Archive of Our Own

It was August; the way Gerard’s clothes stuck to him in the humidity was anything but. Frankly, his clothes were none-too-regal to begin with; just jeans and shirts, always simple. Never a whole lot of color, it just felt more comfortable. Of course, it didn’t really matter what Gerard wore anyway, no one paid him much mind at school.

That was how it went with the Way brothers. No one paid attention to Gerard and Gerard paid attention to no one. Mikey didn’t get much attention either, but he most certainly paid attention to everyone else; the brothers’ daily drives to and from school were filled with Mikey’s chatter about so-and-so-slept-with-so-and-so-who-was-supposed-to-be-dating-that-guy-who-does-this-but-they-thought-no-one-knew-isn’t-that-just-like-a-cliche-movie and Gerard always nodding along with whatever his little brother said. In short, Mikey was fascinated by the high school experience. It’s not that Gerard didn’t listen to Mikey, he did, it’s that Gerard really didn’t care anything about the other kids in their school. His world was limited to him, and Mikey, and their family, and his art, and his books, and his photographs.

Ironically, his photographs were for the school newspaper; the kid who doesn’t care about anyone here had been a photographer for the school paper for his first three years of high school, and was about to be one for the fourth year.

It’s not like he volunteered for the job, he’d just been standing there when Ms. H needed someone to fill in for the photographer who was sick, and he did it, and she thought he did it well.

That seemed to be a driving factor in Gerard’s life, being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Take, for example, his locker, which he was now fumbling with (it had been three months since he’d had to dial in the combination, and his memory was fuzzy with the late summer heat.) To his right was Mikey, opening his own locker. That was the nice thing about alphabetical order, the Way brothers were together in lists, lines, and lockers. To his left was the locker of Jack Waters. That was the bad thing about alphabetical order, Gerard had been stuck next to star-quarterback-top-of-the-class Jack Waters in lists, lines, and lockers.

Jack had never been particularly negative toward Gerard. Gerard had never tried to be anywhere but the forgiving range of neutrality. Sometimes Jack had his picture taken for the paper. Sometimes they were at their lockers together. One time Gerard gave Jack a pen. That was about it, that was the full extent of their relationship. No typical TV drama jock-beats-up-artsy-nerd trope. Jack probably wasn’t even a bad dude, Gerard just had the stereotypical nerd distrust of jock.

Today, Jack walked up to his locker as Gerard was departing. Wrong place, wrong time.

“Hey man.”

“Hello.” Gerard hoped his face was arranged pleasantly enough to avoid confrontation.

“Last year, huh? College and all. First day of the rest of our lives, y’know?” Jack was chatty today. Gerard smiled and nodded. He always smiled and nodded with these types; these types being guys who could beat the absolute shit out of him. Ambassador amicable.

Thankfully, Jack didn’t try to push further conversation. The Way brothers made eye contact and went off to their respective first periods. Mikey was headed to Spanish II, Gerard was off to Advanced Illustration.

And then Mikey was off to Geometry, Gerard was off to Anatomy.

And then Mikey was off to English II, Gerard was off to Statistics.

Luckily, the two shared lunch. Mikey was full of gossip about what he’d heard everyone had done over the summer, who slept with who and who went where, it was all very usual. Gerard showed him a new illustration project, something about superheroes.

And then Mikey was off to Government, and Gerard was finally going to Newspaper.

This worried Gerard greatly. Last year, he had been partnered with Genevieve McClaughlan, a senior; he took the pictures, she wrote the articles. The assignment board always bore G TEAM instead of their initials, which were used in writing notes. She had been a nice girl. Gerard may or may not have had a crush on her (it depended on if he was being honest with himself or not.)

The door swung open, the usual weight on the hinges. It was a tired sound. The students were tired. Jersey itself felt tired in the August heat. Gerard wondered if the entire world might just flop over and die.

Ms. H was writing assignments on the board. She smiled at Gerard as he walked in, a warm smile. Not warm like the air outside, but warm like soup in winter. Gerard liked Ms. H. Despite being drafted for his job, he really did like it after all. She was always very supportive of him, regardless of class; even illustration, after the art teachers had brushed him off.

She continued writing on the board.

AD+MC. Japanese club.

RD+RV. Back to school announcements.

GW+FI. Football games.

GW+FI?

Who in the actual fuck was FI?

Gerard sat down near the back of the room and propped his feet on the table. That was nice about the newspaper room, there weren’t desks with chairs welded to them, there were tables and real chairs and you could put your feet up because goddamnit you were a senior and you deserve this small victory over the establishment. Gerard was now the only senior in newspaper, and as such, no one really bothered him. Even if he hadn’t been a senior, most kids would probably avoid the greasy looking kid in the back who was now working his way up his left arm with a fine tip Sharpie.

He was halfway to his elbow with something vaguely geometric when the bell rang. The kids all shuffled to seats, the legs scraping on the floor. Ms. H stood up to give the standard welcome-back-to-hell-children speech that Gerard had already heard dozens of times over the years. It was all very drab, all sorts of promises about “another great year” and “priding ourselves on our work.”

“Some of you have new partners for the year, and we don’t really have any work to do today, so just take the period and talk. Now that Corey has graduated I don’t really think it should be an issue, but it needs to be stated that you are not allowed to open the windows and leave before the bell, even if it means getting out of the parking lot before traffic.”

Gerard had always admired the kids who got out of the lot before traffic, they were almost legendary. The second the bell rang at 2:35, the line to get out of the parking lot would be ten thousand miles long and if you were stuck in it, you wouldn’t get home until 3:45, and that’s if you were lucky. Dozens and dozens of teenagers in various vehicles paraded down the main streets of town after school every single day, a funeral procession for free mornings and evenings not spent studying. Corey was particularly infamous for leaving early, until the principals started to stop him at the door. Of course, he’d taken the totally logical next step and climbed out the classroom window to get to his car. Instead of daring escapes, Gerard tended to find ways to waste time every afternoon, sometimes in the newspaper room, sometimes in the library, sometimes he would even find Mikey and join the conversation with his brother’s friends. Ray was usually always with Mikey after school. Actually, Ray was usually always with Mikey.

While Ms. H had been speaking, Gerard had continued to draw on his skin. Even at the end of summer, he was so pale that the black ink made a really nice contrast. He hadn’t bothered to look around. Whoever FI was would have the option to talk to him or not, Gerard never wanted to force his presence on anyone.The lines on his arm had formed some sort of geometric abstraction, extending from the base of his middle finger to cover his elbow. From the right angle, it almost looked like a gauntlet of some variety.

“Hey, that’s pretty cool.” The voice was pretty cool. Gerard looked up. While he had been distracted, a boy had pulled up a seat next to him and was now straddling the back of the chair, looking at Gerard with very calm brown eyes.

“Uh, thanks.” Gerard was less than cool.

“So you’re GW, huh?” This kid had a very soothing voice.

If Gerard was being honest with himself, he thought this voice was the nicest he’d ever heard.

Gerard was absolutely not going to be honest with himself right now.

You can’t just have thoughts like that about guys you’d just met, or guys in general, really. Like, seriously, what the fuck. Gerard’s internal monologue was quickly becoming a very angry duet scene.

“Yeah.” Great, this guy had probably heard something bad about him.

“Y’know, your English teacher from last year went off on a tangent about you. Thinks you hung the damn stars as far as AP kids go.” Gerard couldn’t figure out if the tone in his voice was mocking or not.

“Oh. That’s cool, I guess.” The guy was probably a little put off by the way Gerard said it. Whatever. He wasn’t here to make any friends. He’d never felt particularly close to any teacher, it was weird to think some of them would actually remember him.

“Yeah. Anyway, I’m Frank. We’re partners this year.” This kid, Frank-with-the-nice-voice, extended his hand to shake Gerard’s. Gerard responded in kind. Frank’s hands were warm, and looked very holdable, and he'd been writing on himself at some point today as well. Gerard hoped his small smile was a good enough response.

The two sat in silence for what felt like another four years of high school. Frank slouched forward, over the back of his chair; his dark brown hair fell over his eyes, but Gerard felt Frank was watching him. It made Gerard extremely conscious of the way his mouth was slightly open as he pressed the marker to his flesh. It reminded him of the way you can’t close your mouth while putting mascara on. Frank was fidgeting with his hands, rubbing at the calluses; what someone did to get calluses in such spots, Gerard didn't know. He only knew the calluses on his own hands from writing and drawing. He inspected those hands; they didn't look holdable like Frank's, they looked cold and pale. The ink on the back of his left hand was smudged, the geometric effect was partially ruined. No point to keep working on it; Gerard rolled his sleeve down.

This movement seemed to catch Frank’s attention, his head moved slightly. Gerard assumed it was because his clothes were weird or something. His weird skin drawing and his weird clothes and his weird fascination with Frank’s hands had made this whole silence incredibly weird.

So, naturally, of course, Gerard had to make it more weird.

“So uh, I guess you’re going to be the one interviewing people, huh?”

Way to go, dumbass.

Frank didn’t seem particularly put off by Gerard’s obvious observation.

“Yep. And you’re my photographer.” He smiled slightly, he had a nice smile too. Of course he did, of fucking course.

Gerard stole a glance at the clock nervously, fearing it hadn’t been as nearly as long a stretch of time as he had imagined it to have been; for once, fate smiled upon him, it was 2:30. He only had to survive five more minutes and then he could flee to the sanctuary of the library or his car or something.

“So, uh, what are you into?” It was an innocent question. Frank clearly meant hobbies. Gerard had to damn near smack himself for his sudden urge to shout “I thought I was into girls but here you are what the fuck is happening.”

“Uh, y’know, just comics and shit.” Smooth move, asshole. Now he’s gonna think you’re a nerd. “My brother and I had a D&D group last year, but a few of the people left.” Oh my god stop it you idiot. Fuck fuck fuck. “And, uh, I do art I guess. Reading. I’m kind of a nerd, I guess.” On the outside, he chuckled quietly and hoped it was endearing. On the inside, he was clawing his own eyes out with a rusted fork. “But uh, what about you?”

“Music, just a lot of music. And this is gonna sound nerdy, but I also like, love history documentaries.”

