Archive of Our Own ^beta

       Gerard hated the deli. Well, not the deli, exactly, but certain parts of it. He hated how close it was to the cheese section, forcing him to endure the strong scent of curdled milk that made his stomach churn. He also hated how open the deli was, strategically placed in the center of the giant supermarket for everyone to find. Or, in Gerard's eyes, the deli's location was rather un-strategically placed because the only thing he could hide behind was the ticket number he held in his hand. Also, everyone could see what he would be eating for dinner, and the more he thought about that, the more creeped out he got about imagining complete strangers picturing him alone in his house in the darkened room of his kitchen eating German potato salad. But Gerard didn't even like German potato salad, he preferred red-skin potato salad, and he only ate in the dark because it was harder for his neighbors to see him through his kitchen window having dinner by himself like the sad, twenty-eight year old loser he was.

      His self-seclusion due to his somewhat unexcused fear of people, or rather, "social anxiety" as some people (AKA Mikey) labeled it, could only keep him from doing so much, though. And in his younger brother's eyes, one of those things he couldn't avoid any longer was going out and buying food for himself.

      "Why can't you just buy those necessities for me? I'll give you the money, and gas money, too," Gerard had tried to bargain with his brother earlier, but even to his own ears he knew how pathetic he had sounded.

      One thing Gerard didn't hate about the deli, though, was the boy working behind the counter. Gerard hadn't noticed him at first because he was really short and had a small frame, so the giant ham in front of Gerard concealed the little deli boy pretty well. Gerard had just been standing there, staring down at the thin piece of paper in his hands worriedly, trying his best to keep from breaking out into any sort of nervous sweat when all of a sudden someone said, "Can I help you?"

      Gerard had actually jumped backwards, almost gasping in surprise and successfully dropping his slip of paper in the process. When he hurried to regather himself (and his ticket), he realized that he was the only one there. Well, him and a giant stack of hams.

      "Sorry, man, didn't mean to scare you," the same voice said, and oh, my God, the hams are talking to me, Gerard thought, the high-pitched laughter coming from the stack of hams making him even more nervous as he looked around feverishly to see if anyone else was there to witness this. He was the only person there, though, the only person at the deli at 8o'clock at night, and he momentarily thought that he was hallucinating or something. Gerard was never going to the deli again.

      "I'm right here, dude--behind the hams," giggled the voice, and Gerard let out a breath of relief when a small boy dragged himself on top of the long gray barrier-thing that separated the deli from the rest of the market whilst simultaneously chilling the food inside it. Gerard looked up at the boy, feeling very silly and embarrassed for making a fool out of himself in front of someone wearing a--was he wearing a Danzig t-shirt underneath his apron?

      "Shit, you scared me," Gerard admitted, running his hands through his mangy black hair before matting it down to its original position. "I thought the hams were talking to me . . ."

      The boy, who was quite remarkable looking, Gerard noted, with his flat mohawk flapping boyishly in his face and the red shaven sides bringing out his eminent facial structure, lit up into a bright smile that consisted of slightly crooked teeth. Gerard noticed a small silver lip ring attached to his bottom lip shine as well, matching the identical silver ring in his nostril. "I thought you'd noticed me. You're the only one here, you know, and so am I, so I just figured you'd been paying attention and were ready to order."

      "I get lost in my own head sometimes," Gerard replied, wondering for how long the kid had noticed him before Gerard had noticed him. Then Gerard realized what he'd said sounded pretty weird, so he turned bright red again and stuttered out, "I-I mean, not head, th-that's--shit, that's kind of crazy-sounding, I meant I get lost in my thoughts, not head. 'Lost in my own head' sounds kind of not normal, and I--I don't--I'm not crazy. I mean, I don't think I'm normal, either, but I don't think anyone really is, so who cares? But now it kind of sounds like I'm trying to defend the craziness I meant to disprove, and I--"

      The deli boy continued watching Gerard ramble on aimlessly, growing more and more amused by the minutes. Gerard could see the shine in his deep honey-hazel eyes grow brighter and brighter as his own cheeks grew hotter and hotter. He thinks I'm crazy, Gerard thought, his face twisting in annoyance and helplessness. He was such a loser. At least he didn't live in his mom's basement anymore; at least he had some standards.

      The boy offered Gerard a Ritz cracker dipped in hummus from the sample tray to shut him up. Gerard wasn't a fan of hummus, but he also wasn't a fan of looking like an idiot in front of moderately attractive strangers, so he accepted the offering from the younger boy's gloved hand and took a small bite of it.

      "I like hummus and crackers," the boy casually mentioned after successfully shutting Gerard up. "My grandma makes the best hummus ever. Want to try it?"

      Gerard found it a bit strange being offered a stranger's grandmother's hummus, and he was already a bundle of nerves as it was so he just shook his head, no. "Okay, more for me," the kid shrugged. "Have you figured out what you wanted yet?"

      Gerard hadn't. He swallowed the lump of cracker and bland hummus he'd had in his mouth. "Um, no . . . I've never actually been here before."

      The boy didn't miss a beat. He didn't bother quizzing Gerard on why, exactly, he'd never been to this giant local supermarket before, nor did he pester Gerard about how he should've decided what he'd wanted while he had been helping the other customers. Instead, he hopped down from the counter and walked to the area down from the hams. Gerard paralleled his movements.

      "Try the spinach lasagna, it's my favorite. You can eat it hot or cold, but I prefer it hot 'cause then the spinach isn't as easy to taste with the sauce and everything."

      Gerard didn't like spinach, but he also didn't like hummus, either, yet he was eating it anyways. And, truthfully, he just wanted to get out of there, to go back to his house and text Mikey that he's never, ever, ever going back to the deli again.

      "Okay," Gerard agreed after swallowing the last of his cracker and hummus.

      "Good choice, man. How many slices d'you want?"

      Gerard was about to answer "one," but then he remembered that Mikey had demanded proof of Gerard's journey to gather his own dinner for once. Gerard told the boy that he'd like two slices, so then he could give one to Mikey and triumphantly state, Ha! I told you I got my own food. And also, the deli boy offered me some of his grandmother's hummus, isn't that weird?

      "Have a good night, and don't tell my boss I'm not wearing a hairnet," the deli boy told Gerard with a jokingly serious yet somewhat pleading expression, handing him the boxed lasagna slices, making Gerard smile a little in return. Gerard didn't even care if he found the kid's hair in his food; this brief 10-minute stop had gone way better than he'd expected, and the deli boy was actually pretty--pretty awesome.

      Gerard didn't think he hated the deli as much anymore. He hardly even noticed the cheese's stench as he walked away.

**

**

      "This is really good," Mikey told Gerard, scooping another forkful of the warm lasagna into his mouth. "And you said he was wearing a Danzig shirt?"

      "Yeah, underneath his apron. He was nice," Gerard responded, leaning against the door panel as he swallowed a bite of his own slice. "He had piercings."

      "How old is he?"

      Gerard shrugged. "He looked young. He's really short and has a small stature."

      "You told me," Mikey reminded him, grinning behind his napkin as he wiped excess sauce from the corner of his lip. "Did you ask him how much the talking hams were, by the way? Alicia was interested in making one 'cause her parents are visiting tomorrow."

      "No, I hadn't asked him, and no, before you ask, I'm not going to get you a ham. In fact, I'm never going to the deli again."

      Mikey grinned around his can of Pepsi. "You're full of shit."

**

**

      Gerard was, indeed, full of shit.

      The next night, after being pressured into getting the stupid ham for Mikey and his wife, he ended up going back to the very same supermarket and made his way over to the very same deli. This time, there was no need to take a ticket because Gerard was the only person there. Well, besides the same deli boy from yesterday--he was there, too.

      "Hey!" grinned the deli boy, a look of recognition crossing his face. "You're the guy from yesterday, right?"

      Gerard wasn't sure why his face was getting hot; it wasn't like the dude was singling him out or anything. "Uh, yeah, the one you offered your grandma's hummus to?"

      The deli boy laughed, a sound not nearly as high-pitched as Gerard's but just as contagious, if not even more. "Speaking of hummus," he said, reaching for the sample plate set atop the giant gray freezer, "wanna try our new parsley and lemon juice flavored hummus? It's pretty good, I already ate half of the container, but there's still some left."

      Gerard hated lemon juice, but he didn't bother declining the offer because the guy was already handing him a hummus-covered Ritz cracker. Gerard took it, careful not to touch his gloved hands.

      "So, what can I get for you tonight? More spinach lasagnas? I told you they were good; everyone always comes back for more. Kinda like my ex-girlfriend."

      Gerard stared at the guy for a second before he could feel his heart beginning to break and decided to hurry this ordeal up. "Uh, I was wondering how much the hams were?" Gerard said, trying to hide his hurt expression. The guy had a girlfriend. Well, had had, but still. He was straight.

      You don't even know his name, Gerard's brain reminded Gerard. Why are you suddenly interested in another human being after talking to him for only 15 minutes?

      The deli boy wrinkled his nose distastefully. "Uh, the hams? The large ones are fifteen and the small ones are ten."

      "How many people does a large one feed?"

      "Depends. How many pigs are slaughtered across the nation per year to produce those hams?"

      Gerard wrinkled his brows. "Uh?"

      The deli boy chewed on his bottom lip, making the area around his lip ring redden. "I thought you were a vegetarian," he remarked, confused.

      Now it was Gerard's turn to be confused. "Uh, no?"

      The guy folded his arms across his apron-covered chest. "Then why'd you eat the spinach lasagna?"

      "I guess I didn't know spinach lasagna was for vegetarian consumption only," Gerard snapped, feeling under the attack of the deli boy.

      The deli boy continued to chew on his lip ring before sighing and looking away from Gerard's dark gaze. "Okay, you're right, sorry. I shouldn't've jumped into your business like that. I'm just really passionate about animals, y'know?"

      Some of the fire threatening to unleash through Gerard's veins died down. He nodded his head in understanding. "I get you, it's fine. I'm not really a big meat eater myself, but the parent-in-laws are coming in so I figured a ham would impress them well enough not to make fun of me during dinner."

      A mixture between confusion and disappointment crossed the boy's delicate features, just like they'd crossed Gerard's earlier. "Oh. That makes sense. I don't see why they'd make fun of you, though. You're wearing a Bowie t-shirt and eyeliner, and you have paint in your hair. You're rad."

      Gerard smiled a little, the shattered pieces of Gerard's heart starting to stick back together. "That's exactly why they'd make fun of me during dinner, but thanks," he said while simultaneously brushing the dried paint flecks from his hair.

      "No problem. I'm Frank, by the way," the deli boy introduced himself, extending his hand across the ledge after peeling off his plastic gloves.

      "Gerard. I'm, uh, Gerard," Gerard nervously introduced himself, hoping his hands didn't feel as sweaty to Frank as they did to himself.

      "Gerard," Frank said, testing his name himself. "I like it."

      Gerard physically could not stop blushing. "Oh, uh, th-thanks--Frank's pretty cool, too. Like, it's such an older-fashioned name, but it really suits you, y'know? You look like a Frank."

      Frank laughed the same laugh from earlier. "Thanks, man. Gerard's pretty old-fashioned, too."

      Gerard was much too awkward to know how to respond, so he just nodded his head in agreement and began eating his hummus-covered cracker. It was gross. He didn't like hummus.

      "Anyways," Frank said, "the small hams feed 1-3 people, the bigger feed 4-6."

      "I'll take one large ham, then." That should be enough to feed them all.

      "One slab of processed pig meat coming right up," Frank said, offering Gerard a dark-humored grin while he pulled on another pair of gloves and went to wrap up a ham. This moment to himself was enough for Gerard to regather himself, to quickly freak out about how he'd actually had a conversation with a near-stranger and then found out that near-stranger's name--Frank. Gerard mouthed the name to himself several times, nodding his head as he did.

      He liked his name almost as much as he liked him.

      He's straight, Gerard's brain yelled, and Gerard immediately squashed the thought of liking Frank as anything more than some guy who gave him gross hummus-covered crackers.

      "Here you go," said Frank a second later, sliding the plastic and net-wrapped ham across the counter and over to Gerard. "I got you the best ham I could find. Maybe those in-laws of yours will be too busy choking on dead pig to bother you."

