Chapter Text
With the Covid-19 pandemic in full swing and seemingly never going the fuck away, Gerard didn’t expect to leave his house in Los Angeles anytime soon, let alone fly to New Jersey of all places.
But when his mother called him hysterical, screaming that his father was having another heart attack, Gerard hopped on the first plane he could catch, a Bowie-inspired medical mask on his face, a small bottle of hand sanitizer clutched tightly in his fist, and a certain tattooed man in the back of his mind.
***
“So, you’re in New Jersey?” Mikey asked through video chat as Gerard awkwardly held his phone in one hand and scratched his scalp with the other.
“Technically,” began Gerard, “I am in my apartment in Brooklyn right now. I stayed at Mom and Dad’s for a while to make sure Dad was okay, but with the coronavirus, I didn’t want to be near them for too long. LA is really bad right now, and, you know, Mom and Dad aren’t exactly young anymore.”
“You could have told me… I live in LA too, and they’re my parents as well.” Mikey’s voice was steady, his face expressionless, yet he still somehow managed to exude waves of disappointment through the phone.
“I’m sorry. I panicked,” Gerard apologized, scratching his scalp more vigorously this time. “Mom was saying some shit about how I’m Dad’s good luck charm since I was there for him during his first real heart attack.”
“So, he’s fine, then?” Mikey looked relieved even though he was still wearing his perpetual poker face.
“Yeah. It wasn’t a heart attack. He almost choked on a pretzel. A fucking pretzel. Who the fuck is he? George W. Bush?” Gerard laughed at his own joke; he had rehearsed it several times before the call. But Mikey’s Easter Island Head expression didn’t change.
“You’re getting old if you’re making political jokes.” He finally smiled. He’ll laugh at my age but not my jokes? Gerard thought to himself. Whatever, typical Mikey busting my chops.
“Anyway,” continued Mikey, “when are coming back to LA?”
“New Jersey and New York have strict Covid laws. I need to quarantine for fourteen days.”
“Only if you’re staying in NJ or NY.” Gerard said nothing. But then he realized how suspicious that probably seemed, so he opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to form a sentence. It was to no avail. His eyes frantically darted across his phone’s screen, desperate to look anywhere except at Mikey. After a few moments, his bother interjected. “Oh my God. No.”
“W-what? I didn’t say anything.” Gerard started nervously touching his face, rubbing his fingers over his mouth and nose, which is a habit he should really break considering there was a fucking pandemic happening. He quickly pushed his free hand in his pocket, hoping to calm down its uneasy movements. Why do I have to be such an open book? Gerard thought. Why can’t I be like Mikey, who’s harder to decipher than hieroglyphics?
“You don’t want to be around Mom and Dad because of their age,” said Mikey. “So, why are you staying there? Are you meeting someone?”
There were so many excuses Gerard could have said. A meeting with a recently reopened comic company. A project related to the band. He needed a vacation. In the end, he just couldn’t bring himself to lie to Mikey. “… A friend.” At least entirely. Lying by omission wasn’t as bad, right?
“Does this ‘friend’ begin with F?” Mikey asked.
“Well, Mikey, the word ‘friend’ itself begins with the letter F. So, you’re gonna have to-”
“Gerard! I’m not stupid! Stop dodging the question. You’re going to see Frank, aren’t you?
“…”
“That’s why you ran off to New Jersey without telling me. You planned this.”
“…”
“No. You can’t see him. And you know why.”
“I promise I won’t see him,” replied Gerard.
“Good.”
“…until after I’ve quarantined for two weeks.” There. He admitted it. “I know you don’t agree with our, umm, relationship or whatever, but please don’t make that face. You look like a living example of the colon and vertical bar emoticon.”
“The WHAT?”
** Author’s Note: The colon and vertical bar emoticon looks like :| **
“The meh face! The one with the flat mouth. You’re doing it now. I- I have to go.” He hung up before Mikey could protest.
He didn’t blame Mikey for being mad at him or disapproving of his “relationship” with Frank. When they were together romantically, it always caused trouble, especially for Mikey. How matter how many times they tried, things always ended up in disaster. Gerard and Frank’s love for each other was so strong, it sent out shock waves. They were like two suns on a collision course, racing toward each other at astronomical speeds. They blinded each other with their own light, destroying everything in their wake and severely sunburning the people closest to them.