The bell rang, thank fucking god. Gerard excused himself with something about needing to drive his brother and bolted out of the classroom door before he could have time to picture Frank singing or playing an instrument or something. Thankfully, Mikey’s government room was nearby; Gerard nearly slammed into him in his dash to get away.

“We’re going to go wait in traffic in the car.”

“Okay. Ray’s coming with us.”

“When doesn’t he?”

“Are you okay? You never try and get out of here like this.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine, it’s just, uh, realizing the real and present danger of senioritis.” Mikey shrugged and accepted it as an answer.

The three boys didn’t get stuck in traffic for too terribly long, but every time Mikey changed the radio station, Gerard was stuck wondering what kind of music Frank listened to.

Ray ended up staying for dinner. He usually did. Neither set of parents seemed to mind. Mikey had probably sensed in that weird way that brothers do that something had seriously bothered Gerard; he and Ray spent the entire afternoon in Mikey’s room, leaving Gerard to deal with whatever he was dealing with. As soon as Ray’s parents had picked him up, Mikey walked into Gerard’s room and sat on the foot of the bed.

“I know something is bothering you and I know it isn’t senioritis or something. You don’t have to tell me what it is, but I’m here for you.” And then he stood and left. Gerard had been staring at the ceiling and had sat up to look his brother in the eyes. Now he was left staring at the door Mikey had just closed. Sometimes little brothers weren’t awful.

The next few days rolled by in a blur. Waking up at 5:45 every morning didn’t exactly help. Shoving shit together for college applications didn’t help either. It also didn’t help that he stayed up late every night, staring at the ceiling and thinking about Frank. Just your typical midweek teenage sexuality and gender identity crisis, the usual. Only thirty-five more weeks of school.

The first week hadn’t been a total waste, at least. He’d learned a lot about Frank; that he loved music and played guitar and volunteered at the animal shelter sometimes and that he thought fall was the best season and he could never manage to spell the word “rhythm” right and that he hadn’t played Dungeons and Dragons before but he’d totally be down to join the group if they wanted him.

But now it was Friday, and for all Gerard was concerned, the world would end at seven o’clock that evening when the stadium lighting bore down on the season kickoff like the eyes of some angered pagan god. Once that first game started, there was no stopping the year from rolling right by you. The world would probably end earlier than seven if Frank needed a ride.

Good news: Frank didn’t need a ride.

Bad news: Frank didn’t need a ride because he was heading there with the cheerleader carpool. And, y’know. His cheerleader girlfriend, that he had just mentioned that day.

“Yeah, we’ve been together a month or so. No major scandals or anything, I guess. Probably why people don’t really hear about it.”

It’s funny how fast your opinion of someone changes the more you learn about them. It’s funny how fast your opinion of someone changes when you finally find a social clique to place them in. It’s funny how fast your opinion of someone changes when you’re drowning in stadium lighting and you can physically feel the gap between you two widening. (This phenomena is only ever found in high schools; William Golding would probably be proud.) Frank was dating a cheerleader. He hung out with the cheerleaders and the varsity football guys. He had probably been to their infamous after-game parties. He was probably going to one tonight. None of this registered with Gerard as the same kid from the newspaper room, the one who liked Robert Frost poems and only really admitted it because Gerard had brought in an anthology. Frank was now unattainable. (High school is also the only place where you can ever view people as something to be attained.)

Luckily, Gerard was there for a reason. To take pictures. This pushed a lot of thoughts onto back burners. But then the game was over. Home team won; the party would be wild tonight. Frank was dragged off with his friends, no chance at a “see you Monday.”

The weekend passed quietly. Homework. Reading. Whatever. Boring.

Monday was that same tired feeling. Frank looked exhausted when he slumped into his seat in the newspaper room.

“Long weekend?”

“Yeah.”

And that was it. That’s how the first few weeks went. They talked sometimes. Gerard no longer cared if he seemed like a nerd to Frank; he was a nerd, and Frank was too far out of his league for anything he did to really matter. They were just partners. It was nice, sort of. There was no drama in it. Gerard forgot those feelings about Frank, newspaper-room-during-the-first-week-Frank, his Frank. No, not his Frank. Frank was never his. Okay, so Gerard tried and failed to entirely forget those feelings. Their partnership was defined by weirdly pining for something that was never real, at least on Gerard’s side. He had no idea what Frank thought. It’s kind of weird to ask someone what they thought of their entire relationship of you. Partnership. Don’t say relationship.

It was the fourth football game, or at least, the evening right after. The week of September fifteenth, for those who did not measure time in regards to sports. Their team had won, the homecoming game no less. Frank and Gerard had traded phone numbers for purely partnership-based reasons. Neither had really contacted the other for anything other than like, is-the-game-at-six-or-seven-tomorrow it’s-at-seven okay-thanks. That’s why it was a little weird for Gerard be woken up by his phone beeping shortly after midnight with “Frank Iero - Text Message.”

[Hey, are you awake?]

In hindsight, Gerard could have just not answered and gone back to sleep, but something told him this was different.

[Yeah man, what’s up?]

[Can I call you?] So it was something different. Probably something bad. No one ever calls unless it’s something bad.

[Yeah, sure.] Gerard opened his closet door and sat on the pile of dirty clothes gathered on the floor, hoping the walls would muffle the sound enough not to risk waking anyone else up. No sooner had he gotten settled than his phone lit up with an incoming call.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I uh, I just, uh, no.” It was weirdly quiet on his end.

“You’re not?”

“Uh, I don’t really know.”

“Are you drunk or something?”

“No.”

“Where are you? Do you need help? Aren’t you at a party or something?”

“I was, I just sort of, uh, I left.”

“Where are you now?”

“Uh, I dunno. A neighborhood, I guess. I just sort of walked.”

“Are you safe there?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so.”

“Do you want me to come get you?”

“Uh, yeah. If you, uh, if you want to.”

“Okay. Find a street name and pick a house number and sit on the curb, I’ll be there as soon as I can be.”

“Okay.”

Click.

Okay. Gerard took a deep breath. So this was like four standard deviations above the mean. Okay. He was just helping his partner. His friend, even.

Explaining this to his parents would be interesting. He knocked on their bedroom door gently, then pushed it open and edged his way in.

“Mom, dad?”

Quiet hmm’s.

“My friend needs me to pick him up. Okay?”

A quiet, grunted “okay.”

Okay, so that was not actually a problem. Gerard checked the address Frank had sent, a neighborhood across town. He grabbed his jacket and keys, thought about it, and grabbed a second jacket. For a September night, it was on the colder side, and he had no idea how long Frank had been outside.

Gerard was glad he brought the jacket. When he pulled up, Frank was sitting on the curb, arms around his knees, shivering. It was almost one in the morning. Gerard parked and got out, it seemed like the right thing to do. He draped the jacket over Frank’s shoulders and sat down next to him on the curb.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

The streetlamp across the street beamed yellow on the boys. It was the color of sweat stains, maybe.

“I, uh, I… Thank you, for, uh-”

“It’s no problem, man.”

“It’s just, uh, I, you were, you were the only person I’d figured would come.” The words were coming out slowly and with much effort. Gerard wondered if maybe Frank had taken the party a little too far.

“Do you wanna talk about what happened?”

“I just, uh, I don’t know.” Frank put his head in his hands. “I don’t really know what happened. I just didn’t want to be there.” It took a moment for Gerard to realize that Frank was struggling to speak because he was struggling not to cry; very slow, very quiet, trying to avoid cracking at the lump in his throat.

Beat.

“How long have you been out here?”

“I dunno. A while, I guess.”

“Do you want to sit in the car? It’ll be warmer in there.”

“Uh, okay.”

The little car heater wasn’t much, but it was most definitely better than sitting on the curb outside. The boys sat and conversed. Or at least, Gerard asked questions and Frank replied with brief answers, mostly consisting of I-don’t-knows. The little clock on the dashboard beamed 2:14 up at them. There was a lull.

“Do you like pancakes?”

“What?”

“I asked if you liked pancakes.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“Great.” Gerard moved to start driving.

“Why?”

“We’re going to IHOP.”

“Uh, why?”

“Because if we sit here any longer, the neighbors might think we’re up to something, and IHOP is always open.” The eat-pancakes-until-you-feel-less-sad tactic is one Gerard had used on Mikey plenty of times, he figured he should try it on Frank; if it failed, the least they could do is get coffee so he wouldn’t risk falling asleep at the wheel and causing an accident.

It was a twenty minute drive from the neighborhood Frank had been in to IHOP. Neither of them said anything on the way there. The sign buzzed blue, artificial; comforting in the same way the sound of a television is comforting when you’re sleeping alone. A few other cars were in the lot. Employees mostly. A few other patrons inside. What were their stories, why were they here at this hour? It’s not polite to ask. The boys claimed a booth in the back corner, the seats the same blue as the sign that was the same color as the painted stripe that ran around the walls. The lights were too bright, it felt like a hospital. Turn the TV up a little louder.

Black coffee. No pancakes.

They sat in silence, each hunched over his own mug.

Edward Hopper would probably be fucking ecstatic about the scene.

“You don’t really wanna talk, do you?”

“I dunno what to say.”

Gerard thought for a minute. “Would you like it if I talked, and you could just listen?” It’s the same tactic Mikey always used on him.

“Uh, if you want. The fact that you’re actually here is what’s really helping.”

“Okay.”

Silence again. Quiet sips.

“Actually, could you talk? I, uh, I like listening to you talk.”

“Of course. Uh, do you really care what I talk about?”

“Not really. It’s up to you.”

So Gerard talked. Stories about Mikey and Ray, talking about the new Richard Siken poetry book that was coming out in a few months, his ideas for illustration projects, how he thought his AP Lit teacher hated him for no real reason, the crazy essays he had to write for college applications, how honestly lost he was in statistics class,  his ideas about Hamlet for the essay that week, everything. The Life and Times of Gerard Way. Frank listened the whole time. Gerard had just finished a minor tangent about Dungeons and Dragons when he noticed his phone light up with a text from Mikey. More importantly, he saw the time. 5:15. They had finished their coffees a while ago, the mugs long forgotten. Frank caught him checking the time.

