Archive of Our Own ^beta

Gerard has been awake for approximately forty-five minutes. Enough time to roll out of bed, get ready for work, and drive to the gas station down the street for some smokes. There are three people in line in front of him, and the lady at the counter is screeching like a banshee at the poor cashier, who is staying remarkably calm despite the Stage 4 meltdown happening right in front of her. Forty-five minutes is not nearly enough time to be prepared for recreational outrage of this magnitude – especially this loud, and at 6:30 in the morning.

The she-demon appears to reach critical mass and knocks over a rack of sunglasses, the contents spilling onto the floor as she makes her very dramatic exit. Silence restored, everyone breathes a sigh of relief, and the cashier puts on a brave smile for the next customer. Gerard knows that struggle all too well; having to pretend like the Antichrist didn’t just spend fifteen minutes screaming about expired coupons. He checks his wallet to make sure he’s got a couple of extra bills.

When it’s finally his turn, he grabs an ice cream sandwich out of the freezer and places it on the counter next to his cigarettes. After he pays, Gerard gently pushes the ice cream sandwich towards the cashier, offering a small smile along with it. Her expression is confused for a second, then it lights up. She sneakily accepts his donation and places it under the counter, smiling at him from ear to ear. He winks at her and grabs his smokes, feeling satisfied that maybe she would have a better day.

The high of his good deed wears off quickly in traffic. Apparently turn signals are for purely aesthetic value, and there must be a convention in town for every dickhead who owns a Mercedes. Gerard arrives at work in a foul mood and audibly swears when he makes it all the way across the parking lot without his key card. By the time he reaches his desk, he’s ready to commit homicide for a cup of coffee. Both Keurigs are taken when he enters the break room, and he’s forced to choke out “good morning” to his coworkers before any sufficient amount of caffeine is in his system.

He is already on his second cup of coffee by the time his brother, Mikey, saunters over to his desk, looking like he woke up on the wrong side of a train wreck. His hair is sticking up in a chaotic assortment of peaks, and he apparently elected to wear his glasses in lieu of contacts. Mornings are not Mikey’s forte, and he always looks ready to stab somebody in the face when he first arrives at work, especially if he’s hungover. Today appears to be a hungover day, as Mikey is moving at a much slower pace than normal.

“Good morning!” Gerard chirps enthusiastically. Mikey grits his teeth and ignores him. “Did you lose a fight with a leaf blower?”

Mikey mumbles unintelligible swear words, pats down his hair, and grabs his Dawn of the Dead coffee mug, shuffling tiredly toward the break room. A few minutes after he wanders off, their coworker, Ray, strolls up to his desk right across from Gerard.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” says Ray, plopping down in his chair.

“Did you see the new episode?”

“Not yet, I was tied up until eleven-thirty last night.”

“Sucks to be you, it was a good one.”

Ray raises a threatening finger. “It is so important to your future that you be finished with that sentence. No spoilers.”

“Duly noted,” Gerard replies, pulling out his sticky notes and scribbling onto one of them with a pen. Once he’s finished, he tears it off the stack and passes it to Ray.

Spoiler: Goose dies.

Ray laughs and they spend the rest of the morning incorporating as many Top Gun quotes as they can into every conversation, much to Mikey’s chagrin.

Around noon, the pungent smell of perfume fills the air, announcing an incoming visit from the office gossip, Debbie. Gerard smells her before she even rounds the corner, and he shoots Ray a panicked expression when he asks, “Lunch?”

“Happy Monday, boys,” Debbie greets in her grating, high-pitched voice. “Any big plans this past weekend?”

“Nope,” says Gerard, not even bothering to look up at her. The best way to handle Debbie is to treat her like a T-Rex and not make any sudden movements.

“No plans at all?” Debbie prods nosily. “Surely there’s a nice girl out there who would love to take you out?”

“I’m gay,” Gerard reminds her for what feels like the fiftieth time.

“That’s right!” she exclaims, almost excitedly. “I really need to give you my nephew’s phone number, I bet the two of you would get along great.”

“Oh, is he gay, too?” Ray jabs sarcastically, winking at Gerard.

Debbie doesn’t even notice, immediately changing topics, “I suppose you all heard that David was let go last week?”

“Yup,” yawns Gerard, standing up to go to lunch and turning to Mikey. “You ready?”

“Sandra told me that she heard he was fired,” Debbie drones on, never one to catch on to social cues. “Nobody seems to know why, though.”

“Sucks,” offers Mikey flatly, logging off his computer.

“Anyway, they’re looking to hire someone outside of the company, which obviously made Cheryl mad because she’s been gunning for that position for months.”

“Have a great day, Debbie,” Gerard answers generically, grabbing his bag and throwing the strap over his shoulder.

Debbie’s face falls into a small frown, clearly offended that her fresh scandal is not as remarkable as she had hoped. “Have a nice lunch,” she spits out aggressively, storming off toward the accounting department, presumably in search of a proper reaction. Gerard and Mikey turn to Ray, all three of them snickering before heading out to get some grub.

Around two o’clock, their Chief Operations Officer, Brian, stops by their cubicle to check in, though Gerard doesn’t immediately notice him. When he finally looks up, Gerard jumps and laughs slightly.

“Jesus, how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to see you send that text message.”

“Stalker alert.” Gerard slaps the papers Brian is holding right out of his hand. “Hostile work environment, I’m calling HR.”

“That’s for the VP,” Brian grumbles over Ray’s laughter, bending down to pick up his papers. “How is it going over here today?”

“No complaints.” Ray suddenly snaps his fingers, remembering something. “Did you get my email?”

“I did,” Brian replies while pushing up the sleeves of his button-down shirt. “I forwarded it to Traci.”

“Excellent.”

“Anyway, you guys take it easy. Let me know if you need anything.”

Brian walks off and Gerard immediately turns to Ray. “Since when do you email Brian about anything?”

“My roommate is looking for a job,” Ray explains, “I was sending Brian his resume.”

Gerard stares at him thoughtfully. “I didn’t know you had a roommate.”

“Yep. He’s actually the lead singer of my band.”

Throwing his hands in the air, Gerard asks with mild offense, “You have a band? Why didn’t you tell us sooner? We could have been going to your shows this whole time!”

“We just started getting booked at places about four months ago, so we’re still pretty new,” Ray gives him an apologetic expression. “I wasn’t sure if it was going to go anywhere, so I was waiting until we were a little more established.”

“When is your next show?”

“Next week, on Friday. Do you guys want tickets? It’s at that club off 15th, so it’s not very far.”

“Absolutely,” says Gerard. “Mikey, are you down?”

“Sure,” he answers, spinning in his chair to face them. “What time?”

Ray opens his desk drawer and produces a stack of tickets, handing over two of them. “Doors open at 7:00, we go on at 8:45.”

“Sweet,” Gerard hands a ticket to Mikey. “We’ll be there.”

<^>

Driving anywhere in the city after 7:00 p.m. on a Friday is a blood sport, especially when it comes to parking. It’s practically impossible to find a spot that isn’t partially blocked by an over-sized luxury vehicle, or attached to a meter that charges astronomical prices, or in a seedier part of town where you will most definitely be mugged after midnight. Gerard parks about a mile from the club in a paid lot, grumbling when he has to fork over twenty bucks just for the privilege of potentially having his car stolen. Mikey hands him ten dollars for his half of the fee, and they both walk quickly to escape the frigid, January ice-winds.

They arrive at the front door of the venue a little before 8:00 and pull out their IDs. Gerard jokes with the security guard that he wouldn’t lie about being thirty, but the guard isn’t amused, shoving Gerard’s driver’s license back into his hand with a testy grunt. The club is packed with people, and it’s slightly humid due to poor air circulation, but at least it’s warm. The opening band is currently raging on stage, filling the room with the electric vitriol of hardcore punk, and security is already dragging out some dude who is entirely too intoxicated. The chaotic atmosphere is exactly the reason Gerard likes going to shows, especially when rock n’ roll is involved.

“Do you see Ray anywhere?” Gerard asks loudly over the music, his eyes scanning the crowd for his coworker’s unmistakable mop of curly brown hair.

“Not yet,” Mikey replies, neck craning back and forth, but to no avail.

They watch the opening band for a few more minutes until they hear someone calling their names. Spinning around, they see Ray pushing his way through the crowd, and the three of them meet somewhere in the middle.

“Good to see you guys,” Ray says as they each shake hands. “Glad you could make it.”

“Glad to be here,” Gerard answers for both.

“Do you guys want to get a drink? I can’t hang too long, but I can at least get a drink.”

They get to the bar and each places his order: Gerard orders a Diet Coke, while Ray and Mikey opt for beer. Gerard slaps a couple of bills on the counter, but the bartender pushes his money back over to him. He gives her a confused expression.

“Is it card only?”

“Sober drivers drink for free.”

He stares at her. “Are you sure?”

“On the house, sweetie.”

Gerard smiles back at her and shoves ten dollars into her tip jar when she isn’t looking.