When the band got back together and had in-person practice sessions – you know, before this Covid bullshit – Gerard and Frank had a strict Friends Only policy. They flirted and eye-fucked each other constantly but kept their hands and feelings for each other to themselves. More or less. Sometimes they’d give each other a quick yet soft kiss when no one was looking or stay in a “platonic” hug a little longer than necessary. It was their way of reminding each other how much they cared for one another. Their interactions hadn’t gone past that the Friends Only point for the last few years. They had to keep their distance, or they’d feel the wrath of Mikey.
To see something made of stone suddenly come to life in fit of fiery rage was terrifying. Gerard had witnessed it multiple times throughout his life, particularly when Mikey was younger… but it still terrified him. It was that scary. So, Frank and Gerard tried their best to stay away from each other.
However, since Mikey wasn’t going to be there to reprimand them and Gerard had reached his limit - he NEEDED to be with Frank or he was going to become a fucking supernova – he figured fuck it. He might as well enjoy it now while Mikey was stuck in LA and blocked by a giant barrier with the word COVID-19 spray painted on it. Gerard looked at his phone and saw several texts from Mikey. He briefly skimmed one that read “I dont mean to be harsh but i worry about u, ur my big bro.”
Ignoring the rest of Mikey’s messages, Gerard navigated to his private text conversation with Frank. The last thing Frank had sent was about some kind of underwater seahorse rodeo. He’s fucking crazy, thought Gerard. Texting him now is probably a bad idea…
His fingers didn’t listen to his brain and began slowly typing with one finger at a time. He wrote out the text with the sheer grace of a boomer. It said: “So… umm, I’m in the area.” Before he could even type the next line, his phone rang. Yep, shouldn’t have texted him.
“Dude, you’re in Jersey?!” Frank practically shouted on the other end of the line, barely containing his excitement. Gerard could feel his eagerness through the phone, even though they weren’t video chatting.
“Technically,” started Gerard, trying to conceal his own excitement, “I’m at my apartment in Brooklyn.”
“I’m coming over now,” Frank said without hesitation.
“No, you can’t. I have to quarantine for fourteen days since LA is a Covid clusterfuck right now. It’s required by law.” Gerard was doing the face-rubbing thing again. He wasn’t sure if it was because of excitement, nerves, embarrassment, or all three combined.
“You know I don’t care about the law nine times out of ten,” Frank said. “Especially when it comes to you,” he added. “And since when have you been so compliant, Mr. Let’s Fight Against Evil Corporations While Dressed In Cosplay?”
“You suck at nicknames. You shouldn’t be allowed to name anyone or anything.” Gerard chuckled, then sighed. “Frank, I’ve had a long, stressful day. I’m really tired, and it’s late. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”
“Sure. See you tomorrow.”
“You too. Wait, no. I won’t see you. Anyway, good night.”
And so began the Trial of Frank and Gerard Not Seeing Each Other, a torturous fortnight of flirting, pining, waiting, sexual tension, and more waiting.
…if they last that long.
DAY 1 of the TRIAL
Gerard was still worried about his mom and dad since the Pretzel Incident was pretty nerve wracking. He was serious about quarantining, so he decided to video chat them and see if they were okay. His parents were thrilled he called and talked his ear off. Gerard was glad they were calmer than yesterday, but he had trouble concentrating on their stories about when him and Mikey were little kids since Frank wouldn’t stop texting him throughout the whole damn thing.
Frank, 1:02 pm: can I come over now
Gerard, 1:05 pm: No.
Frank, 1:06 pm: now?
Gerard, 1:10 pm: No.
Frank, 1:16 pm: how about now
Frank, 1:31 pm: that’s it. i’m comin over
Gerard, 1:33 pm: You’ve never been to my apartment in Brooklyn. Do you even know where it is?
Frank, 1:33 pm: …fuhk
DAY 2 of the TRIAL
If Gerard got one more text or felt his phone vibrate one more time, he was going to drive over to Frank’s house and personally chop off his fingers – while wearing a face mask, of course. No, I can’t do that. It would be bad for Frank’s guitar career.
So, Gerard decided to call Frank instead. They spoke on the phone all the time when Gerard was in LA, but knowing they weren’t physically far apart made the conversation even more fun than usual. More relaxed. There was no mention of old wounds, past fights, or cryptic lyrics. They talked about all kinds of positive things: music, books, video games, bad movies. Frank was saying something about a turtle when Gerard’s mind started to wander.