      Gerard was surprised when a true, genuine smile broke past his lips. "Thanks, Frank."

      "No problem, Gerard. Be sure to thank God for that creation of His you're about to eat."

      "I don't believe in God," Gerard remarked, and Frank grinned.

      "Neither do I."

**

**

      "This ham is delectable," moaned Mr. Simmons, nodding his head in approval. "You've the cooking skills of your mother, Alicia, I swear."

      "Thank you, Daddy," Alicia said, her dark eyes glancing over to Gerard. Gerard hadn't wanted to stay for dinner, but Mikey had wanted him to tell him what'd happened at the deli, so he hadn't really had a choice. "Gerard helped by picking the best ham he could find."

      Mr. Simmons furrowed his eyebrows at Gerard. "I see. Is that why he couldn't find the time to rid of the paint in his hair?"

      Gerard blushed. "Yeah. I was finishing up a project for Dark Horse; they were looking for oil-paintings of these new comic book characters--"

      Mrs. Simmons almost spat her champagne all over Gerard. "Comic books!" she laughed, right in his face. "Alicia, I'm glad you chose the other brother. Mikey will be able to provide for you much better than some childish drawer."

      Alicia was frowning deeply, looking over at Mikey for back up while Gerard stared glumly down at his lap. "Actually," began Mikey, "Gerard's a very talented novelist and artist, and has his own exhibit reserved for a big NYC art gallery coming up."

      The Simmons quieted down after, but it didn't matter to Gerard because they were right. He was just some loser with a degree in art and an undying love for Morrissey and comic books; it was no wonder guys like Frank were straight and guys like Gerard were gay.

**

**

      Gerard went back to the deli again the following evening. It was a Sunday night, around 7 o'clock, so it was rather busy with last-minute shoppers trying to cram in their necessities for the upcoming week. Gerard saw that there was a rather long line surrounding the deli, so he decided to wait by the tower of different brands of bread located at the edge of the deli.

      When the line finally went away and Gerard's nostrils were completely stuffed up by the scent of cheese, Gerard went over to the front counter where someone who most certainly was not Frank was standing. In front of Gerard was a medium-sized man who was a bit chunky (like Gerard) that had a warm-looking beard (unlike Gerard). 

      "G'Evening, dude, what can I get for you?" the man asked.

      Gerard completely froze up. He hadn't been expecting this sudden switch of servers, and he'd kind of wanted to vent to Frank about how much of assholes Mr. and Mrs. Simmons were. "Uh," was all Gerard said, just as a bread roll came flying at his face.

      "Oh, shit!" a familiar voice gasped while Gerard rubbed the side of his head. The roll had felt more like a rock than a bundle of fluffed wheat. "I meant to hit Dewees, not you, goddammit, I'm so sorry--" Gerard hadn't even noticed that Frank had literally leapt over the counter and started babying him until he felt the familiar touch of Frank's hands pawing at his face.

      "I'm fine, I'm alright, really," Gerard mumbled, his face once again burning, as if the only color it knew to be around Frank was red. Gerard's eyes connected with Frank's, dark, tired greens meeting bright, honey-coated, golden-flecked hazels. This was the closest they'd ever been without the separation of the counter, and Gerard hadn't actually realized how rough Frank's fingertips were without the gloves separating their skins.

      "You have rough fingers," Gerard told him, simply vocalizing his realizations into the air, and Frank blushed.

      "They're callouses," Frank explained, putting his hands back at his sides. "I play guitar."

      "He used to be the head pitcher of the community baseball team, too," the guy from earlier added in from behind them.

      "No shit," Gerard mused, and the guy, Dewees, grinned toothily.

      Once Frank had gotten back over the counter and Gerard had convinced his body that Frank's touch hadn't been that big of a deal, Frank motioned for Dewees to help out another customer that'd suddenly appeared while Frank assisted Gerard. "Sorry, again, about the whole bread roll to the face. Here, have some hummus and crackers to make up for it," Frank said, handing Gerard three hummus-covered crackers this time. "So, how'd the meeting with the in-laws go?"

      "Terrible," Gerard revealed without hesitation; he'd been wanting to get those prudes off his chest since last night's dinner. "It's like, they start complimenting my sister-in-law's cooking, but as soon as they hear that I was the one who brought home the ham, they start trashing me for no fucking reason."

      Frank furrowed his pristinely arched eyebrows, biting his lip ring. "I hate people like that," he said, "the ones who just tear other people down without taking into any consideration about how hard that person is trying. It's bullshit."

      Gerard could've kissed Frank right then and there. Well, he also could've kissed him yesterday when he'd complimented Gerard, but the way Frank had just understood what he'd meant made Gerard's stomach fill with butterflies. "Yeah--yeah, that's exactly it! They don't like that I'm an artist, or that I make a living at Dark Horse, so they just keep bringing me down and it gets really annoying after a while."

      Frank's bright eyes widened. "Hold on--did you say you work for Dark Horse? As in, Dark Horse the company? Of comic books? As in, the Umbrella Academy Dark Horse?"

      Gerard had been nodding his head the entire time. When Frank had said the name of his own comic series, Gerard's head nearly flew off because he was nodding so hard. "Yeah, I wrote that series!"

      "Shit, man, you're--fucking, you're Gerard Way? I fucking love your work; Vanya's my favorite!" Frank was practically vibrating behind the counter, eyes shimmering in the cheap deli lighting.

      Gerard couldn't stop smiling. Nobody had ever taken interest in his life before, besides Mikey, that is, but Mikey had to because he was Gerard's brother. "Thank you," said Gerard, his cheeks hurting. He'd never been so happy in his entire life than he was at that moment in the deli he had once tried to convince himself to despise.

      "You have to tell me what's gonna happen next, I seriously can't wait until the next edition," Frank nearly begged, and Gerard was about to take the bait that allowed him to talk about himself as much as he wanted, but then he remembered he had to get back home. Tonight was movie night for Mikey and him; he couldn't just blow off his brother like that. Bros before hoes, right?

      "I'd love to," Gerard stated earnestly, "but I have to hurry and get home. Maybe another time, definitely, yeah?"

      Gerard's heart nearly snapped from the strings holding it up due to the look on Frank's face. The way the lights had just fled his eyes like that, Gerard wanted to hop over the counter and tell Frank about every comic book idea he'd ever had right there and then.

      "Yeah, that makes sense, sorry. You're busy, I get that. But yeah, definitely next time you'll have to tell me, deal?"

      "Deal," Gerard agreed, the word melting out of his mouth like the cheese of the spinach lasagna melted against his tongue.

      Frank forced a small smile. "Okay. Another ham?"

      "No, just two spinach lasagnas. The in-laws left last night, thank God."

      Frank's smile grew by itself. "Coming right up."

**

**

      Gerard had been going to the deli at least three times a week for nearly three months from then on, and each time Frank rang him up, he'd be sure to fill Frank in on everything that would take place as well as answering Frank's questions about what all the inner-connections in the series meant. By the end of those two months, the two boys had developed quite a bond, conversing about anything from bands and horror movies to simply what events had stricken them throughout their day. And while their friendship continued to grow, Gerard simply couldn't get rid of the crush he had on Frank as it became more and more obvious. Gerard was pretty sure Dewees was catching onto it, too, and didn't know how much longer he could take of Frank's pretty eyes and contagious giggles.

      Gerard highly doubted Frank liked him back, but sometimes he wondered. He wondered why Frank had lied to the woman in line before him that they'd "just ran out of spinach lasagna" but then proceeded to give Gerard two slices after she'd left. He wondered why Frank always shoved Dewees out of the way from serving Gerard, even if Frank was in the middle of serving another customer. Gerard also wondered why Frank always offered him hummus and Ritz crackers yet never offered any of the other customers any. Sometimes, Gerard would genuinely wonder if Frank maybe, just maybe, had a slight crush on him in return, but then he'd realize that he's Gerard, the twenty-eight year old loser who lived by himself in a small house and ate his dinner in the dark just because he was afraid of being made fun of by his neighbors.

      Plus, Frank was straight. That was an obstacle in itself, and also Gerard was much too big of a pussy to play the game "Turn The Straight Guy Gay."

      Whenever Gerard would tell Mikey about his exchanges with Frank, Mikey would always try and pressure Gerard with the logic of just ask him out already, you idiot, he offered you his grandma's hummus, he obviously likes you.

     The last time Gerard had asked anyone out, though, was six years ago, and the guy had nearly killed Gerard by encouraging him to take the path of self-destruction via alcohol and unprescribed prescription pills.

**

**

      "I play in a band," Frank casually mentioned to Gerard one day as he was wrapping up two veggie lasagna slices. They'd gotten into the habit where Frank no longer had to ask Gerard what he wanted, because all Gerard ever wanted was those two slices of spinach lasagna. Well, those and Frank. 

      Gerard raised his eyebrows a little. Where had that come from? "What's it called?" he asked instead, intrigued by the boy's offerings of unprompted information.

      "Pencey Prep. I'm the guitarist and singer. Or, well, screamer, kind of, if you asked my mom and step-dad. My voice kind of sucks, but it's good enough to pass off as, like, teenaged angsty punk shit, so who cares, right?"

      Gerard grinned at his ramblings. "I like teenaged angsty punk shit."

      To Gerard's surprise, Frank's cheeks pinkened while his eyes widened like saucers before he turned his head and hid his eyes behind his flop of inky hair. "Yeah, well, I just . . . um, we have a gig next Friday, and it'd be awesome if you checked me--I mean, shit, us--out." Frank fiddled with the container of spinach lasagna, not really making eye contact with Gerard, which made Gerard wonder why he was acting so awkward all of a sudden.

      Gerard stayed quiet for a moment before asking, "Where at?"

      Frank's neck nearly snapped itself in half due to the sudden jerk of his head in order to look at Gerard's face. "Seriously? You'd come?"

      "Um. Maybe. It depends. Where's it at?"

      "The tavern just a couple blocks from here. We're going on at, like, seven or so. At night. Not in the morning. That'd be weird . . . I mean, who goes to a punk show at a bar at seven in the morning, right?"

      Gerard's smile due to Frank's nervous rambling halted. The tavern. "Aren't you a little too young to be inside bars?" Gerard mumbled, not looking at Frank as he dug inside his wallet for cash. The kid didn't even look twenty-one.

      "No--well, okay, yes. But the bar belongs to my grandpa, and he doesn't care, as long as I don't drink. I turned eighteen four months ago--"

      Gerard nearly dropped the basket of goods he was carrying. "You're still in high school?" he interrupted, unable to hide his shock.

      "Uh, yeah. It sucks, but I mean, everyone has to deal with it at some point or whatever, you know?"

      Gerard was too busy fretting over the fact that he had a fucking crush on a high schooler to even bother reliving his own hellish high school experience. Granted, the kid was eighteen, but holy shit, the kid still probably lived at his parents' house!

      "Uhm, yeah," Gerard answered, nearly knocking over a stack of bread as he swivelled around to pick up the change he'd dropped due to his surprise of Frank's age revelation.

      "So, like, uh. You'll try and show up, right? Not that I'm forcing you or whatever, but I think it'd be really cool if you did come . . . "

      Gerard felt so conflicted right then that he felt like sitting on top of the bread tower and crying. He was a pedophile being invited to an innocent teenager's gig at a bar he'd promised himself to stay away from, which he'd succeeded in doing for almost three years now. He didn't want to fall back into the temptation of drinking just because of some stupid teenaged kid from the local deli. Then again, Gerard also didn't want to disappoint the poor kid, which he knew he was doing the longer he kept silent.

      Finally, with a short sigh and shrug of defeat, he nodded his head. "Okay," he mumbled, and the smile on Frank's face was totally worth the anxiety Gerard would have for the next several days until Friday was over with.

**

**

      "I don't know what's wrong with me," Gerard whined, knotting his fingers through his oily, paint-flecked hair. "I have a crush that won't go away, and it's all over a kid who's ten years younger than me! Mikey, you have to call me a pedophile, you have to call Chris Hansen on me, I can't do this--"

      "Jesus, Gerard, you're acting like he's twelve!" Mikey groaned, bumping Gerard's shoulder with his own and taking the bag containing their beloved spinach lasagnas from his brother's hand. "He's eighteen, alright? It's legal. Besides, you're not the type that just wants to fuck him and dump him. You talk about him too much for that to be the case. I mean, by the sounds of it, he's pretty rad. And if he wants to suck your dick, let him."

