Fic: Thing-Thing (4/5)
1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - master post
---
Frank shows up in the art room for lunch. He's less of a dick than he was at the record store -- Gerard's pretty sure he couldn't be more of one -- but he's refusing to talk to Gerard unless Gerard asks him a direct question. It's fucking awkward.
Bob comes twenty minutes late. He looks mostly unscathed, but the first thing he says is, "I did it," to Gerard.
Gerard hisses at him to shut up, but he's secretly pleased; he kind of wanted Frank to find out that he was involved somehow, and now he doesn't have to 'accidentally' say something.
"What happened?" Frank asks.
Bob says, "I had a conversation with Greg and James about lockers." Frank looks up. He doesn't look at Gerard, but at least now Gerard can see his face.
"Are you serious?" Frank asks. Bob nods, and Frank breaks into a grin. "Why'd you do that, asshole?"
"Gerard told me they were the guys who put you in the locker," Bob says. He takes a seat at the table.
Frank glances over at Gerard. Gerard should meet his eyes, but he can't, not when he can feel himself blushing. He ducks his head.
"I thought you said hitting was a bad thing," Frank says.
"Yeah, it is," Gerard says to his knees. "But--"
"Nice 'principles' you have there," Frank sneers.
"Hey, fuck you," Bob tells Frank. He pushes himself up from the table again, frowning at Frank.
"No, it's true," Gerard interrupts. He lifts his head and looks at Bob until Bob sits back down again. "It's totally not okay. I just-- I really hate them, so I guess my principles weren't as firm as I thought." Everyone's kind of quiet, so he adds, "But now I can reevaluate them. So I guess they had to be tested, y'know? Right?"
"Yeah," Mikey says. He's glaring at Frank. Bob looks like he's sitting on something uncomfortable. Ray and Matt both look kind of confused.
"Everybody ready to get started?" Gerard asks, and starts fumbling his gaming stuff out of his bag.
"Whatever, dude, I think you're a badass," Ray says to Bob, and Matt gives Bob a grudging high five. When Gerard finally looks at Frank again, though, Frank's still avoiding his eyes.
---
Gerard isn't lame enough to go to a party when he isn't invited. He is, however, lame enough to pester his brother for details.
"It was a party," Mikey says, and shrugs.
"Was it your kind of party?" Gerard asks suspiciously.
Mikey rolls his eyes. "What do you mean?" he asks.
"Were there keg stands and naked people?" Gerard asks. Seriously, his brother is so fucking dense sometimes.
"No," Mikey says. "We watched movies."
"Oh," Gerard says. He flops back on his bed and stares at the ceiling. "What movies?" he asks.
"Ugh," Mikey says, "I need a drink."
"Make me one," Gerard says automatically.
"Ugh," Mikey repeats, but he makes Gerard a drink.
Gerard keeps prying as many details as he can from Mikey, while they get steadily drunker. "I don't know," Mikey finally snaps.
"Sorry," Gerard says. He stares down at his fingers, picking at the ragged cuticle around one fingernail. He hears Mikey sigh before he comes to join Gerard on the bed.
"Don't be sorry," Mikey says. He bumps his shoulder against Gerard's, and Gerard looks up to see Mikey smiling at him. "You're always going to be my brother."
People make fun of Mikey, sometimes, for not making much sense. He's always made sense to Gerard, though; Gerard always knows exactly what Mikey is saying.
---
Gerard waits until after the weekend to try anything else.
He's pretty sure all Project Woo is doing is making Frank hate him even more. Mikey insisted that it's going to work, that Frank is bending, but he only said that after he'd gotten drunk and overly earnest. Gerard doesn't know what else to do, though, other than live in an agony of social awkwardness, so on Tuesday morning he does the next thing on his list. It means he has to get up early, so that he can buy Frank a coffee and a pastry. He can't take a sip of the coffee or a bite out of the pastry, and he can't let Mikey anywhere near them, even when Mikey whines. When they get to school, Gerard stops to doodle a little heart on the coffee cup lid. It's really fucking obvious, and Gerard immediately wants to scribble it out. That would be even more obvious, though. He just leaves it, and hopes that Frank won't notice.
Frank ignores him when they come in, of course, but Gerard shoves the coffee and the pastry in his face, and Frank has to pay attention. "I'm sorry for being, like, whatever," Gerard says.
"Okay," Frank says. He's looking down at the coffee. "Whatever, I don't care what you think."
"Oh," Gerard says.
"Yeah, so fuck off," Frank says. He looks up at Gerard, and he's sneering.
Gerard can feel his shoulders sag. He feels like such a loser. He is a loser, really; a fat, needy loser. He doesn't even know why he thought Frank might like him. "Okay," Gerard mumbles. "Fine."
Gerard can hear Mikey muttering angrily at Frank as he walks away, but he seriously doesn't care. He'll tell Mikey to lay off later.
Before Gerard sees Mikey again, though, Ray comes and says, "Mikey told me to tell you that Frank's being an asshole because he doesn't understand, and you have to talk to him."
"What?" Gerard says.
"Mikey told me to tell you that Frank is being an asshole," Ray repeats. "But it's because he doesn't understand. So you should talk to him."
"Oh," Gerard says. Ray blushes. "Okay."
"Okay," Ray says. "I'm sorry I was so weird at the store."
"It's not your fault," Gerard tells him, because it isn't. Ray's the nicest guy Gerard knows.
"You know I, like, support your lifestyle and stuff, right?" Ray asks.
"I support yours too, Ray," Gerard tells him, because he does. They hug really quickly, before anyone can see and call them faggots, and then split up to go to their classes.
---
Gerard really doesn't want to deal with Frank just yet. He makes it through lunch, ignoring Mikey's pointed looks and Frank's snide comments. Gerard's pretty sure that he can put it off until Friday, when he'll have the whole weekend to regret his existence.
Apparently his life is a Shakespearian comedy, though, because he runs into Frank in the hallway after lunch, when Gerard ought to be in math class.
"Frank?" Gerard says, even though he obviously knows who it is. Frank just rolls his eyes and huffs out a breath. "Whatever, don't be an asshole," Gerard says, and catches Frank's arm when Frank starts to turn away.
"Get off me," Frank says.
"Why are you being such a dick?" Gerard asks. He wanted to leave it until later, but apparently his mouth has decided that they're having the conversation now. "Talk to me."
Frank sighs again. He turns around, finally, but he shrugs off Gerard's hand and jams his hands in his back pockets. He says, "Fine, I'll talk to you. I want you to get the fuck away from me, and I don't like you."
"I like you," Gerard says, even though it makes his heart leap up in his throat. "I wanted to tell you before, but I thought-- I like you, Frank."
Frank rolls his eyes and looks away. "Whatever. I don't like you, I said."
"But you-- you acted like you liked me, before," Gerard says, quiet and stupid.
Frank sneers. "What, you think a slut can't stop giving it up?" he asks. He's got his hip cocked out, and his tie is askew, and the world isn't fair at all.
"I don't care about that, anyway," Gerard says. "You're-- I thought you were my friend, too, right?" Frank looks slightly abashed at that, and Gerard pushes his advantage. "I didn't even drink any of that coffee before I gave it to you," he says.
Frank folds his arms. "You think I'm a big ho," he says. "I-- I'm not just going to be friends with you just because I, y'know. Not if you think I'm a ho."
"I don't think you're a ho," Gerard says.
Frank just makes a frustrated noise and kicks at the ground. "You do!"
"I don't!" Gerard insists. "I brought you coffee-- I did that stuff because I want to date you. Wanted. Want." He feels like he's going to shit himself and pass out. He leans against the locker and hopes Frank finishes hating him soon, so he can find a bathroom.
But all Frank says is, "I like, I asked you before, to go on a date with me."
"No you didn't," Gerard says. "You didn't ask me. When did you ask me?"
"Well, I didn't ask you, ask you," Frank says. He swipes at his hair, pawing it back off of his face. "But you said no one would ever want to date me, after you called me a slut."
"I didn't," Gerard says. He tugs on his bangs with both hands. "Jesus, no I didn't. I just-- what the fuck, I want to date you." He trails off at the end, his voice getting kind of sad and little. He feels incredibly dumb. Frank doesn't even like him. He should probably just shit himself, for all that it matters.
Frank turns and leans against the lockers, facing Gerard. He's still looking down at his sneakers, and he's got his arms folded across his body. Gerard kicks the bottom of the locker nearest him -- still four away from Frank -- and swears under his breath. It's just his fucking luck. He rests his forehead against the lockers, and the door clanks. "I want to take you to formal," Gerard says, "And have pictures with you and give you a corsage and take you down the shore after."
Frank is silent. Gerard turns his head to the side, sure that Frank will be walking away, but instead finds Frank staring at him. His arms are still folded, but at least he's looking at Gerard. They stare at each other for a long moment, and then Frank says, "Do you really want to take me to formal?"