This is going well. He was becoming less worried about Frank randomly showing up at his door when Frank blurted out, “Hey, do you wanna have phone sex?”
If Gerard had been drinking coffee at that moment, he would have spat it out all over his bed. Luckily, he wasn’t which was a miracle in of itself. His face was bright red from the unexpected (though very flattering) question; Gerard thanked the universe that they were having a regular phone call instead of a video call. Otherwise, Frank would have seen how flustered he was. Gerard cleared his throat, trying to erase the shiver in his voice. “If I said no to phone sex when I was in LA, what makes you think I’d agree to it now?”
“Because I’m sexy, duh.”
“I won’t deny that statement, but no.” It would be much better to wait until we see each other in person, he thought to himself. He didn’t say that to Frank, though.
DAY 3 of the TRIAL
The we’re-so-close-yet-so-far feeling was starting to get to Gerard, so he reluctantly decided to do a video call with Frank, provided that Frank promised not to do anything too stupid. While living in LA, he had video chatted with Frank sparingly because half the time, something chaotic happened during the call. Therefore, he was always cautious about doing them. As luck would have it, there was a Liverpool Football Club game on TV, so they watched it together through Face Time. Frank propped up his phone on a couch cushion, so Gerard could watch the TV but also see Frank’s side profile. Focusing on the game prevented Frank from being a dumbass (mostly), but for Gerard… it was boring as fuck.
Why does Frank like this crap so much? He probably thinks the guys are hot or something. He watched the soccer ball roll back and forth across the screen, a blur of black and white among red uniforms. The only good thing about watching the game was when Frank got all vehement, whether he was pissed off or overjoyed. In his passion, he’d flail his arms, jump off the couch, or almost spill beer all over himself. It was so cute. But these moments were few and far between, so, needless to say, Gerard was still as uninterested as a kid who had been dragged to the hardware store by their parents on a Saturday morning.
To pass the time between Frank’s outbursts, he began (re)reading one of his favorite comics, careful not to show the book in Frank’s line of vision. Not that he was paying much attention to Gerard anyway.
“Gee… Gee…”
A giant glob of human flesh was running amok in a stadium and -
“Gee!” Frank yelled.
Shit. He’d been found out.
“You’re reading a comic, aren’t you?” Frank said, his tone accusatory. Then, his voice softened. “If it’s a brand-new comic you’ve never read before, I’ll forgive you since soccer isn’t your thing. But if it’s something you’ve read a thousand times, I will beat your ass when I finally see you. Such disrespect against Liverpool will not be tolerated.”
A “beating” from Frank probably meant a tickle fight, but Gerard still didn’t want that to happen. He freaked out whenever anyone touched his ribs. “Ugh…”
“Tell me the name of the comic, Gerard,” Frank prompted.
“Ugh… ugh…”
“‘Ugh’” as in you’re tongue-tied… or ‘ugh’ as in a short A sound… as in Akira.” He put a ton of emphasis on the A sound, a smirk on his face as he turned toward his phone’s camera.
Clever motherfucker. “Since when do you know about vowel sounds?” Gerard chuckled.
“Despite what you might think, Gee, I did pass first grade.”
“Right… the latter.” He acts so stupid all the time, I sometimes forget how fucking smart he is.
“You’ve earned yourself an ass-whooping.” Frank jokingly cracked his knuckles.
“But Akira is so cerebral and a big inspiration-”
“Nope, the ass-whooping is still valid.”
Gerard panicked. He knew Frank was joking, but he really did not want to be tickled to death (even if said tickle fight eventually led to other things). He responded with the first thing that came to his mind, something he knew would catch Frank off guard.
“Umm… but… I love you?” Gerard muttered, blushing as he looked away from his phone. Although he was using them as a scapegoat, he meant those words with all of his heart.
Frank stared at him, his eyes widening. He blinked multiple times as if something was caught in them. Gerard started furtively peering at the screen, curious to see how Frank reacted. It was now Frank’s turn to look away from the camera; he was unable to meet Gerard’s unsteady gaze.
“…Okay. You get a pass… This time.”
DAY 4 of the TRIAL
Frank had apparently been neglecting guitar practice since he was so busy pestering Gerard the last few days. Whose fault is that? Gerard mused. It was nice to be able to concentrate on his work for once. That is, until he began to feel lonely. He Face Timed his parents to see if the shock of the Pretzel Incident had worn off. They begged him to come over, insisting they could socially distant themselves in the backyard, or Gerard could stay in his car, or he could talk to them through the glass front door, or – he eventually relented.