      Gerard gave Mikey the best stinkeye he could muster. "For fuck's sake, Mikey, I'm not letting him suck my dick, it's wrong."

      "And why's it wrong? Because someone besides a fucked up, drug-addicted freakshow is actually interested you? That's not wrong, Gerard, that's right, and you need to learn how to stop being so afraid of everyone just because of how Bert treated you!" Mikey didn't want to watch his brother rot away in his little drawing room anymore; he wanted him to find someone to fall in love with, to be happy with, and if that just so happened to be the deli boy from the local supermarket, then Gerard needed to find his balls and learn to not be afraid of what's best for him.

      "I told you not to say his name," Gerard said, his voice eerily steady, and Mikey knew his brother well enough to know that that meant Gerard's veins were bubbling with rage.

      "And I told you to stop running away from your past and learn how to live a life that includes someone besides you and your paintbrushes," Mikey countered sharply.

      Gerard didn't touch his dinner after that. He simply went upstairs, entered his bedroom, slammed the door shut and went to bed. He simply shut everyone else out by running away, because if there was one other thing Gerard Way was good at besides being an asshole, it was being too preoccupied about what the future foretold instead of what the present offered him.

**

**

      It was Friday morning when Gerard finally emerged from his bedroom. Either Mikey had camped out at his place for that entire week, or he'd let himself in with the spare key stereotypically placed under Gerard's doormat. Gerard inferred the latter, knowing how Mikey loved Alicia too much to waste time on his idiot brother rather than curl up against her body at night.

      Gerard wished he could curl up against someone else's body at night.

      Mikey didn't acknowledge Gerard as he made his way throughout the house. He was busy watering all of Gerard's forgotten plants that'd began to wilt like the good brother he was, and that made Gerard feel like even more of a piece of shit. He knew that Mikey only wanted the best for him, he knew that Mikey had been right all along, and he knew that becoming attached to another human being after so long of not even being attached to himself wasn't as big of a deal as he'd made it seem. Frank was a good kid--guy. He was younger, sure, but he made Gerard happier than he'd ever been with Bert, and who was he to deny himself happiness?

      "Will you two idiots hug, kiss and make up already? You're worse than the preschoolers I teach," Alicia huffed later in the afternoon, finally having enough of the two brothers moping around each other for three hours straight. She was cleaning out Gerard's fridge, which was literally the most disgusting thing in the world next to Mikey's hole-infested underwear.

      "She has a point," Gerard said, smirking a little and glancing at Mikey from the corner of his eye. Mikey grinned and wrapped his arms around his older brother. They could never stay mad at each other for very long, no matter how big the fight had been.

      "Well, are you going to start getting ready?" Alicia asked Gerard. Mikey must've told her about Gerard's 'date' with Frank. "You haven't showered in a week and a half, and I really hope those are the oil paints in your hair and not actual hair oil."

      "I thought it over, and I decided that I'll only go if you guys come with. That way I won't be tempted to go near the bar or anything, y'know?"

      Mikey stopped pretending to fluff one of Gerard's throw pillows for a second before sighing and wrapping Gerard in a tight hug. "You've been clean for almost three years, Gee. You know how to control yourself around alcohol by now. But if you really want us there just to be safe, then sure, we'll go."

      "And we'll give the little shit a demonstration on what happens if he even thinks about breaking your heart," Alicia said, coming into the room with a rotted banana in her hand. She squeezed the middle of it, causing the gooey, rotten innards to leak between her fingers and clump against her skin. Gerard and Mikey simultaneously winced and crossed their legs, cupping their crotches with their hands for extra protection. Alicia laughed, the stud in her nose glinting from the sunlight hitting it at just the right angle.

**

**

      When Gerard cleaned up, he cleaned up well. Sort of. He hadn't had any clothes that didn't smell like B.O. or weren't strewn in paints, so Mikey had to lend him some of his clothes. Which, by the way, were rather tight, especially the jeans.

      "I don't like this shirt," Gerard complained, eyeing himself in the hallway mirror distastefully. Mikey's constricting black Morrissey t-shirt didn't make his torso look the least bit flattering. "It makes me look like I have a muffin top."

      "Here, trade shirts with me, then," Alicia said, motioning for Gerard to strip as she gripped her own at its hem. He did, and she took off hers, wearing nothing but a plain black bra underneath.

      "Do you two mind?" Mikey whined, coming up the stairs. "This isn't the Rocky Horror Picture Show; you can't just walk around each other half-naked like it's okay."

      Alicia smirked while tossing Gerard her balled-up Ramones top. "But this is the Rocky Horror Picture Show; Gerard's already brought the eyeliner. Right, Gee?"

      Gerard rolled his eyes while slipping on Alicia's shirt, too busy criticizing his reflection to answer. The sides of his torso and his arms were completely exposed due to the shirt's massive arm holes, exposing the blinding paleness that was his body. His eyes were ringed in black, and he couldn't differentiate between the eyeliner and his sleep-deprived dark circles. His hair, though clean, was fluffed up and awkwardly parted. Gerard messed with his part, trying to make his hair lay better, until Alicia made a frustrated noise and just ruffled his hair until it was styled messily into perfection.

      "What do you think?" Mikey prompted, tired of waiting for Gerard to voice his reaction to it all.

      "I look like a forty year old man trying to be hip again."

      Alicia snorted. "Shut the fuck up, loser, you look hot. If I weren't already married to Mikey, I'd definitely take off more than just my shirt around you."

      "For fuck's sake, he's gay," Mikey stressed, and Gerard couldn't help but grin a little. "But yeah, Gee, you really do look great. Frank won't even recognize you."

      "He will. He'll be like, 'Holy shit, this old fuck's trying to impress me, I'm gonna go text all my young friends about what a loser he is,'" Gerard said, hiding his face behind his hands.

      Alicia tsked. "You're so mean to yourself, Gerard, come on. You look good, and we're not just saying that because we have to."

      "Frank's never going to talk to me again after this," Gerard replied, having multiple second thoughts about the entire thing. "I'm such a fucking--fucking--geezer," Gerard huffed, trying his hardest not to let his tears seep through his tightly-shut eyelids.

      "You're not even thirty yet, Jesus Christ, Gerard! Stop freaking out, you look fine," Alicia snipped, pinching his upper arm tightly, making Gerard yelp.

      "Frank likes you a lot, okay? I haven't even met him personally, but it's pretty obvious by the way you talk about him. He seems like a cool kid, Gerard, and it's legal, and you look like you're eighteen yourself, so stop being such a girl and go put on a jacket because it's cold out!" Mikey snapped.

      "I agree with everything Mikey said except about being a girl. That was sexist as fuck," Alicia remarked, punching Mikey in the arm and making him wince. "Now let's get going, alright? It's almost 6:30, we're gonna miss Frank's show."

      With one last sad glance at his reflection, Gerard followed the two downstairs, a sick, twisted feeling rooted deep in his stomach.

**

**

      When the three arrived at the bar, they were greeted by a surprisingly long line of people who were mainly teenagers or in their early twenties. "We look like we just escaped from our retirement home," Gerard whimpered, hugging his chest tightly like a little kid.

      Mikey and Alicia both laughed. "Shut up," Alicia said, followed by Mikey saying, "Jesus, is this whole line just for Frank's band? I didn't think they'd be this popular."

      "Me either," Gerard mused. "I thought he just had a small-town band."

      Alicia made a face at the line. "We're never going to make it in on time," she sighed. "Think there's a guest list or something? He probably would've put you on it, right, Gee? It would've been a real dick move if he hadn't, after inviting you and all."

      Gerard shrugged uselessly. "I don't think I'm that important for him to put me on a guest list."

      "He reads your fuckin' comic books, dude," Mikey drolled, giving Gerard The Look.

      "Whatever. I need to take a smoke break; my stomach feels like it's gonna explode. Save me a spot in line?" he begged them. Alicia glanced at Mikey, most likely saying, He's your brother, you make the call. Mikey let out a breath before shrugging.

      "Fine. Hurry up, though, okay?"

      Gerard gave his brother a tight hug and an appreciative look towards Alicia before jogging down the rest of the line and turning behind the building. Once the noise of chattering fans died down and was replaced by the buzzing silence of the night, he took a seat on one of the concrete blocks placed next to a bike rack overflowing with the teenagers' bicycles.

      He leaned his head against the brick wall behind him, not caring if he dirtied his hair. He wasn't even going to get the chance to see Frank play anyways; the line was too long and the only way he could cut all those kids would be if he promised them all a signed copy of his comics.

      Gerard pulled out his box of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting the cancer stick up with a swift flick of his lighter and breathing all of the deadly smoke in, hoping it'd kill the bundles of anxiety he had residing inside the emptiness of his body. He wanted to kill everything inside him before it had a chance to kill him first.

      "You should really quit," someone said, making Gerard jump. He hadn't even realized the heavy metal door had opened, revealing a boy with a small stature dressed in all black.

      "Frank," Gerard breathed through the smoke leaving his lips. He stood up as Frank walked over, stubbing the cherry of his cigarette out against the wall just to be safe. Which was good, or else he would've burned him with it when Frank wrapped his arms around Gerard's waist, his hold a little too tight to be considered friendly.

      "You came," Frank murmured against Gerard's chest, tightening his hold even more.

      "I told you I would," Gerard murmured back, hoping Frank couldn't feel his heart beating a mile a minute as he hugged him back.

      "No, you said that you'd try," Frank corrected, pulling back a little to look up at him. "Fuck, did you wash your hair? For me?"

      Gerard blushed a deep scarlet, thankful for the night around them to conceal most of it. "Um, yeah. I mean, I dunno, it needed to be washed anyways, I guess, so I just figured, 'hey, I might as well do it tonight,' you know?" Gerard was rambling, and yes, he did know how stupid he sounded.

      Frank grinned, reaching up and running his fingers through it. Gerard felt like his heart was about to explode. "It's soft," Frank said, voice quiet. "I like it."

      "Thanks," Gerard mumbled. He kept quiet after that, looking down at his run-down sneakers, not knowing what to say. Frank cleared his throat.

      "Um, would you happen to have another cigarette on you by any chance? Dewees used all mine up earlier, and I always have a smoke before we go on so I'm not such a nervous wreck on stage."

      "Oh, o-of course, yeah, here," Gerard said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his pack. He offered Frank one, as well as his lighter. Frank struggled with the lighter for a second before it ignited after the third try. While the flame was still dancing, he relit Gerard's cigarette as well.

      "Thanks," they said together, before smiling a bit and saying, also in unison, "No problem."

      Frank took a seat on the concrete block Gerard had previously been sitting on. Gerard sat down next to him, keeping a space between them just to be safe. "So, what're you doing back here?" Frank asked him.

      "I could ask you the same thing," Gerard replied. "Shouldn't you be getting ready to perform?"

      Frank shrugged. "We're basically ready. I usually just come outside to see the fans. But, I mean, I don't mind spending time with you instead."

      "Oh. I just wanted to take a smoke break. I get really bad anxiety around big crowds, and just being around the public in general, I guess."

      Frank grinned, gray smoke leaking past his pink lips. "Me too! I hate big crowds; they make me so fucking nervous and sick to my stomach."

      Gerard wrinkled his brows. "Really? But you're a performer. And that line of yours is huge; it's almost down the entire block."

      A bittersweet expression crossed his facial features. "Jeez, I didn't expect it to be that big of a turnout. But yeah, crowds always make me nauseous. But when I'm playing guitar, and screaming the lyrics I wrote, it's like all of them are forced to listen to what I have to say, and I love it. Everyone wants to hear me, and I don't feel forgotten anymore. It's like you and your comics; even though you hate strangers in the public, you probably love going to comic book signings and seeing all those people lined up for your approval."

      Gerard nodded his head a little, Frank's logic making sense. "Yeah--you're right, actually. You know, for an eighteen year old, you make a lot of sense."

