come to a show," he says recklessly. "I want to come to a show."
"They're in shitholes," Frank says. "Bars, even. And they're kind of crowded sometimes."
"So?" Gerard flicks away his cigarette. "I can handle it if I know to expect it."
The blush is deeper, now, and Frank is squeezing Gerard's hand a little tighter. Gerard shouldn't feel as smug as he does. "We're not that good," Frank mutters, glancing up at Gerard. "I mean, we're better than anyone else on the punk scene right now," he says with a laugh, "But we're not that good yet."
"I'm not that good an artist," Gerard offers, and laughs when Frank shoots him a murderous glare. "You're not allowed to say you're not good if I'm not," he tells Frank. He finally has let go of Frank's hand so that he can dig for his keys. "You're coming up, right?"
"Yeah," Frank says. "And okay. Fine. We're decent for how long we've been together."
"What do you do in the band?" Gerard asks, and gives himself a mental high five.
"I sing. Sort of. Yell melodically? And I play lead guitar."
"The calluses," Gerard says, "That makes sense." Frank doesn't say anything else at first. Gerard looks back at him when they reach the first landing. "C'mon, tell me about your band."
Once he gets Frank started, Frank actually chatters, telling him all about the people he plays with and their personalities. Gerard asks him about the shows that they've done, and finds out that they've actually gone on tour, and they've talked to someone about doing a CD. Frank actually got taken out to dinner by a record company guy.
Gerard gapes at Frank when he says that, and Frank laughs. "He took me to a place that had, like, no vegan options," he tells Gerard. "I ate four special order side dishes and drank a lot of water."
"But that's like, that's a step," Gerard says, hearing the wonder in his own voice. "That's like getting an invite to a gallery or something. Holy shit!" Frank ducks his head down and grins at his shoes when Gerard says that. Gerard makes a mental note to get Brian some flowers, cigarettes, a hooker, something that will show his vast appreciation. "When's your next show?"
Frank makes a face. "It's next week. Are you sure you want to come?" Gerard nods. Frank hesitates, and then says, "Okay, I'll let you know when we've got a time."
Gerard grins. "Now make me a sandwich," he says. "I bought fake cheese."
Frank snorts. "Demanding bitch," he says.
"Well, I can't have any milk with my sandwich--" Gerard starts, and then remembers that he's the one who poured out the milk he did have. "I mean Tang," he tries. Frank shakes his head. "I meant Tang!"
"You suck at everything," Frank tells Gerard. "Where's your frying pan?"
Once he's gotten Frank set up with a frying pan and some Pam, Gerard picks up the phone. "Do you mind if I talk while you're cooking?"
"I see how it is," Frank teases, "you've got me barefoot and in the kitchen, now you're going and taking me for granted."
"You've got sneakers on," Gerard points out, just to see Frank roll his eyes. "Okay, I'm calling my brother."
Gerard barely has any time to prepare himself; Mikey picks up on the third ring. "Wow, someone's jumping on the phone," Gerard says, "Should I call back later?"
"Nah," Mikey says. "They can leave a message."
"Someone from school?"
Mikey coughs. "I guess. Yeah." They sit in silence together. Gerard picks at the edge of the counter. "So," Mikey says. "What's up?"
"Nothing," Gerard says, and sighs. "How was school?"
"Fine," Mikey says, but now he sounds suspicious. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Gerard says. He drums his fingers on the counter top and finally admits, "I think I might be a little self-centered, sometimes."
"No," Mikey says, his voice a dead monotone. "How could you possibly think that."
"Don't be a dick, I just realized," Gerard whines. Mikey laughs, and next to him Frank sniggers. Gerard rolls his eyes at both of them and folds down to sit on the floor. "It's hard to start something like this, y'know." He reaches over and puts his hand around Frank's ankle, absentmindedly, rubbing his thumb over the curve of his ankle bone, along the top of his sock.
"One day at a time," Mikey says.
Gerard hums his agreement. "So tell me about school already," he pushes.
Mikey is silent for a long, awful minute. Gerard chews on his lip.
"I hate school," Mikey says, finally. "Ask me about records."
"Fine," Gerard huffs. "What records did you buy yesterday?"
Mikey coughs again, an embarrassed sound. "I missed homeroom yesterday," he says, his voice rising at the end like a question. Frank flips a sandwich over, and the bread sizzles. "Because I saw this yard sale? And I'm so glad I did, because they sold me a box of records for two dollars."
"And they were good records?"
"No," Mikey says, practically bubbling. "Mostly Captain and Tenille, Sedaka, that stuff. But one thrashed old copy of Fistful of Metal."
"Holy shit!" Gerard says, and laughs. "Anthrax vinyl for under a dollar," he tells Frank, and Frank whoops.
Mikey burbles on about records, and Frank starts humming a Sinatra tune while he's making his own sandwich.
Gerard leans back, a smile on his face, and listens.
---
END
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Feedback is obviously welcome, but I am also always happy to hear constructive criticism. If you don't want to criticize publicly, you can email me at sinsense at yahoo dot com. I did not go to SVA, so there may be some inaccuracies in my representation of the school.
If you know someone with alcoholism, the only thing you can do is detach with love. If they (or you) are ready to seek help, however, Alcoholics Anonymous is only one of several options they can pursue. You can find an AA meeting here.
Thank you for reading this.