They did the backyard thing, his parents on one side and him on the other, all of them wearing masks. His mother had bought the official Desert Screening mask and wore it proudly in support of her sons. His dad, on the other hand, wrapped a bandana around his face. It was one left over from MCR’s Danger Days merch. The whole thing was extremely surreal, not to mention embarrassing, but he was glad the merch helped protect them from the virus. And causally speaking with them – no hysterics or pretzels involved – was nice, even if it was hard to hear sometimes with the masks and the backyard lawn between them.
This is nice, thought Gerard. I could maybe do something like this with Frank. No… it wouldn’t work. We’d be all over each other… We’d probably last an hour at most. No, half an hour... He sighed. Seeing his parents was great and his phone being silent relieved some of his jumpiness. But he still kept checking his messages to see if Frank said anything. There was nothing.
He could easily practice guitar while doing a video chat with me. If he can act crazy on stage and still play guitar, he can talk to me. Gerard rubbed his face and played with his mask, irritated. I love watching him play guitar… I love how bites his lip when he concentrates really hard. He does the same thing when he-
Gerard cut off the thought before he could finish it. He was with his parents for Christ’s sake. He shouldn’t be fantasizing about his boyfriend(?). He rubbed his face again, more aggressively than before.
“Are you okay, honey?” his mom asked. “Is your mask uncomfortable? We have plenty more of those bandanas in the house if that would be better.”
“No thanks, Mom. I am just a little itchy is all.”
“It’s that beard of yours.” Both his parents guffawed, as if him having a beard was the funniest thing they had ever encountered.
He laughed with them for a while, explaining his reasons for growing a beard – which they found equally as funny – but soon the lonely feeling came back. God dammit. I miss his stupid typing style, and his stupid smug yet adorable voice, and his stupid handsome face. Fuck it. I’ll make the first move for once and text him. He’ll make fun of me for it later but whatever. There were so many things he could have said, but he decided to keep it short and simple. What he said was true after all. There was no need to embellish it.
Frank did not reply for what felt like six years. Is this how he feels when I don’t respond right away? By the time his phone pinged, Gerard was so impatient and needy, he was practically pulling out his hair with the force of his scalp scratching.
Their conversation went like this:
Gerard, 3:37 pm: I miss you.
Gerard, 3:38 pm: Like, really, really badly.
Gerard, 3:39 pm: I just wanted you to know that.
Frank, 7:21 pm: who’s the simp now, huh?
Gerard: 7:22 pm: The fuck is a simp?
DAY 5 of the NEVERENDING TRIAL
To Gerard’s delight, Frank was free the next day and willing to do a very long video chat session. Since he’d been really into puzzles during his own quarantine, Frank suggested they do one – or at least attempt to. Of course, he wanted to do the new puzzle from his merch line that had his face on it, which Gerard was sure was totally on purpose.
Truth be told, Gerard wasn’t really paying much attention to the puzzle. He was mesmerized by Frank’s hands. The way his inked fingers moved, the way his tattoos slightly changed shape as his joints extended and bent when he picked up a piece. Gerard could watch Frank slowly sift through puzzle pieces until the end of time; he could watch him do anything until the end of time (except watch him watch a Liverpool game). Frank was that breathtaking.
An old No Doubt album was playing in the background at Frank’s place, just above a hum. In the semi-silence, Gerard could hear Frank’s fingers scraping against the pieces and the puzzle’s cardboard box, lulling him into a dreamlike state. It was like some kind of arousing ASMR video. Gerard imagined being at Frank’s house, laying his head down on Frank’s lap while he endlessly searched for missing puzzle pieces. Frank would use his spare hand to affectionately run his tattooed fingers through Gerard’s hair…
“You know, you’re not being very helpful,” Frank said, snapping Gerard out of his fantasy. “You’ve barely said anything or found a piece in the past ten minutes.”
“Sorry. It’s kind of hard to see the pieces through the phone, especially when the connection gets fuzzy,” Gerard half-lied.
“You know what would make this whole puzzle thing easier?”
“What?”
“If we did it together… IN PERSON.”
“NO.” I walked into that one.
“We have fried plantains here.”
