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Gerard is really bored. Not the “wow I’m kind of bored” bored, but bored like, “if I don’t stop being bored right now I’m going to murder someone.” He’s thirsty too, and all he has are a few slightly rotten limes and tap water because shopping for real food is dumb in his opinion. He also thinks that tap water tastes like shit so he doesn’t want to drink that either.
But then he eyes the limes and looks out the window and says, “You know what it’s a really fucking beautiful day so I’m going to sit outside and eat this fucking lime and fucking enjoy myself.” So he does that, and he has a good fucking time. At least until the fly comes.
It buzzes loudly around his ears, and Gerard swings around and misses a few times. That damn fly wasn’t going to ruin his day—two can play at this game.
"Shoo fly," Gerard commands. The fly doesn’t listen.
Then it lands on his lime. His own lime, and he gets really mad. It’s the only lime that wasn’t completely brown so now he’s going to starve to death or something.
"Get off my lime you jerk."
"Buzz," says the fly.
"I’m serious get off my lime right now or I’ll eat you."
"Buzz," the fly says again.
Gerard is done being merciful so he clasps his hands around the lime and traps the fly. He doesn’t really know what to do with it so he goes back inside and puts it under a cup.
"Hello fly," He says. The fly is still a jerk so it doesn’t say hi back. "How are you doing?"
He then realizes the fly doesn't have a name so he thinks of a suitable one for the jerky bug. Frank sounds like a jerky enough name. “Your name is Frank. Frank the fly.”
He didn’t realize it before, but Frank the fly is kinda cute, with his black wings and black hairs. He's small, too. Small things are cute.
Frank the fly is being super spazzy—he’s hitting the wall of the cup and is really failing on whatever his escape plan is. Gerard sort of feels bad for him. Maybe the fly just wants a friend. Maybe the fly wants something more.
Gerard wants something more. Frank isn’t like anything he’s seen before. He doesn’t really know what love is—mostly because he’s a thirty year old man who takes naps and watches porn all day—but he’s pretty sure this is close.
He loves Frank the fly, and now it’s time to let him go.
He slowly lifts the cup and grabs Frank before he can fly away, a tear falling from his eye. This needs to happen sooner or later, he tells himself.
Before he releases him from his palm, he kind of strangles him so he can hold him between his thumb and pointer finger, and raises the struggling fly and kisses him softly before finally letting him go.
It hurts to look, but eventually he opens his eyes—only to find Frank was still lying on the ground in front of him. He’s twitching and his legs are flailing around.
"Frank… please… just go." He doesn’t want Frank to leave, but he need too. It’s the only way it can be.
"Frank go!" He yells, but Frank is still beneath him.
It leaves him no choice but to pick the fly up gently in his hands again. He lays one last kiss on his spastic body before chucking him somewhere in his kitchen.
"Goodbye, Frank the fly… I love you." He whispers, and then wipes the tears from his eyes and opens his laptop to watch more porn.