Mikey and Gerard spend the next fifteen minutes chit chatting with Ray, who excuses himself not long after the opening band leaves the stage, presumably to go prepare for his own set. Gerard is glad that Ray’s band is going on earlier in the evening, which means he won’t be getting home at an ungodly hour after he drops off Mikey. Friday or not, Gerard has the sleep schedule of a ninety-year-old man, usually passing out just after 9:00, sometimes even 8:30 if he’s feeling sassy. He sips his Diet Coke and starts talking to Mikey about the newest round of comic books he plans to pick up tomorrow, which launches a discussion on whether Batman could beat Captain America in a fight.

Their conversation continues until the lights suddenly go down and the crowd erupts with cheers. Lingering guitar chords announce the arrival of Ray’s band, apparently named Leathermouth, and each member begins walking onto the stage. First, their drummer, then Ray, then their other guitarist, and then their bassist. The lead singer (Ray’s roommate, Gerard remembers) takes the stage last, pacing like a madman from one side of the stage to the other, almost like he is psyching himself up to commit a crime. Gerard can’t help but feel slightly intimidated by his demeanor.

The band rips into their first song not long after, and almost immediately Gerard is blown away. He isn’t sure what he expected, but he certainly wasn’t expecting them to go so hard. They are fantastic, and the lead singer knows exactly how to work the room. He is screaming lyrics at the top of his lungs, bearing his entire soul to a club full of strangers. This level of honesty is so rare nowadays, and it leaves Gerard completely in awe. The band’s energy reminds him of the underground punk movement of the 1970s, when the entire genre was brand new. Leathermouth is loud, and maybe even a little unhinged, but the formula works, and it appears to be working for the rest of the crowd, as a bloodthirsty mosh pit is boiling over in front of the stage. It’s honestly one of the best local bands he has ever seen.

Leathermouth continues to impress for their entire set, leaving the stage to well-deserved cries for more. Unfortunately, the headliner for the evening still needs to play, so there is zero hope for an encore, which is disappointing. However, Gerard can’t wait to tell Ray how much he loved their set. Who knew Ray Toro was such a badass on the guitar?

It takes about ten minutes before Gerard and Mikey spot Ray in the crowd again, talking to a small group of people. They make their way over and Ray turns to them with a giant smile on his face.

“Hey!” greets Ray enthusiastically, “What did you think?”

“I think you’ve been entirely too modest about this whole thing,” Gerard compliments. “You guys absolutely killed it!”

“Agreed,” says Mikey, “One of the best sets I’ve seen in a long time.”

Ray seems humbled but excited about this information. “Awesome, thanks again for coming out. Are you gonna hang around for a few? I’d love to introduce you to everyone.”

After the introductions are out of the way (minus the lead singer, who wandered off somewhere), Gerard excuses himself to go smoke. Normally he would just light up on the way home, but he refrains from smoking when Mikey is in the car because Mikey doesn’t smoke. Flipping up the hood of his coat, Gerard already has a cigarette pinched between his lips when he exits the back of the club, finding a secluded spot away from the other groups of fellow smokers. He bides his time by watching people, but gets bored of it very quickly, pulling out his phone to check his messages instead. Nothing but scammer emails and a sales text about lowering the interest rate on his mortgage...for a house he doesn’t own.

“Hate to bother you,” says a voice off to his left. “But do you have a lighter I could borrow?”

Gerard looks up and is dumbstruck to see the lead singer of Ray’s band, recognizing the neck tattoos and shaggy, dark brown hair instantly. He’s got bright, expressive eyes that appear to be staring right into Gerard’s soul, and they are such an interesting amber color under the glare of the streetlights. An uncomfortable smile begins to form on the guy’s face, and Gerard realizes he has been checked out for a little too long.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, digging in his pocket for his lighter and handing it over.

“No worries,” the guy answers around a cigarette, cupping his hand over the flame. “Thanks, see you around.”

“Hey, wait,” Gerard calls after him, making him pause and spin back around. “You’re Ray’s roommate, right?”

“That’s me,” the other says, quirking an eyebrow. “I’m terrible with names, do we know each other?”

Realizing that his question probably came off as something a stalker would ask, Gerard quickly adds, “Ray is my coworker, he introduced me and my brother to the rest of your band earlier.”

Ray’s roommate stares at him for a minute, then takes a few steps toward him. He sticks out his hand and Gerard does the same. They shake.

“Frank.”

“Gerard.”

“I think I’ve heard of you before, are you the guy who paints and draws comics?”

Laughing slightly, Gerard replies, “Mostly as a hobby, but yes.”

“Ray showed me some of your work not too long ago,” explains Frank, bouncing from foot to foot, as if expelling excess energy from performing. “It’s really good.”

“I could say the same about Leathermouth,” Gerard replies, a little shocked that Ray would mention his art outside of work. “You guys totally crushed it tonight.”

“Thanks,” says Frank, taking a long drag from his cigarette. He keeps doing this thing where he looks Gerard right in the eyes when he speaks, and Gerard keeps having to look away. “So, how long have you worked with Ray?”

“About three years. Didn’t you just apply to our office?”

“Yeah, I did. I’m a closer for a title company and it’s sucking my will to live,” Frank reveals, still bouncing on his feet and rubbing his arms for warmth. “Ray said the lender side of mortgage was more chill, so I applied.”

“That’s so crazy, I used to do the same thing. I got out for exactly the same reason.”

“Really? I’ve only been on the closing side for a couple of months; how long did you last?”

“Five years, give or take.”

“Jesus, and you still have faith in humanity?”

“I don’t know if ‘faith’ is the right word,” Gerard replies darkly.

“Definitely not,” agrees Frank.

“Anyway, I hope it works out for you. It was the best career move I ever made.”

“Thanks, I hope so, too.”

“I’ve got to ask, though,” Gerard went on, “How does a guy like you end up in the mortgage industry?”

Frank grins slightly. “You mean someone covered in tattoos?”

“I just meant how does a guy with such an awesome band get stuck at a desk job. Not to gush or anything, but Leathermouth is one of the most put-together local bands I’ve ever seen. I guess I’m just shocked it wouldn’t be a full-time endeavor.”

“As much as I would love that, we’re still relatively new, and we haven’t gotten the level of exposure we would need to take that step. We’re trying to save up to record an album right now, and unfortunately, we’re not at a point where we’re getting paid to play, so desk job it is.”

“Fair enough,” says Gerard, having to look away from Frank’s direct gaze yet again. “I promise I didn’t mean to offend you; I was just so impressed with your set.”

“No offense taken,” assures Frank, stubbing out his cigarette with his foot. “I better get back inside to defrost, but it was nice to meet you, Gerard.”

“Same, nice to meet you.”

Gerard waves slightly, watching after him for a moment before looking at his cigarette and taking one final puff before stomping it out and saving it for a trashcan nearby. He debates smoking another one, but a particularly strong gust of cold wind rips away the hood of his coat and blasts him in the face, biting at his exposed cheeks and nose. After a small battle with his hair, Gerard manages to wrangle his hood back over his head and marches for the door. He hopes Mikey is ready to call it a night, as his eyelids are already burning with fatigue. Thankfully his brother looks just as tired as he feels, and they call it a night after bidding goodbye to Ray and his band.

When Gerard gets home, he’s in a surprisingly good mood, and decides to stay up for a little while to watch a movie. For some reason he’s wide awake and hopes that something familiar will lull him to sleep. He makes it pretty far through Jurassic Park, then drops off unexpectedly right after Muldoon gets attacked by raptors, mouthing clever girl just before he closes his eyes, dead to the world only seconds later.

<^>

Rain and sleet pelt the outside of his car as Gerard drives to work on Tuesday morning, and he is utterly convinced that he’s the only one on the road who doesn’t panic at inclement weather, having to frequently go around other drivers who are too terrified to drive the speed limit. Not that he’s making any daring maneuvers himself or anything, but there isn’t even ice on the roads, so there’s really no need to drive like a grandma.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he finally pulls into the parking lot and lets the song he is listening to finish playing before he gets out of the car. The break room is mercifully empty when he pops by the coffee machines, and he hums to himself as he brews himself a cup. He chooses his Godzilla mug this morning, having just finished one of his favorites in the series last night, and groggily shuffles over to his desk, sipping his coffee in large, hot gulps.

The office is quiet until about 7:30 when all the other early birds begin to file inside to their desks, chattering away about the weather, some of them greeting Gerard with a tired “good morning” as they pass by his cubicle. Not long after Gerard ducks under his desk to avoid saying hi to Debbie, Ray and Mikey arrive at the same time, snickering when they catch him peeking over the edge of the cubicle.

“Deb is here awfully early this morning,” Mikey comments as he hangs his coat.

“Must be pretty good gossip if she’s here before 8:30,” says Ray, sitting down at his desk. “I’m sure we’ll hear all about it later.”

Ray is right, of course, to the surprise of absolutely no one. Debbie waits until after Brian has made his rounds of the office before she waddles over to them, her perfume announcing her presence before she appears. She’s wearing an expression so smarmy that the Cheshire Cat might be out of a job, her bright pink lipstick curled into a haughty smirk that clashes wildly with her dark eye shadow.