      Frank blushed, hiding his smile behind his hand and blowing the smoke from his cigarette away from Gerard. "You're not that much older than me," he mumbled. It struck Gerard then that Frank didn't know how old he was.

      "Actually . . . " Gerard began, looking away from Frank and running his fingers through his messy hair. It'd be wrong to lie to him, and it was better for Frank to learn Gerard's age now rather than later, before more things to regret took place. "I'm twenty-eight."

      Seconds turned into minutes, and Frank still hadn't said anything. The same nervous, anxiety-twisted feeling from earlier began to take place in the pit of Gerard's stomach. Fuck.

      "I thought you were younger," Frank finally admitted. Gerard just inhaled a large breath of his cigarette. "You don't look twenty-eight. You look, like, twenty-two, maybe twenty-three."

      "Looks can be deceiving," Gerard muttered darkly, wanting nothing more than to go home.

      "Yeah, I guess."

      At that moment, the sound of a metal door clanging open earned both of the boys' attentions. "Frankie, quit fucking around, man, we're about to go on," a guy with a chubby face and brown, square-shaped curly hair said, sticking his head out from the opening of the door. Frank motioned for him to go away.

      "Give me a minute, Hambone, I'm busy."

      Hambone let out a groan and went back inside, slamming the door behind him. Frank sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with the hand not holding his cancer stick. "Look, Gerard, I don't--I don't care about your age, okay? It's not an issue."

      Gerard just shook his head, stepping on his half-finished cigarette. It was only making the sinking feeling inside him worse. "I don't feel good. I'm gonna head home--" he began, starting to stand, but Frank grabbed his shoulder.

      "I don't care, Gerard, I don't! Why's it matter so much to you? It's not like--fuck, it's not like we're dating or whatever, it's not like this is illegal, what's the big fucking deal?"

      Gerard wanted to pour his heart out right there and then. He wanted to tell Frank that he wished that they were dating, that he wished they could kiss, that he wished they could spend their nights wrapped up in Gerard's bed, snuggled between his sheets. He wanted to tell Frank how much he liked him, how happy he made him, but Frank had a show to play. And Gerard had to get back to Mikey and Alicia.

      "Nothing--I'll tell you another time, alright? Go, you have a gig to do--"

      "Fuck the gig! I wanna know why you don't wanna stay and watch me play all of a sudden."

      Gerard just shook his head. "It doesn't matter--"

      "It does," Frank snapped.

      "It doesn't," Gerard snapped back, shoving Frank's hand off him. He got up, walking back towards the way he came, but Frank was a stubborn little shit with a strong grip.

      "Fuck--Gerard, please don't go," Frank begged, the demanding tone he'd previously been using suddenly disappearing. It was replaced by an imploring tone, Frank shaking his head a little. "Please, please stay. I really want you to be here tonight, and I don't want some stupid fight to ruin it, okay? So please stay. Please," he beseeched, and Gerard had never been going to leave anyways, but Frank just sealed the deal.

      The hardened, icy look on Gerard's face softened. "I--okay," he agreed, ruffling his hand through his hair. "I don't know if I'll be able to get in, though."

      Frank smiled a little, kicking the metal door next to them with his foot. "You're my groupie, of course you'll be able to get in," he joked, making Gerard chuckle slightly.

      "I, um, hope you don't mind, I brought a couple people with me," Gerard mumbled. Gerard couldn't see it due to the darkness, but the light in Frank's eyes dimmed at those words.

      "Oh, yeah, of course. Go ahead and grab them, I'll wait here," Frank said, ushering Gerard to hurry. Gerard nearly sprinted back to the others. The line had shortened to half its size, yet Mikey and Alicia were still nowhere near the front.

      "Gerard, there you are! It's 7:08, I don't think we're gonna make it," said Alicia, a disappointed look on her face, but Gerard quickly motioned for them to follow him before turning around and sprinting back to Frank. Mikey followed Gerard, Alicia not far behind. She had a remarkable talent for running in platforms.

      "Jesus, you run fast," Frank mused, steadying Gerard by his shoulders to avoid collision. Gerard blushed and stepped back, trying to catch his breath.

      "Who's this?" Mikey asked, folding his arms across his chest. Alicia held onto Gerard's hand protectively.

      "Alicia, Mikey, this is Frank. Frank, this is--"

      Gerard was cut off by the metal door opening again. "Frank, let's go, it's a full house, we can't make them wait any longer," the guy from earlier, Hambone, huffed. Frank was staring hard at Alicia and Gerard's hands, an unreadable expression on his face before he shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts from it.

      "I'd love to talk to you guys, but I have to get on stage. You can cut through the hallway on the right to get to the barrier; there's really no backstage, since the venue's so small," Frank said, forcing a laugh. "See you afterwards, Gerard?"

      Gerard hesitated before nodding his head. "Oh, uh, yeah. Sure," he said, Alicia loosening her grip on his hand when she realized that the guy--Frank--wasn't actually a threat. The three of them followed Frank and Hambone through the backdoor of the bar, splitting from the pair as they made their ways to the right hallway Frank had mentioned.

      Thanks to Alicia's shoving, the three of them got to stand center of the barrier. The crowd was so packed that their stomachs were pressed against the barrier's bars to the point where imprints were probably going to appear on Gerard's organs. Mikey was on Gerard's right, Alicia on Gerard's left, both of them aware of his fear of being so close to strangers.

      The bar was dark, the smell of alcohol replaced by the scent of unwashed bodies and sweat. There was only one stage light illuminating the band as they warmed up with their opening song, which consisted of a kick-drum and bassline so strong Gerard could feel it in his stomach. A couple people were already chanting the band's name, and yeah, okay, Gerard would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous when the group of teenaged girls behind him started screeching Frank's name.

      "I love you, Frank Iero!" one of them nearly sobbed. No, you don't, Gerard wanted to snarl, but he was an adult and had to keep his chill. Alicia noticed this, though, and grinned mischieviously. 

      "Gerard Way loves Frank Iero!" she yelled when the crowd's random screeches died down a little, making Gerard nearly pass out because right then, Frank walked on stage looking like some punk angel crafted by God Himself.

      The smile on Frank's face was hard not to notice, especially when the bar's lighting flashed on him, bouncing off his teeth and making his lip ring sparkle. The crowd was literally losing its shit, surging forward, someone pressing their stomach right up against Gerard's ass.

      "Frankie, Frankie, Frankie!" the girls from earlier were now screeching, and Gerard was jealous of them. He wished he could get away with screaming Frank's name like that--and, fuck, he wanted to scream it in the dirtiest way possible.

      "Hambone, Hambone, Hambone!" Frank chanted back at the crowd in his mic, making the bassist, Hambone, laugh and the crowd scream louder, continuing the chant. Gerard couldn't help but smile like a fool due to Frank's amplified voice; if God had a voice, it would be Frank's.

      The band broke out into their first song, which consisted of a lot of guitar riffs and screaming from Frank about someone fucking a girl, and Gerard couldn't've been happier to be in a room full of people who loved Frank almost as much as Gerard loved him. Frank deserved all the love in the world, and if Gerard couldn't give him his love personally, he was glad other people could attempt to instead.

      "Thank you all so much for coming out tonight," Frank said, during the break, "and a special thanks to my friend Gerard for making this show possible. Had it not been for that cigarette, I don't know how my heart would've gone on. This next one's called Lloyd Dobbler."

**

**

      Gerard had been to his fair share of punk concerts before, but Pencey Prep had definitely been one of his favorites. And it wasn't just because of Frank; he really had enjoyed the band's sound, the desperate, angsty, teenaged feel behind it all. If he'd been a teenager, the band would've been his entire life, their music his anthem.

      After the show, Gerard, Mikey and Alicia all waited inside one of the booths farthest from the bar. They all chattered excitedly about the concert, Alicia practically bouncing in her seat about how much talent Frank had.

      "I'm telling you, Gerard, you better claim him now while you can. His band's gonna be a huge hit, and that drummer of his is really good at matching his pace with Frank's breaths, did you notice that? Mikey, please tell me I'm not the only one who noticed that."

      Alicia was right. The band had been really good, and though they were all probably just a bunch of teenagers, they held a lot of talent within them. Gerard frowned a little, realizing that they were still kids who had their whole lives to explore and play music and tour, probably. Gerard didn't have the right to keep Frank from whatever good things the future held; it was selfish of him for even thinking he could ever have Frank as his own.

      "I can't believe he had the balls to thank you up there, Gee," Mikey said, nodding approvingly. "Then to sing a love song afterwards? Please don't tell me you still think he doesn't like you."

      "Also, I forgot to mention, did you see the look on his face when I grabbed your hand earlier? He looked shattered. I think you guys both have really messed up ideas when it comes to your relationship, and not in a good way," Alicia reminded him.

      Gerard sighed, still trying to come down from post-concert high. "I don't know what to think, guys. He had a girlfriend."

      "He could be bi," Mikey supplied easily, shrugging. "I liked boys, too, back in high school. Remember Pete Wentz?"

      Gerard made a face. "Are you suggesting that I'll be some sort of phase to him?"

      Alicia was frowning. "Who's Pete Wentz? And Mikey, shut up, you're giving him the wrong idea. What he'd meant was that Frank's tastes may be open to sausages, too, so don't smother your hopes just yet."

      "Speaking of Frank," Mikey coughed, nodding towards the area behind Gerard. Gerard turned to see Frank walking towards them, his plain gray shirt soaked with sweat, his hair matted boyishly against his beautiful face.

      "Hey," he said, leaning against their table, the same forced smile from earlier on his face.

      "You were amazing," was the first thing out of Alicia's mouth. "I've never seen so much passion in a kid before, how long've you been playing?"

      "I'm not a kid," Frank mumbled, scratching at his elbow. "And since I was nine, give or take a few months. Do you mind if I steal Gerard from you guys for a minute?"

      "Go ahead, but his bedtime's in an hour, so be sure to give him up," Mikey said, and Alicia laughed and bopped Gerard teasingly on his nose. They were so embarrassing.

      Gerard followed Frank away from the table, the bar nearly empty. It was around 11o'clock; the time had really flown by. Frank led Gerard down a short hallway, away from the smooth jazz and mingling patrons. They stopped walking when they got to a small powder room, complete with a faux red velvet couch and gold-trimmed, full-length mirror.

      "Fuck, I'm a mess," Gerard said, catching his reflection in the mirror. His eyeliner had run around the edges, his hair matted with sweat, his cheeks bearing a lively red color that the adrenaline rush from the concert had brought him.

      "You look great," Frank said, messing with the studs on his pink belt. "I meant to tell you that earlier."

      Gerard smiled a little, seeing Frank in a whole new light. He was so beautiful, the way he threw his body around on stage in a way that suggested the exact opposite. The passion he held in his heart was hard to miss, and Gerard wished he could listen to Frank sing those lyrics at him for the rest of his life.

      "Your band played really good tonight. And even though I had a bunch of teenaged girls practically clawing at my back to tell you that they want to have your babies, I was really impressed by it all. You're extremely talented."

      Frank blushed, his honey hazel eyes making Gerard's knees weaken. "That means a lot, Gee. Thanks for coming--for staying."

      "I--um, no problem, Frankie." A brief silence passed between the two. Finally, a frustrated look crossed Frank's delicate features before he sighed and glanced up at Gerard.

      "Please don't be mad at me," he said, and Gerard furrowed his eyebrows quizzically, about to ask what he'd meant, but Frank's lips were already against his, his bottom lip softer than his top, his cheekbones powerful, his calloused fingers gripping tightly onto Gerard's face as he kissed him with every ounce of his being.

      Gerard stumbled backwards in surprise, the backs of his knees giving out against the couch. Frankie didn't slow down, though, just the opposite, actually. He planted himself on Gerard's lap, his lips moving so strongly, so hurriedly, Gerard was sure that bruises would form.

      Gerard was too shocked to react at first, unable to wrap his head around the fact that Frank was actually kissing him, the guy he'd been crushing on for over three months, actually had his mouth against his own.