"Duh," Gerard says. "And prom. I don't-- it's not like I do sexy stuff with just anyone."
Frank bristles again. "What, like me?"
"Shut up," Gerard says tiredly. "I meant I never did anything, before. With anyone." He bites his lip and turns his face back to the locker, feeling incredibly lame.
"Oh," Frank says. There's a shuffling noise, and when Gerard glances back, Frank is a couple of lockers closer. "I mean-- nothing?"
"I kissed some people before," Gerard says. "When I was drunk at parties."
"So, like," Frank says. He doesn't elaborate, though.
"So-- so I don't know what I'm doing," Gerard says, exasperated into half-shouting it. "I want to date you and take you to formal, and stuff, but you said you didn't want a thing with me!"
Frank mutters something Gerard can't hear. Gerard snaps, "What?" and Frank clears his throat. He says, more clearly, "I want a thing."
"No you don't," Gerard says, but his traitorous stomach flips. "You don't like me, you said."
"I lied," Frank says. He shuffles a little closer, within touching distance. Gerard can see that Frank is blushing, out of the corner of his eye.
"You didn't invite me to your birthday party," Gerard points out. "You were mean to me in the record store, too."
"I thought--" Frank says. "Whatever, I'm sorry. I want to have a thing with you. If you still want to, I mean."
"So you want a thing, like, a thing-thing?" Gerard asks. "Like, a real big deal thing-thing?" He turns his face toward Frank. They're really close, probably too close to be safe, even if it's during a class period.
"Like an epic thing-thing," Frank whispers. He rests his nose on Gerard's, and then tips their mouths together, quick and light. "Please," he says, when he pulls away.
"Don't, we're in school," Gerard says, but then he rocks forward and kisses Frank back, quick, before Frank can pull away. They both edge apart. Gerard's face is hot, and Frank is blushing.
Frank looks down at his shoes. "Can I come to your house tonight?" he asks.
"Yeah," Gerard says. "Maybe we could watch movies."
"And make out," Frank says.
"And make out," Gerard says.
They stand there awkwardly for a minute, until Frank says, "Okay, bye."
"Bye," Gerard says. He stands there, though, and watches as Frank walks away. No matter how bad he still has to go to the bathroom, it's totally worth it for the view.
---
Gerard holds in his excitement for the rest of the day, waiting for the moment when he can tell someone safe. When he comes out of the front doors of the school and sees just his brother sitting on the last step, he can't help himself; he announces, "Frank and I made up."
Mikey cranes his neck around and shoves his glasses up his nose with one finger. "Seriously?" he asks.
"Yeah," Gerard says. He thumps down the front stairs of the school, and plops down on the step next to his brother. "I apologized and stuff."
"Did he punch you?" Mikey asks.
"Nope," Gerard says. He fidgets with the strap of his bag for a second, then blurts, "We're, y'know. We have a thing-thing."
"Seriously," Mikey repeats.
"Yeah," Gerard says.
Mikey's smiles are kind of rare, but they're Gerard's favorite thing in the world. He can't help himself when Mikey smiles, either; he has to smile back. They sit on the step, just smiling at each other. "That's awesome," Mikey says.
"Thanks," Gerard says. He's kind of embarrassed, but he can't stop grinning. "He's coming over tonight, too."
"He didn't say anything to me," Mikey says. "But, I mean, I'm not his boyfriend."
"Shh, I don't know," Gerard says. He checks over his shoulder to make sure Frank hasn't teleported behind them. "We didn't talk about boyfriends, or whatever."
"But a thing-thing," Mikey says.
"Yeah," Gerard says. "I made sure this time, it's totally a thing-thing." Mikey smiles at him again, and Gerard has to duck his head down so he won't do something girly like giggle and blush.
"That's really cool," Mikey says approvingly.
"Yeah," Gerard says. He fidgets with his bag strap some more.
Gerard's cheeks kind of hurt from all the smiling he's been doing. He doesn't know how Frank's face stands it, what with all the grinning he does. It's probably like any muscle, Gerard thinks. Frank exercises his smile muscles, and so it wouldn't hurt him. "Frank grins all the time," he says, "it's funny that it doesn't hurt his face, or whatever."
"Yeah," Mikey says. "That is funny."
"I was thinking maybe it's because he smiles so much, that it doesn't hurt his face."
"Maybe," Mikey allows.
"He's like, a pro athlete," Gerard says. "But of grinning. Too bad they don't have a grinning event in the Olympics, I bet Frank could probably win at that."
"At least bronze," Mikey says.
Gerard nods absently. A bunch of sophomores walk by, headed for the buses. They're all laughing and talking about something; one of them laughs a lot like Frank. "Doesn't that guy laugh a little bit like Frank?" Gerard says.
"I guess," Mikey says. "Do you have a cigarette?"
"Don't smoke on school property," Gerard says, but he digs his cigarettes out of his bag. "I'm really glad Frank smokes," he says, and hands Mikey the pack and his lighter.
"Yeah?" Mikey says. He gives Gerard a little look when he takes the cigarettes and lighter.
"Well, I mean, I wouldn't want to try to-- whatever, to have a thing, or a thing-thing, with someone who doesn't smoke. Because that would be awkward, wouldn't it?"
Mikey lifts one shoulder in a lopsided shrug. "I guess. It's never really come up for me."
"Yeah, I mean. Have you had a thing-thing where the person didn't smoke?" Gerard squints at him, trying to remember.
"Just that one," Mikey allows. He puts the cigarette behind his ear, and starts idly sparking the lighter with his thumb. "And she smoked."
"Yeah, that's lucky," Gerard says. "I just bet it would be bad if either of us tried to date someone who hated smoking. It's really good that Frank smokes."
"You said that," Mikey says.
"Sorry, yeah." Gerard's face heats up, and he looks at the strap of his bag again. He cinches it tighter, then loosens it again. "I mean, I'd date him even if he hated smoking."
"Sure," Mikey says. "But it's lucky he does."
Mikey glances back behind him when someone comes out the front doors. Gerard glances back too, hoping it's Frank, but it's not. "Do you know when he should be out?" Gerard asks.
"Nope," Mikey says. "I hope it's soon."
"Me too," Gerard says. "I really like him."
"Yeah," Mikey says. He looks like he's trying not to laugh. "Yeah, I got that."
"Shut up," Gerard says, and bumps his shoulder against Mikey's. Mikey bumps him back. Gerard adds, "Just-- shut up."
Gerard probably shouldn't talk again until Frank comes out to meet them. He stares at the trees out in front of the school, watching the dead leaves on the ground around their trunks rustle around in the wind. They're really beautiful; he wants to draw them. If he had a sketchbook and pencils and a cup of coffee, sitting on the steps would be his favorite part of the day. A sketchbook, pencils, coffee, and Frank, actually, that would make waiting bearable. Then, of course, he wouldn't be waiting; he would have Frank here, with him. "I wish Frank were here," Gerard blurts out.
The front doors open again, and they both look back. "Frank!" Gerard says.
"Thank god," Mikey mutters.
"Shut up," Gerard says.
"This asshole won't stop talking about you," Mikey says.
Gerard shoves him. "Mikey, Jesus," he says, but when he glances at Frank, Frank is just grinning at him. "Whatever, I was talking about other stuff, too," Gerard says lamely.
"Like what," Mikey says. Gerard kicks his ankle, and Mikey rolls his eyes.
"It's cool if you want to talk about me," Frank says. He's got his hands tucked under his backpack straps, but he's standing kind of close to Gerard, close enough that they could hold hands if they wanted to.
Gerard fidgets with his bag strap some more, just so he won't grab for Frank's hand. "I wouldn't mind talking about you all the time," he says. Frank grins at him, his eyes squeezing shut, and Gerard grins helplessly back.
Mikey makes a gagging noise. Gerard turns to glare at Mikey, but Frank just keeps grinning. "C'mon," Gerard says, trying to be cool about it, "Let's walk home."
"Don't make out in front of me," Mikey says.
"Whatever," Gerard says. "Don't be lame."
"Yeah, don't be lame," Frank adds. Gerard smiles at him.
"Gross," Mikey says, like his life is so hard. Gerard takes the high road and doesn't say anything back.
---
"We're watching Running Man," Mikey tells them, when they walk in the front door of the house.
"Ugh," Gerard says. "Ugh," he adds. He drops his bag and his coat on the floor at the same time, which makes it almost dramatic enough for his purposes.
"You don't like that movie?" Frank asks. He puts his bag down next to Gerard's and Mikey's.
"I liked Running Man when I hadn't seen it forty thousand times," Gerard says. He kicks the back of Mikey's calf. Mikey just flips him the bird and starts down the stairs. "Can't we go back to Tron?"