“Happy Tuesday,” she shrills smugly, her many bangle bracelets clattering as she rests her arm on the edge of the cubicle. “Have you boys heard the news?”

“No,” says Gerard unenthusiastically.

“Adam and Misha got busted for having an inter-office affair on Friday,” Debbie drones on, apparently not even noticing that Gerard spoke. “Kaitlynn said they were caught kissing in the smoking section. They’re both in Brian’s office right now. Stacey is already packing up Misha’s desk.”

“That’s crazy,” Ray says flatly, his brow furrowing in concentration at the email he is currently writing, apparently with the hope that he seems too busy to engage.

“Mike, didn’t you go out with Misha?”

“Yes,” Mikey grinds out through gritted teeth, feathers ruffled by the nickname he’s spent his entire life trying to escape.

Debbie’s eyes suddenly go wide. “Wait, are you still going out with her? Did she cheat on you?”

“It was one date...two years ago.”

“Oh,” said Debbie, her face falling in disappointment. “Well, anyway, no word on whether or not they’re keeping Adam, but Misha is gone for sure.”

“Keep us posted,” Ray offers cheerfully, feigning friendliness so hard that he looks like he might throw up.

Scowling at Ray’s clear dismissal of the conversation, Debbie turns on her heel with an indignant growl. The stench of stale roses recedes with her as she stomps off, barreling past anyone in her way and knocking a 17-year-old intern into the wall, who seems more terrified than put out.

All is calm for another hour or so until they are treated to another visitor. Gerard is in the middle of figuring out how to professionally respond to a highly unprofessional email when he overhears Ray exclaim, “My dude! How did it go?”

Looking up from his computer, Gerard is surprised to see Ray’s roommate strolling over to their desks. He looks sharper than the last time they saw each other, dressed in a white button-down shirt, deep red tie and black slacks, a far cry from the man screaming on stage in ripped jeans five days ago.

“It went pretty good,” says Frank, performing a secret handshake with Ray. Noticing Gerard, he tips his head upward and says, “Hey, I have something for you.”

Reaching into his coat draped over his arm, Frank pulls something out of one of the pockets and hands it to Gerard. His Zippo lighter from Friday night.

“I accidentally stole it,” Frank admits somewhat sheepishly.

“Accidentally,” teases Ray, making air quotes.

Frank shoves him in his chair. “A and B conversation, Toro. C your way out.”

“Thanks for the lighter,” Gerard manages to get out, his tongue finally unsticking itself from the roof of his mouth.

“No problem,” Frank answers with a quick smile, turning to Ray. “I’ll see you at the house, can you pick up some coffee on your way?”

“We have coffee at home; it’s in the cabinet above the sink.”

“But that’s regular coffee,” insists Frank. “We’re out of K-Cups.”

Ray rolls his eyes. “Anything for you, princess. Don’t forget your tiara.”

“We’re not really friends,” Frank offers right before turning to leave, him and Ray shooting each other the bird before he disappears out the front door.

“Don’t mind Frank,” Ray apologizes to Gerard, scribbling a reminder for K-Cups on his notepad. “He’s got sticky fingers when it comes to lighters. It’s a pre-existing condition.”

“He gave it back,” Gerard says with a shrug. “I like him, I hope he gets the job.”

Ray stops, then looks at Gerard slowly, a grin creeping across his face. “Do you, now?”

Gerard deadpans. “Not like that,” he says immediately. “I just mean that he seems cool.”

“He’s a good dude,” Ray agrees, albeit suspiciously, giving an amused side-eye. “He’s single, too, you know.”

“Irrelevant,” Gerard replies while staring hard at his computer screen. He misspells the word ‘disclosure’ as disclseb and hits the backspace button a little harder than he intends. “Besides, I would never date a coworker.”

“Technically he’s not your coworker yet,” Ray looks just as smug as Debbie, grinning from ear to ear. “Want me to pass him a note in gym class? ‘My friend likes you; do you like him? Check yes or no.’”

Gerard gives an impatient look. “I’m sure Comedy Central will be calling any day now.”

At around three, Ray gets a call from Frank.

He got the job.

<^>

It only gets colder outside in the weeks following Frank’s interview, and snow begins littering the ground over the weekend, piling up overnight on a Saturday and casting an eerie white glow in the moonlight. Gerard is woken up to the sound of snowplows early Monday morning and groans when he looks at his phone, annoyed to see that he’s been jarred from his slumber a full thirty minutes before his alarm is set to go off. Grumbling, he throws back the covers and shuffles over to his window, peeking out at the blanketed streets below, utterly dreading the drive to work. Any decent company would allow their employees to work from home, but not even a nuclear holocaust would stop his company from coming into the office.

He arrives at the office twenty minutes later than usual, which is still technically on time, but any hope of getting to the coffee machines first is dashed when he sees that several overachievers decided to show up early, as well. Everyone is grumpy about having to make the trek to work instead of working from the comfort of their own homes, just like they always are on days like today, but Gerard is too tired to commiserate with them. He wordlessly grabs a cup of coffee as soon as the machines are free and is relieved that no one addresses him directly, sneaking out of the room as quickly as possible to avoid detection.

Ray is already at his desk when Gerard gets back from the break room, and Gerard’s phone lights up with a text message from Mikey as soon as he sits down.

“Mikey’s sick,” says Gerard after typing a quick reply. “Guess it’s just the two of us.”

“Three of us,” corrects Ray, distractedly digging in his coat pocket. “Frank’s first day is today.”

“I thought he was in a different department?”

“He is, but compliance requires him to be trained in our department, too.”

“That’s right,” Gerard remembers, smacking himself on the forehead. “I totally forgot.”

“I figured you would have marked it on your calendar.”

“Are you planning on giving up this notion that I have the hots for your roommate any time soon? I’ve got a full schedule today.”

“Only when you stop getting so defensive about it.”

“Defensive?” Gerard scoffs. “More like homicidal, do you remember when Deb kept trying to set you up with her ex-daughter-in-law?”

Ray visibly shivers. “I’ve managed to successfully repress those memories, thank you very much.”

As if beckoned by the same jinx that summons Lord Voldemort, Debbie rounds the corner looking positively jubilant. Gerard and Ray quickly pretend to look busy, and she cruises by their cubicle like they aren’t even there, much to their relief. If the brief bits of chatter overheard are any indication, this is apparently the first day for multiple new hires, and Debbie has arrived early to sniff them out like a bloodhound. Gerard hopes Frank will stop by their cubicle first so they can warn him, especially when she looks like a kid in a candy store.

Brian pops by a little after 9:00 to wish them good morning and make idle chit chat about their weekends, but also to tell Gerard that Frank will be sitting with him shortly to go over the finer points of their department.

“You don’t have to go very in-depth,” Brian is saying as Ray makes kissy faces at Gerard behind his back. “Just go over the basics, I don’t want to overload him too much.”

“You got it,” Gerard salutes Brian as he walks off, then chucks a balled-up piece of paper at Ray, who smirks and throws it back. “You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’, Toro. You better cut the crap before Frank gets here.”

“Cut what crap before I get here?” asks a third voice, both looking up to see Frank standing there with a curious expression on his face. His tattoos are just barely visible under his button-down shirt, and he’s sporting a thin black tie that looks both smart and stylish, complimenting his tailored black slacks.

“Um,” Gerard fumbles, feeling like the stupidest person in the room.

“Talking shit,” Ray mercifully answers for him.

“I’d expect nothing less,” Frank swats Ray on the back of the head, then brings his attention back to Gerard. “Traci and Brian told me to sit with you for a while, is that cool? Are you super busy?”

“No, you’re good,” Gerard scoots over a little bit and rolls his eyes at the complacent smile on Ray’s face. Frank grabs Mikey’s chair and wheels it over to Gerard’s desk, sitting just behind him. “Brian told me to give you a crash course, nothing too serious.”

Frank already has a notepad out in front of him, digging through his pocket to produce a pen. “Hey, before we start, is there any possible way you could show me where to get some coffee? Not to be dramatic, but I’m pretty sure my head will cave in if I don’t get some soon.”

“I’m right there with you. Come on, I’ll show you the break room.”

They stand up and Frank follows, falling in line beside him as they breeze past cubicles and open office doors. Gerard can’t help but notice his coworkers gawking at Frank as they walk, staring openly like they’ve just seen a dog walk past them on its hind legs. Their company is fairly progressive; even Brian hides a sleeve of tattoos on his arm beneath his work clothes, but nobody as inked as Frank has ever graced their halls before. Gerard glances at Frank and sees him smile at one of the girls in marketing when she is caught goggling at him. Irritated, Gerard quickens his pace in the hopes of finding a prompt ending to the en masse clutching of pearls.

As soon as they enter the break room, Gerard feels the need to apologize, “Sorry about everyone out there, they wouldn’t know self-expression if it punched them in the face.”

“I’m used to it,” Frank dismisses easily. “Body modification tends to attract attention, especially in corporate America.”

