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“First of all, I think this is bullshit.”
Frank rolls his eyes. Gerard gives him the finger.
They may have underestimated the amount of work that needs to be done by Christmas, and for this Gerard blames Frank. If he could, he would have avoided decorating the house at all, save for the tree, but apparently Frank has gotten into a fight with the head of the HOA and now this is the question of life and death — or, in this case, the question of keeping their home safe from the HOA. They have already been getting odd looks and occasional remarks, they can’t afford making the situation any worse.
“We can still make it work,” Gerard says, and he knows how unconvincing it sounds.
“Yeah? How?”
Gerard shrugs. He has no idea what people usually do when they have two days until Christmas, some asshole threatens to kick them out of their own house if they don’t make the exterior of their house look “festive”, and all they have is some lametta and tinsel garlands left from the last year’s party, and a rope light that is way too short to be used for decorating the roof.
Everyone else has set up the decorations a long time ago, and Gerard can’t help but wince: their house looks so dark and gloomy compared to all the others — and, well, that’s so close to how he’s been feeling ever since they moved to this town. And maybe Frank doesn’t have time to notice: he’s either touring or recording most of the time, — or maybe he pretends not to, but Gerard spends most of the time at home. He knows.
“Gee?” Frank gives him a slight nudge. “Come on, man, spill.”
“I want to move out.”
Everything freezes.
“Gerard—” he can hear the strain in Frank’s voice. “Gee, what’s wrong?”
He regrets saying this. They’ve been looking forward to it: their own house, big enough to fit a studio for Frank, a spacious study for Gerard, and still have enough space for the five dogs Frank has been thinking about getting. It was their dream, he can live with the downsides: the looks, the occasional comments. It’s not that bad anyway.
“Nothing,” he avoids looking Frank in the eyes. “Forget I said it.”
“Why do you want to move?”
“I don't. I’m sorry.”
Frank pulls him into a hug.
“You can tell me,” he whispers to his ear.
But he can’t. He can complain to Mikey, he can start a diary and fill dozens of pages with the pain this town has been bringing him ever since they moved here, but he cannot tell any of these things to Frank.
“It’s nothing. Seriously.”
Frank gives him a stern look. “Don’t lie to me,” he says. “Something’s going on with you, so,” he gestures at the couch, “we’re talking.”
Gerard obediently sits down. Frank lands next to him, his hand immediately finding its way to Gerard’s knee.
“Well,” there is clear concern in his voice. “Come on.”
Gerard takes a deep breath. He isn’t sure how to begin: it sounds so stupid even in his head, it’s going to be even worse when he actually starts talking.
But he also knows Frank, knows he won’t give up until he gets all the answers.
“I—” he stops himself. He needs to be careful. “I don’t— I don’t really like it here.” And, before Frank gets a chance to speak, “It’s okay, it’s just me, don’t worry.”
“Oh, I am very worried right now.”
Gerard flinches. He shouldn’t have started it, should have kept his mouth shut.
“Is someone talking shit again?” Frank frowns. “Is it that fucker from 301? Because I will slash his tires this time, I swear to fucking—”
“Nobody’s talking shit, it’s just my stupid head again.”
“Yeah, right.” Frank sighs. “Gerard, baby, please don’t lie to me.”
And Frank rarely calls him baby, or any pet names in general, because it makes him feel stupid, and Gerard wholeheartedly agrees with him — it sounds dumb, and there are so many other ways to show affection, — so it must be serious. If only it wasn’t so hard to tell him. If only he didn’t feel like an idiot just thinking this way.
“I—” he stops. Frank patiently waits for him to gather his thoughts. “I don’t feel welcome. I mean, in the neighbourhood in general, it has nothing to do with you, I love you. And I know you wanted to move here for so long, so just… just forget it, okay? I’ll get used to it, it’s fine.”
Frank is suspiciously quiet. Gerard half-expects him to laugh, to make a joke to try and calm him down because this, thinking of their dream house as unwelcome and cold, is not exactly normal.
But instead Frank says: “Dewees said we could come over for Christmas. I say we do just that,” and Gerard freezes.
“Frank—”
“No, listen to me,” Frank hugs him by the shoulders. “It’s not fucking worth it, alright? If you don’t like it here then fuck it, we find someplace better.”
“You don’t—”
“I mean it,” Frank offered him a small smile. “I’ll call Dewees, we’ll stay at his place for the holidays and then we’ll figure out what to do.”
And Frank doesn’t need to make such sacrifices, not because Gerard finds it hard to adapt to a new place. But he does, and he seems set on this decision, and Gerard knows he will refuse to listen to any objections in this state.
“But,” he points at the box with the decorations. “We gotta finish with those.”
“Nah, the HOA can go fuck itself, they can’t tell us what to do with our property.”
“That’s… kinda the entire point of the HOA.”
Frank shrugs. “Whatever. Come on, go get your things.”
Gerard can’t help grinning, and Frank frowns at him and says: “What?”, and Gerard replies: “Nothing, I love you,” and pretends he’s fine even though on the inside he's overwhelmed with emotions.
Maybe they still have a chance to have a nice Christmas after all.