Chapter Text
"Mikey, where are my acrylic paints? And my coffee pot, I think it's in the box with them- ah!" Gerard promptly ran into his apartment doorway, dropping the moving box he was carrying onto his toe while Mikey grumbled something irritably from inside. "Fucking fuck, ow ow ow, fuck fuck fuck ow," he muttered in a mantra, and looked up with a frown to the source of an unfamiliar, quiet laugh.
There, in the doorway to the apartment on the right of Gerard's, was a dark haired man that could only be described as beautiful. He was wearing a faded Misfits t-shirt and jeans ripped at the knees, and worn red converse shoes. He had tattoos wrapping around both arms, and oh my god, are those neck tattoos? And a nose ring? And a lip ring? The man was also holding a mug of coffee that said 'death before decaf' with a drawing of the grim reaper holding a mug and a scythe. This dude was totally Gerard's type. He tried not to let his jaw drop the floor too hard.
Gerard's expression probably looked like a cross between annoyed and confused, and the beautiful man stopped chuckling immediately, albeit struggling to keep a straight face.
"Um, hi, I'm Gerard," He managed, holding out his hand to the stranger, forgetting the offending box at his feet and trying to look as friendly as possible. Damn his bad social skills. He must have pulled a pretty ridiculous face that screamed I'm trying too hard , but the man stuck his hand out in return to give a strong handshake. There were tattoos on his hands, too, and it took all of Gerard's willpower not to hold them up to his face for a closer examination.
"Frank," the stranger returned, smirking slightly and leaning against his apartment doorway again. Gerard could see a little bit inside through the door-- a guitar by an amp, a television set, and a radio surrounded by stacks of cd's were visible through the crack. Frank was obviously an unorganized person, not unlike Gerard. He also liked Misfits. Gerard had a feeling that he would like this new person, although he also felt anxious about being around him- and inevitably making an ass out of himself.
"Well, I have to, um, bring the rest of these boxes inside, so, um, I'll see you around I guess,"
"Okay," Frank stayed where he was standing and nodded, watching Gerard. Gerard not-so-smoothly picked the box back up and shuffled his way into his new apartment, not coming out again until he heard the distinctive click of Frank's door closing. He sighed and leaned against the kitchen counter absentmindedly.
"Meet a new friend?" Mikey smirked at Gerard from the ratty couch in the living room, eating from a bag of chips and watching a crappy horror movie playing on the television, which was precariously placed on top of a stack of boxes. Gerard snapped out of his self pity party and shot a glare at his little brother, only getting teasing laughter in response. "Work on your stink eye, Gee, you look like you just swallowed a sour grape,"
"Fuck off, you're the one who completely ignored all contact with anyone today except for me and Pete for like two minutes," Gerard retorted, and Mikey threw a couple of chips at him before turning back to the horrible special effects on the television screen.
"Hey, this apartment is new and clean, don't fuck it up too early," Gerard scowled and picked up the chips from the floor. Mikey grunted nonchalantly in response and pulled out his phone, undoubtedly texting Pete.
***
That night, Gerard totally did not think about the attractive neighbor, and his beautiful tattoos, his beautiful face, the way he bit his lip ring, the way he stood. Gerard totally did not think about him as he watched crappy horror movies. He didn't think about him when he took a shower. He didn't think about him as he jerked off afterwards. He didn't think about him. At all.
***
The following Sunday morning, Gerard was awoken by the sound of what seemed like the Smashing Pumpkins the next room over. At first, he thought he was back at home in his mother's basement, and it was only Mikey in the room next to his. Hold on, that doesn't feel right. Oh yeah, new apartment, new freelance art job, new neighbors. New attractive neighbors. Just thinking about it had Gerard half-hard already, and he had to force himself to think of naked grandmas to get it to stop. He already felt bad enough about the previous night, and he didn't need a rerun of that episode again. Gerard lay in bed for a few minutes, listened through the walls to the guitars coming from his neighbor's apartment, and eventually forced himself to get the fuck up already because he really had to pee.
After going to the bathroom and having to think about naked grandmas again for what might have been the third time that morning, Gerard made himself a cup of coffee in his favorite Star Trek original series mug and flipped on the tv. He had just sat down with a piece of toast in his hand and coffee in the other on his ratty, old, couch, when someone knocked on the door. Gerard rolled his eyes, muttered something along the lines of 'I'm coming, chill,' and swung open the front door to his apartment.