      Frank pushed Gerard down against the couch, and Gerard didn't put up much of a fight. He allowed Frank to straddle his waist, allowed him to rub his jean-covered crotch against his own, allowed him to claim his mouth as his own. Gerard desperately wanted to kiss back, to lift his hips up to meet Frank's thrusts, to claim Frank's mouth as his own, but he was terrified. He was scared of falling for Frank, because Frank was young and had his whole life ahead of him, and Gerard was an old loser that was scared of love yet so tired of being alone.

      "Please kiss me back," Frank panted against Gerard's swollen lips, and who was Gerard to deny Frank anything? Gerard would've given him the entire world right then if he'd only asked.

      So Gerard did. He parted his lips, allowing Frank's tongue entrance, shivering at the way Frank's warm tongue pressed wetly against his own. Their breaths were hot as they panted heavily into each other's mouths, Gerard's fingers entangled in Frank's mohawk, Frank's hands making their way up Gerard's loose shirt.

      Gerard hadn't even been aware of his legs spreading until he felt Frank's jean-covered erection thrust right up against Gerard's own, resulting in a long, high-pitched, very embarrassing moan from Gerard. One of his legs slid off the side of the couch, which Gerard used to his advantage for meeting Frank's short, quick thrusts.

      "Fuck--fuck, fuck, don't stop, don't stop," Frank begged, eyebrows furrowed with sweat as his mouth parted open. He kept making these short, breathy moans that were driving Gerard mad.

      Gerard fiddled with Frank's belt buckle, and Frank began nodding his head, his chest rising and falling so fast Gerard thought he could see his heart pounding through his flesh. Undoing his belt was difficult with just one hand, so he untangled his fingers from Frank's hair and quickly stripped away the first obstacle.

      When Gerard's palm met with Frank's throbbing, boxer-covered cock, he nearly had to pause for a minute. He hadn't done this with anyone in over three years; he hadn't touched another guy's cock since he was twenty-five, since he'd been with Bert, and he was terrified of doing the wrong thing, of scaring Frank away.

      "Please," Frank was panting, nearly clawing against Gerard's ribs, which were straining against his skin due to his erratic breathing. "Fucking--please, Gerard."

      Gerard teased him for only a second by pressing his nails against the side of his straining erection, making Frank cry out with more of those beautifully unique moans, before he proceeded to push Frank's boxers off his hips and down his thighs. Frank sighed from the release of his constraints, eyelids draped blissfully over his honey-hazel orbs.

      Gerard smiled at the sight of Frank, his hand moving up and down his hard cock leisurely, wanting it to last forever. As far as Gerard was concerned, they were in their own little world, their own personal cloud nine, and not in the back of some bar after a punk concert.

      "Fuck, faster, please, please, faster," Frank continued to beg, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of his nose and getting stuck on his nose ring. Gerard sped up his movements, using his thumb to wipe off the bead of precum and using it to slick up the sides of his shaft. Gerard noticed that Frank liked it when he touched his tip, so each time his fist jerked upwards, he'd be sure to do a small, twisting motion against the head of Frank's cock. "Fuck, I'm gonna--" Frank tried to warn Gerard, but was cut off by a series of short, breathy gasps, then one long, high-pitched moan, and Gerard cupped Frank's tip with his fist just as he came, the warm, white liquid filling up his palm completely.

      "Disgusting," Frank croaked, grinning down at Gerard as Gerard wiped his hand against his jeans. Gerard grinned back. They were Mikey's jeans, anyways.

      The two stared at each other for a minute, Frank staring down at Gerard with heavy lids, Gerard drinking in every bit of Frank's post-orgasm haze, until Frank remembered that he wasn't the only one with a dick and proceeded to unbutton Gerard's jeans.

      "You don't have to--" Gerard began, trying to be a gentleman, but Frank shook his head stubbornly.

      "I want to," he told him honestly. Gerard allowed Frank to pull down his pants, smirking to himself when Frank realized that Gerard wasn't wearing any underwear.

      "Kinky fuck," Frank teased with a shit-eating grin that Gerard could feel against his perspiring neck. "You knew you were gonna get your dick sucked tonight, huh?"

      "The jeans were too tight for underwear," Gerard explained, before continuing to furrow his brows and say, "wait, what?"

      Frank's lips were already wrapped around his tip, and though Gerard's mouth was opened wide, his throat was too constricted for any noise to come out. He had to force himself to drill his hips against the couch, to hook his foot around the couch's leg, which acted as an anchor to keep from thrusting up into the warm, wet abyss that was Frank's mouth.

      Gerard's fingers reached up above his head, grabbing at anything he could to keep from touching Frank anymore than he was. He didn't want to hurt him, didn't want to accidentally shove his head downwards or anything, so he just stuck to knotting his fingers in his own hair, sucking in a deep breath when Frank's mouth sunk lower on his throbbing cock.

      "F-fuck," Gerard moaned, low and hot, as Frank's fingers tickled the trail of dark hair below his navel. "You feel so good, Frankie, f-fuck, oh, fuck."

      "If you wanna fuck my mouth, go ahead. I can take it," Frank told him, pulling off his cock for a moment so his words would be audible. Gerard nodded his a head a little, untangling his fingers just so he could replace them in Frank's mohawk, loosening his foot from around its post so his hips could get more leverage.

      Before Frank went back down on him, he smirked against Gerard's leaking tip, the cool metal of his lip ring making a series of shivers shoot up Gerard's spine. Frank then proceeded to engulf Gerard's length, using one of his fists to guide him while his freehand traveled to the top of his head. Gerard didn't even have to look to know what Frank wanted; he just let one of his hands go, gripping tightly onto Frank's, moaning loudly when he hit the back of Frank's throat. Gerard knew that if he got any louder, someone would be bound to check on them, so he quickly turned his head to stifle his moans against the back of the couch.

      "Frank, Frank, Frank, oh, my God, Frank," Gerard breathed against the back of the couch, his eyelids fluttering rapidly in a pace that matched both of their heartbeats. Frank tightened his grip in Gerard's hand, and Gerard could feel his teeth against himself as Frank smiled. It felt so good, fuck, it all felt so good, Gerard had been so wrong. He'd been wrong for fighting with Frank about something as stupid as age when they were both legal and wanted each other. If Frank wanted to abandon Gerard to follow his dreams, Gerard would let him. But if Frank genuinely wanted him, to sleep with him, to love him, to eat fuckin' spinach lasagnas from that deli together, then who was Gerard to tell him no? Who was Gerard to tell Frank no when all Frank wanted was him?

      Gerard closed his eyes, turning his head and forcing his eyelids open a crack to look at Frank. He looked so beautiful with his spit-covered, bruised lips, his dark eyelashes dusting against his flushed cheeks, the way his thumb brushed up and down the back of Gerard's hand, only adding to the pleasure and Gerard's revelation.

      Gerard pressed the back of his head against the soft cushion of the couch as Frank sucked his cock to the point where both his cheeks were hollowed. Gerard couldn't take much more of this; the overall pleasure of it all was building up in his stomach to the point where the only option he had left was to come. He was careful when thrusting his hips upward, making sure Frank wouldn't choke while he tightened his grip on Frank's inky black mohawk. With one last hip spasm in his final thrust, the head of Gerard's pulsating cock hit Frank's throat a little too hard, causing him to choke and constrict tightly around the length inside it. "Fuck!" Gerard cried out, and Frank had to pull off; he couldn't breathe. The events had really bad timing, though, and Frank ended up getting Gerard's come all over his cheek.

      "Fuck, you just came on my face," Frank giggled, his voice sounding thick and sore to Gerard's ears.

      "Sorry, sorry, it was an accident, fuck, I really didn't--" Gerard began, eyebrows furrowing in worry, but Frank just shook his head, laughing a little.

      "It's fine, I'm just giving you a hard time," he murmured, shiny honey eyes connecting with Gerard's hazy greens. Gerard stripped off his shirt to wipe off Frank's face, making Frank shake his head, laughing harder.

      "You're so fucking--there's a tissue box right there," Frank giggled lazily, not letting Gerard up anyways. He helped Gerard tuck himself back into his jeans and was careful when zipping him up, since the stupid fuck hadn't bothered to wear underwear. Frank still couldn't get over that fact: Gerard had come to his concert without any underwear on.

      Gerard tugged Frank's boxers and loose-fitting jeans up to rest low against his hips, not bothering with Frank's belt or his own shirt. He just let his body sink against the plush velvet couch, enjoying the feel of Frank's small body pressed against his own.

      "Can I kiss you again?" Frank whispered, and Gerard smirked.

      "You didn't ask the first time," Gerard replied, making Frank snicker.

      "I didn't have your dick in my mouth the first time," Frank reminded him, making Gerard's heart flutter. He just nodded his head, not even hesitating to kiss Frank back this time when their swollen lips met again.

      The two held each other for a while after that, Frank's face buried against the crook of Gerard's neck, Gerard's arm wrapped protectively around Frank's back. He wasn't sure what to do, what to call themselves, didn't even know what to say, but right then, it didn't seem to matter. All that mattered was that he was with Frank, and Frank was with him, and after so long of being afraid, Gerard was glad to say that he wasn't scared of being happy anymore.

      That was, until, their little moment was shattered by the sounds of Mikey and Alicia calling Gerard's name from not-so far away.

      Frank was the first to react. "Fuck," he said, pushing himself off Gerard's warm chest. "Fuck, shit--Gerard, fuck, I'm so sorry, I hadn't meant to ruin your relationship, I just wanted--I'd just wanted to kiss you, really, and then I promised myself I'd leave you alone, and I--fuck, I have to go, I fucked up, I hate myself, I'm so sorry--" Frank rambled, rolling onto the floor and scrambling to his feet. Gerard furrowed his dark brows quizzically.

      "Frank, what are you talking about?" he asked, but Frank looked so destroyed, so helpless, that it was tearing Gerard's heart to pieces.

      "Your wedding ring is missing--fuck, I couldn't feel your wedding ring. I'm sorry, Gerard, I'll leave you alone, tell your wife I'm sorry, God, I'm so sorry," Frank babbled, his face flaming, eyes nearly overflowing with tears as he backed out of the room, hands in the air. Gerard's mind was still struggling to get out of its post-orgasm state; it couldn't fully comprehend Frank's hecticness until Gerard blinked his bleary eyes and realized that Frank was gone.

      "Gerard, what's going on?" Mikey asked a couple seconds later, entering the powder room with Alicia at his side. He wrinkled his nose at Gerard's image, shaking his head. "And please tell me that's dried Elmer's Glue on your pants, and not what I think it is."

      "Shut up, Mikey," Alicia said, flicking the side of his head with her index finger and thumb. "Seriously, Gerard, what happened? We've been looking for your for half an hour, and then Frank just came running down the hallway nearly in tears, telling me that he was sorry."

      Gerard just shook his head, pulling his shirt back on and grabbing Frank's forgotten pink belt from the floor. "I don't know," he mumbled, just as lost as the others. "I think--I think he thinks I'm in a relationship with someone--you, Alicia--and that I'm sabotaging it for him."

      Mikey and Alicia both looked at each other, then back at Gerard, before Alicia pursed her lips and said, "I don't know if I should laugh or feel sorry for the poor kid."

      Mikey made a face. "Why do people think you're straight? Is the way you shake your hips when you walk and your eyeliner not enough for people to get the hint?"

      "This isn't funny, you guys," Gerard stressed, the sinking feeling in his stomach returning for the third time that night. He left the powder room, his two shadows following behind him. "I have to talk to him--did you see which way he went?"

      Mikey shook his head. "He was sprinting, Gee. He's probably gone by now."

      Gerard's heart, once radiating with newfound love, was shattering in its soon-to-be shell of a chest. "I can't--I can't call him or anything. I never got his cellphone."

      "You knew the guy for three months and never bothered getting his number?" Mikey drawled.

      "Shut up, you're lucky I even got his name."

      "True," Alicia agreed, nodding solemnly at Gerard. "Did you lay him, by the way?"

      "Does it matter?" Gerard muttered, exiting the bar through its front doors.

      "Um, yeah. Is all of this oncoming drama going to be worth it if the sex sucks?"

      "He's a kid who thinks he ruined a happy husband-and-wife relationship, does it fucking matter whether or not he was a good lay?"

      "Whenever Mikey and I get into a fight, I always question our sex life to see if it's worth resolving."