“Uh, do you need to be home?”

“Probably.”

“Alright.”

They each put a couple bucks on the table and stood to leave. It wasn’t until they were back in the car that Gerard thought about what leaving meant.

“Are you gonna be okay if I drop you at your house?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I’ll be okay now.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

They drove in silence again. Well, near silence; Frank said quietly at one point that Gerard needed some good music. The CD player in his car held six CDs, but it had been empty since the car was purchased. It wasn’t until they were parked in Frank’s driveway that he spoke again.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem man.”

“Like, really though, thank you.”

“Yeah.”

Frank started to get out.

“Uh, text me later, just so I know you’re okay.”

Frank smiled back at him. “Yeah, alright.” That was good.

Gerard sat in his car and watched to make sure Frank made it inside alright. He checked what Mikey sent him earlier.

[I expect a full report when you get back.]

The sun had not started to rise when he pulled into his own driveway. The house was still asleep, no lights on. He opened the door quietly and went up to his room. Mikey wasted no time in coming in, sitting on the bed, and asking what happened.

“Uh, you know my newspaper partner, Frank?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, uh, he needed someone to pick him up.”

“And he picked you?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“For like four hours?”

“We talked for a while.”

“You just talked?”

“We grabbed coffee and talked, yeah.”

“Okay.”

And that was it. Mikey went back to his own room. Gerard opened his window and sat on his bed, there was no way he’d be able to sleep for a while. Something was nagging at him, that strange something that tugs at a person, the desire to create. He grabbed a pencil and paper and leaned back against the headboard, drawing and watching the sun rise. And when the sky was fully illuminated, the heavy feeling of familiar tiredness came rushing in like the tide. The drawing was shoved hastily into the drawer in his nightstand, and Gerard fell asleep.

It was shortly after noon when he jolted awake. There had been a thought pressing on the forefront of his unconscious mind, but he had forgotten it. Whatever the reason was for suddenly waking up like that, he couldn’t find. It was too warm under the comforter, too thick. He’d fallen asleep in his jeans. The window was still open, thank god for bug screens. For some reason, he felt as if a great idea had been lost forever. His phone was on the nightstand, no texts from Frank.

Mikey was in the kitchen digging in the fridge when Gerard walked in.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You want a sandwich?”

“Sure.”

Later, once the food was on the table;

“Are we still playing tonight?” Mikey was seated at the table, halfway across the room.

“Huh? Uh, yeah I- sHIT” Gerard had been digging in the fridge. The milk was in the back, it was always in the back for some stupid reason. He’d turned and started to stand to answer Mikey’s question and had banged the top of his head on the door of the freezer compartment. “Yeah, we can still play.”

“Alright, cool.”

In all honesty, (and Gerard was being honest with himself on this) he had absolutely no idea what Mikey was talking about. It took him a few minutes to realize he meant their dungeons and dragons game. Luckily, he avoided admitting this by diving into his sandwich.

“I’ll uh, I’ll pick Ray up around three I guess.”

“Alright.”

And then Mikey was off to probably read or something, whatever Mikey does. Gerard deemed it necessary to take a shower and wash off the gross feeling from waking up. While he was grabbing clean clothes from his room, he checked his phone again. No texts from Frank. Fresh out of the shower, checked his phone. Nothing. After reading their game notes from last week, checked his phone. Nothing. He was starting to worry, and in the typical fashion of a worried teenager, he started to wander around the house aimlessly. Laying on the couch. Standing in the kitchen. Opening the fridge for no reason. Walking back to his room. Considering actually doing homework for once. Or college essays. Gross.

Luckily, his phone buzzed.

Frank.

[good morning]

Gerard nearly dropped his phone, one of those oh-god-what-do-I-say-to-this reponses. He fumbled for it, then quickly just tapped out:

[Hey.]

[thanks again for last night]

[Yeah, don’t mention it.]

[brb, taking a shower, sry if i don’t text back]

The image of Frank in the shower totally did not flash through his mind (Gerard was not being honest with himself about this.)

[Ray and Mikey and me are gonna work on our D&D game later, I know you said a while ago you were interested, do you still wanna join? I can pick you up and stuff.]

The wait for this reply was less anxiety-ridden; Frank was awake and he was okay and everything was alright.

[absolutely]

So that was that, the four boys were together. The game was derailed slightly (more than slightly) when they found a Marvel movie marathon on TV; they were sprawled throughout the living room, sitting on relocated couch cushions, the coffee table was pushed against the wall. As the credits for Captain America started to roll, the boys set about their game; some minor character design was needed for Frank, as well as some explanation. A lot of explanation, really. Since there were only three of them, it was hard to have a successful party campaign. Their version of the game had somewhat devolved into more of a storytelling session. Currently, Dalys Steelmend (Mikey) and Tevron Grittlebeard (Ray), two paladins from the kingdom of men, had set off in search of something that Gerard had failed to specify. So far they'd travelled from the idyllic plains of their homeland to the west, toward the sea. The land to the west had been struck with plague and pestilence, and was an absolute wasteland (okay, so Gerard had been reading a lot of Cormac McCarthy, and it influenced the game.) Gerard's abilities as a raconteur shone through. It was fun, it was an adventure, it was better than movies because it was them. Acting for those with stage fright. None of them really remembered when they decided to switch to their modified version of the game, it didn't really matter.

Gerard was well into escorting the two heroes to their likely deaths in the goblin mines when he noticed the way Frank was looking at him, almost staring. It made him self conscious, to say the least. Very aware of the way his hands always moved when he talked, very aware of how reedy his laugh sounded, how messy his hair probably looked, how he was taking plot points from Mark Twain and mixing them with whatever he remembered from AP Psych. Something about stealing medicine or whatever, treasure in a cave. He couldn’t truly focus on it, not with Frank looking at him like that.

It was two in the morning when someone pointed out that, well, it was two in the morning. The sleeping bags were spread out, the couch cushions relocated, territories were staked. Ray and Mikey slept next to each other right smack in the middle of the room, right below the fan. Gerard slept on the left of them, Frank next to him. It took tremendous effort not to roll over and watch Frank sleep, like-holy-shit-man-that-would-be-so-creepy-what-the-hell. Ray and Mikey were out like lights, he could hear Frank’s breathing get slower and heavier a little later. This was the second night in a row he was with Frank at this hour; it was a trend he didn’t really mind. After looking off into the darkness of the ceiling for a while, Gerard realized that the homecoming dance had been that night. He’d technically spent homecoming with Frank. He was glad no one was awake to see him blush.

The morning rolled around in that sleepy way that Sunday mornings do. Ray’s parents came to pick him up late in the morning, Gerard was driving Frank home.

Another trend that was forming was that neither of them spoke in the car. It wasn’t until they were parked in front of Frank’s house that either of them said anything.

“Thanks, man.”

“Huh? Yeah, don’t mention it.”

“No, I mean really, thank you. That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I, uh.” Gerard looked down at his hands hoping he wouldn’t blush, his fingers hooked on the bottom of the steering wheel. “Yeah, I had fun, too.” He heard Frank move, he thought Frank was getting out. Gerard looked up in the hopes of a wave goodbye or a see-you-tomorrow or something. He was met with Frank cupping his face with one hand.

And then their lips were touching.

And then they were actively kissing.

It didn’t really last long. Frank pulled away and grinned. Gerard sat there blushing like a dumbass.

“See you tomorrow.” Frank was out the door and moving up his driveway before Gerard zoned back in to reality.

He drove home.

He walked inside.

He went to his room, shut the door, dove face-first into his bed, and screamed into a pillow. Probably for like, ten years. It was probably only like five minutes, but still. He just kissed Frank.

He just

Kissed

Frank.

After his initial holy-shit-that-just-happened phase, he laid there for a long time, staring at the ceiling. Running his fingers over his own lips, placing his hand where Frank’s had been on his face, trying to re-experience the scene, the way it felt, the way Frank felt.

Holy shit.

Was it weird he liked it so much? It was weird he liked it so much. All those suppressed thoughts he’d tried to hide since the first day of school came flooding back. He considered calling Frank, talking about all of this. Gerard realized that in his daze, he had left his phone in the glove box of the car. It was probably for the best; how do you even begin to talk about things like this with anyone? Hey-I-think-I’m-gay-and-you-made-me-realize-it? Gerard wasn’t even sure how he felt, there was no way he could put it into words to anyone. In the fashion of most teenagers facing deep personal questions and lacking anyone to talk to about those questions, Gerard sat up and moved to his desk, booted up the computer. Google, always.

“am i gay or is this just-”

He didn’t really know what “this” was. Partners? A phase? Backspace.

“am i gay”

Lots of results. Tests and quizzes, descriptions, something about boy scouts. Too much to sift through, too personal to really be answered by anyone other than himself. Back to bed, back to staring at the ceiling. He’d had a crush on Genevieve, he really did; she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, she smelled like vanilla, he couldn’t get her out of his head. He liked girls, yeah. But he also liked Frank.

It was probably a few hours that he spent thinking, judging by the way the light coming through the window changed. Of course, as most teenagers are prone to do when in bed for stretches of time, he fell asleep. In his jeans again, no less. Frank was starting to give him some weird habits, he wasn’t sure if he appreciated this one.

The clock read 3:14 when he woke up again. The darkness outside meant 3:14 AM. School in a couple hours. Shit. Gerard still felt tired, that sort of milky tired when you think you’re getting sick. Slept-in jeans, cotton taste in the mouth. He turned the nightstand lamp on; too bright, too yellow. Someone had left a plate of food on his desk, cold dinner. He debated just going back to sleep, but it was too late; the light was on, there were only a few hours left. So he ate slowly in bed, picking at cold mashed potatoes. Today was going to be shitty.

Thankfully, everyone seemed to feel that way. Substitute teacher in illustration, a documentary in anatomy. They were actually learning something in stats today, but he couldn’t be assed to pay attention; just google it later or something. So much for the work ethic of AP students.

It was newspaper that was worrying him. With good reason; when Frank walked in, he looked physically ill. The two sat together anyway. There was a layout they needed to organize, a spotlight on the team’s winning streak. Their talk was brief, almost pointed. Class passed impossibly slow. Maybe it had just been a fluke, maybe they were back to being just partners.