There stood Gerard's attractive neighbor, covered head to toe in flour and holding a glass measuring cup. He was wearing the same ripped jeans from the day prior and his shirt was Black Flag-- not that you could really tell under the white powder all over Frank's body. Gerard looked him up and down, raising one eyebrow quizzically and trying not to giggle.
"Hey," he managed, and tried to casually take a bite of his toast. "what happened to you, did a flour monster come attack you?" Frank frowned cutely and bit his lip ring.
"I'm baking," his voice to Gerard was kind of deep and rough, yet smooth at the same time. "I don't have any eggs. May I borrow some?" Gerard nodded and stepped to the side, allowing Frank into his box-filled apartment.
"How many do you need?" Gerard sipped his coffee and opened his refrigerator, wondering why the hell he even had any eggs in his apartment so soon moving in. It was probably Mikey-- the kid was always eating something, yet was skinny as a beanpole.
"Um, one dozen," Frank said, shifting from foot to foot at the doorway. Gerard quirked his eyebrow at him and handed the eggs over two at a time, placing them gently in the measuring cup.
"What, are you force feeding desserts to a small army?" Gerard chuckled awkwardly and sipped his coffee. Frank smiled slightly and shook his head.
"I have a date tonight, actually," he said quietly, and Gerard almost choked on his coffee.
"Well, good for you, then," Gerard managed to mutter, and Frank tipped the measuring cup at him.
"Thank you. Now, I gotta go finish cooking before everything burns," he nodded to Gerard and shut the door behind him on his way out. Gerard couldn't help but feel sort of crestfallen that Frank was dating somebody-- not to mention that he was probably straight, too. Oh, fuck, what am I getting myself into, Gerard thought helplessly, and leaned back onto his kitchen counter while sipping the coffee he had made earlier. At least my coffee loves me, he thought, and sighed, picking up the phone to call Mikey about his newfound woes. The phone rang about five times before he picked up. There was a muffled laughter in the background and Mikey hissing 'shut up, you' while giggling.
"Hey Gerard, now isn't really the best time, I'm with Pete," He said, taking a sharp breath in between 'best' and 'time'.
"Ah, okay, well. It's not like anything I was calling about was of any importance," Gerard replied, sarcasm in his voice. Yes, he was vain, but at the moment, he really didn't like the idea of Frank on a date (that wasn't with him ) and he needed to tell someone about it before his head exploded. Mikey being with his boyfriend while he talked to Gerard definitely wasn't helping.
"Sorry Gee, but I'm seriously busy right now, is it okay if I- stop it, you!- call you back later?"
"Ugh, fine, Mikey, I'll just tell my problems to our lady of sorrows," He huffed, and the phone beeped off after Mikey actually squeaked and giggled out a 'bye'. Why does my brother like Pete Wentz anyway, Gerard thought, why does anybody like anybody? He sighed irritatedly and was going to the refrigerator for a beer when the phone rang.
"Oh, what now," He muttered, and picked up the phone. "Yes?"
"Hey, Gerard! It's Ray," a somewhat high pitched voice spoke on the other end, and Gerard grabbed the beer from the fridge. Ray Toro was Gerard's other neighbor across the hall, and one of his only friends.
"Oh, hey, Ray. What's up?"
"I'm going to Spain for a week and a half tomorrow, and I was just wondering if you could watch over my plants? You don't have to do that much, just check in and water them every few days,"
"Woah, dude, you're going to Spain? Let me know if you run into the Spanish Inquisition-- not that you'd expect them," Gerard chuckled and sat down on his couch. "And yes, I can water your plants for you," Ray laughed on the other end.
"Thanks, man, and I'll tell you all about it when I get back. Just make sure that when you check on my plants, don't drown them, okay? And there's some plant food that I'll put out on the counter, you only need to put in the soil once on Saturday, following the instructions on the box, oh, and sometimes maybe play some nice music for them? They like Beethoven the best," Gerard chuckled and shook his head.
"Sometimes, Ray, I think that you truly believe that your house plants are your children,"
"Well, they are , in a way," Ray shrilled into Gerard's ear indignantly, and he held the phone away from his face for a few moments.
"Okay, okay, I got it,"
"Gerard, repeat back to me what you have to do, I need to know if you're trustworthy enough for my babies," Ray said, and Gerard scowled.