“…What?” Gerard’s pining was slowly being replaced with irritation.
“I know you like them, dude.”
How the fuck does he know that? Does he stalk my Instagram? “Can you even get plantains in New Jersey?” Gerard asked.
“As a matter of fact, you can.”
“Have you ever even had a fried plantain?”
“As a matter of fact, I have.”
Bullshit. “Stop saying ‘as a matter of fact’… So, what, now you’re bribing me with food, so I’ll go over to your house?”
“As a matter of fact, I am,” Frank responded with a wry smile.
“Then, show me,” retorted Gerard. “We’re on a video call. Get up, go to the kitchen, and show me the fried plantains.”
“…fuck.”
DAY 6 of THE TRIAL
Frank watched Gerard as he drew. It was Gerard’s turn to do something through video chat and for Frank to sit and observe. Gerard’s phone was propped up on something nearby. He was so focused on his drawing that he barely spoke, only occasionally humming to himself. Gerard probably thought this would be tedious for Frank, but it wasn’t. Not in the least.
“Gee.”
“Hmm?” Gerard answered, without looking up from his sketchpad. He was doodling a wheat field full of dinosaur-sized cats.
Frank didn’t react, although he had been the one to start the conversation.
“Stop staring at me. I can feel you intensely watching me through the phone,” Gerard said, still not looking away from his drawing.
“Sorry… you are just so cute when you draw.”
Gerard turned scarlet. He tried to hide it by bringing the sketchbook close to his face. “W-what do you want? I was really in the zone.”
“I just wanted to ask… what are we?” Frank inquired.
“What do you mean?” There was no point in hiding his face; Frank could practically see imaginary cartoon steam radiating off Gerard from behind the sketchbook.
“What is our relationship? What are we?”
Gerard put down the sketchbook and held his pencil to his lips, rolling the question over in his mind. It was so fucking cute when he did that. “We are what we’ve always been,” he said after some time. “Two people in love, but our love is… cataclysmic. Because of that, we can’t be ‘together’ all the time, at least in the traditional way. But just like the tides, we’ll always be pulled toward each other, one way or another.”
“That’s fucking beautiful, man. Corny as fuck but still beautiful.”
“Thanks, I guess? That’s truly how I feel.”
“So…” Frank began, stroking the back of his neck with his hand. “Is the tide coming in soon?”
“Yes. But I’m anchored a little ways offshore. The anchor being the coronavirus. I’ll make it to shore soon, though.”
“This is one long metaphor… but, ugh… how long you will be staying… at, ugh, port this time?”
“I don’t know,” Gerard said. His eyes were staring off to the side, probably at his apartment’s art-covered walls. It was obvious that he was looking through them, though, somewhere deep into his heart, into the past. Finally, he said, “As long as I can. Until Hurricane Mikey, the coronavirus, or another force of nature throws me back out to sea again.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Frank stated firmly. “Not this time.”
He meant it.
DAY 7 of THIS LONG-ASS TRIAL
After getting back to his apartment from a short, socially distant visit at his parents’ house, Gerard picked up his phone and logged into his daily video chat with Frank. But there was a problem. Frank was shirtless. No. He was completely naked.
Gerard instinctively covered his eyes with his hand. “Frank,” he mumbled, “when I said no phone sex that included through video chat.”
“I thought seeing my gorgeous body would change your mind.”
I just poured my heart out to this man yesterday, and he goes and pulls this shit. “It’s tempting, but no.” Despite what he just said, Gerard spread his fingers wide enough so he could peek through them. Then, he moved his gaze to Frank’s face, putting down his hand and revealing a forlorn frown.
“You’re mad,” Frank said, his face falling.
“After our conversation yesterday? Yes. When you do this shit, I feel like you don’t take us or our relationship seriously.”
“I’m doing this because of our conversation yesterday,” Frank contended. “Gerard, I love you so much, and being so far away from you hurts, but yesterday I realized how much you love me back, and I want to get intimate with so badly to show you –”
“I- I want to wait until we see each other in person!” Gerard exclaimed, interrupting Frank’s ramble. “It will be more meaningful that way.” His face was becoming bright red again. It resembled the fire hydrant red hair he sported during the Danger Days era.
“Everything we do has meaning…” Frank looked hurt. “Every interaction, no matter how silly… every second I spend talking to you or seeing you is meaningful, even if I’m acting like a total ass the entire time.”