"I want to see Running Man," Mikey says. He neatly dodges Gerard's second attempt at kicking him. He almost takes a header down the stairs, but he catches himself on the wall just in time. "You won't even be paying attention, you'll be making out with your boyfriend."
"Shut up," Gerard whines. He wants to see how Frank reacts to that, but Frank doesn't say anything, and Gerard can't look back without making it super obvious. "Fine," Gerard finally huffs, "We can watch Running Man again."
"Good," Mikey says. He jumps off the last step and bursts through the door to their room.
"What's Running Man about?" Frank asks, following close behind Gerard into the room.
"Oh my god--" Gerard says, and falls backward onto his bed.
"What?" Frank asks.
"You haven't seen Running Man?" Mikey says disbelievingly.
Gerard lifts his head and points at Mikey commandingly, like don't use that tone of voice on him, but Mikey just rolls his eyes and puts his hands on his hips.
"I never got the chance to see it," Frank says. "I mean, I told you I like movies, but I'm mostly into horror stuff."
"Like what?" Mikey asks suspiciously.
"Like City of the Living Dead," Frank says promptly. "I mean, I'm really into that one right now. It isn't my favorite."
Gerard and Mikey both stare at him, silently. "What?" Frank says. "Lucio Fulci's a genius, okay. I will fight you."
"No, no, I just kind of have a boner for you right now," Mikey says, before Frank can get angrier.
"Whatever, I saw him first," Gerard says. He points at Mikey threateningly. "Back off."
"I could totally convince him," Mikey says. "For City of the Living Dead I'd convince him."
"You'd only have a boner for him when he was talking to you about zombie movies," Gerard says triumphantly. "I have a boner for him all the time."
"Seriously?" Frank says.
"Gross," Mikey says.
"Shut up, asshole," Gerard says, trying not to blush. "I need a drink. Make me a drink."
Mikey rolls his eyes, but he puts down his copy of Running Man and goes over to scrounge around in their alcohol stash. "Don't make out with my brother, okay," Gerard makes says to Frank.
"Shut up, I wouldn't," Frank says.
"We kissed once," Mikey says. It comes out kind of muffled, because he's under the bed.
"Yeah, well. That was before Gerard, obviously," Frank says.
Gerard coughs in the middle of trying to take a breath, and it makes him choke on nothing. He makes a series of weird noises, and has to clear his throat four or five times before he can even try to breathe normally. Neither Frank or Mikey seem to notice, although Gerard can tell that his face is bright red. Frank sits down next to him just as Gerard has finally made his lungs operate like they should. Frank, who likes zombie movies and Gerard, is sitting next to Gerard on his bed. Gerard takes a sharp breath in, chokes again, and lets out a helpless, wheezy cough.
"What's up?" Frank asks. Gerard clears his throat and coughs again. Mikey passes over a drink, and Frank presses it into Gerard's hand. Gerard takes a couple of gulps, and that seems to put his lungs fully back online.
"God," Gerard rasps.
"What?" Frank asks.
"Nothing, I'm just, y'know," Gerard says. He takes another big sip. "Amazed by life."
"Oh. Okay," Frank says.
"We're watching Running Man now," Mikey announces.
Mikey shoves the movie in and then goes to get the lights. As soon as the room goes dark, Frank fumbles between their thighs. "Do you need me to scoot over?" Gerard asks.
"No," Frank whispers. He puts his hand back in his lap.
"Wait," Gerard says, "Did you lose something? Because if you lost something, Mikey can turn the lights back on--"
"Where's your hand?" Frank interrupts, still whispering. Gerard holds out his hand, and Frank takes it.
After a beat, Gerard says, "Oh."
"Shut up," Frank says. He stares straight ahead at the TV screen.
They can't really make out during Running Man. If Frank had seen it, maybe, but Gerard isn't going to interrupt Frank's first viewing, even for kissing. Frank holds his hand through the whole movie, though. Even after the scene with the chainsaw, which Frank is rightfully engrossed by, Frank keeps their fingers tangled and their palms pressed together. He even gestures with Gerard's hand clasped in his.
Gerard has never actually been this happy ever, in his entire life.
---
After the movie, they talk for a while, aimless conversation about Schwartzenegger and special effects. Mikey only starts yawning and losing the thread of the conversation at one in the morning. "Shit," he says, a while after that. "It's kind of late."
"Yeah," Gerard agrees.
"Mmm," Frank says. The room is too dark to see, now that the television screen is off. Gerard can't tell what face Frank is making, or even really what he's doing while he moves around.
Gerard struggles up from the bed, says, "Bedtime," and heads into the bathroom to brush his teeth and put on his pajamas. The overhead light makes his eyes water, and he flicks it off after a second of squinting against it.
When he's done, Gerard walks back into the dark bedroom and stumbles over to his bed, same as he does every night. When he gets into the bed, though, Frank is there, curled up with his head on Gerard's pillow.
"Hey," Gerard whispers.
"Hey," Frank whispers back. "Can I sleep here tonight?"
After a beat, Gerard says, "Okay." He doesn't know where he thought Frank was going to sleep. Maybe the floor, although with all the crap scattered across it, that would be a little cruel and unusual. "Okay," Gerard repeats unnecessarily, and awkwardly clambers into bed next to Frank.
His bed is small. It's never felt small before, but Frank is taking up half of the space, and radiating heat besides. Gerard tries to shift his weight, casually, and his hips bump against Frank's. "Sorry," he says.
"It's okay," Frank whispers back.
The room is quiet. There's just the sound of the clock by Gerard's bed and Mikey's snuffling noises. Gerard's breath sounds loud in his ears. Frank is lying still and silent next to him, his arms folded under his head. Gerard shifts onto his back and looks at the ceiling.
"Are you awake?" Frank asks.
"Sort of," Gerard says back.
The bed shifts. Frank braces himself next to Gerard, his face inches away. "Can I kiss you?" he asks.
"Okay," Gerard says.
"Okay," Frank echoes, barely a breath before he presses his lips against Gerard's. It's off-center at first, but then Gerard turns his head, and it's the same as the other times they've kissed, the same wet warm perfect feeling.
Eventually Gerard turns on his side, and Frank settles back down on the mattress. They lie hip to hip and chest to chest, pressed against one another. It's hot under the blanket, Gerard can feel himself sweating, but it's still somehow perfect. He doesn't want to stop, ever.
When Frank touches his side, hand sliding up under the t-shirt Gerard wears to sleep, Gerard pulls his mouth away to gasp. It's a soft noise, it wouldn't be noticeable any other time, but in the quiet room it sounds loud. "Sorry," Gerard breathes. Frank ducks his head and presses his lips against Gerard's throat. Gerard tips his chin back and concentrates on breathing quietly, keeping the noises he wants to make caught in his throat.
"We shouldn't," he says, ages later, eons later, when he feels Frank's fingertips dragging along the top of his waistband.
"I know," Frank whispers, "I just--"
"I want to," Gerard tells him. He can't seem to stop himself from shifting restlessly against Frank. He can feel the shape of Frank's cock under the fabric of his underwear, pressing against him. Gerard's cock is aching, his hips twitching forward every time Frank kisses him.
They shouldn't, but they do. They're quiet about it, Gerard knows that, at least; his breath gets loud and uneven toward the end, but it's still quiet enough that it won't wake Mikey.
"Shh," he says, leaning over Frank and palming him, pushing down the waistband of his underwear. "Shh." He can make out Frank biting his lip, his nostrils flaring as he struggles not to make noise. Gerard kisses him, presses their lips together, and Frank makes a choked noise into Gerard's mouth when he comes.
Gerard gets up after a few breaths and gets some toilet paper from the bathroom, not even bothering to hit the light this time. When he comes out, he checks to make sure Mikey's still sleeping.
"I am the worst big brother ever," Gerard whispers to Frank.
"I like it," Frank tells him.
"You would," Gerard says. He takes the toilet paper away from Frank and stuffs it in the overflowing trashcan by his desk, then climbs back into bed. It's more comfortable now. Frank turns over onto his stomach, and shoves his arms under the pillow, and Gerard curls up on his side. "I wish we didn't have school tomorrow," Gerard says.
"I hate school," Frank says fiercely, his whisper suddenly harsh. Gerard blinks his eyes open, startled. Frank's turned his head to face Gerard.
"You don't seem like you do," Gerard says.
"Well I do," Frank says. "And it hates me, too. They all hate me."
Gerard doesn't know what to say. He hesitates, too long, and finally says, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Frank tells him. "I guess-- I mean, you're the good part." He kisses Gerard's cheek, his chin bumping gently against Gerard's mouth, and settles back down. "You're the part that doesn't make me feel like a freak," he says.