      "Alicia, he didn't need to know that. And neither did I. Your ham tasted like shit, by the way."

      "You're sleeping on the couch tonight, asshole, and Bunny's taking your side of the bed!"

      "Can you guys be quiet? I'm kind of dealing with something at the moment," Gerard growled through his clenched teeth, slamming the driver's side door shut. Great. Now he had to listen to his brother and sister-in-law's bitching, and worst of all the deli was closed by now, and Gerard couldn't talk to Frank until tomorrow evening.

      Gerard was beginning to regret ever falling in love again in the first place.

**

**

      "G'Afternoon, Gerard," said Dewees, almost as familiar with him as Frank was. "You're never hear this early; the sun's still up. What's up? What can I get for you?"

      "Um, actually, is Frank here?" Gerard asked, tucking his hands in his pockets.

      Dewees shook his head. "Nah, he doesn't come in until another hour. I'll tell him you stopped by, though, if you want."

      Gerard bit his bottom lip, awkwardly coursing his fingers through his hair. "I'll just wait for him, it's okay."

      Dewees made a face. "You're gonna wait around a grocery store for an hour just for him?"

      Gerard shrugged. He didn't have anything better to do on a Saturday. "Yeah."

      Dewees nodded, widening his eyes comically while simultaneously whistling the theme song to Psycho softly under his breath. Gerard rolled his eyes at Dewees theatrics, then went over to the bread tower and began restacking the shelves mindlessly. Two full hours had passed before Gerard realized that Frank would probably be there by now, so he put down the Hawaiian bread and went back over to the deli.

      Dewees was there, wishing a customer a good evening before focusing his attention on Gerard. "You're still here?" he said, raising his thick eyebrows.

      "Uh, yeah. Is Frank?"

      "Nah, he called in sick."

      Gerard pressed his lips together, staring hard at Dewees. "Are you serious?" he mumbled, trying to stay calm.

      "Yeah."

      "And you didn't bother telling me that an hour ago?"

      He shrugged. "You were busy. The bread tower looks awesome, by the way."

      Gerard turned around, leaving the store while mumbling curses about Dewees's name.

**

**

      Gerard returned the following seven evenings to receive the same news: Frank was sick, and wouldn't be showing up for work that day.

      Gerard began to wonder about how much longer Frank could keep this up. He couldn't avoid work forever, couldn't avoid Gerard forever. They had too much of a connection to just be thrown away due to a simple misunderstanding.

      Apparently Frank didn't think the same way as Gerard. It'd been three whole weeks that Gerard had gone every evening to the deli in search of Frank, and on the Monday of the fourth week, he was greeted by a sad-looking Dewees.

      "Don't even bother mentioning his name," Dewees mumbled sadly, sitting glumly on the black barstool behind his counter while eating Ritz crackers and hummus. "The fuckhead quit last night."

      Gerard's heart threatened to hurl out of his throat right then and there. "What the fuck?" Gerard said, his eyes widening like saucers. "Are you fucking--fuck, no, please tell me you're joking."

      He shook his head bitterly. "Nope. His band got signed that night at the bar, I guess. They're leaving for tour tomorrow. Fuckhead didn't even give me a free CD or anything. I hate him so much."

      Gerard was on the verge of having a panic attack in the middle of the store. No--this couldn't be happening. Frank couldn't just leave like that, after all those months together, after that night in the powder room. "Dewees, please give me his number, or his address, just something. I need to talk to him--I need to talk to him before he leaves, please, this important."

      Dewees sighed, shaking his head a little. "I can't, it's company policy, Gerard. All employee contact information is private."

      "Dewees, please," Gerard begged, his eyes stinging. Dewees just shoved another cracker into his mouth, wiping the corner of his eye with his sleeve.

      "I told him about you, y'know? I told him, 'Frank, your creepy boyfriend keeps asking for you, get your ass to work,' but he just told me to tell you that he was sorry, and I know he can be a giant, overdramatic vagina sometimes, so I had no idea what he was talking about. He just told me he was quitting after that, and that I could have all his hummus, and I don't even like hummus but I'm eating it anyway because I hate that fuckhead so much."

      Gerard wanted to punch Frank in the face. How dare he quit his job at the deli, how dare he wipe Dewees's near-permanent grin off his face just because he couldn't man up and face Gerard himself. He was such a piece of shit, and Gerard was so in love with him that the thought of losing him forever was making the tears in his eyes threaten to spill over.

      "Fuck, Gerard--don't cry, okay, please don't. Look, I can't tell you where he lives or give out his cell, but I can tell you where he usually hangs out. He's probably moping in the Starbucks a couple blocks down from here, blowing his last paycheck on pricey coffee because he's a rockstar now and too good for Dunkin Donuts."

      Gerard could've kissed Dewees then, but he wasn't much for facial hair. "Jesus, Dewees, thank you--so much!" He nearly bolted away from the deli, Dewees's words still in his ears as he hopped into his shitty car and floored it out of the parking lot.

      "If you do see him, tell him I miss him, and that his grandma's hummus is my new favorite thing, okay?"

**

**

      Gerard made the mistake of not getting specific directions from Dewees, such as which Starbucks in particular Frank would be moping at. There were three of them on Gerard's way, and he checked each one twice with no sign of Frank at any. Gerard was sitting in the parking lot of the second Starbucks for a third time, forehead pressed against his steering wheel, the shards of his heart poking painfully at the inside of his chest. He was one more Frank-less Starbucks away from losing all his hope, forever.

      With a forlorn sigh, Gerard sat up in his seat and stared emptily out his window. He still had no idea how it all happened--how Frank had mistaken him for a married man, how Frank had hugged Gerard so tightly before the show, how he'd kissed Gerard so needfully in that backroom, how he'd grabbed Gerard's hand so tightly and refused to let it go. Gerard nearly wished for things to return back to normal, back to the day where all he thought of Frank was as some weird vegetarian deli boy that had a thing for hummus and crackers. But that'd be unfair to Frank, Gerard knew, because if Frank had kept his job at the deli, he would've never been able to go on tour, to travel the country with his friends, to play his music for hundreds, maybe thousands of people that loved him almost as much as Gerard did.

      Gerard rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, trying to keep it together. He decided to just go inside one last time, get a black coffee, drink it, then drown himself in his tears when he returned home.

      Gerard exited his car and didn't bother acknowledging the chilly April air around him. He entered the warm Starbucks with his head down, getting in line behind a mother and her teenaged daughter. The daughter was wearing a Pencey Prep t-shirt, which made Gerard want to reach over, take her vanilla macchiato and pour it all over her torso.

      "How can I help you?" the barista asked, pulling Gerard out of his childish attempt at getting revenge.

      Gerard wished it were Frank asking him what he needed. Gerard always found it a lot easier to talk when Frank was in front of him. "U-um," Gerard began, not making eye contact with the girl. "Can I get a grande, black?"

      "Sure thing," the girl said. "Anything else with that?"

      Gerard really wanted spinach lasagna, but it'd be stupid to ask for one at Starbucks, of all places. "No, that'd be it."

      "Coming right up. And can I get your name, please?"

      "Uh, Gerard."

      "Alright, your total will be three dollars and seven cents."

      Gerard waited by the pickup area for his coffee, staring absently down at his shoes. In his line of vision, he could see the small segment of pink fabric that belonged to Frank's studded belt, which he had buckled loosely around his waist. He'd been meaning to give it back to him, but with the way things had been going, it looked like Gerard would be keeping that belt for himself, his own personal reminder of what could've been.

      "Gerard," called a loud voice, and Gerard jumped and looked up automatically. He hadn't been the only one to look up, though--a young man with two facial piercings, one in his nostril and the other in his lip, and a black, inky mohawk that fell into his face had also jerked his head upwards. Gerard immediately recognized him, especially due to his honey-hazel eyes, which always lit up automatically in Gerard's presence.

      It was Frank.

     "Uh, Sir?" one of the baristas repeated. Gerard didn't dare to turn his head or blink, fearful that if he did Frank would disappear once again. He quickly retrieved his coffee and practically jogged over towards Frank's table, which was a small, circular booth hidden in the very back of the small coffee shop.

      Frank's jaw continued to slacken more and more until Gerard was right there, and by then his chin was resting in his lap.

      "Frank," Gerard said, the relief in his eyes hard to miss. Frank couldn't even respond, just sat there, staring up dumbly at Gerard, eyes nearly popping out of his head.

      Gerard didn't even hesitate to wrap his arms around Frank's shoulders, hugging the young man tightly, squeezing the life out of him. Frank didn't care; he just hugged Gerard back, burying his face against the side of his neck.

      "You stupid fuckhead," Gerard nearly sobbed, having missed Frank so much. "I thought I'd never see you again. Everyday, I went to the deli looking for you, and then Dewees told me that you quit--I almost passed out, right in front of those stupid hams."

      Frank giggled, a gurgling noise barely suppressed by the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, shaking his head a little.

      "There's nothing to be sorry for," Gerard told him, pulling back to look him in the eyes. He smiled down at him, trying to convince Frank to believe him already. "I love you, Frankie, so much--"

      Frank shook his head, the same look in his eyes from all those weeks ago, back in the powder room, returned. He looked scared and regretful, pulling away from Gerard's hold even more. "Gerard, hold on . . . you're married . . . stop."

      Gerard laughed, shaking his head from left to right. "No, I'm not--I'm single, and I haven't dated anyone in three years."

      Frank's perfectly arched eyebrows pulled together quizzically. "Wait . . . what? I thought . . . I thought you were seeing someone--that girl, Alice, Alyssa, or something."

      Gerard continued to shake his head, blushing a bit. "Why would you--why would you think I was dating someone?" Gerard didn't exactly strike himself as someone who looked like they'd have multiple boyfriends and girlfriends crawling all over him, and he especially didn't come off as someone who could score a wife as beautiful as Alicia.

      Frank was biting his lip ring, his eyebrows furrowing deeper. "Because you always ordered two veggie lasagnas, and I'd figured you were picking them up for you and your partner or whatever. Then you mentioned having in-laws, and--and then, at the gig, she was holding your hand and, like, bopped you on the nose, and I--fuck, I seriously thought you were married to her," he said, a bit of nervous laughter breaking off at the end.

      Gerard sat down across Frank, pushing his coffee to the side. "Alicia's my sister-in-law. We've known each other since we were kids, that's why she acts so carelessly around me. The other guy you met, Mikey--he's my brother, and her husband. He was the one who forced me to start getting my own dinner to battle my so-called 'social anxiety' or whatever, and I always brought home two lasagnas for the both of us. I see where you'd get the idea, but, I mean . . . I can't believe you thought I was straight," Gerard giggled, making Frank smile lopsidedly. "I always thought you were the straight one--you were the one who brought up your ex-girlfriend the second day we met."

      He shook his head. "No, no, I'm bi. That was me trying to--fuck, that was my shitty attempt at telling you I was single," he laughed, giggly and high-pitched. The sound of Frank's laugh was the anthem for Gerard's heart to repair itself again.

      "When you were holding my hand, and started freaking out . . . why?" Gerard asked, a question he'd been begging to understand.

      Frank blushed a light pink, most likely thinking about the events that led up to him holding Gerard's hand in the first place. He averted his eyes to look at the wall next to them, shaking his head a little. "When I held your hand, and hadn't felt your wedding ring, I'd thought I was tearing your marriage apart or something," he admitted softly, folding his hands together on top of the table. "I'd thought you were trying to tell me that you were going to leave your 'wife' for me, and it freaked me out because I didn't want to split you guys up. I guess it sounds pretty far-fetched for me to assume something like that, but my mom's always telling me about how I was the reason she and my dad split, and I just . . . I don't know, I didn't want to ruin another marriage, you know?"

      Gerard was frowning now. "No offense to your mom, but that's pretty shitty of her to blame her failed marriage on you. But, I mean, you didn't ruin any marriages at all, okay? A divorce is between a husband and a wife, and has nothing to do with their children. Alright?"

      Frank nodded his head yet still refused to meet Gerard's gaze. Gerard reached out to touch Frank's cheek, tilting his head towards him. Frank let his eyes meet with Gerard's, staring at him with the lost vulnerability of a small child.