“I don’t get it,” Gerard vents, handing Frank a spare mug from one of the overhead cabinets. “Who cares if someone wants to cover their body with cool art? If needles weren’t part of the equation, I’d probably look just like you.”

“There are some pretty realistic temporary tattoos. One trip to the bathroom and we could be Twinkies.”

Gerard pauses, grinning slightly. “I think you just gave me an idea for Halloween this year.”

“Hell yeah, you could get a fake nose ring, too.”

“And eyeliner.”

“That’ll show ‘em. Damn the Man.”

Gerard laughs a little too loudly at this, then clears his throat and busies himself with making coffee, hoping Frank doesn’t notice him almost dropping the K-Cup he’s holding before safely depositing it into the coffee machine. “Oh, by the way,” he makes sure to note, “You’ll probably get cornered by Debbie at some point today. She starts circling as soon as she smells new blood.”

“Good to know. Which one is Debbie?”

“You’ll know,” Gerard assures him. “Her voice will make you wish you never had ears.”

“She must be the banshee I heard laughing in Brian’s office earlier, it was so loud I almost couldn’t hear him talking.”

“That’s the one. She’ll also try to recruit you into her health supplement pyramid scheme.”

“Lovely. We could play network marketing Bingo – fill in a square every time she says the words ‘financial freedom’ or ‘retire your husband.’”

“You should see her social media, all of it says, ‘CEO of my life.’”

“Tragic,” Frank laughs, picking up his mug of freshly brewed coffee. “That poor woman.”

“You say that now, just wait until you meet her.”

Frank doesn’t have to wait very long. As soon as they get back to Gerard’s desk, Debbie is already lurking around the area, her long, red nails hooked over their cubicle like the claws of a perched eagle, waiting patiently for her prey. She greets Frank with a forced sweetness that is sure to give all of them hypertension, asking him the same banal questions that she asks every new hire. Frank handles it gracefully, though, answering her questions without really divulging much about his life, but giving her enough to make her feel like she’s really got something. She looks particularly thrilled to learn that he’s not currently seeing anyone and hastily leaves to inform anyone who will listen to the new information she’s just received, but not before handing Frank her business card and telling him to call her if he’s ever interested in financial freedom.

“I got my first square!” he whispers excitedly to Gerard, showing a handwritten Bingo card after Debbie walks away. Gerard laughs and marks the FREE space in the middle for him, ignoring the ever-watchful eyes of Ray, who studies their interactions carefully whenever he thinks they aren’t looking.

It only takes about an hour to give an overview of the department, with Frank diligently taking notes and occasionally asking questions. Thankfully he has experience with what they do, so it’s mostly just going over how to do it within the software. This doesn’t prove to be too difficult, however; Frank is razor sharp and is almost able to recite the steps in their entirety by the time Gerard is finished. Just for funsies, Gerard has him do a practice run on a file, and Frank manages to complete it without a single misstep.

“Unbelievable,” Gerard says with a small laugh, “Nobody gets it right on the first day.”

“I’m pretty impressive,” Frank jokes confidently, laughing at the mutual groans he receives from the other two.

“I’m surprised you could fit that giant head into the building,” Ray comments, earning a pen to the chest from Frank. “That’s assault, my good sir. Don’t make me call HR.”

“You call HR, and I’ll tell Debbie you’re interested in hearing all about her small business,” Frank threatens, getting to his feet so he can sit with the next department on his list. “What time do you guys usually go to lunch?”

“Around noon,” says Ray, “Do you want us to wait for you?”

“If you don’t mind; I have a feeling Debbie is going to try to match me up with someone if I don’t already have plans.”

“She totally will,” Gerard confirms. “She tried to hook me up with someone on my second day.”

“Yeah, now she just tries to set you up with anything that has legs,” Ray adds with a chuckle.

“Well, thank God I have an alibi for today,” Frank waves to them. “See you at lunch.”

Frank and Gerard make a pit stop to the smoking section when they arrive back at the office after their lunch break while Ray happily (and annoyingly) retreats inside to give them time alone. Gerard finds himself noticing little things about Frank’s personality, like how he talks with his hands and that he always has a one-liner up his sleeve for just the right occasion. He also appears to speak fluent movie quotes, and they both share a laugh while quoting the movie Predator. The more Gerard talks to him, the more he thinks Frank is a good fit for the company. At the very least, Frank offered awesome smoke break conversation. He and Gerard are already suggesting lists for each other of must-see, bottom-of-the-barrel B-movies, which was spurned from a lively discussion about Godzilla films.

The afternoon flies by relatively quickly after lunch, with Gerard and Ray tag-teaming requests that come through their shared email inbox, and they receive only one snooty email from one of their branches, a record low for this time of day. They don’t see Frank again after lunch, as he’s busy being trained in other departments, but Frank does stop by briefly to slip a folded piece of paper to Gerard before hurrying away again. Gerard unfolds the note and sees several movie titles scribbled there, grinning when he sees that Frank has recommended Angry Red Planet and Robinson Crusoe on Mars, two of his personal favorites.

“Passing notes already?” Ray asks hopefully.

“Get a grip, Toro,” Gerard recommends while stuffing the folded paper into his bag. “If you spent half as much time answering emails as you do obsessing about me and Frank, you might actually get out of here at a decent time.”

“I’m multitasking,” Ray replies, writing something down on his notepad. “And you’re not fooling anyone, I see you.”

“See what, exactly?”

“You’ve talked to him all of four times and you already have inside jokes.”

“It’s just movie quotes,” Gerard argues, keeping an even tone. “By that logic, I should be asking you out instead of Frank.”

“I would date you in a heartbeat,” Ray answers honestly, and not for the first time. “Regrettably, we can never be a power couple, but you’ll be the first person I call if I’m ever feeling bi-curious.”

“Damn straight, I’ve been waiting for that call for three years, now.”

Ray puts a comforting hand on Gerard’s arm. “I don’t expect you to wait for me, Gee. Do yourself a favor and nail my roommate.”

“Ugh,” Gerard moves his arm away and turns back to his computer screen. “You’re incorrigible.”

Ray tears off the piece of paper and hands it to Gerard. “You’ll thank me later.”

Gerard takes the paper from Ray and shoves it in his bag without looking at it. When he checks it later at home, he wads it up and almost throws it away but decides to keep it at the last second when he scans the words one last time.

FRANK’S CELL

He stares at it for a minute, then decides to hang it up on his refrigerator for now. If nothing else, at least he can text Frank whenever he gets around to watching the movies on his list.

<^>

It only took two weeks, but it seems the entire office has fallen prone to Frank’s charm. It helps that he’s friendly and quick to laugh, and from what Gerard has heard from Ray, he’s already leaving most of the people in his department in the dust. The only ones who seem to have a problem with him are his actual team, who are used to getting paid just for occupying a chair and aren’t appreciative of this newcomer doing the work of four people. It doesn’t appear to bother Frank, though, and he elects to just keep his head down and do his job.

Gerard and Frank take their smoke breaks together with increasing frequency, where Frank regales Gerard with tales of Debbie’s exploits of trying to set him up with someone from the office. Today, it’s Becca, the company receptionist, though Debbie is barking up not just one, but two wrong trees. Becca is undoubtedly one of the most gorgeous women Gerard has ever seen, but she’s also a proud lesbian, and she had a pretty good laugh with Frank when he mentioned it to her. Gerard has a pretty good laugh about it, too, because Debbie had already tried to set him up with Becca years ago.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve told her I’m gay,” Frank is saying around a cigarette that morning, shaking his head. “I’m starting to think I may need to give her a pamphlet.”

“Welcome to the club,” Gerard offers sympathetically. “I’ve been here three years, and she still tries to set me up with women.”

“Not that the women here aren’t stunning,” Frank notes, “I mean, my god, Becca is beautiful, but she’s not a dude, and I’m not really in a position to date anybody. I just got out of a relationship a few months ago.”

“Same here, my last relationship ended when I found out he was cheating, so I kicked him out. I’ve got too many trust issues right now to try and date someone.”

“That’s exactly why my last relationship ended,” Frank smiles sympathetically. “It’s tough to bounce back from a cheater.”

“Yeah, but it’s pretty nice to be single. Nobody to answer to, and you don’t have to worry about anybody’s feelings before you do something. It’s freeing.”

“Which is exactly why I’m keeping it that way for a while,” Frank contends. “I’m going to stay in the one-night stand phase for the foreseeable future.”

“It’s a good phase.”

“It’s a great phase. Just call me Dicks McGee.”

Gerard laughs and drops his cigarette.

At 1:00 p.m., there is an operations staff meeting, of which Gerard warns Frank will make him laugh hysterically and wish he was dead simultaneously.

“Brian is the only one worth listening to,” Gerard is telling Frank as they hurry across the parking lot to make the meeting on time. “But everything else could have been an email. The open forum is where it really gets good because everyone just complains about other departments. Ray swears a fight broke out once.”

“I’m bringing my notepad,” Frank replies enthusiastically. “I want to keep a log of this train wreck.”

“That’s exactly why I bring mine,” says Gerard while holding the door open. “I’ll email you a copy of my notes from the Great Microwave Debate. Riveting stuff.”