Gerard takes a deep breath. The room suddenly feels like it's full of air, almost too full, like he's going to inflate and come drifting up off of the bed. "You're better than Fack," Gerard whispers. He's not sad at all, but for some reason it feels like he's going to cry. He has to take a deep breath. Frank touches his face, and Gerard turns into it, pressing his cheek against Frank's palm.
Eventually Gerard falls asleep, with Frank's breath fanning his hair, Frank's face inches away from his on the pillow.
---
Gerard wakes up with a mouthful of hair. "Fmph," he says, and shoves whatever it is off of him as hard as he can. Luckily "as hard as he can" isn't that hard, because it turns out that it's Frank. Frank rolls off the edge of the bed and hits the ground with a thump and a strangled yell; if Gerard lifted weights or had any kind of arm power at all, he probably would have gone flying.
"Fuck. Sorry," Gerard says, peering over the edge of the bed.
"Fuck you," Frank says. He shifts around on the floor enough to flip Gerard the bird. Then he curls up on the mound of dirty laundry he fell on and passes back out.
"Is he still fucking here?" Mikey says groggily.
"Where the fuck did you think he would go?" Gerard says. It comes out kind of garbled, since his face is mashed up against his pillow, but Mikey seems to get the picture. He flips Gerard off and throws a shoe at Frank.
Frank wakes up and thrashes around for a second. "Fuck! Fuck you, motherfucker!"
"Fuck yourself," Mikey says.
"Fuck," Frank says. "I want to die."
"Your fucking mom wants to fucking die," Mikey says. He sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. Gerard sits up too, and they both stare at Frank. Frank curls up on his side and stubbornly shuts his eyes. "Get up," Mikey says.
"No," Frank mutters.
"If you miss school after staying over here, your mom won't let you come back over," Gerard points out. He's pretty sure he just exhausted his logical abilities for the morning, but it was worth it; Frank slits one eye open, and then, after a long pause, sits up.
"I hate both of you," he says. He stands up, though, so they both ignore him.
Gerard goes upstairs, into the kitchen. His effort to find Frank breakfast starts strong, with an orange, but then the only thing he's able to find to accompany it is a handful of crackers. When Frank thumps up the stairs to the kitchen, still squinting and muttering to himself, Gerard hesitates with his spoon halfway to his mouth and says, "That's all we had," apologetically.
Frank just makes a wordless noise. He puts the orange in his pocket and then shoves a cracker into his mouth. He's still frowning as he chews, but he gives Gerard a quick kiss on the cheek, so Gerard figures their shitty pantry is forgiven.
Gerard wants to be surly after that -- it's tradition -- but he has trouble keeping the sneer on his face. He had a boy over, and the boy stayed until breakfast. He's even grinning when they finally get out of the house.
"Stop fucking smiling," Mikey snarls.
Gerard says, "Fuck you," but it comes out kind of chipper.
Mikey points his finger at Frank accusingly. "You did this," he said, "you homo."
"Shut up, fuckface," Frank says, and slips his hand into Gerard's back pocket. Gerard grins down at the ground. Mikey makes a noise like a damaged blender, and walks ahead of them for the rest of the way to school.
---
Gerard has art third period the next day. He puts down his stuff, grabs his drawing board, and goes outside to keep working on his drawing. It's nearly finished; all he has left to do are the ghostly figures at the windows. It's still taking a lot of concentration, though -- he wants the people to be ultra-spooky, not campy -- and he doesn't even notice when Frank comes outside. When Frank drops down to sit next to him, Gerard startles and nearly erases a corner of one window. "Jesus!" he says.
"Hi," Frank says. "Don't mind me. Can I have a cigarette?"
"Don't let Fack see you smoking," Gerard says. "And don't scare me like that, you jerk."
"Sorry," Frank says, totally without remorse, and accepts the cigarette Gerard digs up for him. "Having fun?"
"Yeah," Gerard says. "Thanks-- I mean, thanks for coming to see me."
"I had a free block," Frank says, but he turns slightly pink, just across the curve of his cheek. Gerard smiles down at his drawing, and goes back to work on the top left ghost.
He's moved on to the window below that when Frank suddenly blurts out, "You're so cool."
Gerard blinks, then looks over and squints at Frank. Frank is smiling, still pink-cheeked. "Are you making fun of me?" Gerard asks.
"What?" Frank squints back. "Are you retarded?"
"Don't say retarded," Gerard says.
"I was just asking, that isn't mean," Frank points out.
Gerard shakes his head. Some of his hair flops in front of his eyes, and he starts to play with it, shoving the end of his pencil through the hair and yanking it through the tangles. "I'm not retarded," he says.
"Why would I be making fun of you?"
"You said I was cool," Gerard says.
"So cool," Frank corrects.
"So cool," Gerard amends. "Why would you say that?"
"You're retarded," Frank says, and kisses his cheek. It's loud and wet, like a grandma kiss, but it still gives Gerard a little pull in his stomach.
Gerard looks away, keeping his cheek out of range. "Don't say retarded, that's mean," he says, but it comes out weak.
"You're the good retarded," Frank says, like that's supposed to make it better. He puts his head on Gerard's shoulder and adds, "And you're really cool, too."
"Says you," Gerard tells him. "Maybe you're, y'know."
"Retarded," Frank supplies helpfully.
Gerard rolls his eyes, but he nods. His chin bumps against the top of Frank's head. "Right, that," Gerard says.
"You shouldn't say I'm retarded. It's mean," Frank says snottily. He just giggles when Gerard pokes him.
Gerard tries to go back to drawing, but he doesn't get much done. It's hard to concentrate. Every time Frank breathes out, the air shifts over the hollow of Gerard's throat. Gerard is sweating in the sun; his armpits are damp, and he can feel sweat trickling down his spine, but his throat is chilly and prickling with goosebumps.
Gerard finally just stops trying to draw, and tips his head back. His head nudges the hedge above them.
"Why'd you stop?" Frank asks. Gerard shivers.
"You're distracting," Gerard says.
"I didn't say anything," Frank says. He rests his chin on Gerard's shoulder, but he doesn't pull away.
"You don't need to," Gerard says. He cranes his neck to look at Frank. He's probably giving himself a triple chin, but Frank just grins at him, almost shyly, before he drops his head like he's trying to hide his face. "Shut up," Gerard says.
"I didn't say anything," Frank insists, his mouth moving against Gerard's shoulder through his t-shirt. Gerard shivers. Frank shifts forward and rests his nose under Gerard's ear, breathes out and presses his lips to Gerard's neck.
Gerard tilts his head to the side and closes his eyes. The sunlight is bright through his eyelids. Frank moves up, brushes his top lip against Gerard's earlobe, breathes in and then out again, shallowly.
Gerard opens his mouth, but he's not sure what he's going to say. "I--" he starts, but he's interrupted by the door to the art room creaking open. Frank startles and sits up, checking his chin off of Gerard's shoulder bone. "Ow," Gerard says.
"Gerard?" Fack says. He squints, his mustache tilting to one side. "And you, other person. It's the end of the period."
"Okay," Gerard says.
He gets up slowly, his drawing board scraping against the ground and making him look even more awkward than he actually is. Gerard holds out his hand to help Frank up, and then doesn't let go. When he looks out of the corner of his eye, Frank is grinning, but neither of them say anything. Gerard's palm is sweating where they're pressed together, and his stomach is turning over. It feels really good.
The art room is cool and dark after the bright light outside, and Gerard has to blink for a bit before he can see where his stuff is. He doesn't let go of Frank's hand, even though he knows Fack must be looking at them. "Thanks, Fack," he says, and risks a glance over.
Fack isn't looking at them. "Right on," he says. He's sketching something.
Gerard hesitates. "This is Frank, by the way," he says. Frank shifts next to him.
Fack glances up, registers Frank with an extra crease in his forehead, and looks back down at his drawing. "Frank, gotcha."
"See you," Gerard says, and he and Frank leave the art room.
"I feel like I just met your parents," Frank whispers.
Gerard feels like he's balanced precariously on top of the world. "He totally didn't care," he tells Frank.
"I know," Frank says. He sounds just right, just like Gerard feels, happy and weirded out.
Gerard drops his hand to tuck his hair behind his ears, and Frank puts his hands on his backpack straps before Gerard can grab his hand again. It's probably safer, anyway. "Can we hold hands later?" Gerard asks him, before he can shut his stupid annoying mouth.
"Whenever you want to," Frank says. He drops one of his hands from his backpack and dangles it between them. "I want to hold your hand all the time."
"Me too," Gerard says. He drops his hand, too, until the backs are just brushing. He can feel his face getting hot, but he can probably blame it on the sun. "I mean, I want to hold your hand. Always."
"Cool," Frank says. His shoes squeak on the flooring, and he giggles, loud in the quiet hallway. His hand bumps against Gerard's.
"Cool," Gerard repeats. They trudge to their classes, hands knocking together. Whenever Gerard glances over, Frank is always smiling.