      "I missed you," Frank blurted as soon as their eyes connected, and Gerard smiled, stroking the side of his sun-kissed cheek with his thumb.

      "I missed you, too," Gerard replied, honestly. Then he leaned in and placed a soft kiss against Frank's dried lips, and Frank didn't forget to reciprocate. When Gerard pulled back, a brief silence passed between the two, filled with the other customers' faraway voices. Gerard simply enjoyed the moment as the weight of all the confusion and stress he'd been piling on his shoulders finally slipped away.

      Almost.

      "Why didn't you tell me that you got signed?" Gerard asked, remembering the talk with Dewees. Frank sunk in his seat, covering his face with his large cup of coffee as he took a sip. He put it back down after several more gulps, then proceeded to wipe his top lip with the sleeve of his plain black sweatshirt.

      "I wanted to tell you in the powder room," he admitted, reaching up to where Gerard's hands was still resting on his cheek and taking it off. He held his hand instead, dusting his fingertips across Gerard's digits slowly. "After the gig, a guy from Eyeball Records came up to me, said that he really liked what we had to offer. He wanted to sign us right away. I was excited to, like, finally have an excuse to get out of New Jersey, but I was also terrified because I didn't want to leave you. So, um, originally, when I asked to talk to you, I'd planned to tell you that I got signed. And--and I was just gonna kiss your cheek, or, like, something trivial like that, because I thought it'd be enough. I knew I had to force myself to get over you eventually, and I actually thought that'd be enough. I thought a harmless kiss was enough to get away with, but then I kissed your lips instead, and it got carried away from there . . . fuck, I really wasn't expecting all of that," Frank breathed, blushing a deep scarlet, Gerard's cheeks just as red.

      "Neither was I," Gerard murmured, nodding his head a little. "It was--it was good though, yeah?"

      Frank laughed, shaking his head. "We're not discussing our sex life in Starbucks, fucker."

      Gerard laughed as well. He then took a sip of his coffee, which had cooled off quite a bit by then. "Just say yes or no," Gerard prompted, making Frank giggle and blush harder.

      "You're such a fuck," he replied after Gerard had also added, "Would you wanna do it again?"

      "Yeah," Frank finally agreed several seconds later, grinning mischieviously at Gerard's surprised expression.

      "Seriously?" Gerard asked, bemused. Frank nodded. "Right now?" Gerard asked for extra clarification, his eyebrows raising in a comical way that made Frank giggle.

      "Yeah," he agreed again. Gerard hurried to gulp down the rest of his coffee while Frank gathered up his stuff. They both tossed their empty coffee cups into the trash on their way out, their hands locking together as soon as they were seated inside Gerard's car.

      The drive was short, either because a) they were only a couple blocks from Gerard's house or b) Gerard had been stepping a little too hard on the gas pedal due to Frank's slow, circular rubbing motions against his thigh. Whichever it was, it no longer mattered as the two of them were too preoccupied with one another to even bother removing their shoes once inside Gerard's house.

      Gerard's lips were on Frank's, and Frank's hands were on Gerard's hips, keeping a constant pressure on their lower halves. Gerard had one of his hands tangled in Frank's inky mohawk, the other shutting the front door then tossing his keys somewhere in his livingroom.

      "Frank, I--" Gerard began, but was cut off by his own moan when Frank bit down on a spot against his neck. It'd hurt, but Frank had alleviated some of the pain by running the pad of his tongue across the mark, and Gerard had never realized how much he'd missed Frank's tongue until then.

       "Stairs," he moaned as Frank began pushing his cold hands up Gerard's sweater.

      "Stairs?" Frank laughed, pulling back to stare at Gerard quizzically. "That's probably the least sexy thing you've ever said."

      Gerard's flushed cheeks lifted when he smiled, exposing his smile lines. "I mean, stairs--my room's upstairs."

      "Oh," Frank said, pulling back a little. "That makes sense. Lead the way, I guess."

      Gerard nearly faceplanted twice going up the short flight of steps had it not been for Frank tugging him back up by his hand. Gerard opened his bedroom door, motioning for Frank to enter first. He did, looking around as he went, taking the messy room in. There were paintbrushes strewn everywhere, as well as socks with weird patterns and underwear with even stranger designs.

      "You jack off to Bowie, too?" Frank mused as he crawled onto Gerard's soft Star Wars bed, lying on his back and staring up at the Bowie poster above his head.

      Gerard's cheeks felt like they were on fire. "Yeah," he mumbled, walking past the lightswitch since there was still enough fading afternoon lighting coming in from the blinds of Gerard's window.

      "Hot," Frank teased, using his heels to shove off his shoes.

      "Lonely," Gerard corrected, making Frank laugh. God, he loved it when Frank laughed.

      There was a brief, awkward silence, and neither of them knew what to do for a while before Frank came to save the day. "So," he began, clearing his throat, "do you have the stuff?"

      "Stuff?" Gerard asked, confused. Frank wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Oh, that stuff," Gerard realized, catching the drift. "Yeah, um, under the bed. I'll grab them."

      Gerard dug around for at least thirty seconds in search of condoms and lube until he finally found them behind a box of old Rolling Stones magazines. He hadn't used them since Bert, and just to be safe he checked their expiration dates. They were still good, thankfully, so he placed them on his bedside table for easier access.

      "Okay," Gerard said, trying not to seem awkward as he crawled back onto the bed. He was almost thirty, for fuck's sake, he shouldn't be acting like a virgin all over again.

      Frank, who had by then removed his top and pushed his sweatpants and boxers down to a dangerously low position against his hips, made the first move. He cupped Gerard's jawline with both his hands, pressing their lips together swiftly and slipping his tongue into Gerard's mouth without a fight. Gerard moaned low in the back of his throat, feeling Frank shiver against him in response. Gerard slipped one of his hands down Frank's sweatpants, toying with his length through the fabric of his boxers and earning multiple encouraging noises in response.

      It didn't take long for either of them to get hard again, with Gerard's hand teasing Frank's growing erection and Frank's hands grasping needily against Gerard's ass.

      "Off," Frank panted, tugging at Gerard's jeans. Gerard nodded his head in agreement, toeing off his shoes and kneeling above Frank while the younger man undid his belt.

      "My belt," Frank giggled, his panting chopping up the words in the sexiest way imaginable. Gerard grinned and used the belt to tie Frank's wrists together, tight yet still loose enough to not cut off the circulation. Frank moaned, thrusting his hips upward for Gerard's touch to return to the place that needed him most. Gerard batted Frank's crotch teasingly, making him wait as he slipped off his socks, jeans and sweater.

      "You're wearing underwear this time," Frank vocalized, for better of anything else to say.

      "I guess I wasn't expecting my cock to get sucked tonight," Gerard retorted huskily, throwing Frank's words back at him. Frank snickered, lip ring shimmering like mercury against his dark pink lips.

      Frank didn't even pause to think about what he'd said, just parted his mouth wide and hummed throatily when Gerard inserted the head of his swelling cock past his lips. Gerard stretched his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped in a deep breath. He kept his hands aligned with Frank's tilted jaw, slowly leading more of himself into his mouth, Frank's thinning lips straining around his cock's thickness.

      "Fuck," Gerard panted, embarrassingly high-pitched. Frank looked so fucking good with Gerard's cock in his mouth, his dark hair splayed against Gerard's Star Wars bedspread like the halo of a corrupted angel. Gerard told Frank this, making Frank giggle and grin. The sensation of the vibrations caused by Frank's childish laughter paired with his teeth gently scraping at Gerard's shaft had almost been enough to spill him over the edge.

      Gerard couldn't hold himself back after that; he had to place his hands against the wall in front of him and thrust his hips forward, into Frank's mouth so deeply that when Frank groaned out, the sound was nothing but breathy, stifled air. Gerard continued doing small thrusts against Frank's mouth, although slightly more careful not to make him choke this time. Frank's hands were straining against their bindings, his fingernails leaving marks down Gerard's chest as he tried to get Gerard to undo the belt. Gerard vocalized a series of short, breathy gasps due to the sensation, then shook his head down at him, making Frank whine around him.

      Gerard's knees were beginning to get cramped up by then, and since he was already dangerously close to coming, he began moving backwards down Frank's chest, his cock leaving Frank's swollen mouth with a slick little pop.

      "Fuck, Frankie, you're so fucking good at sucking cock," Gerard breathed, leaning down and placing several short kisses along the side of Frank's neck. Frank smiled weakly at the compliment, his mouth and throat sore from the abuse, lips swollen and glossy in precum.

      "Think you can untie these for me?" Frank asked, his beautiful voice hoarse. He sounded like the aftermath of his concerts; he sounded like sex. Gerard smiled adoringly at him and nodded his head, loosening the belt enough for Frank to slide his wrists through himself. Frank rotated his wrists to regain the feeling back in them before sliding out from under Gerard, nimble and quick due to his small stature. He stripped off the rest of his bottoms before quickly shoving Gerard backwards onto the bed. Gerard reached over to the bedside table and pumped three squirts of lubricant into the palm of his hand, proceeding to jerk Frank's member off quickly in an attempt to get him at the same level of hardness his own cock was already at. Frank let out a gasp, cheeks glowing in the growing dimness, heart pounding like a snare drum. When Gerard repeated that small, twisting action against the head of Frank's cock that Frank loved so much, Frank whined loudly into Gerard's mouth, connecting their lips together with a hard force. Gerard grinned into the kiss, biting at Frank's puffy lips as Frank began pumping Gerard's member with his own fist. It was still slick with Frank's saliva, which turned both of them on even more.

      With his free hand, Gerard reached back over to the bedside table and pumped a much more drastic amount of the thick lubricant onto his hand. It dripped down his arm, mingling with the beads of sweat, but Gerard didn't care too much. He just slicked up each of his digits, and while Frank was too busy leaving a hickey against the area behind Gerard's ear, Gerard inserted the tip of his index finger into Frank's hole.

      "Shit," Frank hissed in surprise, the cuss word low and husky against the shell of Gerard's ear. Gerard continued jerking Frank off with his left hand, his right hand preoccupied in filling the younger boy's puckered hole with its digits. After a moment, Gerard had successfully gotten both his index and middle fingers inside Frank, right up to the knuckle each.

      "You okay?" Gerard breathed, and Frank nodded against his chest, his hand slowing its movements against Gerard's erection. Gerard carefully began to spread his fingers, scissoring the heated tightness of Frank's muscle. Frank let out a muffled cry and string of cusses, shaking his head from side to side from the pain.

      "Sorry, I'm sorry, Frankie, I know it hurts," Gerard soothed, slowing his jerking movements to a more leisure pace while continuing to stretch him. He stopped jerking Frank's member and stuck with petting the sensitive area behind his balls, making Frank mewl and curl his back like a cat.

      By the time Gerard's third finger made it in, Frank's eyes were shut tightly in an attempt to lock his tears in, Frank's mouth glued hotly to Gerard's own to keep from screaming. It really did hurt, it fucking burned, and Gerard wanted to hurry the process up and get to the part where all Frank could feel was intense waves of pleasure.

      "Mind rolling the condom onto me?" Gerard murmured, and Frank wanted to hit Gerard right then. He had the jerk's fingers up his ass and was currently in an immense state of discomfort, yet Gerard still expected him to put on the condom?

      Frank, unable to tell the jerk no, let out an agitated breath and leaned forward, reaching for the box of condoms. In response, Gerard's fingers slid deeper into him, hitting a certain spot that nearly resulted in Frank dropping the box. Frank moaned out, high and choked towards the end, and Gerard smiled triumphantly to himself.

      Frank unwrapped the condom with trembling fingers, hoping it wouldn't hurt as bad as he'd always heard. He unraveled the slicked rubber down Gerard's noticibly impressive cock, watching the older man's expression while he did so. Gerard's eyes were closed, his lips parted just a bit in the middle, allowing quick, short gasps to enter and exit his lungs. Gerard was so fucking beautiful, with his dark eyelashes and emerald eyes, Frank seriously didn't know how he almost let him get away. 