The meeting is supposed to only last for an hour, but of course, it lasts for two. Brian asks all the new employees to stand up and introduce themselves a little bit, then he launches into the new programs that the company will be offering over the next few months. After that, each supervisor stands up to speak their piece about their respective departments, of which Gerard spends dominating every game of Tic Tac Toe he plays with Ray in the margin of his notepad.

Then, it’s time for the open forum, and just as Gerard had hoped, it does not disappoint. Frank’s department is pissed off at the underwriting department, and the underwriting manager fights back with complaints about Frank’s department. The two departments go back and forth until finally Brian has to intervene, and Frank turns to Gerard with a gleeful smile. Reaching over the table, Gerard writes “Told you” on Frank’s notepad.

After the meeting, Ray, Gerard, and Mikey try to play catch up as quickly as possible, answering emails and new requests that had piled up during the meeting. Fridays are usually slow, so by the time 4:00 p.m. rolls around, they are completely caught up, and it is finally time to call it a day.

“Hey, what are you guys doing tomorrow?” asks Ray as they all begin packing up to leave.

“Cleaning for a little bit, then nothing,” says Gerard, turning to his brother. “What about you?”

“I’m free,” Mikey replies, “What’s up?”

“Me and Frank are having a party at our place,” Ray reveals, turning off his computer. “We’re thinking music, pizza, and beer. Are you guys down?”

Gerard pauses, beaming at him. “Ray Toro, are you finally inviting us over to your house?”

Ray shrugs. “I figured it was time to take this relationship to the next level.”

“Can we call an interior decorator? Should I bring my toothbrush?”

“You bring whatever you want, sweet cheeks,” Ray waves to them as he makes his way toward the door. “One of us will text you with the details later tonight.”

“Sounds good,” calls Mikey over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”

Later that night, Gerard receives a text from an unknown number. Curious, he opens it.

Ray told me to text you our address. Party officially starts at 7:00 but come over whenever. BYOB, food will be provided. See you tomorrow – F xx

Below the message is Ray and Frank’s address. Gerard stares at the message for a moment before saving the number to his phone, chuckling to himself as he keys his response.

Saved your number as Dicks McGee.

A few minutes later, Gerard receives another text:

Saved you in my phone as Peter Pan because your jokes Neverland.

Gerard laughs out loud, saving the address to Frank and Ray’s contacts.

<^>

He stands there in front of his closet while chewing on a thumbnail, tapping his foot, and scanning every shirt fanned out in front of him. He wants something cool but casual; something that screams hot and single but also screams that he might be a serial killer, and to proceed with caution. Gerard decides on a chicly worn-in House of Wax shirt and the tightest pair of jeans he owns, along with a pair of boots he’s been dying to wear for the last two months. His reflection in the mirror looks pretty damn good if he may say so himself, and he tops off the ensemble with his favorite leather jacket. He checks the time on his phone and is pleased to see that he’s actually running ahead of schedule, texting Mikey that he’s about to leave. With that, he’s out the door, taking the stairs in the parking garage two at a time.

He pulls up to Mikey’s place twenty minutes later, who is already waiting at the end of the driveway for him. He climbs into the car, and they exchange quick hellos, Mikey buckling his seat belt as Gerard pulls off into the street. They’re silent for a minute or two before Mikey speaks again.

“You look nice.”

“Thanks, I wanted to look good in case I decided to go on the prowl tonight.”

“Anyone in particular?”

Gerard glances at Mikey, then asks, “Ray talked to you, didn’t he?”

“I agree with him,” Mikey replies matter-of-factually. “You and Frank are both single, you’re both cool, and you have similar interests. I think it’s a slam dunk.”

“I’m not going to date him just because he’s available,” Gerard is unable to hide his irritation when he speaks. “Besides, he’s not looking for a relationship right now, we talked about it already. Neither of us is in a position to date anybody.”

“I’m not saying you should date him because he’s available,” Mikey is quick to correct. “I just think he would be a good fit for you. He seems like a cool dude.”

“He is cool, but I just got out of a relationship. I’m not looking for anything serious right now and neither is he.”

“Who says it has to be serious? It could just be for fun, it doesn’t have to be, like, a full-on relationship. You’re both aesthetically pleasing; I think it would do you some good to just bang it out with someone.”

“Aesthetically pleasing,” Gerard snorts. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“I’m just saying I think he would be good for you,” Mikey asserts one last time, gesturing with his hands that he intends to drop the subject. “Do with that what you will.”

“Thank you, I will,” Gerard chances another glance at Mikey before bringing his eyes back to the road, grinning slightly to himself. “He is pretty hot, though.”

“Don’t let Ray hear you say that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Exactly.”

Gerard’s GPS directs them across town to a suburb right off the highway, tucked away on a scenic street of old trees and well-manicured lawns. They pull up to a square-shaped modern home, which seems totally out of character for both Ray and Frank. It’s a nice house, and Gerard briefly wonders what their monthly mortgage payment looks like but quickly shoves this thought away to avoid letting his work brain interfere with his leisure brain. They find a parking spot several houses down, and Gerard feels inexplicably anxious when they arrive at the front door, ringing the doorbell to a house that sounds like it’s hosting way more people than the fire marshal would safely allow. They wait for several moments, and just when Mikey rings the doorbell again, the door swings open.

“Heeeey!” welcomes Ray happily, sharing a handshake with each of them. “Glad you could make it, come on in.”

The house is just as nice on the inside and would almost look sterile if it weren’t packed with what seemed like hundreds of people, all talking loudly over black metal blasting from somewhere. Gerard recognizes the rest of Ray’s band and is surprised to also see Becca from the office, who is hanging on the arm of her equally beautiful girlfriend. Gerard waves at her and gives her a thumbs up. Becca makes a heart out of her hands, then blows him a kiss. Other than Ray’s band and Becca, though, Gerard recognizes absolutely no one else, and braces himself for forced pleasantries. He intends to stick close to Mikey, who has the God-given ability to talk to almost anyone.

They follow Ray into the kitchen, where he offers them a vast assortment of drinks. Mikey chooses beer, and Gerard is surprised to see that Ray has also purchased a six pack of soda just for Gerard.

“You are my favorite,” Gerard gushes upon receiving a Diet Coke. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I just don’t want you to feel left out,” Ray shrugs. “I’ve tried to quit drinking before; it’s tough, especially at parties. If you need anything, just let me know. I got you.”

Gerard smiles and lightly punches Ray’s arm, touched by his generosity. “Hey, is there somewhere I can smoke really quick?”

“For sure,” says Ray, pointing just over Gerard’s shoulder. “We’ve got ashtrays out back, just go straight across the living room to the sliding doors. We’ve got a fire pit going out there, too.”

“Awesome,” says Gerard, turning to Mikey, “I’ll be right back.”

He makes his way carefully through the throng of people in the living room, making sure not to bump shoulders with anyone. The back door slides open easily, and he shuts the door behind him, effectively muffling all the loud conversations taking place inside. The backyard is tailored and clean, with several couches and a roaring fire pit, as promised. Gerard takes a seat on the couch nearest to an ashtray and takes a moment to enjoy the silence. There are several strands of flickering lights hanging overhead, casting the back porch in a warm, orange glow. It almost feels sacrilegious to smoke a cigarette in a backyard as nice as this one, but he lights up, anyway.

The serenity of the backyard is broken when Gerard hears a voice approaching the back door, and he sighs heavily at the prospect of having to be social, at least until he realizes that he recognizes the voice. Looking up, he sees Frank step out into the backyard, dressed in dark jeans, a black shirt with THE CRAMPS printed in large letters across the front, and a jean jacket covered in studs, buttons, and patches.

“Hey, stranger,” he says, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “I guess we’re just letting anyone into this party now, huh?”

“I mean, we let you in here, so.”

Frank chuckles, electing to stand instead of sit. “I don’t know how Ray keeps up with everyone’s names at parties like this. Knowing this many people seems like it would be exhausting.”

“I swear he’s got photographic memory; he hears your name once and remembers it forever.” Gerard stops to take a drag, then says, “You look good, any prospects for a one-night stand?”

“Whatever, like anyone is looking at me with you prancing around in those pants. Did you paint those on yourself?”

“These old things?” Gerard looks down, then smiles sneakily up at Frank. “Just a bit of luck and some Crisco.”

“Monopolies are illegal, by the way. Do you feel good about what you’re doing?”

“Technically not all monopolies are illegal,” Gerard contends, receiving a quick laugh from Frank. “Can you even have a monopoly on dicks?”

“We should ask Becca,” Frank suggests. “Her and her girlfriend have been surrounded by men since they got here.”

“Poor dudes,” Gerard remarks with a sympathetic expression.

“True story,” says Frank, both falling silent for a moment. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“I guess,” says Gerard. “It kind of depends on the question.”

“How did you end up in the mortgage industry?”

“I just kind of fell into by accident. Why do you ask?”

“I figured that an artist as talented as you would be working in the comic book industry or something. Seems like your talent is wasted at job like this.”