---
part five
---
Frank shows up in the art room for lunch. He's less of a dick than he was at the record store -- Gerard's pretty sure he couldn't be more of one -- but he's refusing to talk to Gerard unless Gerard asks him a direct question. It's fucking awkward.
Bob comes twenty minutes late. He looks mostly unscathed, but the first thing he says is, "I did it," to Gerard.
Gerard hisses at him to shut up, but he's secretly pleased; he kind of wanted Frank to find out that he was involved somehow, and now he doesn't have to 'accidentally' say something.
"What happened?" Frank asks.
Bob says, "I had a conversation with Greg and James about lockers." Frank looks up. He doesn't look at Gerard, but at least now Gerard can see his face.
"Are you serious?" Frank asks. Bob nods, and Frank breaks into a grin. "Why'd you do that, asshole?"
"Gerard told me they were the guys who put you in the locker," Bob says. He takes a seat at the table.
Frank glances over at Gerard. Gerard should meet his eyes, but he can't, not when he can feel himself blushing. He ducks his head.
"I thought you said hitting was a bad thing," Frank says.
"Yeah, it is," Gerard says to his knees. "But--"
"Nice 'principles' you have there," Frank sneers.
"Hey, fuck you," Bob tells Frank. He pushes himself up from the table again, frowning at Frank.
"No, it's true," Gerard interrupts. He lifts his head and looks at Bob until Bob sits back down again. "It's totally not okay. I just-- I really hate them, so I guess my principles weren't as firm as I thought." Everyone's kind of quiet, so he adds, "But now I can reevaluate them. So I guess they had to be tested, y'know? Right?"
"Yeah," Mikey says. He's glaring at Frank. Bob looks like he's sitting on something uncomfortable. Ray and Matt both look kind of confused.
"Everybody ready to get started?" Gerard asks, and starts fumbling his gaming stuff out of his bag.
"Whatever, dude, I think you're a badass," Ray says to Bob, and Matt gives Bob a grudging high five. When Gerard finally looks at Frank again, though, Frank's still avoiding his eyes.
---
Gerard isn't lame enough to go to a party when he isn't invited. He is, however, lame enough to pester his brother for details.
"It was a party," Mikey says, and shrugs.
"Was it your kind of party?" Gerard asks suspiciously.
Mikey rolls his eyes. "What do you mean?" he asks.
"Were there keg stands and naked people?" Gerard asks. Seriously, his brother is so fucking dense sometimes.
"No," Mikey says. "We watched movies."
"Oh," Gerard says. He flops back on his bed and stares at the ceiling. "What movies?" he asks.
"Ugh," Mikey says, "I need a drink."
"Make me one," Gerard says automatically.
"Ugh," Mikey repeats, but he makes Gerard a drink.
Gerard keeps prying as many details as he can from Mikey, while they get steadily drunker. "I don't know," Mikey finally snaps.
"Sorry," Gerard says. He stares down at his fingers, picking at the ragged cuticle around one fingernail. He hears Mikey sigh before he comes to join Gerard on the bed.
"Don't be sorry," Mikey says. He bumps his shoulder against Gerard's, and Gerard looks up to see Mikey smiling at him. "You're always going to be my brother."
People make fun of Mikey, sometimes, for not making much sense. He's always made sense to Gerard, though; Gerard always knows exactly what Mikey is saying.
---
Gerard waits until after the weekend to try anything else.
He's pretty sure all Project Woo is doing is making Frank hate him even more. Mikey insisted that it's going to work, that Frank is bending, but he only said that after he'd gotten drunk and overly earnest. Gerard doesn't know what else to do, though, other than live in an agony of social awkwardness, so on Tuesday morning he does the next thing on his list. It means he has to get up early, so that he can buy Frank a coffee and a pastry. He can't take a sip of the coffee or a bite out of the pastry, and he can't let Mikey anywhere near them, even when Mikey whines. When they get to school, Gerard stops to doodle a little heart on the coffee cup lid. It's really fucking obvious, and Gerard immediately wants to scribble it out. That would be even more obvious, though. He just leaves it, and hopes that Frank won't notice.
Frank ignores him when they come in, of course, but Gerard shoves the coffee and the pastry in his face, and Frank has to pay attention. "I'm sorry for being, like, whatever," Gerard says.
"Okay," Frank says. He's looking down at the coffee. "Whatever, I don't care what you think."
"Oh," Gerard says.
"Yeah, so fuck off," Frank says. He looks up at Gerard, and he's sneering.
Gerard can feel his shoulders sag. He feels like such a loser. He is a loser, really; a fat, needy loser. He doesn't even know why he thought Frank might like him. "Okay," Gerard mumbles. "Fine."
Gerard can hear Mikey muttering angrily at Frank as he walks away, but he seriously doesn't care. He'll tell Mikey to lay off later.
Before Gerard sees Mikey again, though, Ray comes and says, "Mikey told me to tell you that Frank's being an asshole because he doesn't understand, and you have to talk to him."
"What?" Gerard says.
"Mikey told me to tell you that Frank is being an asshole," Ray repeats. "But it's because he doesn't understand. So you should talk to him."
"Oh," Gerard says. Ray blushes. "Okay."
"Okay," Ray says. "I'm sorry I was so weird at the store."
"It's not your fault," Gerard tells him, because it isn't. Ray's the nicest guy Gerard knows.
"You know I, like, support your lifestyle and stuff, right?" Ray asks.
"I support yours too, Ray," Gerard tells him, because he does. They hug really quickly, before anyone can see and call them faggots, and then split up to go to their classes.
---
Gerard really doesn't want to deal with Frank just yet. He makes it through lunch, ignoring Mikey's pointed looks and Frank's snide comments. Gerard's pretty sure that he can put it off until Friday, when he'll have the whole weekend to regret his existence.
Apparently his life is a Shakespearian comedy, though, because he runs into Frank in the hallway after lunch, when Gerard ought to be in math class.
"Frank?" Gerard says, even though he obviously knows who it is. Frank just rolls his eyes and huffs out a breath. "Whatever, don't be an asshole," Gerard says, and catches Frank's arm when Frank starts to turn away.
"Get off me," Frank says.
"Why are you being such a dick?" Gerard asks. He wanted to leave it until later, but apparently his mouth has decided that they're having the conversation now. "Talk to me."
Frank sighs again. He turns around, finally, but he shrugs off Gerard's hand and jams his hands in his back pockets. He says, "Fine, I'll talk to you. I want you to get the fuck away from me, and I don't like you."
"I like you," Gerard says, even though it makes his heart leap up in his throat. "I wanted to tell you before, but I thought-- I like you, Frank."
Frank rolls his eyes and looks away. "Whatever. I don't like you, I said."
"But you-- you acted like you liked me, before," Gerard says, quiet and stupid.
Frank sneers. "What, you think a slut can't stop giving it up?" he asks. He's got his hip cocked out, and his tie is askew, and the world isn't fair at all.
"I don't care about that, anyway," Gerard says. "You're-- I thought you were my friend, too, right?" Frank looks slightly abashed at that, and Gerard pushes his advantage. "I didn't even drink any of that coffee before I gave it to you," he says.
Frank folds his arms. "You think I'm a big ho," he says. "I-- I'm not just going to be friends with you just because I, y'know. Not if you think I'm a ho."
"I don't think you're a ho," Gerard says.
Frank just makes a frustrated noise and kicks at the ground. "You do!"
"I don't!" Gerard insists. "I brought you coffee-- I did that stuff because I want to date you. Wanted. Want." He feels like he's going to shit himself and pass out. He leans against the locker and hopes Frank finishes hating him soon, so he can find a bathroom.
But all Frank says is, "I like, I asked you before, to go on a date with me."
"No you didn't," Gerard says. "You didn't ask me. When did you ask me?"
"Well, I didn't ask you, ask you," Frank says. He swipes at his hair, pawing it back off of his face. "But you said no one would ever want to date me, after you called me a slut."
"I didn't," Gerard says. He tugs on his bangs with both hands. "Jesus, no I didn't. I just-- what the fuck, I want to date you." He trails off at the end, his voice getting kind of sad and little. He feels incredibly dumb. Frank doesn't even like him. He should probably just shit himself, for all that it matters.
Frank turns and leans against the lockers, facing Gerard. He's still looking down at his sneakers, and he's got his arms folded across his body. Gerard kicks the bottom of the locker nearest him -- still four away from Frank -- and swears under his breath. It's just his fucking luck. He rests his forehead against the lockers, and the door clanks. "I want to take you to formal," Gerard says, "And have pictures with you and give you a corsage and take you down the shore after."
Frank is silent. Gerard turns his head to the side, sure that Frank will be walking away, but instead finds Frank staring at him. His arms are still folded, but at least he's looking at Gerard. They stare at each other for a long moment, and then Frank says, "Do you really want to take me to formal?"