The bell rang, finally. Gerard was going to go to the library and wait out traffic, maybe; at this rate, he might even go just hide in a bathroom on one of the upper floors just to be alone. He left the room quickly, he was halfway to the library when someone grabbed his arm, yanked him into the nearest stairwell: Frank, looking as if he had a million and one things on his mind.

“We need to talk.”

“Okay?”

“Look man, I realize what happened yesterday was totally weird and out of line and I’m sorry-”

“Frank-”

“No, let me finish. I’m sorry I did it and I hope that you can forgive me and we can at least be friends.”

Gerard looked at him incredulously. “Frank, you don’t need to apologize.”

“Yeah I-”

“No, you don’t. I, uh.” Gerard looked around, the stairwell was blessedly empty. “I uh, I actually liked it.”

It was Frank’s turn to looked shocked. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, I really liked it.” It felt good to say out loud.

“Then like… You did?”

“Yeah, I really did.”

“Then why didn’t you text me back? I spent all day yesterday worried you hated me.”

“What? I- oh shit.” Gerard thought of his phone, still in the glove box and probably dead by now. “I’m sorry, Frank, I left my phone in the car.”

“You left it in the car?”

“Yeah, uh, after uh, y’know, I was sorta just dazed, and the phone didn’t really register in my brain.”

“So you’re not mad about it?”

“No, I’m not.”

“You don’t hate me?”

“Nope. Are you mad at me?”

“Of course not.”

“Okay, good. So, we’re cool?”

“Yeah, we’re cool.”

“Good. Because there’s something I’ve kinda wanted to do since yesterday.” More than kinda, he’d been absolutely dying to do it; Gerard grabbed Frank and kissed him again. Somewhere in his brain, beneath the sexuality questions and the self-doubt, Gerard had decided that he really, really liked Frank and he really, really wanted to kiss him again.

The dynamics were a little different now, standing up. Frank was a couple inches shorter than Gerard, he had to lean into it. There was the nagging feeling that someone might catch them; Gerard could see the slurs sharpied on his locker door in Jack Waters’ handwriting. And of course, the obvious fact that Gerard had never initiated any sort of romantic contact with anyone before ever, much less a kiss, much less a boy. But this wasn’t just a boy, this was Frank, and Frank seemed worth it.

When they pulled apart, Frank had the same grin as the day prior.

“Gerard?”

“Mhm?”

“Was that your first kiss yesterday?” He looked like he was about to start laughing.

“Uh, yeah. It was.”

“Oh my god.” The grin grew wider.

“What, was it that bad?” A minor sense of indignance.

“No, uh, I mean it’s fine, but like-”

“But like what?”

“Nothing, but uh, you’re just really fucking cute when you blush like that.” He started giggling in earnest, had to take a second to compose himself. “Alright, so you’re kinda bad at it-”

“I’m bad at it?” There wasn’t anger there, no sense of resentment at the comment. It was the sort of disappointment when you forget about a cup of tea and only remember it when it’s lukewarm at best, disappointment in yourself.

“Well, I mean, yeah. But no one is born good at kissing, that’s a myth. It just takes practice, is all.”

“Oh.” Another forgotten cup of tea. Just pour the whole fucking kettle out. Gerard’s gaze dropped to the floor.

“But, hey.” Frank stuck a finger under Gerard’s chin and lifted his face, making eye contact. “We can practice together.” He gave Gerard another quick peck. This time, both boys were grinning when they pulled away.

“Does this make us a couple?”

“We can be whatever you want to be.”

It’s so much easier to breathe when the air is clear, you know. After it rains, sunlight after being in a cold room, the feeling of a bed after a long time away from home; to stop worrying feels like coming up for air. It was with new lungs that Gerard strode to his car. The week passed easily, like sliding into your favorite jeans. Frank rode with Gerard to the game, stood with him the whole time. He seemed nervous about something, Gerard was too busy with the pictures to notice what it was. They decided to go to IHOP after (Frank had asked Gerard, technically it was their first official date.) The electric hum hadn’t quite set in yet, that usually came after midnight. The two talked, Gerard and Frank, and it was the same Frank from the first day of school. That was the only Frank now, and as far as Gerard was concerned, it was his Frank.

The date became a weekly thing, every Friday night, coffee. Sometimes Frank would spend the night, sometimes he would wait until Saturday and they would hang out with Ray and Mikey. It was easy, it felt right. When Frank slept over on Friday nights, they both just slept in Gerard’s bed, it was easier. Sometimes they kissed. Sometimes they talked. Sometimes Frank asked Gerard to just read something; usually it was whatever book was being discussed in class, sometimes Gerard just grabbed a play off the shelf. ("In love? Out. Of love?" Frank had commented quietly at that part, something Gerard didn't quite catch.)Sometimes they just were together in silence, or at least, not talking; Frank usually brought music of some variety. After some selective questioning, he’d figured out what Gerard liked to listen to, and started supplying more of it; he’d even gotten a couple CDs together for the car. It just became another thing, coffee and CDs. And even on nights Frank wasn’t there, they were still talking, late night phone calls and texts. Between Frank and college stuff and homework, Gerard was probably well into the triple digits as far as debted hours of sleep went, but he didn’t care.

They had to keep their relationship a secret, of course. They weren’t sure if anyone would really start shit, they weren’t sure if anyone actually gave a flying fuck what they did as far as students were concerned. Parents would be a different matter. But keeping it secret was alright for now, they agreed.

The last football game of the year was approaching, the second Saturday in November.  Neither boy was really worried about it, they’d get assigned to something else once it was over. That Monday, during one of their usual late-night text conversations, Frank said that his parents would both be out of town all weekend on business, and that he wanted Gerard to stay with him. Of course Gerard gladly would, not thinking much of it. Just what they usually did, lay around and watch movies and listen to music.

It didn’t hit him until an hour later, after Frank had fallen asleep.

His parents would be gone.

They would be alone.

Together.

In a house.

For a weekend.

Now, Gerard had no relationship experience whatsoever, but between all the gossip he heard from Mikey and all the movies he’d seen, he knew what teenagers did when their parents were gone and they were alone together in the house for a weekend.

And it kinda-sorta-absolutely terrified him.

If life were written in stage directions, they would’ve gone something like “Gerard: [begins screaming, does not stop.]”

Of course, when something terrifies you, the usual advice is to research it, learn more about it in order to make it less scary. Sometimes people even grow to love things they once feared, like sharks or snakes. Research of this variety had the opposite effect on Gerard; he just became increasingly nervous about the whole thing. He didn’t know if his back would bend like that, didn’t know if he could do that, holy-shit-how-did-that-guy-even-get-his-legs-there-what-the-hell. Cosmopolitan had too many tips involving ice cubes in ways that ice cubes probably did not want to be used. Diagrams, stuff ripped from porn, stuff ripped from anatomy books; he considered asking Ms. Mitchell for her opinion. Probably that if he was going to be fucking another boy, he better do well on the male anatomy section of the midterm. Reading wasn’t proving useful, he debated going to porn for visual aids. It all seemed like too much. Maybe he was overthinking it.

While he was getting out of the shower Friday morning, he stopped to examine himself in the bathroom mirror; for someone who usually hated how they looked, this was entirely atypical. He tugged at the extra weight around his stomach, around his hips and waist. Pasty. He pulled at his neck, noticing how much sharper his jawline would look if he lost weight in his face. He leaned in close, the bathroom counter pushing into his hips. Looked at his face, god he hated his teeth. Turned around, examined his back half. Pale, so fucking pale. Even though he’d just washed it, his hair looked greasy. He’d shaved yesterday, luckily the stubble on his face hadn’t started to really come back in; his face was not what he was contemplating shaving. He was thinking of the men pictured on all of the magazines, he didn’t look like them. Tanned, hairless, Adonis-like guys, versus weird-pale-chubby-probably-passable-as-a-vampire. Mikey unknowingly made the choice for him by hammering on the door, come-on-dude-you’ve-been-in-there-forever-I-need-to-use-the-bathroom-too.

The plan was for all four boys to ride to Gerard and Mikey’s house after school; Mikey and Ray would stay there, Gerard would dump his school stuff and grab his weekend stuff, then get back in the car and drive with Frank to Frank’s house. Gerard realized upon entering that he hadn’t been inside Frank’s house before and found it blessedly normal. Frank’s room was painted an off-white color, the sheets were white, the wood in the furniture was light; it all looked very soft, nothing with a clearly defined edge. The curtains, also white, were drawn. The whole room felt like falling asleep. Frank noticed Gerard looking around.

“I like to keep it simple, I guess.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Gerard was mentally comparing it to his own room; messy, shades of brown in the paint and sheets and furniture, stuff on the walls, the window always open. He never really noticed how noisy his room was.

Frank fell into bed, his dark hair and clothes contrasting sharply with the whites. A quick “c’mere.” Gerard accepted the invitation gladly and laid down next to him. Frank took the opportunity and climbed on top of him, placed his chin on Gerard’s chest, and looked up at him. Gerard watched him for a few minutes, the way Frank’s head would move up and down with the rising and falling of his own breathing.

“Frank?”

“Hm?”

“What are you doing?” A bemused smile broke out across his face, Frank just looked too endearing like that. Fucking fawn eyes or something.

“I dunno. I just like you being in here.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, I like you everywhere, but I really just like you being in here.”

Gerard made a small noise of understanding and relaxed his head back. The ceiling fan was still, it was asleep like the room. He wondered if Frank had ever stared at it and thought of him.

Frank reached up and gently pushed Gerard’s hair back, off of his forehead, let his fingers drift slowly down the side of Gerard’s face, along his jawline, until his fingertips graced down the pale neck and were contented to rest at the junction of Gerard’s neck and collarbone, touching lightly enough to feel the pulse there. The entire motion had been slow, delicate, deliberate; Gerard had closed his eyes to enjoy it properly. A beat passed. Frank shifted now, gently moving off of Gerard to lay next to him. Gerard felt warm breath near his neck, figured that’s where his head had ended up. Frank’s hand drifted from Gerard’s neck down to his chest, to the place where his chin had previously resided. Gerard held that hand, gently circling his thumb along the back of it.