Gerard isn’t expecting the compliment, and his face heats up despite the cold, looking away from Frank and staring at his feet. Eventually, though, he speaks.

“I interned for about a year at Cartoon Network right out of college. It was awesome at first, and I actually got to pitch them a show idea one time, but that fell apart pretty fast. After a while I realized I was never going to move up in the company and they had us working 60 hours a week for pennies. I got burnt out fast, and it wasn’t making me happy anymore, so I let my contract lapse and got a job at a bookstore for a couple of years after that. I needed money to move out of my parents’ basement, so Mikey got me hired at the title company he was working for at the time, then he got me hired at this job after five years when he said the money was better.”

“But you still do art, right?”

“Oh, for sure, but mostly just as freelance work, or whatever cool project comes my way. It’s not my career like I thought it would be, but I’m happy, and I still get to make art whenever I feel like it.”

Frank smiles, appearing satisfied with this answer. “What’s the coolest project you’ve ever worked on?”

“I designed a T-shirt for my friend’s band when I was in college. They broke up, like, three months later, but it was one of my favorite pieces I’ve ever made. I think I still have that shirt in my closet now that I think about it.”

“Interesting. Would you ever do it again?”

“Definitely, if the opportunity presented itself.”

Frank stares at him for a moment, thinking. “I have a proposition for you.”

Gerard smirks. “We’re not there yet, ask me again in six months.”

“Not that, you cretin. How would you feel about designing a shirt for Leathermouth?”

“Are you kidding?” Gerard smiles widely, “That would be legit! I’d love to design a shirt for you guys.”

“It would be legit, especially since our merch kind of sucks right now.” Frank takes a drag of his cigarette, then adds, “Full compensation for your time, of course. No discounts.”

Gerard stands up and they shake hands. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Good.” They continue shaking hands until a grin slowly forms on Frank’s face. “You can let go, now.”

Gerard tightens his grip. “Mama didn’t raise a quitter.”

They maintain the handshake for quite some time, their prepubescent giggling getting steadily louder the longer it lasts. Finally, Frank jerks his hand away as if it’s been burned, complaining, “Fuck, you win, I can’t take your sweaty palms anymore.”

They spend a while discussing the various movies they have recently recommended to each other. Gerard is starting to feel the outside air creeping under his clothes, slowly chilling him to the bone, but he’s not willing to walk out on such a lively conversation about horror movies, especially because so few people appreciate them. Frank reveals that he’s more into slasher films, both classic and modern, and Gerard shares his love of J-horror, which Frank fervently agrees is super underrated. From there, they begin talking about favorite bands after Gerard compliments Frank’s shirt. Gerard is surprised that they love a lot of the same artists, but Frank’s taste tends to stop somewhere in the 90’s, preferring mostly hardcore punk from the 70’s and the 80’s. Gerard is much the same, though he is willing to listen to pretty much anything that isn’t country.

It’s only after Ray comes outside looking for them that they both realize how long they have been standing out there talking, the ashtray significantly fuller than it was when they first came outside. “Here you two are,” he says, shutting the sliding door behind him. “I was beginning to think we needed to send out a search party.”

“Calm down, it’s only been…” Frank checks his phone, eyebrows raising slightly. “Two hours? Has it really been that long?”

Ray doesn’t respond, but shoots Gerard a smug expression. “What have you two been doing out here?”

“Just talking,” says Gerard.

Ray nods approvingly, then asks, “So, when is the wedding?”

Gerard’s eyes widen and he hides his face behind his hand, visibly cringing with mortification. He thought Ray had finally dropped this burning obsession to hook him up with Frank, but Ray is stubborn as always, so really, Gerard should have seen this coming. To his horror, Frank turns to face him, but instead of the confusion Gerard expects, Frank appears to be serenely unaffected by Ray’s ceaseless attempts to humiliate both of them. It is in this moment that Gerard realizes that Ray must have been driving Frank nuts the whole time, as well, and Gerard wonders where Ray gets the time to play matchmaker this passionately. It’s comforting that Gerard isn’t alone, but his embarrassment outweighs the comfort, and he mostly just wishes he could vanish from this entire conversation.

“Ray…darling…light of my life,” Frank wraps a friendly arm around Ray’s shoulders. “Is this because you’re jealous Gerard is my new work husband?”

“I am not jealous!” Ray exclaims with feigned offense. “As long as you come home to me every night.”

“Always,” promises Frank, latching his arm around Ray’s neck and pulling him into a noogie.

<^>

For the first time in a long time, Gerard has no idea what to draw.

He has been sitting at his kitchen table with an open sketchbook for about thirty minutes, tapping the end of his pencil on the blank page before him. He’s managed a few warmup sketches of hands and the same little vampire he always sketches when he can’t decide what to draw, but he is fresh out of ideas for a solid T-shirt. He resorts to digging out his old sketchbooks and thumbing through the pages, seeing if anything he’s done in the past might make for an interesting concept. Going for something horror related seems too obvious, especially classic monsters like Dracula or Frankenstein’s monster. He then considers maybe going for 50s sci-fi theme but decides that it doesn’t really match Leathermouth’s aesthetic. The next theme he considers is something akin to H. R. Giger, but that seems a little overdone, especially with the popularity of the Alien movie franchise. He sighs heavily and figures maybe he should walk away for a minute, and pops in one of his favorite horror movies, Witchboard.

He’s only ten minutes into the movie when inspiration finally strikes him. Rushing back to the kitchen to grab his sketchbook, he plops down on the couch and begins furiously sketching the ideas churning around in his brain. Images of tarot cards, Ouija boards and freak shows are spilling out onto the page into his own unique style, and finally he produces a sketch that he feels is the one to go with. After he decides on a sketch, he then must decide on a medium, torn between doing it in watercolor or in his much beloved acrylic paint. Unable to decide between the two, he settles on making one of each and puts on another pot of coffee; he’s going to be here for a while.

By the time he’s done, the sun is low in the sky and his back is screaming about his terrible posture, but he’s got two completed pieces that he feels pretty good about. He takes pictures of both, along with some of the other concept sketches he came up with in case his finished pieces don’t get the green light. He fires off a text to Frank and makes dinner, settling in for the night.

Frank is at Gerard’s desk first thing on Monday morning, gushing about the designs.

“That Death tarot card is our favorite,” he is saying after taking a sip from his coffee. “The others were great, but all of us agreed on the tarot card.”

“Awesome.” Gerard tries not to hemorrhage internally from receiving any form of accolade. “Did you want me to bring them to work tomorrow?”

“We can do that,” says Frank, “Or if you’re not busy tonight, I could pop by and pick them up?”

Gerard is so glad that Ray and Mikey are not present for this offer. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’m not busy.”

“Sweet, I’ll text you after work.”

Work goes by at a snail’s pace, and when it’s finally time to clock out, Gerard bids goodbye to his brother and Ray, then high tails it out of there to rush home. His apartment isn’t dirty per se, but it needs to be picked up a little bit before Frank gets there. He makes it home in record time, flying around the apartment in a frenzy, tidying up faster than he ever has in his life. Just as he loads up the dishwasher to clear out the sink, he receives a text from Frank and sends him his address. Frank gives an ETA of about half an hour from his place, and Gerard then rushes to his closet to change out of his work clothes.

A knock comes at the front door not long after Gerard finishes hiding some of his more embarrassing items from view. He strolls over and peeks through the door viewer, then swings it open. Frank is standing there clad in low-hanging jeans, a distressed Disney World T-shirt, and a dark denim jacket, somehow always looking put together despite his devil-may-care sense of style.

“Hey,” he salutes, “Sorry it took me longer than I thought, traffic got kind of dicey on the highway.”

“No worries,” Gerard steps aside and lets Frank pass, then shuts the door behind them.

“I like your place,” Frank compliments, his eyes traveling across the various posters on the wall, to all the shelves full of books and action figures, then to the large collection of movies by the television. He also spots Gerard’s record player and walks over to it. “Nice, I didn’t know you collected records.”

“Have been ever since I was a teenager. That’s my parents’ old player, too. They were getting rid of it, and I just couldn’t stand for it to go to someone else.”

“Looks like it’s in great shape, too.” Frank brings his attention back to Gerard, grinning. “Anyway, let’s see these designs, I’m dying to see them in person.”

Gerard guides Frank over to the kitchen table where he has both complete pieces and all his sketches fanned out. Frank carefully examines them, thumbing through the sketches and admiring them with a wide smile on his face. As he’s looking things over, Gerard describes his process and Frank listens intently, asking questions about technique that Gerard doesn’t expect, but is secretly thrilled to answer. Most people just fawn over how hard it must be to be an artist in today’s economy, and Gerard always wants to tell those people, yes, he worked hard to get here, and if he cared about money, he would be a doctor, or a lawyer, or some socially maladjusted sociopath sitting at the top of a Fortune 500 company. It’s refreshing for someone to want to learn the thought process behind his art instead of pitying him for following whatever brings him joy, even if it doesn’t turn out a profit.

After Gerard packs everything up for travel, Frank turns to him and shares, “I don’t know if you’ve been there before, but I just thought you should know that there’s a really sweet record store just up the street from here.”