"Duh," Gerard says. "And prom. I don't-- it's not like I do sexy stuff with just anyone."
Frank bristles again. "What, like me?"
"Shut up," Gerard says tiredly. "I meant I never did anything, before. With anyone." He bites his lip and turns his face back to the locker, feeling incredibly lame.
"Oh," Frank says. There's a shuffling noise, and when Gerard glances back, Frank is a couple of lockers closer. "I mean-- nothing?"
"I kissed some people before," Gerard says. "When I was drunk at parties."
"So, like," Frank says. He doesn't elaborate, though.
"So-- so I don't know what I'm doing," Gerard says, exasperated into half-shouting it. "I want to date you and take you to formal, and stuff, but you said you didn't want a thing with me!"
Frank mutters something Gerard can't hear. Gerard snaps, "What?" and Frank clears his throat. He says, more clearly, "I want a thing."
"No you don't," Gerard says, but his traitorous stomach flips. "You don't like me, you said."
"I lied," Frank says. He shuffles a little closer, within touching distance. Gerard can see that Frank is blushing, out of the corner of his eye.
"You didn't invite me to your birthday party," Gerard points out. "You were mean to me in the record store, too."
"I thought--" Frank says. "Whatever, I'm sorry. I want to have a thing with you. If you still want to, I mean."
"So you want a thing, like, a thing-thing?" Gerard asks. "Like, a real big deal thing-thing?" He turns his face toward Frank. They're really close, probably too close to be safe, even if it's during a class period.
"Like an epic thing-thing," Frank whispers. He rests his nose on Gerard's, and then tips their mouths together, quick and light. "Please," he says, when he pulls away.
"Don't, we're in school," Gerard says, but then he rocks forward and kisses Frank back, quick, before Frank can pull away. They both edge apart. Gerard's face is hot, and Frank is blushing.
Frank looks down at his shoes. "Can I come to your house tonight?" he asks.
"Yeah," Gerard says. "Maybe we could watch movies."
"And make out," Frank says.
"And make out," Gerard says.
They stand there awkwardly for a minute, until Frank says, "Okay, bye."
"Bye," Gerard says. He stands there, though, and watches as Frank walks away. No matter how bad he still has to go to the bathroom, it's totally worth it for the view.
---
Gerard holds in his excitement for the rest of the day, waiting for the moment when he can tell someone safe. When he comes out of the front doors of the school and sees just his brother sitting on the last step, he can't help himself; he announces, "Frank and I made up."
Mikey cranes his neck around and shoves his glasses up his nose with one finger. "Seriously?" he asks.
"Yeah," Gerard says. He thumps down the front stairs of the school, and plops down on the step next to his brother. "I apologized and stuff."
"Did he punch you?" Mikey asks.
"Nope," Gerard says. He fidgets with the strap of his bag for a second, then blurts, "We're, y'know. We have a thing-thing."
"Seriously," Mikey repeats.
"Yeah," Gerard says.
Mikey's smiles are kind of rare, but they're Gerard's favorite thing in the world. He can't help himself when Mikey smiles, either; he has to smile back. They sit on the step, just smiling at each other. "That's awesome," Mikey says.
"Thanks," Gerard says. He's kind of embarrassed, but he can't stop grinning. "He's coming over tonight, too."
"He didn't say anything to me," Mikey says. "But, I mean, I'm not his boyfriend."
"Shh, I don't know," Gerard says. He checks over his shoulder to make sure Frank hasn't teleported behind them. "We didn't talk about boyfriends, or whatever."
"But a thing-thing," Mikey says.
"Yeah," Gerard says. "I made sure this time, it's totally a thing-thing." Mikey smiles at him again, and Gerard has to duck his head down so he won't do something girly like giggle and blush.
"That's really cool," Mikey says approvingly.
"Yeah," Gerard says. He fidgets with his bag strap some more.
Gerard's cheeks kind of hurt from all the smiling he's been doing. He doesn't know how Frank's face stands it, what with all the grinning he does. It's probably like any muscle, Gerard thinks. Frank exercises his smile muscles, and so it wouldn't hurt him. "Frank grins all the time," he says, "it's funny that it doesn't hurt his face, or whatever."
"Yeah," Mikey says. "That is funny."
"I was thinking maybe it's because he smiles so much, that it doesn't hurt his face."
"Maybe," Mikey allows.
"He's like, a pro athlete," Gerard says. "But of grinning. Too bad they don't have a grinning event in the Olympics, I bet Frank could probably win at that."
"At least bronze," Mikey says.
Gerard nods absently. A bunch of sophomores walk by, headed for the buses. They're all laughing and talking about something; one of them laughs a lot like Frank. "Doesn't that guy laugh a little bit like Frank?" Gerard says.
"I guess," Mikey says. "Do you have a cigarette?"
"Don't smoke on school property," Gerard says, but he digs his cigarettes out of his bag. "I'm really glad Frank smokes," he says, and hands Mikey the pack and his lighter.
"Yeah?" Mikey says. He gives Gerard a little look when he takes the cigarettes and lighter.
"Well, I mean, I wouldn't want to try to-- whatever, to have a thing, or a thing-thing, with someone who doesn't smoke. Because that would be awkward, wouldn't it?"
Mikey lifts one shoulder in a lopsided shrug. "I guess. It's never really come up for me."
"Yeah, I mean. Have you had a thing-thing where the person didn't smoke?" Gerard squints at him, trying to remember.
"Just that one," Mikey allows. He puts the cigarette behind his ear, and starts idly sparking the lighter with his thumb. "And she smoked."
"Yeah, that's lucky," Gerard says. "I just bet it would be bad if either of us tried to date someone who hated smoking. It's really good that Frank smokes."
"You said that," Mikey says.
"Sorry, yeah." Gerard's face heats up, and he looks at the strap of his bag again. He cinches it tighter, then loosens it again. "I mean, I'd date him even if he hated smoking."
"Sure," Mikey says. "But it's lucky he does."
Mikey glances back behind him when someone comes out the front doors. Gerard glances back too, hoping it's Frank, but it's not. "Do you know when he should be out?" Gerard asks.
"Nope," Mikey says. "I hope it's soon."
"Me too," Gerard says. "I really like him."
"Yeah," Mikey says. He looks like he's trying not to laugh. "Yeah, I got that."
"Shut up," Gerard says, and bumps his shoulder against Mikey's. Mikey bumps him back. Gerard adds, "Just-- shut up."
Gerard probably shouldn't talk again until Frank comes out to meet them. He stares at the trees out in front of the school, watching the dead leaves on the ground around their trunks rustle around in the wind. They're really beautiful; he wants to draw them. If he had a sketchbook and pencils and a cup of coffee, sitting on the steps would be his favorite part of the day. A sketchbook, pencils, coffee, and Frank, actually, that would make waiting bearable. Then, of course, he wouldn't be waiting; he would have Frank here, with him. "I wish Frank were here," Gerard blurts out.
The front doors open again, and they both look back. "Frank!" Gerard says.
"Thank god," Mikey mutters.
"Shut up," Gerard says.
"This asshole won't stop talking about you," Mikey says.
Gerard shoves him. "Mikey, Jesus," he says, but when he glances at Frank, Frank is just grinning at him. "Whatever, I was talking about other stuff, too," Gerard says lamely.
"Like what," Mikey says. Gerard kicks his ankle, and Mikey rolls his eyes.
"It's cool if you want to talk about me," Frank says. He's got his hands tucked under his backpack straps, but he's standing kind of close to Gerard, close enough that they could hold hands if they wanted to.
Gerard fidgets with his bag strap some more, just so he won't grab for Frank's hand. "I wouldn't mind talking about you all the time," he says. Frank grins at him, his eyes squeezing shut, and Gerard grins helplessly back.
Mikey makes a gagging noise. Gerard turns to glare at Mikey, but Frank just keeps grinning. "C'mon," Gerard says, trying to be cool about it, "Let's walk home."
"Don't make out in front of me," Mikey says.
"Whatever," Gerard says. "Don't be lame."
"Yeah, don't be lame," Frank adds. Gerard smiles at him.
"Gross," Mikey says, like his life is so hard. Gerard takes the high road and doesn't say anything back.
---
"We're watching Running Man," Mikey tells them, when they walk in the front door of the house.
"Ugh," Gerard says. "Ugh," he adds. He drops his bag and his coat on the floor at the same time, which makes it almost dramatic enough for his purposes.
"You don't like that movie?" Frank asks. He puts his bag down next to Gerard's and Mikey's.
"I liked Running Man when I hadn't seen it forty thousand times," Gerard says. He kicks the back of Mikey's calf. Mikey just flips him the bird and starts down the stairs. "Can't we go back to Tron?"