"Geez, Ray, you know that you're really a weird guy, right? Don't answer that," Gerard frowned, "I need to water 'your children' every few days, don't drown them, blah blah blah, put plant food in the soil on Saturday, blah blah blah, and I am not gonna put on music. Don't even try to argue with me, they are fucking plants for pete's sake,"
"I wouldn't trust anyone's sake with Pete if I were you, Way, and fine. Don't drown my plants and you can keep your face. Bye, asshole, see you in a week and a half," Ray smirked on his end, and hung up the phone before Gerard could even say 'nobody expects the spanish inquisition'. What was with people hanging up on him today? He frowned at the phone, and tossed it onto the other end of the couch as he watched the original Star Trek series and tried not to think about Frank preparing for his date that night. He suddenly wishes that he had a Tribble to keep him company, and that was when Gerard knew for sure that he was really lonely.
***
At about six-thirty pm, Gerard decided that he would just give up and go out to avoid being able to hear Frank and his date. He grabbed his jacket and went outside, planning to go to Bob's house.
Bob Bryar was Gerard's long time friend ever since high school. They were pretty close back, then, and had since somewhat drifted apart, but Gerard's new apartment was close to Bob's house, and Gerard needed something familiar. Bob would understand and was a pretty good listener. When he arrived, Bob seemed somewhat surprised, yet let him in anyway.
"Bob, I fucked up," Gerard groaned, Bob handing him a beer.
"What did you do, Way?" He sat down with his own beer and leaned forward.
"There's a guy," Gerard warned.
"Fuck, what happened?"
"Nothing, that's the problem. He's my neighbor, and he had a date tonight. A fucking date. I feel jealous about it, but I'm digging myself into a hole. He's probably straight, and either way, he's dating someone. Bryar, what do I do?" Gerard rubbed his eyes."
"Oh, man, that sucks. You know what, tonight we are gonna get completely wasted. You and me, man. Let's do this!" Bob got up to get more beers, but Gerard held his hand up.
"Bob, I think I just need someone to have dinner with me and watch a movie. Is that okay?"
"Oh. Yeah, that's fine, I'll order some chinese. Pick a movie," He motioned to the stacks of DVD's in the corner, and picked up the phone. When he came back, Shaun of the Dead was in the movie player and Gerard had wrapped himself up in a blanket cocoon on the couch.
"Thanks, Bob. I never knew that living alone would be so lonely," Gerard almost whispered, and Bob nodded in reply. They watched the movie in silence.
***
When Gerard stumbled home later that night (yes he was drunk, he had more than a few beers at Bob's house), he was almost at his own apartment when Frank's opened up.
"Get out of my apartment!" Frank yelled, and he pushed out a man who had dark hair, was gangly, and wore horn-rimmed glasses and a cardigan.
"Okay, okay, geez, Frankie," he yelped.
"AND DON'T CALL ME FRANKIE! WE ARE DONE, SIMON. You and I... we're through. For good, this time," Frank calmed down towards the last few words, and slammed his door shut. 'Simon' looked at Gerard patronizingly.
"What are you looking at?" he sneered, and Gerard held up his hands in surrender.
"Just goin' home," he mumbled, and unlocked his apartment door, giving the guy outside a curious yet disapproving look before tripping into his apartment to his bedroom.
***
The first thought that whipped into Gerard's head in the morning was something like 'ow, fuck' but he wasn't able to finish it, because everything from the previous night came thundering back to him. He felt like his head was stuffed with cotton and needles, and he didn't want to move for the rest of his miserable life. Gerard forced himself to get up, and then the Smashing Pumpkins was suddenly blasting from the next apartment over, and the cotton in his head turned into bees. He groaned, and dragged himself to his kitchen where he got himself a glass of water and cooked what remained of the one and a half dozen eggs he had.
He ate the eggs in silence, wishing the music from next door would stop. When he was done, he put his dishes in the sink and went to Frank's apartment. It didn't matter if he was cute, his music was murdering Gerard's brain. He knocked on the door, and shortly after, it cracked open to reveal Frank's face-- a seemingly stressed out Frank.
"Oh, hey, Gerard. How can I help you?"
Gerard squinted at him and blinked. Might as well get to the point.
"Hey man, I love the Smashing Pumpkins and all, but really, right now, the walls are kinda thin, and the Smashing Pumpkins are smashing my head. My head is a freakin' pumpkin, and they're smashing it. Repeatedly. With sledgehammers. Would you mind maybe turning it down a bit so I don't become a pumpkin pie?" Frank nodded quickly in response.
"Yeah. Rough night, huh? Good luck with that," His reply was fast and quiet, and then the door was shut and Gerard was staring at the metal numbers nailed onto the wood.