“Yeah, I really like you being here.”

It was quiet, just the boys breathing. Somewhere a car sped up. Somewhere the wind rustled the leaves. Somewhere, someone was doing something dramatic. But here in this room, the boys were content. Osso buco, the lion’s paw. Gerard still had his eyes closed, it was so strange to be so close to another person. He’d never been one for physical contact, not even with family, but here he was. One of Frank’s legs was still draped over him, the knee was between his thighs. He’d wrapped an arm around Frank, rested his hand on Frank’s waist, Frank’s hand on his chest, holding Frank’s hand there, Frank’s breathing. Frank Frank Frank, it was all Frank. Somewhere below his ear, a small noise of contentment.

“Are you gonna fall asleep on top of me?”

Frank laughed quietly, Gerard felt his chest tremble with the sound. “Nah, I’m just thinking.”

“About what?”

“That first night in September.”

“When I picked you up?”

“Yeah.”

“What were you thinking about that?”

“Why I left that party, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.”

“And why did you leave?”

“You wanna know? It’s cheesy as hell.”

“Only if you want to tell me.”

“I left because of you.” Frank paused for a moment, they were both probably blushing. “I told you it was cheesy.”

“No, no, I think it’s sweet. Why did I make you leave, though?”

“Well, I was sitting there, and it was just really loud and busy, y’know? And I was just thinking about you, and I sorta just realized how unhappy I was there with all of those people, so I left.”

“Why did I make you realize that?”

“That’s sorta what I’ve been thinking about here. I guess it was just that first day, meeting you and stuff. You just came off as very put-together, totally self-contained. You’re your own person, y’know? And I really liked that about you. And sitting at that party, I realized that I wanted that for myself. So I left. And then, y’know. You came. And stuff.” Gerard cut him off by moving, shifting to his side to face Frank, to pull him closer.

A few minutes of quiet breathing.

“Frankie?”

“Mhm?”

“Am I cold to you?”

“What?”

“Like, you always feel really warm to me. Like, your skin and stuff. Do, like, do I feel cold?”

“Oh man, you scared me, I thought you were going somewhere sad with that.” Frank let out a relieved laugh, still so warm. “Uh, yeah, sometimes. Usually it’s your hands. Sometimes you feel like a corpse.” Another little laugh. “But I like that, because it means I can warm ‘em up.”

It went on. Quiet breathing, quiet talking. the light drifted out of the room slowly, falling asleep. The white of the walls seemed to glow softly in the setting light, the whole room was their blanket. It had been dark for a while when they finally got up. Ordered pizza. Sat in the kitchen, it was almost too bright there. Sitting on the countertop, feet of space between them. The space was alright now. Two weeks ago, they spent every possible second touching, now they’d moved on from that honeymoon period. (Gerard had brought this up, Frank had suggested they buy a house together in the suburbs and settle down.) Frank was quietly tapping his fingers on the counter; Gerard was struck by how quiet the house was otherwise.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah?”

“Is your house always this quiet?”

Beat, a moment to think.

“Kinda, yeah.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

Another second for thought.

“Yeah, it does.” He shifted his gaze to the linoleum. “A lot, actually. That’s why I keep so much music around.” He slid off the countertop and walked to stand in front of Gerard, wrapped his arms around him, pulled him into a hug. “That’s why I like you being here so much, I think.”

They embraced quietly until the doorbell rang for the pizza person. Ate quietly. Ended up on the couch watching Captain America together for the ten millionth time. It was Gerard's turn to lay on top of Frank, to feel the way Frank played with his hair, to listen to the heartbeat in Frank's chest. Gerard had started to drift off to sleep, Frank woke him and they went together to bed. You don't need the television when you're not sleeping alone. Pajama pants and quiet kisses. The room had already been asleep, it was easy to drift off.

Gerard woke up first, he usually did. Frank's back was to him, that was usually how they slept. He pressed a small kiss below Frank's ear, it was all habit.

Frank took a while to wake up. Gerard had been absentmindedly circling his thumb on the skin exposed at Frank’s waist, thinking about whatever. He didn’t zone back in to reality until Frank had turned over and was actively kissing him.

“Good morning” during a pause.

“Morning.”

The day went on. Breakfast in pajamas, quiet conversation. Very domestic. Gerard took the bathroom to shower first, Frank had insisted. Which then left Gerard to sit on Frank’s bed while Frank took his turn. He checked his phone, Mikey had texted him asking if he could borrow Gerard’s computer because it was attached to the printer.

The game was cold, the wind would pull at their clothes and slice right through them. The team won, courtesy of some smart moves by none other than Jack fucking Waters, which meant they’d have to interview him after. Jack flashed one of his big grins with his perfectly straight white teeth, he knew how to look good for the camera. Frank seemed weird about the whole thing, rushed through the questions quickly. Jack didn’t look too thrilled about it either. Gerard wasn’t sure if he should ask Frank about it. He decided against it.

Both boys were freezing when they finally got back to Frank’s. Frank, of course, had a slight smile on his face.

“I’ve got an idea or two for getting warm.” Before Gerard really had time to catch Frank’s drift, Frank was already holding both of his hands, was kissing him. “You’re getting better at this.” Gerard could feel Frank’s lips pull into a smile. It was easy enough to fall into bed, Frank climbed on top of him. Gerard still was not entirely sure of what he was supposed to do with his hands, he ended up placing them on Frank’s waist. Frank had one hand tangled in Gerard’s hair, one hand was moving. Gerard’s jaw, then down to his chest, and then down further. Frank was undoing Gerard’s belt buckle when Gerard finally caught up.

“Frank.”

“Hmm?” Gerard felt Frank’s fingers sliding past the waistband of his briefs, he couldn’t help but notice how warm Frank’s fingers were, how nice they felt.

“I, uh, I-” He had no idea how to say it.

“Hm? What, OH.” Frank got the message, pulled his hand away.

“Yeah, uh. Sorry.”

Frank moved off of Gerard, sat next to him instead. “Don’t be sorry dude, I get it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. You just, like, uh, don’t feel ready, yeah?”

“Kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“Well, uh. This sounds probably like, weird. But like, I kinda just. Like.” Gerard was getting frustrated with his own inability to express himself. “I, uh, sex weirds me out. And like, sexual stuff.”

“Oh.” Frank seemed to be thinking for a moment. “Okay.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry dude, I get it. Lots of people are like that.”

Gerard raised an eyebrow at him. “You say that like you’ve, uh, y’know, with a lot of people.”

“There’s been a few people that I’ve uh, known in the uh, biblical sense.” That’s quite a way to phrase it.

“Like, people as in the plural gender-neutral term?”

Frank didn’t blush nearly as easily as Gerard did, but there was still a hint of pink. “Uh, yeah. There was a guy for a couple years, he’s sort of like. How I started figuring things out. And then, like, a few girls.”

“Oh.” In his mind, Gerard was imagining that other guy. Tall, tan, hot.

“Yeah. But uh, thanks for telling me that you like, weren’t okay with that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, like, if you aren’t okay with something, I wanna know. Okay?”

“Uh, yeah, okay.” Frank leaned in and kissed Gerard, something quick and almost chaste about it.

“Cool.” Frank had one of his half-smiles on again. There was something grossly contagious about his smiles. “Oh, I forgot, I have something for you, hold on.” Frank jumped off the bed and began digging through his desk drawers. He pulled out something small and handed it to Gerard.

“A CD?”

“Yeah, but uh, it’s different.”

“What do you mean?”

“I uh, I tried to figure out your favorite songs, and I uh, I played them.”

“Oh my god.”

“Is that okay? You, uh, you don’t have to, uh.”

“Frank, this is incredible.” He looked down at the CD in his hands, it felt so much more immense than it looked. “Thank you.” If Gerard had been looking at Frank in that moment, he would’ve noticed the pink flush in his cheeks grow more rosy. But he kept his gaze to the CD, opened the case, read Frank’s messy handwriting on top in black sharpie. “I love you.” It felt almost weird to say, Gerard had never said it to anyone outside of his immediate family. But it also felt right to say, the words came easy enough.

Frank was grinning now. “I love you too.”

The rest of the weekend passed quickly, way too quickly. Gerard found himself back at home Sunday afternoon, mentally preparing to finish college applications as he walked through the door. Mikey was sitting on his bed and had other plans.

“Hey.”

“What’s up, Mikes?”

“You, uh, I used your computer.”

“Yeah, I said you could.”

“Well, uh, there’s uh, you left some tabs open, and they, uh.”

Gerard had no idea what he was talking about and raised an eyebrow in questioning. Mikey looked like he was struggling with how to be delicate with the subject. “Spit it out, Mikey.”

“You could’ve told me you were, y’know, gay.”

“What?”

“Your computer, you left like fucking Cosmo articles about sucking dick open, dude.”

Gerard covered his face with his hands. “Oh my god. Oh my god oh my god oh my god.”

“So is that uh, why you were with Frank all weekend? Because that’s gonna make D&D a little weird.”

“No. Okay, so listen.” Gerard took a deep breath, hopefully Mikey was open minded about this sort of thing. They’d never really breached the topic before. “So like. Me and Frank are dating, yeah. But not like, not like that, yeah?” He gestured toward the computer. “Not like that.”

“How long have you two been together?”

“Since September.”

“And you’re already, like, at that stage?” Mikey gave a vague nod toward the computer.

“No no no, it’s just, uh.” Gerard didn’t have words for it. We’re-not-actually-fucking-I’m-just-a-nervous-loser-who-is-terrified-of-intimacy?

“You don’t have to tell me dude, it’s your business. I was just sort of, taken aback I guess. Y’know? Like I thought you would’ve told me something like that.”

“Yeah, I would’ve, but I still don’t really know what it really is.”

“Oh.” Something about that seemed to make sense to Mikey. Power to him, at least one person in the room understood. “I didn’t tell mom or dad or anything.”

“Thanks.”

Football season was over, their schedules no longer revolved around Friday nights. IHOP dates became morning things, spending the night together and getting pancakes after. November kept on, the weather becoming gloomier and Gerard’s mood following it. (You’d think someone who suffered from seasonal depression would’ve figured out that he should buy a fucking sun lamp or something, but no.) Mikey was usually the one he would go to about this sort of stuff, Mikey understood it.