"I want to see Running Man," Mikey says. He neatly dodges Gerard's second attempt at kicking him. He almost takes a header down the stairs, but he catches himself on the wall just in time. "You won't even be paying attention, you'll be making out with your boyfriend."
"Shut up," Gerard whines. He wants to see how Frank reacts to that, but Frank doesn't say anything, and Gerard can't look back without making it super obvious. "Fine," Gerard finally huffs, "We can watch Running Man again."
"Good," Mikey says. He jumps off the last step and bursts through the door to their room.
"What's Running Man about?" Frank asks, following close behind Gerard into the room.
"Oh my god--" Gerard says, and falls backward onto his bed.
"What?" Frank asks.
"You haven't seen Running Man?" Mikey says disbelievingly.
Gerard lifts his head and points at Mikey commandingly, like don't use that tone of voice on him, but Mikey just rolls his eyes and puts his hands on his hips.
"I never got the chance to see it," Frank says. "I mean, I told you I like movies, but I'm mostly into horror stuff."
"Like what?" Mikey asks suspiciously.
"Like City of the Living Dead," Frank says promptly. "I mean, I'm really into that one right now. It isn't my favorite."
Gerard and Mikey both stare at him, silently. "What?" Frank says. "Lucio Fulci's a genius, okay. I will fight you."
"No, no, I just kind of have a boner for you right now," Mikey says, before Frank can get angrier.
"Whatever, I saw him first," Gerard says. He points at Mikey threateningly. "Back off."
"I could totally convince him," Mikey says. "For City of the Living Dead I'd convince him."
"You'd only have a boner for him when he was talking to you about zombie movies," Gerard says triumphantly. "I have a boner for him all the time."
"Seriously?" Frank says.
"Gross," Mikey says.
"Shut up, asshole," Gerard says, trying not to blush. "I need a drink. Make me a drink."
Mikey rolls his eyes, but he puts down his copy of Running Man and goes over to scrounge around in their alcohol stash. "Don't make out with my brother, okay," Gerard makes says to Frank.
"Shut up, I wouldn't," Frank says.
"We kissed once," Mikey says. It comes out kind of muffled, because he's under the bed.
"Yeah, well. That was before Gerard, obviously," Frank says.
Gerard coughs in the middle of trying to take a breath, and it makes him choke on nothing. He makes a series of weird noises, and has to clear his throat four or five times before he can even try to breathe normally. Neither Frank or Mikey seem to notice, although Gerard can tell that his face is bright red. Frank sits down next to him just as Gerard has finally made his lungs operate like they should. Frank, who likes zombie movies and Gerard, is sitting next to Gerard on his bed. Gerard takes a sharp breath in, chokes again, and lets out a helpless, wheezy cough.
"What's up?" Frank asks. Gerard clears his throat and coughs again. Mikey passes over a drink, and Frank presses it into Gerard's hand. Gerard takes a couple of gulps, and that seems to put his lungs fully back online.
"God," Gerard rasps.
"What?" Frank asks.
"Nothing, I'm just, y'know," Gerard says. He takes another big sip. "Amazed by life."
"Oh. Okay," Frank says.
"We're watching Running Man now," Mikey announces.
Mikey shoves the movie in and then goes to get the lights. As soon as the room goes dark, Frank fumbles between their thighs. "Do you need me to scoot over?" Gerard asks.
"No," Frank whispers. He puts his hand back in his lap.
"Wait," Gerard says, "Did you lose something? Because if you lost something, Mikey can turn the lights back on--"
"Where's your hand?" Frank interrupts, still whispering. Gerard holds out his hand, and Frank takes it.
After a beat, Gerard says, "Oh."
"Shut up," Frank says. He stares straight ahead at the TV screen.
They can't really make out during Running Man. If Frank had seen it, maybe, but Gerard isn't going to interrupt Frank's first viewing, even for kissing. Frank holds his hand through the whole movie, though. Even after the scene with the chainsaw, which Frank is rightfully engrossed by, Frank keeps their fingers tangled and their palms pressed together. He even gestures with Gerard's hand clasped in his.
Gerard has never actually been this happy ever, in his entire life.
---
After the movie, they talk for a while, aimless conversation about Schwartzenegger and special effects. Mikey only starts yawning and losing the thread of the conversation at one in the morning. "Shit," he says, a while after that. "It's kind of late."
"Yeah," Gerard agrees.
"Mmm," Frank says. The room is too dark to see, now that the television screen is off. Gerard can't tell what face Frank is making, or even really what he's doing while he moves around.
Gerard struggles up from the bed, says, "Bedtime," and heads into the bathroom to brush his teeth and put on his pajamas. The overhead light makes his eyes water, and he flicks it off after a second of squinting against it.
When he's done, Gerard walks back into the dark bedroom and stumbles over to his bed, same as he does every night. When he gets into the bed, though, Frank is there, curled up with his head on Gerard's pillow.
"Hey," Gerard whispers.
"Hey," Frank whispers back. "Can I sleep here tonight?"
After a beat, Gerard says, "Okay." He doesn't know where he thought Frank was going to sleep. Maybe the floor, although with all the crap scattered across it, that would be a little cruel and unusual. "Okay," Gerard repeats unnecessarily, and awkwardly clambers into bed next to Frank.
His bed is small. It's never felt small before, but Frank is taking up half of the space, and radiating heat besides. Gerard tries to shift his weight, casually, and his hips bump against Frank's. "Sorry," he says.
"It's okay," Frank whispers back.
The room is quiet. There's just the sound of the clock by Gerard's bed and Mikey's snuffling noises. Gerard's breath sounds loud in his ears. Frank is lying still and silent next to him, his arms folded under his head. Gerard shifts onto his back and looks at the ceiling.
"Are you awake?" Frank asks.
"Sort of," Gerard says back.
The bed shifts. Frank braces himself next to Gerard, his face inches away. "Can I kiss you?" he asks.
"Okay," Gerard says.
"Okay," Frank echoes, barely a breath before he presses his lips against Gerard's. It's off-center at first, but then Gerard turns his head, and it's the same as the other times they've kissed, the same wet warm perfect feeling.
Eventually Gerard turns on his side, and Frank settles back down on the mattress. They lie hip to hip and chest to chest, pressed against one another. It's hot under the blanket, Gerard can feel himself sweating, but it's still somehow perfect. He doesn't want to stop, ever.
When Frank touches his side, hand sliding up under the t-shirt Gerard wears to sleep, Gerard pulls his mouth away to gasp. It's a soft noise, it wouldn't be noticeable any other time, but in the quiet room it sounds loud. "Sorry," Gerard breathes. Frank ducks his head and presses his lips against Gerard's throat. Gerard tips his chin back and concentrates on breathing quietly, keeping the noises he wants to make caught in his throat.
"We shouldn't," he says, ages later, eons later, when he feels Frank's fingertips dragging along the top of his waistband.
"I know," Frank whispers, "I just--"
"I want to," Gerard tells him. He can't seem to stop himself from shifting restlessly against Frank. He can feel the shape of Frank's cock under the fabric of his underwear, pressing against him. Gerard's cock is aching, his hips twitching forward every time Frank kisses him.
They shouldn't, but they do. They're quiet about it, Gerard knows that, at least; his breath gets loud and uneven toward the end, but it's still quiet enough that it won't wake Mikey.
"Shh," he says, leaning over Frank and palming him, pushing down the waistband of his underwear. "Shh." He can make out Frank biting his lip, his nostrils flaring as he struggles not to make noise. Gerard kisses him, presses their lips together, and Frank makes a choked noise into Gerard's mouth when he comes.
Gerard gets up after a few breaths and gets some toilet paper from the bathroom, not even bothering to hit the light this time. When he comes out, he checks to make sure Mikey's still sleeping.
"I am the worst big brother ever," Gerard whispers to Frank.
"I like it," Frank tells him.
"You would," Gerard says. He takes the toilet paper away from Frank and stuffs it in the overflowing trashcan by his desk, then climbs back into bed. It's more comfortable now. Frank turns over onto his stomach, and shoves his arms under the pillow, and Gerard curls up on his side. "I wish we didn't have school tomorrow," Gerard says.
"I hate school," Frank says fiercely, his whisper suddenly harsh. Gerard blinks his eyes open, startled. Frank's turned his head to face Gerard.
"You don't seem like you do," Gerard says.
"Well I do," Frank says. "And it hates me, too. They all hate me."
Gerard doesn't know what to say. He hesitates, too long, and finally says, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Frank tells him. "I guess-- I mean, you're the good part." He kisses Gerard's cheek, his chin bumping gently against Gerard's mouth, and settles back down. "You're the part that doesn't make me feel like a freak," he says.