      "Here, prop yourself up on me, okay? That way you can set the pace of it all, alright?" Gerard asked Frank after the condom was situated, cupping the side of his glowing face with his free hand. Frank nodded into the coolness of Gerard's palm, savoring his caring touch before Gerard reached back over to the nightstand and pumped a more than generous amount of lubrication onto his hands. Frank, still unsure about what to expect, obeyed Gerard in propping his hole, which was still being held open by Gerard's fingers, against the head of Gerard's swelling cock.

      I really, really hope I'm doing this right, Gerard thought to himself, not daring to say his thoughts aloud in fear of scaring Frank. He slowly eased his fingers from Frank's only slightly loosened hole, replacing them with the tip of his cock. Frank whimpered in discomfort, fidgeting, his knees closing in tightly against Gerard's hips.

      Gerard used one of his hands to hold the base of his cock, using the other to grip onto Frank's hip and help guide him down onto himself. Frank cried out about halfway, screwing his eyes shut tight and digging his nails into the soft flesh of Gerard's stomach.

      "F-fuck, Gerard, i-it b-burns," Frank stuttered through clenched teeth, tears evident in his voice. Gerard sucked his cheeks in at the unbelieveable tightness of Frank, trying to focus his brain on Frank's issue instead of his own.

      "I know," Gerard crooned, his voice breathy in the air yet tense in his chest. "Just keep going, it'll get easier, I promise, Frankie. Take a deep breath, then let it out slowly, alright? It'll be okay, I wouldn't lie to you, sweetheart."

      Frank didn't know why he blushed more at being called sweetheart than he did getting Gerard's dick shoved up his ass. He took a deep intake of the hot air around them, though, wanting more than anything for the pain to just go away. He continued to lower himself down onto Gerard, trying to hide his tears from the older man whilst doing so. He knew that Gerard wasn't purposely trying to hurt him, he understood that 100%; if Gerard wanted, this whole experience could've hurt a lot more. So Frank attempted to just focus on his own breathing while watching Gerard's pleasured expressions.

      Gerard wasn't stupid; he knew the difference between sweat and tears. When Frank was fully lowered onto the lasts of his length, Gerard carefully propped himself up and connected his lips with Frank's, Frank's pained cries getting lost somewhere in Gerard's sweet mouth.

      "You're doing great, sweetheart," Gerard encouraged blissfully, Frank's lips tender against his own. "You feel so good, too--fuck, Frankie, you feel so good," Gerard moaned, his mouth slackening from the pleasure as Frank tightened instinctively around him.

      Frank pressed his forehead against Gerard's, entire body trembling. "You don't feel good," he admitted, trying to ease the situation with a forced, pained smiled. Gerard smiled back sadly, kissing one of Frank's tears away.

      "I will, soon. Give yourself a couple minutes to get used to the feeling, okay? Then we'll start."

      "Can you wait that long? I--it really hurts, Gerard, and I--I wanna get myself back u-under control."

      "It'll feel better once we start moving, but I can wait as long as it takes, okay? Don't worry about me."

      "What if I--ow, stop moving your hips, you complete shit--take an hour?"

      "Sorry, and I'll probably come before then, trust me."

      Frank smirked at that, and though it was tiny, it was still a real, genuine smile that made Gerard's heart swell. Frank sighed softly, shaking his head a little and wincing. His mohawk, sweaty and tousled, flopped into his face, hiding his eyes. Gerard didn't like that, didn't like being unable to read Frank's expression when it mattered most, so he reached up and tucked the strands behind his ear. Frank took hold of Gerard's hand, letting out another shaky sigh as a tear dripped from the corner of his eye. Finally, Frank nodded his head, soft thighs squeezing against Gerard's hips.

      "Okay--okay, I think I'm okay," Frank said, voice hushed, as if it hurt to talk.

       Gerard nearly groaned in relief. Frank had been unbelievably tight around him, and it literally took every ounce of Gerard's being to not thrust up against the warmth. Gerard offered Frank an appreciative smile, Frank squeezing his fist tightly in response.

       "All right, we'll go slow, okay? Don't forget to breathe, either. And relax," Gerard advised, then proceeded to lift his hips the slightest bit. Frank suppressed his cry behind his free arm, biting down hard against his flesh to keep quiet. Gerard felt awful, but he knew from his own experience that the only way for it to get better was to start moving. So Gerard did, doing small, simple rolls of his hips, massaging one of Frank's hipbones while he jerked his member simultaneously.

      It wasn't helping. Frank leaned down, wrapping himself around Gerard completely, the pain unbearable for onle a second before that feeling surged back throughout Frank's entire nervous system. "Ah, Gee, there--right there, do it again," Frank begged, wanting more than anything for the sudden bursts of pleasure to swallow the pain whole. Gerard did, doing everything in his power to keep his hips moving in the direction Frank wanted them. In return, Frank began to squirm and thrust downwards against Gerard, no longer needing Gerard to jack him off since with each matching thrust, the previous pain continued to chip away until finally, there was nothing left to break off.

      Frank matched his thrusts with Gerard's without even thinking about pulling away for air. Their faces were extremely close to one another, Frank breathing in Gerard's gasps, Gerard swallowing each of Frank's pants. It was when Frank latched his fingers in Gerard's hair, his nails digging into his scalp when Gerard came with a short, extremely high-pitched moan while his fingernails scraped long, angry trails down Frank's shoulderblades. Frank would've laughed at the sound if he hadn't made the exact same noise when he came, the pleasure and pain finally pushing him over the edge enough to spill his warm seed across Gerard's pale chest.

      Frank rode out his orgasm with a huge grin while he savored the feeling of Gerard's tiny thrusts as he rode out his own high, Frank's newly tightened muscles successfully milking the lasts of his cock.

      "I came all over you," Frank giggled once Gerard pulled out, the sensation not exactly painful but still uncomfortable. He wiped away some of the thickly cum-covered areas on Gerard's chest with one of Gerard's old shirts from the side of the bed.

      "I don't even care," Gerard sighed blissfully, tying the condom up and flinging it across his room. It hit the wall with a digusting splat, making Frank burst into even more stupid giggles. Gerard drank his laughter like alcohol, only it didn't burn his throat on the way down, just tickled. He kissed Frank hard and bruisingly for a while after that, their hands tangling in each others' hair, still stuck in the afterglow of their post-orgasm states.

      Frank fell asleep first. He'd been mumbling nonsense to Gerard, about how much he'd missed him, how much he loved him, how he never wanted to leave the bed again. Gerard could've listened to him for hours.

      Though Gerard was so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open, he didn't dare go to sleep. He didn't want to miss anymore time with Frank than he had to. He simply held the younger boy aganst his sticky chest, kissing his flushed cheeks gingerly each time Frank breathed out against him. After twenty minutes, Gerard started up some mindless rambling of his own, desperate to keep himself awake, desperate for Frank to hear him but not desperate enough to disturb him from his slumber. Inside, he hoped Frank's subconsciousness heard and appreciated his mindless rambling, too.

* *

* *

      When Gerard woke up several hours later, it took him less than five seconds to realize that he was alone. He'd reached out at the spot next to his bed, hoping his fingers would connect with Frank's arm or silky mohawk. Instead, he was met with disheveled sheets that were sweat-covered. His heart sunk low in his chest. He didn't bother opening his eyes; he was terrified to face the reality that Frank had left him yet again.

      His ears were filled with the sound of a door squeaking open just then. "Wake up, fucker, I didn't make you dinner with a sore ass for it to go cold."

      As soon as Gerard heard Frank's chill yet appeasing voice, the smile on his face had grown to a full-blown grin. Of course Frank hadn't left him. "Your ass or dinner?" he teased. Something soggy slapped against his cheek before sliding off the bed. "Did you just throw a fucking condom at me--?" Gerard asked, his eyes widening in shock. Frank crawled onto the bed, hovering just a few inches above Gerard's face.

      "Yes. Now come on, I made spinach lasagna, homemade. You should hurry before your brother and his wife eat it all. You may want to shower first, though."

      Gerard just ran his fingers through Frank's hair. He smelled surprisingly good, his hair silky clean, skin free from the clammy sweat it'd been covered in earlier. Gerard couldn't help but kiss him, and Frank would never pass up the chance to kiss him back. "Mikey and Alicia are here?" Gerard asked Frank, not bothering to separate their mouths so his voice sounded weird.

      "Yeah. They showed up as soon as I dried off from your shower. I used up all your conditioner, by the way," Frank mumbled against Gerard's lips. Gerard smiled, shaking his head at his childish antics. 

      Gerard showered quickly, only rinsing his body off for a minute or so before pulling on a pair of sweats and black knit sweater. He followed the smell of delicious pasta sauce wafting throughout his house and leading to his kitchen. Once there, he found Alicia and Mikey seated at the kitchen table, Frank stirring said sauce in a pot.

      "Look who we found in your kitchen," Mikey said when he saw Gerard enter. Gerard smiled at him.

      "And in your bed," Alicia added in like the shit she was. Frank nearly burned himself against the pot. Gerard frowned at her. "Gerard, please, neither of you are even attempting to hide it."

      "'Cause there's nothing to hide," Frank said, placing a lasgana slice on everyone's plate. "I got fucked by the most nerdy, talented artist in the world, and I'd be a stupid motherfucker to deny it."

      Alicia high-fived Frank saying "I knew I had a good feeling about this dude," making him giggle stupidly while Mikey and Gerard both blushed. For different reasons, of course. "Can we stop talking about my brother having sex with some kid I practically introduced him to, please? I'd like to eat without the threat of vomiting," Mikey whined.

      "He's not a kid," Gerard said, the same time Frank said, "I'm not a kid." The two glanced at each other then broke into matching grins, stupid and lopsided and in love.

* *

* *

      It was around two in the morning when Mikey and Alicia went home. Frank and Gerard, sharing a blanket on Gerard's couch since Gerard still had to wash his bedsheets, held each other close as they sat in silence. They were snacking on Frank's grandma's hummus, which Frank had had since their reunion at Starbucks. It actually wasn't half bad; Gerard liked it much better than the other ones Frank had forced on him. The two were snuggled against each other, Frank nuzzling Gerard's neck, Gerard curling the end of Frank's silky mohawk around the tip of his index finger absentmindedly.

      Frank was the first to speak. "I'm glad we sorted everything out before tomorrow--or, well, later today," he said, wrapping his arms around Gerard's waist. Gerard kissed his forehead. "Although, now I have to go on tour with a sore ass."

      Gerard grinned aganst the top of his head. "It'll feel better by the time you're on the road," he tried to assure, ruffling Frank's hair adoringly.

      "Yeah, well, I wish I could take you with me. I--I'm really going to miss serving you your stupid spinach lasagnas and hummus and crackers everyday."

      "I'm gonna miss you bugging me about what's gonna happen next in my comic books," Gerard replied. He really was going to miss someone taking as much interest in him as he took in them.

      "You can still do that," Frank said around the Ritz cracker in his mouth. "I mean, we had the spinach lasagna, we have the hummus and crackers. You still haven't told me what happens to Vanya--oh, and what happens to Blue, the lesbian robot from your other series. And Korse."

      Who was Gerard to deny Frank any of that information? Gerard opened his mouth to dive right into the tales he'd never gotten around to finishing when Frank covered his mouth with his hand, shaking his head.

      "I don't want to know now. I want--I want you to tell me while I'm on tour. I'm gonna call you every chance I get, and we're gonna talk about all those crazy ideas in your head until the sun's rising for me and setting for you. That way we always have an excuse to hear from each other. Deal?"

      Gerard wasn't sure what a happy heart felt like, but if he had to guess, he was pretty sure his met the qualifications. His heart deflated a bit when he continued to think about Frank going on tour, though. He loved him so much, he didn't want him to go. "Yeah. Deal. I just--Frank, I just want you to know that . . . whatever happens, if you happen to meet someone you really like while touring . . . I'm okay with it. I don't want to hold you back from living your dream, you know?"

      Frank rolled his eyes. "Gerard, just because I'm ten years younger doesn't mean I'm ten years stupider. I know what I want, and just because I'll be gone for a couple weeks, doesn't mean it's going to change anything. I love you, Gee."

      And at that very moment, Gerard had never loved the deli more than he had right then for allowing him to fall for the boy who made his heart warmer than the ice keeping those spincach lasagnas cold.