“I just. It’s. It’s like. I don’t know.” He wasn’t really talking to Mikey, he was sort of just talking to the ceiling fan.

“It’s not like before, is it?” Mikey was sitting in the desk chair, looking at his brother.

“Uh, not right now it isn’t. It’s just sort of. Like. Not wanting to like, exist.”

“Have you told Frank about it?”

“No.”

“Have you considered it?”

“Not really.”

“You may wanna like, warn him. Or something.”

“Why?”

“Well, like, you do this thing where you kinda drop everything real for like, months. And you know you do it, I know you know you do it.”

“So what do I tell him? Sorry I wanna die a lot and I may just stop talking to you for days on end?”

“I mean. That’s. Not a good way to say it.” Mikey paused a moment. “Do you want me to tell him?”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Well, yeah.”

Beat.

“Have you talked to anyone else about this lately?”

“Uh, not really.”

“What about Ms. H? You know she loves you.”

“Yeah but that’s like. Who talks to teachers about their problems?”

“Lots of people. If you try talking to her, I’ll tell Frank about this. Okay?”

“Okay.”

So that’s how Gerard ended up knocking on Ms. H’s office door after school the next day. She looked glad to see him.

“Hey, Gerard! Take a seat, what do you need?”

“Actually, I, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Is it a newspaper something or a personal something?”

“Personal.”

She got up and shut the door. “Just between us, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She sat back down, leaned forward slightly; active listening. “So what’s up?”

“I’ve just uh. I’ve been feeling really down lately.”

“And is there anything in particular causing it?”

“I mean, it’s kinda like. A seasonal thing, y’know? Like, it happens every year. But like, I dunno. I just. I hate it. And, you know my brother Mikey, yeah? I talk to him a lot about this stuff, and he suggested I talk to you about it.”

“Yeah, I’m glad you are talking about this stuff. Some kids don’t, and it’s just, it’s not healthy.” Beat. “So like, you said you’re feeling down, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“How ‘down’ is down?”

“Well, uh. I don’t know.”

“Okay, so let’s try this. On a scale of one to ten, one being normal and ten being the absolute worst you’ve ever felt, how would you guess you are right about now?”

“Uh. Maybe like, a six.” He looked down at his hands. “But a ten is like. I don’t ever wanna be at ten again.”

“How bad is ten?”

“Just. Really bad.” He didn’t want to say it. He just, really didn’t want to say it.

“Okay.” she got the message. “Now, is there anything you want me to do for you? Like, I can call teachers and stuff. Or like, do you just need someone to talk to?”

“I dunno. I guess just someone who knows about it. Like, it’s weird to talk to people about.”

“Alright, well, I have an idea. Do you do any clubs or anything after school on Mondays? You can just come in and hang out here if you want.”

“Uh. Yeah. Sure. Thanks.”

“Of course.”

He did go in and see her the next Monday.

(“Do you watch Game of Thrones?” “Yeah, but I liked the books better.” “Oh my god, me too.”)

And the next Monday.

(“Quick, help me grade these assignments.” “Why do you have so many?” “I got distracted on Pinterest for like four hours yesterday.”)

And every Monday he could. Ms. H had a cat named Jon Snow. She was going to help chaperone the French club’s trip to Paris that spring. She had watched the entire twelve-hour PBS showing of Richard II, Henry IV parts one and two, and Henry V just because she thought both Ben Whishaw and Tom Hiddleston were fantastic. Gerard talked about his illustration projects and his ideas for comics. He talked about whatever school drama he heard through Mikey (“I probably shouldn’t say this, but that Moss kid is a pain in the ass and she should totally have dumped him.” “Oh my god.” “What, teachers can’t gossip too?”)

November was rolling quickly, blurring into December. The weather grew colder and stayed that way. Gerard tried explaining how he felt to Frank at one point, like you’re sitting in a warm house and you feel warm, but when you go outside you can feel the cold set in slowly until your toes are numb. Some days were good and some days were bad. Frank tried his best to understand, tried to help if he could. It was a lot of sitting in silence, a lot of idle touches, a lot of reminders that “I love you,” “you’re amazing,” “it’ll get better.”

Midterms hit like a freight train, rushed and loud. The winter break that followed was a heavy silence in comparison. It was weird to not have the structure of school. Gerard emailed Ms. H a few times just to check in, if he was being honest with himself he would say he enjoyed their time together.

He and Frank spent as much time as possible together, working around visiting family and holiday activities. He ended up giving Frank the drawing from September as a Christmas gift. He’d actually gone back and added a bit of coloring to it, cleaned up some lines, inked the sketch. Something about the color of the streetlamp that night had stuck with him, and he’d ended up putting a watered-down version of the color in. A dusty yellow. A light pink, the color Frank’s skin turned in the cold weather. It wasn’t his typical color palette, but it felt right.

December pressed into January. Grey skies every day. Gerard just felt tired, always so tired.

“Dude, are you okay?” Lit, sometime in the middle of January. Gerard didn’t know what day it was, he didn’t care.

“Huh?” He’d been mindlessly scribbling in the margin of a page.

“We thought you would’ve been all over this shit.” The entire discussion group was looking at him, varying degrees of concern on their faces. They were speaking quietly so the teacher wouldn’t overhear.

“Oh. Uh. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry dude. Just like, are you okay?”

“Uh. Yeah. I just uh, I didn’t read the book.”

“You didn’t? But you’re like, you’re the book person.”

“I just uh, I didn’t want to.” That’s probably the best way he could explain how he felt. Nothing felt worth doing. He expressed this to Ms. H.

“And what level would you say you’re at now?”

“Uh, maybe like an eight. But. Like.” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence without potentially causing alarm.

“But what?” Too late, she was concerned now.

“Sometimes I just uh.” He looked down to his hands, he always looked at his hands when he talked about this. He was ashamed of it.

“Gerard.” Very quiet, the tone was serious. “I’m gonna ask you something, okay? And it’s not gonna leave this room, okay?”

“Okay.” He knew what was coming.

“Have you ever thought about killing yourself?”

There was shame burning in his face, not the blushing kind. “That’s what ten is.”

“Have you tried?”

“No. But sometimes I still think about it.” He needed to try and save face here somehow. “But I uh, I could never really do it. Not to Mikey, I could never do that to him.”

“Does Mikey know? Do your parents know?”

“Mikey knows, I think my parents know. But uh, it’s just. It’s hard to talk about.”

“You should make sure they know. I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to tell them.”

“Yeah.”

He did tell them. Well, he told his mom quietly one day, and she told his father. It was just easier that way.

January turned into February the way ice turns into slush, but finally it melted. Ironically, it wasn’t until the week after Valentine’s day. They hadn’t done anything for it, aside from the usual. But the sun had been out a bit the week of the twenty-first, and everything felt marginally less terrible. Somewhere along the way, pancake dates had kind of fallen apart.

[Hey, are you awake?] It was 8AM on a Saturday, Gerard figured Frank would sleep in.

[yeah, why?] Something told him Frank had left his ringer on loud enough to wake him up.

[Let’s go get food.]

[now?]

[Yeah.]

[cool]

Frank had showered while Gerard was on the way over, his hair was still wet when he got in the car. He had another CD to put in. Now there was a full set of six, all sung by Frank.

Later, over a dish that was quite literally called Rooty-Tooty Fresh ‘n’ Fruity pancakes;

“Gerard?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re smiling.”

“Oh?” He hadn’t really noticed.

“Yeah.” Frank broke into a grin too. “I missed seeing you smile like that.”

Things got better after that. The back half of February was pleasant enough. March started, everything felt more normal. Ms. H had assigned them to articles about the school clubs, since there was no more football. Books were interesting again (“The cyst thing on his leg is a symbol for sex.” “What.” “Yeah.” “Glad you’re reading again, we’re all fucked without you.”)

Gerard had gotten used to things being okay again. So when Jack Waters was standing at his locker after school, he knew something was up. Something in the way Jack stood made it pretty apparent that he was waiting for Gerard.

“Hey, dude.”

“Hey.”

“Can I uh, can we talk?” Jack glanced around. No one was paying them much mind, but he still leaned in closer. “Like, in private?”

“Uh, sure, I guess.” Gerard was mentally preparing himself for getting the absolute shit beat out of him.

Jack led him off to one of the stairwells, and then up a few flights to the third floor. No one else was up here, ideal for getting away with murder.

“So, you and Frank are like, friends, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Oh god. Gerard was gonna end up with the word ‘queer’ branded on his forehead or something terrible.

“And like, you’re close, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So like, he’d tell you personal stuff?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Has he um, mentioned me?”

“What?”

“Or like, has he mentioned other guys to you?” The weird tone in Jack’s voice made it click in Gerard’s head. Jack was the other boy, he was the one Frank was with before.

“Oh, uh. He’s uh, he mentioned you once or twice.”

“He has?” Jack seemed thrilled. “Okay, uh, this is gonna be weird to say, but I need you to do me a huge favor, dude.”

“Okay?”

“Will you uh, will you tell Frank that, uh.” Jack seemed to be struggling with how to say it. “God, this is weird. Uh, will you tell him that I still care about him? I’m sorry to drag you into all this, but like, I can’t tell him. Things are just too weird between us.”

Gerard felt the floor fall out beneath him. Hollowness. “Uh. Okay.” A small part of him was wondering how worth it it would be to hit Jack in the fucking face. Another part of him wanted to lecture about not dragging people into your private drama. But most of him just felt like he’d been pushed down a flight of stairs.

“Thanks dude. Sorry for like, being weird about this, but like, people cannot know about me and him.” Oh man, did Gerard understand that.

“Why do you trust me with this, though?” Gerard didn’t really mean to blurt it out, but in all honestly Jack had maybe said fifty words to him in their entire time of knowing each other, and it made no sense.

“You seem like a good dude. And Frank trusts you. So. That means you’re a good dude.”

Jack left, Gerard stood there for several minutes before zoning back into reality and realizing he should go home. When he climbed into the driver’s seat, something in his brain had decided that he wasn’t going to tell Frank about it.