Gerard takes a deep breath. The room suddenly feels like it's full of air, almost too full, like he's going to inflate and come drifting up off of the bed. "You're better than Fack," Gerard whispers. He's not sad at all, but for some reason it feels like he's going to cry. He has to take a deep breath. Frank touches his face, and Gerard turns into it, pressing his cheek against Frank's palm.
Eventually Gerard falls asleep, with Frank's breath fanning his hair, Frank's face inches away from his on the pillow.
---
Gerard wakes up with a mouthful of hair. "Fmph," he says, and shoves whatever it is off of him as hard as he can. Luckily "as hard as he can" isn't that hard, because it turns out that it's Frank. Frank rolls off the edge of the bed and hits the ground with a thump and a strangled yell; if Gerard lifted weights or had any kind of arm power at all, he probably would have gone flying.
"Fuck. Sorry," Gerard says, peering over the edge of the bed.
"Fuck you," Frank says. He shifts around on the floor enough to flip Gerard the bird. Then he curls up on the mound of dirty laundry he fell on and passes back out.
"Is he still fucking here?" Mikey says groggily.
"Where the fuck did you think he would go?" Gerard says. It comes out kind of garbled, since his face is mashed up against his pillow, but Mikey seems to get the picture. He flips Gerard off and throws a shoe at Frank.
Frank wakes up and thrashes around for a second. "Fuck! Fuck you, motherfucker!"
"Fuck yourself," Mikey says.
"Fuck," Frank says. "I want to die."
"Your fucking mom wants to fucking die," Mikey says. He sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. Gerard sits up too, and they both stare at Frank. Frank curls up on his side and stubbornly shuts his eyes. "Get up," Mikey says.
"No," Frank mutters.
"If you miss school after staying over here, your mom won't let you come back over," Gerard points out. He's pretty sure he just exhausted his logical abilities for the morning, but it was worth it; Frank slits one eye open, and then, after a long pause, sits up.
"I hate both of you," he says. He stands up, though, so they both ignore him.
Gerard goes upstairs, into the kitchen. His effort to find Frank breakfast starts strong, with an orange, but then the only thing he's able to find to accompany it is a handful of crackers. When Frank thumps up the stairs to the kitchen, still squinting and muttering to himself, Gerard hesitates with his spoon halfway to his mouth and says, "That's all we had," apologetically.
Frank just makes a wordless noise. He puts the orange in his pocket and then shoves a cracker into his mouth. He's still frowning as he chews, but he gives Gerard a quick kiss on the cheek, so Gerard figures their shitty pantry is forgiven.
Gerard wants to be surly after that -- it's tradition -- but he has trouble keeping the sneer on his face. He had a boy over, and the boy stayed until breakfast. He's even grinning when they finally get out of the house.
"Stop fucking smiling," Mikey snarls.
Gerard says, "Fuck you," but it comes out kind of chipper.
Mikey points his finger at Frank accusingly. "You did this," he said, "you homo."
"Shut up, fuckface," Frank says, and slips his hand into Gerard's back pocket. Gerard grins down at the ground. Mikey makes a noise like a damaged blender, and walks ahead of them for the rest of the way to school.
---
Gerard has art third period the next day. He puts down his stuff, grabs his drawing board, and goes outside to keep working on his drawing. It's nearly finished; all he has left to do are the ghostly figures at the windows. It's still taking a lot of concentration, though -- he wants the people to be ultra-spooky, not campy -- and he doesn't even notice when Frank comes outside. When Frank drops down to sit next to him, Gerard startles and nearly erases a corner of one window. "Jesus!" he says.
"Hi," Frank says. "Don't mind me. Can I have a cigarette?"
"Don't let Fack see you smoking," Gerard says. "And don't scare me like that, you jerk."
"Sorry," Frank says, totally without remorse, and accepts the cigarette Gerard digs up for him. "Having fun?"
"Yeah," Gerard says. "Thanks-- I mean, thanks for coming to see me."
"I had a free block," Frank says, but he turns slightly pink, just across the curve of his cheek. Gerard smiles down at his drawing, and goes back to work on the top left ghost.
He's moved on to the window below that when Frank suddenly blurts out, "You're so cool."
Gerard blinks, then looks over and squints at Frank. Frank is smiling, still pink-cheeked. "Are you making fun of me?" Gerard asks.
"What?" Frank squints back. "Are you retarded?"
"Don't say retarded," Gerard says.
"I was just asking, that isn't mean," Frank points out.
Gerard shakes his head. Some of his hair flops in front of his eyes, and he starts to play with it, shoving the end of his pencil through the hair and yanking it through the tangles. "I'm not retarded," he says.
"Why would I be making fun of you?"
"You said I was cool," Gerard says.
"So cool," Frank corrects.
"So cool," Gerard amends. "Why would you say that?"
"You're retarded," Frank says, and kisses his cheek. It's loud and wet, like a grandma kiss, but it still gives Gerard a little pull in his stomach.
Gerard looks away, keeping his cheek out of range. "Don't say retarded, that's mean," he says, but it comes out weak.
"You're the good retarded," Frank says, like that's supposed to make it better. He puts his head on Gerard's shoulder and adds, "And you're really cool, too."
"Says you," Gerard tells him. "Maybe you're, y'know."
"Retarded," Frank supplies helpfully.
Gerard rolls his eyes, but he nods. His chin bumps against the top of Frank's head. "Right, that," Gerard says.
"You shouldn't say I'm retarded. It's mean," Frank says snottily. He just giggles when Gerard pokes him.
Gerard tries to go back to drawing, but he doesn't get much done. It's hard to concentrate. Every time Frank breathes out, the air shifts over the hollow of Gerard's throat. Gerard is sweating in the sun; his armpits are damp, and he can feel sweat trickling down his spine, but his throat is chilly and prickling with goosebumps.
Gerard finally just stops trying to draw, and tips his head back. His head nudges the hedge above them.
"Why'd you stop?" Frank asks. Gerard shivers.
"You're distracting," Gerard says.
"I didn't say anything," Frank says. He rests his chin on Gerard's shoulder, but he doesn't pull away.
"You don't need to," Gerard says. He cranes his neck to look at Frank. He's probably giving himself a triple chin, but Frank just grins at him, almost shyly, before he drops his head like he's trying to hide his face. "Shut up," Gerard says.
"I didn't say anything," Frank insists, his mouth moving against Gerard's shoulder through his t-shirt. Gerard shivers. Frank shifts forward and rests his nose under Gerard's ear, breathes out and presses his lips to Gerard's neck.
Gerard tilts his head to the side and closes his eyes. The sunlight is bright through his eyelids. Frank moves up, brushes his top lip against Gerard's earlobe, breathes in and then out again, shallowly.
Gerard opens his mouth, but he's not sure what he's going to say. "I--" he starts, but he's interrupted by the door to the art room creaking open. Frank startles and sits up, checking his chin off of Gerard's shoulder bone. "Ow," Gerard says.
"Gerard?" Fack says. He squints, his mustache tilting to one side. "And you, other person. It's the end of the period."
"Okay," Gerard says.
He gets up slowly, his drawing board scraping against the ground and making him look even more awkward than he actually is. Gerard holds out his hand to help Frank up, and then doesn't let go. When he looks out of the corner of his eye, Frank is grinning, but neither of them say anything. Gerard's palm is sweating where they're pressed together, and his stomach is turning over. It feels really good.
The art room is cool and dark after the bright light outside, and Gerard has to blink for a bit before he can see where his stuff is. He doesn't let go of Frank's hand, even though he knows Fack must be looking at them. "Thanks, Fack," he says, and risks a glance over.
Fack isn't looking at them. "Right on," he says. He's sketching something.
Gerard hesitates. "This is Frank, by the way," he says. Frank shifts next to him.
Fack glances up, registers Frank with an extra crease in his forehead, and looks back down at his drawing. "Frank, gotcha."
"See you," Gerard says, and he and Frank leave the art room.
"I feel like I just met your parents," Frank whispers.
Gerard feels like he's balanced precariously on top of the world. "He totally didn't care," he tells Frank.
"I know," Frank says. He sounds just right, just like Gerard feels, happy and weirded out.
Gerard drops his hand to tuck his hair behind his ears, and Frank puts his hands on his backpack straps before Gerard can grab his hand again. It's probably safer, anyway. "Can we hold hands later?" Gerard asks him, before he can shut his stupid annoying mouth.
"Whenever you want to," Frank says. He drops one of his hands from his backpack and dangles it between them. "I want to hold your hand all the time."
"Me too," Gerard says. He drops his hand, too, until the backs are just brushing. He can feel his face getting hot, but he can probably blame it on the sun. "I mean, I want to hold your hand. Always."
"Cool," Frank says. His shoes squeak on the flooring, and he giggles, loud in the quiet hallway. His hand bumps against Gerard's.
"Cool," Gerard repeats. They trudge to their classes, hands knocking together. Whenever Gerard glances over, Frank is always smiling.
---
part five