“Oh, yeah,” Gerard suddenly remembers seeing it several times in the past. “I’ve been meaning to go there but keep forgetting about it.”

“I was actually going to check it out after this, you’re welcome to join,” Frank pauses, then adds, “If you have time, no pressure.”

Checking his watch, Gerard considers the offer for a moment. “I’m down,” he says finally, “Do you want to grab some dinner after? I’m starving and don’t feel like cooking.”

“It’s a date,” Frank says, laughing at the exasperated look on Gerard’s face. “Sometimes people tell jokes.”

Gerard rolls his eyes and grabs a jacket. “You should try funny jokes next time.”

Since the record store is so close, they decide to walk there instead of driving, which isn’t too bad since the weather hasn’t been quite as frigid lately. The sun is already setting on the horizon, but it’s still light enough outside for a short walk. They talk about their current crop of movie suggestions, having finished their lists the other day. By the time they reach the store, Frank is already making a note on his phone of more films to watch over the next few days, and Gerard is chattering away about the untapped brilliance of the movie Hobgoblins.

They enter the establishment with a ding from the front door and Gerard already decides that this is his new favorite store. There are framed records and posters everywhere, and the shop floor is filled nearly wall-to-wall with long, narrow rows of display shelves bursting with CDs, vinyl records, cassette tapes, VHS tapes, and DVDs. In the far-right corner of the shop, there is a dedicated section for comics and other vintage superhero memorabilia. There are several racks of T-shirts that catch Gerard’s eye off to the left, and he immediately starts browsing through them, stoked to discover a Nosferatu shirt hiding in the clearance section. Yes, this place is definitely his new haunt.

Frank approaches him after about fifteen minutes of browsing, already holding several records under his arm. “No vinyl?”

“Just not in the mood to treasure hunt today.”

Frank briefly frowns, then leans against the shelf. “Listen, I’ve got a 100 percent success rate of bringing people here and having them buy at least one record, so I can’t let you leave without any vinyl.”

“Vaguely threatening,” Gerard notes, briefly meeting Frank’s gaze with a small grin before returning to the comics he’s in the middle of thumbing through. “But there’s a first time for everything.”

“I bet you twenty bucks I can find at least one album in here that you’ll want to buy.”

Gerard stares for a moment before agreeing, “Okay, I’ll take that bet. I look forward to the easiest twenty bucks I’ve ever made.”

“More like the easiest twenty bucks you’ve ever lost,” Frank replies boldly, nodding his head toward the records. “Shall we?”

They make their way around the shelves while Frank carefully browses his options, occasionally glancing over at Gerard to study him. After a couple of a minutes, Frank says, “Okay, so I get three tries.”

Gerard rolls his eyes again and motions with his hand for Frank to continue. They circle around a couple more shelves and Frank scans the titles, stopping when he seems to find something. Shooting another quick glance, Frank pulls out an album and hands it over.

“That’s cheating,” Gerard disregards, handing it right back to Frank. “Everyone loves The Ramones.”

“Just a warmup,” Frank reassures him, putting it back. They move along to the next row of shelves, and Frank stops again. Thinking about it really hard, Frank confirms with himself and grabs another record, passing it to Gerard with a confident smile.

Selena: Ones

Smirking proudly, Gerard hands it back. “I already have this album, thank you very much.”

“Damn it,” Frank snaps his fingers in disappointment. “So close.”

“Last chance.”

For the final time, they wander from shelf to shelf, Frank taking this a lot more seriously and studying Gerard to the point where both start giggling every time Frank looks over. It takes much longer for Frank to finally stop, and after several moments of mulling it over, a wide, sure smile crosses his face, and he motions for Gerard to follow. He appears to already know where he’s going, marching right up to the shelf he’s looking for and scanning the titles with his index finger, landing on the option he’s picked. Looking more confident than ever, he gives the record to Gerard.

They Live (Expanded Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)

Shock immediately bubbles up in Gerard, having never known this album was even on vinyl, then he looks up at Frank with mild scorn. “I’m calling the police.”

“I knew it,” Frank is entirely too smug. “I knew you were a John Carpenter fan.” Gerard begrudgingly starts digging for his wallet, but Frank waves him off. “Keep your money, I just like a challenge.”

“That was witchcraft,” Gerard asserts, both making their way toward the cashier. “Seriously, I’m filing a restraining order.”

After checking out, they step outside and settle to grab dinner at a vegan restaurant one block over that Frank swears has the best Vietnamese food Gerard will ever eat. The streetlights come on as they make their trek, the sun now a fading glow off on the horizon. Frank smokes a cigarette while they stroll quickly toward their destination, the vapor forming interesting shapes in the air as his hands wave wildly with each of his stories. Gerard notices how self-assured Frank walks: it’s the walk of someone who has their shit together – spine completely straight, shoulders back, head held high, looking at life right between the eyes…it would be intimidating if Frank wasn’t so sociable. Gerard wonders what it must be like to be so open to the world around him, to be so unabashedly himself despite what anyone might think of him for it. To work so hard during the day and sell out a tiny club in the city after business hours, sometimes not getting home until 4:00 in the morning with a 7:00 a.m. shift the next day. Frank, Ray, and the rest of Leathermouth put so much heart into everything they do, and sometimes Gerard can’t believe people as cool as they are would give him the time of day. Gerard smiles to himself while Frank babbles away, content to listen for as long as Frank deems him worthy.

The restaurant is cozy and dimly lit, and they choose a booth off to right. Frank orders a beer, and Gerard orders his usual Diet Coke. As soon as they place their food orders with the sever, Frank takes a swig of his drink and says, “You should try their beer next time, it’s pretty good.”

“I actually stopped drinking years ago.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Gerard takes a drink of his soda and catches Frank watching him. He frowns at him and asks, “Does that weird you out?”

“Of course not. Just one more thing I like about you.”

Gerard meets his eyes for a second, then looks down at the table. “Thanks,” he manages, pausing briefly before he reveals, “It really sucked for a while, but I’m glad I made it to the other side.”

“Totally understand,” Frank motions to his beer, “Does this bother you? I can order something else.”

“No, no,” Gerard laughs, shaking his head. “I’m an adult, I realize there are people who can drink responsibly. I’m just not one of them.”

“Respect,” Frank nods in approval. “You better tell me if anybody gives you shit for it at a show.”

“I appreciate the gesture, but most people are cool about it.”

“Yeah, but there’s always that one dude who’s too drunk and wants to pick a fight.”

“True.”

“So, if that dude gives you any shit at one of our shows, me and the guys have got your back.”

Gerard snorts. “What is this, a street gang?”

“We might be, you don’t know.”

“Whatever,” Gerard snickers and Frank narrows his eyes.

“I find your lack of faith disturbing.”

Gerard looks up from the table, the corner of his mouth curling up into an impressed expression. “You never told me you were a Star Wars fan.”

“Very casual fan, but yes.” Frank gives a smug look. “I know, I’m basically a total catch.”

“Wow, how do you stay so humble?”

Frank laughs appreciatively, taking another drink of his beer. “I like you; we should be friends.”

“I’ll have my people call your people.”

“No can do, my people only communicate with carrier pigeons.”

“Classic and trendy.” Gerard gives him a round of quiet applause. “So brave.”

Frank bows slightly. “Yes, thank you, I know. Wife material, obviously.”

Their food arrives shortly after. Frank is right; it’s the best Vietnamese food Gerard has ever had.

<^>

Traffic is unbearable the next morning due to a wreck on the highway, and Gerard is grumpy by the time he arrives at work. He hates being late to anything, usually always showing up early, so being ten minutes late is enough to almost give him an anxiety stroke. Brian is cool about it, though, and doesn’t give Gerard any grief when he pops by his desk a few minutes after he sits down. Ray and Mikey are thankfully quiet this morning, both working diligently, off in their own world. Gerard grabs a cup of coffee before getting started.

As soon as he returns to his desk, Ray asks him, “Did you see last night’s episode?”

“Shit,” Gerard blurts out, “I totally forgot it was on last night.”

Ray gives Gerard a weird look. “Blasphemy, you never miss an episode, what were you doing last night?”

“I checked out a record store up the street and got some dinner,” Gerard tells him, making sure to leave out the part where he had company, lest Ray and Mikey get the wrong idea.

“Acceptable answer,” says Ray. “Pick up anything good?”

“I got the extended edition of ‘They Live’ on vinyl and this badass Nosferatu shirt.”

“Excellent,” Ray compliments, nodding his head. “Carpenter is always a good choice.”

“You guys talking about Gerard’s new record?” asks a tertiary voice, quickly revealed to be Frank, who has seemingly appeared out of thin air. “How are you liking it? Is it everything you wanted it to be?”

Gerard wonders if Frank knows Morse code so he can blink for him to stop talking. “It’s pretty great, I listened to it last night.”

“I told you I have a 100 percent success rate at that store,” Frank keeps going in spite of Gerard’s panicked expression. “I never fail.”