Just ignore it and it’ll go away.

Just ignore it and you’ll forget about it.

Just ignore it and you’ll just be bitter about it.

(You shouldn’t ignore these things.)

Luckily, he could shove the incident to the back of his mind. There was the looming threat of college acceptances coming back any day now. Every senior was checking their emails like their lives depended on it.

March 31st, he got the email.

Technically, Mikey got it. They were driving home when Gerard realized he hadn’t checked since that morning. Mikey took the phone out of the glove compartment and went quiet for a minute.

“Dude.”

“What?”

“Pull over.”

“Why?”

“You’re gonna freak out.”

Gerard did. Something in his stomach sank, the nagging feeling of knowing about imminent failure.

“So? What’s it say?”

Mikey looked up from the phone. “You got in, dude.”

“I did?”

“Yeah.”

Mikey was right, Gerard did freak out.

Somewhere in the process of freaking out, he decided he should surprise Frank with the news. He didn’t know when, but somehow.

They were assigned with doing an article about the school badminton club Friday that week. It was mostly a lot of seniors, Gerard recognized several of them and several of them smiled and waved at him. A few people from his discussion group in Lit were even there.

Frank had seemed weird since Thursday morning. He chalked it up to just being tired and having tests. Gerard didn’t push the issue, but Frank seemed to be completely distracted during the whole interview process. Gerard hadn’t seen him like this since they’d had to interview Jack back in November.

They drove home in silence. It began raining lightly. Gerard couldn’t begin to guess what was on Frank’s mind. He didn’t wait for Frank to invite him inside, he wasn’t sure if Frank would. Frank didn’t seem particularly positive or negative about Gerard following him in, didn’t seem to think much of it when Gerard sat down on the bed and watched him move around.

“Frankie.”

“Hm?”

“What’s bothering you?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Stop fucking okay-ing me.”

“Oh.” Gerard dropped his gaze. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just don’t fucking do it.”

Gerard’s response to that involved both “okay” and “sorry,” so he just sort of nodded. He kept watching Frank. He’d assumed that he was just putting stuff away or looking for something or whatever, but it became apparent that Frank was just moving for the sake of moving. He was opening and closing drawers, he was pacing, he was shuffling through papers. The picture from September was taped to the wall in front of Frank’s desk. Gerard kept quiet. Frank’s back was to him.

“I heard the news.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I did.” It was weirdly pointed. Frank slammed a drawer as he said it. Gerard had had enough of this anxious moving; he stood and wrapped his arms around Frank, pulled him close.

“Please tell me what’s wrong.”

Frank pulled away. “It’s you. It’s me. It’s just, like. I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?” Gerard knew this was headed in a very bad direction. He wasn’t sure how to steer away.

“I just. Like, okay. So I’m really happy you got into school and stuff, but like. I hate it. I really hate it, because it means we’re gonna fall apart. and I hate myself for thinking that, but I’ve seen it happen to plenty of people, and I don’t want that.”

“Frankie, we’re not gonna-”

“Don’t say it.”

“Frank.”

“Just. Don’t. It’s a lie.”

“Sorry.”

“Stop being sorry.”

Anger swelled somewhere in the pit of Gerard’s stomach. “Then what am I supposed to be? Huh? What do you want me to be, Frank? Do you want me to be someone else? Do you want me to be Jack fucking Waters?”

“You, you know about that?” Frank sounded like he’d been punched.

“Yeah, I know about that. He told me.” The difference between poison and venom is that venom is injected.

“He did?”

“Yeah, he fucking did. And he told me to tell you he still loves you.”

“What?”

“Yeah, Frank. Your dream quarterback boy still wants you. And clearly you can’t handle being with someone who finally gets something good thrown their way, maybe you should just be with him instead.”

“Gerard, I-”

“Don’t lie to me, Frank.”

“Gerard-”

“No. I get it now. You’ve just always gotta be with someone, and I was just your fucking rebound date. Whatever. Now you’ve got Jack all to yourself, just fucking take him.”

“Gerard-”

“No. We’re through. Out.” Gerard hoped Frank got the reference.

“Out?” The pang of fear-pain-loss in his voice told Gerard that he got it.

“Yeah, out. I’m done.”

Frank didn’t try to stop Gerard as he left. He stood there looking dumbfounded. Whatever. Not Gerard’s problem anymore. So much for being fucking Romeo.

Gerard didn’t particularly want to go home, but he also knew he couldn’t just sit in his car in front of Frank’s house and cry or whatever. So he kind of just started driving. The stereo had turned on when he turned the key, and it took him a few minutes to realize it was one of Frank’s CDs. He hit eject, took the disk. Frank had written in messy sharpie on the top.

“For Gerard”

Gerard threw it out the window and moved to the next one. It was another one of Frank’s. They all were.

“I love you” Out the window.

“You’re everything to me” Out the window.

“You deserve the world” Out the window.

“Always” Out the window.

The rain was falling heavier now. After his outburst, Gerard felt the usual emotional fallout. He didn’t know why he snapped like that. He didn’t know why he acted like that at all. He missed the CDs. He missed Frank. Guilt came crashing down as hard as the rain now, Gerard burst into open sobs. He was somewhere outside town, no idea where, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going back to apologize immediately.

He didn’t know what he really intended to say to Frank. “Hey, sorry I broke up with you like thirty minutes ago. I wanna be back now.”

He was failing to stop the tears.

He was failing to come up with what to say.

He was failing to understand why he acted like that.

He failed to see the guard rail as it followed the road to the left.

Sometimes, when he had been in a particularly depressed mindset, Gerard had considered driving his car off of a bridge. It was a short drop, only time for one thought.

“I hope they know I didn’t mean it.” In both ways it can be interpreted.

He felt the ground and everything went dark, the last thing he remembered was the sound of rain hitting the car.

Just like hearing is the last sense you lose, it’s the first sense you regain. Gerard became vaguely aware of a buzzing noise. It made him think of flies. And pancakes. Pancakes? IHOP. He heard people talking quietly around him, he didn’t really try to listen for what they were saying. It went on for a while, just hearing. Buzz buzz. Something about school. Buzz. Blood pressure. Buzz. He heard his mother’s voice. He couldn’t quite make out what she was saying, but she sounded upset.

His eyelids were heavy, but he could force them open a little bit. Her face was worn-looking, her eyes were puffy. She was gently touching his hand.

“Mom?” Words felt weird, like pulling cotton out of his mouth.

“Yes, sweetie?” Her face was closer now, she’d put her other hand on his.

“Didn’t mean to.” Words were hard, complete sentences were worse. He hoped she knew what he meant.

“I know you didn’t.” She moved up, brushed the hair from his face, kissed his forehead gently. “It’s okay now. Just go to sleep.”

“M’kay.” It wasn’t hard.

The second time he woke up, Mikey was there too. His mouth was pressed thinner than usual.

“Hey mikeyway.”

“H-hey.” Mikey looked like he was about to cry; from grief or joy, Gerard didn’t know. “Go back to sleep, you need to rest.”

He did.

The third time, it was just him and Mikey in there. He felt more awake this time, the heavy feeling was a little less.

“Where’s mom?”

“She went to get something to eat and to rest. She’ll be back in a little while.”

“How long have you both been here?”

“Uh, she’s been here almost the whole time, I’ve been coming after school.”

“After school?” Somewhere in Gerard’s mind, it seemed weird. It had been a Friday night when he’d crashed, there wasn’t school on the weekend.

“Uh, yeah.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Uh, like two and a half weeks. It’s Wednesday, the uh, the twenty-second. Of April. You crashed on the third.”

“Oh.” The falling feeling was back again, the floor felt gone.

“Yeah. We, uh. We were all just, we were all worried that you um, you wouldn’t, y’know.” Mikey was struggling to speak, his voice was cracking at the lump in his throat. He pulled his hoodie a little tighter around himself. “Wouldn’t wake up.”

“Mikey?”

“Yeah?”

“You know I didn’t, like. You know I didn’t mean to crash. It’s not like before, it’s not like the other times. It was an accident.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Okay.” They sat in silence for a moment, Mikey moved closer and sat in the chair by the bed. “I would never do that to you.” A few tears escaped Mikey’s eyes and dripped down, his mouth pressed thin still. He gave Gerard’s hand a little squeeze.

“How do you feel?”

“Everything kind of hurts.”

“You, uh, you missed your birthday.”

“Huh?”

“Your birthday. You’re uh, you’re eighteen now.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“And uh, colleges wanted confirmations by May first, so we went ahead and put you down for SVA.”

“Thanks.”

Beat.

“How bad was it?”

“Uh. Well.” Mikey seemed to be struggling for words. “I’m not sure you really want to know.”

“Oh.” That was answer enough in itself.

“Yeah.” Another pause. “There’s uh, kids at school and stuff. A lot of them gave me cards to give to you.”

“They did?”

“Yeah. They’re uh, all the cards are in my bag. I’ll bring them next time.”

Gerard let his head sink back to the pillow, his eyelids were heavy again. “I didn’t think anyone at school really cared that much.”

“People love you more than you know. Get some sleep, I’ll see you later.”

The next several days were a lot of waking and sleeping, a lot of weird little vignettes. He and his dad had a conversation about shitty hospital coffee. His mom brought an old photo album and they went through childhood pictures together. Mikey brought a backpack full of get-well cards and the brothers read them together. There were lots of simple “get well soon’s,” “we miss you,” the usual stuff. Some people wrote about things Gerard had said or did that stood out to them.

“I didn’t think some of these things were really that important.”

“Maybe not to you, but they mean something to these people.”

“Mikey, you’re a sophomore, you’re not supposed to be full of life advice.”

The two kept reading. Gerard noticed Mikey had hidden a card under his leg.

“Mikey, what’s that one?”

“What?”

“You’re hiding one.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yeah you are, I can see it.”

Mikey moved his leg slightly and pulled the card out. He looked guilty.

Understandably.

The card was Frank’s. Gerard didn’t open it. Instead, he looked up to Mikey.

“Do you uh, did he, like-”

“Yeah, he told me.”

“And, uh-”

“He didn’t know if you wanted him to visit. He said that he didn’t wanna intrude on our family stuff, either.”