“You are an ass.” Gerard laughed, allowing himself to smile a little. “I feel the same way. But that’s not what I meant… I just want our first time being intimate in forever to be extra special.”
“You’re right,” Frank conceded, still naked. “Sorry, man, I got a little too a head of myself.”
“It’s okay, you horny fucker. For what it’s worth, you’re very sexy.”
Frank looked pleased with himself. “Just so I don’t look like a complete asshole… could you get shirtless for me?” Frank asked abruptly. He was back to wearing his signature Frank Face™, the one where you couldn’t tell if he was being serious or joshing you. “I haven’t seen you shirtless in a hot minute.”
“W-what? No! Knowing you, you’ll take screenshots. If they ever leaked, our fans would go apeshit.”
“I don’t think Lola or Pogo would appreciate that comment.”
“WHAT?”
“Because they’re apes! Or, are they monkeys? …fuck.” The Frank Face™ was gone, and he looked genuinely confused as he pondered over this dilemma.
Gerard burst out laughing. “You are so fucking stupid,” he snickered. His laugh turned high-pitched, the laugh he only let out when his guard was down and he truly felt comfortable. He laughed harder than he had laughed in months. How could he not when the man he loved was (digitally) sitting across him, naked and wondering about the Ape Status of his pink mascot and a fictional talking chimpanzee?
** Author’s Note: In case you are wondering, chimpanzees, like Pogo, are apes :) As for Lola… only IRL Gerard knows the answer. **
He continued to laugh, Frank ultimately joining him and laughing at his own idiocy. Frank did that obnoxious giggle of his, the one that reverberated in his throat and cast echoes throughout Gerard’s mind, bringing back so many memories of their good times together.
Gerard was laughing so hard now that his eyes were squeezed shut and he didn’t notice that someone else was calling him through Face Time. He accidentally accepted the video call and added it to the current video chat.
It was Mikey. Fuck. Shit. Fuck.
Between Frank being shirtless/naked and Gerard being breathless and red-faced from laughing, Mikey was going to suspicious as fuck. As soon as Mikey’s stone-cold expression appeared in the video chat, Gerard and Frank’s laughing fit came to a complete halt.
Gerard was silent. Frank was silent. Mikey was silent.
The only sound was Gerard trying to compose his himself, by clearing his throat and taking a deep breath. He had laughed so hard he was practically out of air. Mikey’s unwavering staidness made him even more terrifying.
Finally, Frank, ever the braver, broke the silence. “Ugh, hi Mikey.”
No response.
“Ugh,” continued Frank, trying to cover himself with his arms but failing. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“Like hell it isn’t.” The statue finally spoke, and it was just as scary as Frank and Gerard expected.
“Mikey, we can explain-”
“I don’t want to hear it! You guys-”
“Please stop making the colon and vertical bar face,” Gerard threw in all of a sudden. “It makes me feel so guilty.”
“The WHAT?” Mikey and Frank asked simultaneously.
Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep.
Another video call was coming in. It was Toro. Gerard answered it without a second thought. Ray won’t be mad at us, he thought to himself. I feel like he has always secretly shipped me and Frank. He’ll somehow get us out of this. Plus, I miss him since I haven’t spoken to him in a few days.
“Hey, Gerard,” said Ray, popping up in yet another window in the video chat. His hair took up most of the frame; Gerard couldn’t even see the wall behind him. “Wow, and Frank and Mikey too! What’s going on?”
Gerard thought about just telling the truth, so Mikey could hear the explanation too. But he noticed that Frank had managed to sneakily put some clothes on and decided he really didn’t want to deal with Mikey’s fury just yet, so he made something up. “Ray! Perfect timing,” Gerard said before anyone else could respond. “We were, ugh, just going to discuss some stuff about the band. Right, Frank?”
“Yeah, dude.”
Mikey rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. His expression was still undecipherable, but Gerard imagined it translated to something like that ‘I will talk to you about this in private later, big bro.’ After a couple seconds, Mikey sighed and said, “Yeah, we were gonna discuss the band. But I need to talk to my brother about something afterward.”
MIKEY WAY, I LOVE YOU! thought Gerard. Even if you scold me later, I fucking love you.
“Awesome!” answered Ray. “What’s on the agenda?”
Gerard smiled. Ray was always there to save the day.
~ Will Frank and Gerard survive another week apart? Find out in the next chapter <3 ~