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Summary
“It’s kind of a miracle Frank hasn’t been sick since Warped.”
Gerard and Mikey both sigh loudly in unison,
“Well he will now, Toro, what the hell,” Gerard says, crossing his arms and shaking his head.
“You guys are such superstitious idiots,” Ray says, rolling his eyes so hard his mane of hair moves, too, “I swear, it’s all your mom’s creepy fucking dolls. You guys were raised by god damn warlocks or some shit.”
“Warlocks of New Jersey, save that for a band name!” Frank says, giggling again. The others groan at Frank’s nonsensical laughter, used to and fondly annoyed by his typical post-show hyper energy. Gerard can’t help but find him adorable. Ridiculous, sure, but standing there laughing at nothing, reaching up to loosen the red tie from his stage outfit, expression open and unguarded and obviously just so fucking happy to be hanging out with his band, Gerard thinks he’s kind of fucking beautiful. They all relax for a second. That is, until Frank’s laughter devolves into harsh coughing.
[or]
Gerard and Frank are navigating new feelings for each other when Frank gets sick again.