“That’s.” Gerard wasn’t sure what the best way to say it was. “Nice of him.” Shockingly mature of him, considerate of him, whatever. He was glad Frank got it. “Thanks, Mikey. For doing all of this.”

“Of course, dude.”

They finally let Gerard out of the hospital a few days later. And then there were a few days at home.

“Can I go back to school yet?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why would you wanna go back, dude?”

“I uh, I like school, I guess.”

Mikey nearly spat out his drink.

“Dude. What happened to senioritis?”

Gerard shrugged.

Going back to school was weird. His arm was still in a sling, he’d broken his collarbone. He’d missed an entire month. The signs in the cafeteria were now all announcing prom, which was apparently in two weeks.

Today was May sixth. Last month of senior year.

AP European History was okay. The teacher was sympathetic, at least. He just needed to read the textbook and make up the unit tests. The only bad thing was the AP exam was literally like, in a matter of days, and he’d missed most of World War II to present day. Whatever. He’d pick whatever essays weren’t about that.

Macro was good, for once. The teacher handed him all the notes in a neatly printed packet, along with an already-filled out exam review. The handwriting wasn’t hers, though.

“Who did this?”

“Hm? Oh, Jack Waters filled it out for you.”

Lit was fun. While he’d been gone, the class had taken on both Heart of Darkness and The Merchant of Venice. Their No Country For Old Men essay was the next class. His discussion group looked at him like some sort of book messiah.

“Uh, Bell is the antelope in the beginning.”

“Glad you’re back, Gerard.” They were all very genuine about it.

And then it was time for newspaper.

Ms. H was overjoyed to see him, pulled him into a hug. He opened his mouth to say something, she already knew what.

“It was an accident, I know.”

“Did Mikey tell you?”

“No. I just know you.” Her face broke into a grin. “But Mikey did tell me you got into SVA. I’m so proud of you!” She pulled him back into a hug, maybe a little too tight for his comfort, but he didn’t mind. “You better come back from school and visit me sometime.”

“Of course I will.” He meant it, he really did. It was starting to make sense that some kids and teachers stayed friends after graduation, he’d never bothered to see it before.

She let him go and sit, had given his assignments to other kids so he could have time to rest and work on other classes. He took his usual chair in the back.

If you’ve ever fallen down a flight of stairs, you’ll understand how Frank felt when he walked in and saw Gerard sitting there, smiling at him.

“You’re back.”

“Yep.”

“How do you feel?”

“Uh, sore. And stressed.”

“Yeah.”

“But I’m here.”

“Yeah. You are.”

Gerard managed to stand. “C’mere.” Frank didn’t hesitate, wrapped his arms around Gerard, careful to avoid the arm in the sling. Gerard still fliched slightly, Frank pulled away.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright, just bruises.” Gerard used Frank as a support to sit back down. Frank sat down as well.

“Are you like, okay though?”

“Yeah, I mean just healing.”

Frank had this kicked-dog look in his eyes again. Gerard wasn’t sure why until a moment later.

“It wasn’t your fault. It was just, I was mad and then it was raining and getting dark, and I didn’t know where I was going, and the road just.” He didn’t have words for the rest of it, he ended his sentence with a vague gesture. He hadn’t really told anyone much about it, other than that it was an accident. They sat in silence for the rest of class. Gerard couldn’t decide if it was comfortable or not. When the bell rang, Frank offered to carry his bag.

“Uh, sure, we’ve gotta swing by my locker though.”

Of course Jack was there when they walked up. Of fucking course. Jack smiled when he saw the two.

“Gerard, you’re back!” Extended his hand, Gerard thought it was a handshake. Instead, Jack used it to pull him into one of those weird one-armed bro hugs. Jack was very firm about touching people, but he was mindful of the sling. “I, uh. I’m glad you’re back.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty glad to be back.”

“I, uh, I wanted to apologize for uh, for what I said back in March. I uh, I just didn’t know you two were, like, y’know. And it uh, it was just weird, and uh, I’m just, I’m sorry about it.”

In all honesty, Gerard had forgotten about it. It took him a moment to figure out what Jack was saying. “What? Oh, man, you’re totally fine. Not a big deal.”

“Really?”

“Well, yeah.”

Jack flashed a grin, different than the ones for the pictures in the paper. This one was genuine. “Cool, man.” He reached his hand out again, this time for one of those half-handshake half-highfives.

“Cool.” Gerard couldn’t help but grin back. Jack walked away, Gerard turned to Frank. “So, uh, are you two, uh?”

“Nope. Just friends, now.” Frank was grinning too, now.

“And are we, uh?”

“We can be whatever you want.” Frank’s grin faded, but his eyes were still sincere.

Gerard busied himself with the locker. “You know I didn’t mean any of that, right?”

“Of course. I didn’t mean any of it either. It was just, we were both mad, or whatever.”

Gerard peeked at Frank from his side of the locker door. “So we’re cool?”

Frank was grinning again. “Absolutely.” After a moment. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Frankie.”

Gerard’s mom had come to pick the boys up from school, seeing as Gerard wasn’t really able to drive and Mikey didn’t have a license. Gerard caught Mikey raising an eyebrow at Frank, Frank reciprocated. Gerard ignored them.

“You coming?”

“Uh, sure.”

Mikey’s internal monologue was probably shouting something about Lord-Jesus-do-I-try-with-you-two, but he kept his thoughts to himself. The ride home was quiet, but it was comfortable silence.

Frank put the books down on Gerard’s desk when they got to his room. Gerard fell into bed, thinking Frank would follow. He didn’t. Frank was eyeing something on the desk, one of the books in the pile.

“Gerard?” He didn’t turn around.

“Yeah?”

“Did you break up with me using a fucking Shakespeare reference?”

Gerard had to think back. “Uh.” Frank turned around, holding Gerard’s copy of Romeo and Juliet. “Oh shit. I did, I did, oh my god.” He covered his face with his good arm, the utter shame of the cliche making him blush.

“You’re a nerd, dude.” Frank laughed as he put the book back on the pile. He joined Gerard, taking care to lay on the side without the sling. “I never really understood that line, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, you’re never really in or out of love, I don’t think. Like, you’re always gonna have some memory of loving that person. At least, that’s what I think.”

“Frankie?”

“Mhm?”

“Did you love Jack?”

Frank paused a moment. “Yeah. I still do, sort of. Like, it’s a different type of love. Like, we both were kind of at weird spots in life, and it just sort of happened. I dunno.”

“I get that, I guess.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” Beat. “High school is weird.”

“At least you’re almost done.”

“Yeah. But y’know, art school isn’t exactly the place to look for normality.”

“Nah, I guess not.”

Beat.

“We’re gonna be okay.”

“Huh?”

“If I go off to school. We’re gonna be okay. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll be great.”

The rest of that week passed quickly, too quickly. The boys couldn’t spend the weekend together, not right before exams. Time was limited to newspaper and whenever they could catch each other after class.

“You’re a senior and all, are you going to prom?”

“Uh, no.” Gerard had missed the entire period of planning prom groups. Besides, Frank was the only person he really wanted to go with, and that wasn’t exactly an option.

“Did you wanna go?”

“Not really. Just not my thing.”

And then AP season was upon them. Gerard was booked with six exams, Frank was taking three. The highlight of the week was when Frank caught sight of Gerard walking into AP Euro as he was exiting AP US, and ended up pulling him into a stairwell for a little “good luck.” (“Frank why do you taste so much like mints?” “They were giving them out in the testing room and I took seven.” “Seven?!”)

Gerard was immensely glad when the two weeks were over. He planned on going home Friday afternoon and sleeping for the next seventy years. Mikey had different ideas.

“Hey dude, put this on.” He handed Gerard something; a suit.

“What.” Not really a question.

“Yeah, put it on.”

Gerard looked at the garment for a moment. “He fucking didn’t.”

Mikey looked sheepish. “I can neither confirm nor deny anything. Just put it on.”

And then they were driving to Frank’s house, and Gerard was wearing his suit and sling  and was mentally preparing himself for loud music and lights in the school gym. Instead, Frank’s house was dark.

“Go through the gate, around back.” Mikey was nearly pushing him.

Gerard was not at all prepared for the sight that greeted him. Frank was standing in the backyard, in a suit as well, looking generally much cleaner than the average high school boy. There were strings of white christmas lights draped throughout the tree branches, a table set nicely. There were even flowers in a vase. It was like something out of a movie. Gerard made a mental note to totally get back at Mikey for helping plan this.

“Hey.” Frank was beaming, he could see how shocked Gerard was.

“You did this?”

“Yeah. You said you didn’t like parties, but I still wanted to do something, and-” Gerard cut him off by kissing him.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Frank had made them pancakes. “I thought it’d be like, symbolic or something. Like, we started at IHOP, and like, pancakes, y’know?”  

The evening went on, fading into night. Something ripped right out of the iconic teen romance movie of the summer, minus the cool 80’s music soundtrack plus a lot of Gerard blushing into his pancakes like an absolute fucking dork.

“Oh, I uh, I made you something.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. Uh, Mikey, he told me that you got rid of the old CDs. So I uh, I made you another one.” He pulled a small wrapped square out of his jacket. Gerard took it eagerly, ripped the paper off. There was a picture in the front of the case, it took Gerard a minute to realize that it was his sketch from that night in September, scanned and resized to fit in the case cover. A cobweb, clouds, weirdly comforting.

“Let’s play it.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

It was Frank’s voice and guitar that came out of the speaker, like usual. It sounded like it had been written for a faster beat, probably not acoustic, Frank had slowed it and was playing softer. But Gerard couldn’t figure out what the song was, didn’t realize until almost the end of the first track.

“Frank, did you, did you write all of these?”

“Yeah. I uh, I wrote them while you were in the hospital.”

They were quiet again, listening to the music. They could see the CD spinning in the player, a world scrawled across it in the usual black sharpie.

“What did you write on it?”

“Hm? Oh, just the title.”

The music kept playing, the whole album rolled by and looped again. It was about loss and it was about love and it was about being wrong for all the right reasons.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Gerard leaned in to read the title a little better. Frank’s handwriting was messy, but he could make out the lone word.

Stomachaches.