Son of bitch, Gerard thinks, glancing at Ray, who is looking entirely too sycophantic at the realization that Gerard wasn’t alone at the record store last night. Gerard gives Frank an annoyed face, knowing that they’ve been caught thanks to Frank’s inability to lie about anything, and he dreads the grilling from Mikey and Ray that is sure to follow.

Frank wanders off after a few minutes of chatting, and as soon as he walks away, Gerard has an email from Ray with Mikey CC’d to the message.

When were you going to tell us that you and Frank went on a date?

Rolling his eyes, Gerard types a response.

Unsubscribe.

Mikey’s reply comes a few minutes later.

You went to dinner together, right? Sounds like a date to me.

Feeling somewhat huffy about the whole thing, Gerard keys his final retort.

Contrary to popular belief, two people can hang out without it being a date. I highly suggest finding a new hobby. I hear knitting is quite relaxing.

Mikey and Ray don’t answer, but Gerard knows this won’t be the last time they bring it up. He opens a new email and addresses it to Frank.

These jerkwads won’t stop talking about our “date” thanks to your big mouth. I’m pretty sure Ray just put in an order for wedding invitations.

It takes about ten minutes for Frank to respond, but his email comes in eventually.

I just can’t keep us a secret anymore, Gerard. It’s tearing me apart.

Gerard glares at the computer for a second, then types a terse response.

Profound. Ivy league, right?

Somewhere across the office, Frank cackles, and Gerard fights a smile with a determined frown. A few minutes later, he receives another email.

Just let them see you with someone else. You don’t even have to do anything. There’s actually a guy I know who I think you should meet; super interesting dude, puts on an awesome show, and his band is opening for us on Saturday. Not a date, just someone you could be seen talking to. He’s straight edge like you, so you guys can make fun of the rest of us.

Gerard puckers his mouth off the side, thinking.

As long as I don’t have to put out.

Frank’s answer follows shortly:

Completely optional, only if you’re into it.

Taking the time to consider this offer, Gerard accepts.

Fine, but if he turns out to be a serial killer, I’m haunting your house first.

<^>

Saturday arrives far too quickly, and Gerard has been dreading it ever since Tuesday. He isn’t sure why; maybe it’s because Frank’s plan feels suspiciously like being set up, but Frank swears up and down that it’s just an opportunity to make a new friend. Gerard almost backs out of the entire thing, but he is so over listening to Ray and Mikey’s arranged marriage comments. Besides, it’s not like he won’t enjoy Frank and Ray’s set, he’s excited to see them play again. By the time Mikey picks him up for the show, he’s feeling a lot better about it.

They arrive at the club just as the doors open, having to wait in a short line to get in. Upon entering, they text Ray to let him know they’re here, and he comes to fetch them so they can hang out in the back. Gerard and Mikey receive enthusiastic greetings from the rest of the band when Ray announces their arrival and are immediately offered refreshments. There doesn’t appear to be any Diet Coke, so Gerard requests a bottle of water, in the middle of taking a swig when he spots Frank toward the corner of the room.

“Hey,” says Frank once Gerard approaches. “Who let you in here?”

“Security breach,” Gerard retorts, “You need to hire better people.”

“Clearly,” Frank finishes tying his shoes and stands up straight, giving Gerard a friendly pat on the back. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

He reaches into his duffle bag and pulls out a couple of black T-shirts, holding each of them up to show Gerard his Death tarot card design, printed in white, red and a holographic print that really makes it pop. “Our shirt hookup sent us a couple of demos before they send us the full order. We’re still deciding which color to go with, but we wanted you to have first dibs.”

“For real?” Gerard asks excitedly, “That holographic one is badass.”

Frank hands it to him. “We can’t thank you enough, be sure to send us an invoice for your time.”

Gerard holds up the shirt to his chest, admiring his own design. “This is payment enough, dude, I’m gonna wear this, like, every day.”

“Sorry, but that’s not how this works,” Frank tells him, putting the other shirts back in his bag. “We commissioned art from you, so you’re gonna get paid.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No, threatening you would be saying you’re gonna get paid…or else.”

The image of Frank beating the crap out of him while throwing wads of money makes Gerard snort. “So first you’re going to assault me, then you’re going to pay me?”

“Assault isn’t really my style; I’m more of a felony arson kind of guy.”

“Same, but only if a roach flies at me.”

Frank laughs and glances somewhere over Gerard’s shoulder. “Hey, are you ready to meet my friend? If Ray stares at us any harder, I’m pretty sure his eyes will fall out.”

Gerard sighs. “I guess.”

“Follow me, I’ll introduce you.”

They head outside to the smoking section, and Frank scans the crowd for a second before spotting his friend. Gerard follows begrudgingly, not sure how this is all going to play out. They walk right up to a guy standing off by himself, texting on his phone. He looks up right as they approach him, smiling widely.

“What’s good, my dude?”

“Living the dream,” Frank greets while the two share a brief handshake. “This is Gerard, he’s who I was telling you about.”

Gerard looks at Frank, annoyed. “You told him?”

“Just about how you’re Ray’s newest candidate for Frank’s heart,” the guy reveals with a chuckle, sticking out his hand. “I’m Bert, by the way. I was Ray’s previous candidate.”

Gerard shakes his hand. “Previous candidate?”

“Ray tried to set me up with Bert for months,” Frank clarifies. “Then I got into a relationship with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.”

“Poor Ray was devastated,” Bert adds. “But he did finally back off.”

“Which is exactly what we need,” Frank points out. “We were thinking if Ray sees the two of you talking all night, he might take a hint.”

Bert strokes his chin thoughtfully, taking a quick drag off his cigarette. “That could work,” he says, turning to Gerard with a crooked grin. “How convincing are you wanting it to be?”

“Uh,” Gerard stammers. “I mean, pretty convincing?”

“He wants to keep things PG,” Frank makes sure to note. “Nothing R-Rated.”

“Spoil sport,” Bert replies with a small pout, then wraps an arm around Gerard’s shoulders. “Stick with me, kid, we’ll be breaking Ray’s heart in no time.”

The three of them file back inside after they finish smoking, and Bert follows the two of them into Leathermouth’s green room. Frank gives an encouraging nod to Gerard and breaks away from him and Bert. As soon as he’s gone, Bert pulls Gerard aside.

“Okay, so we’ve got to make this look natural. We’re just going to stand here and talk for a while.”

“Okay.” Gerard stands there awkwardly, his entire mind going blank. Thankfully, Bert speaks up.

“How long has Ray been plotting to set you up with Frank?”

“Pretty much since I met him.”

“And you have no interest in hooking up with him?”

“Not at all,” Gerard says a little too quickly, then feels the need to elaborate, “Not that he isn’t great, but it’s just not like that.”

Bert smirks slightly. “Kind of a shame, you would make a cute couple.”

“So I’ve heard,” Gerard responds curtly.

“Are you in the market for a relationship?”

“God, no,” Gerard laughs. “I just want to be left alone, at least for now.”

“Bad break up?”

“The worst.”

“I get it, so you’re just trying to get your shit together first.”

“Exactly.”

Bert nods, then asks, “If you had your shit together, would you make a pass at Frank?”

Gerard doesn’t answer right away, glancing across the room at Frank, who is laughing hysterically in the corner with his bassist and drummer. “I don’t know,” he indecisively replies. “Probably not.”

“Interesting,” says Bert. “Why not?”

“I don’t know, I guess because he could do a lot better than a square like me.”

“A square like you?” Bert scoffs, “Do they not have mirrors on your planet or something? Look at you, come on, do a spin.”

Gerard slowly makes a spin for Bert, who gives a few cat calls that are surprisingly echoed by other people in the room. A deep red blush creeps up Gerard’s neck, and he swats Bert’s hands away. They thankfully move on to a different topic, and anytime someone walks up to them to join the conversation, Bert pulls Gerard in close and introduces him as his “baby daddy.” Gerard does his best to play along, even once referring to Bert as his future ex-husband, to which Bert flirtatiously wraps an arm around the back of Gerard’s waist and makes a biting motion next to his ear. Gerard looks up at one point and meets eyes with Frank across the room, who winks at him and shoots him a covert thumbs up.

Eventually it’s time for the show, and Gerard leaves the green room so he can watch from the crowd, happy that he can put the plan on pause for a little while. He finds Mikey toward the middle of the crowd and stands next to him, the two of them discussing how much bigger the crowd appears to be compared to the last few shows they’ve been to. Inevitably, though, Mikey falls right into the trap that Gerard, Frank, and Bert have set for him.

“So, you and Bert, huh?” Mikey asks casually; a little too casually.

“Maybe,” Gerard says coyly. “Problem?”

“No problem,” Mikey professes. “I like him. He’s cool.”

“I thought so, too.”

“As your brother, though, I have to ask one question.”

“Shoot.”

Mikey turns to him. “You’re not hooking up with Bert to convince yourself that you’re not into Frank, right?”

Gerard stares at him, slowly cracking a grin. “That’s a reach, even for you.”

“I was just so sure you were into him; you guys hang out all the time at work. Sometimes it’s like you’re speaking a totally different language.”

“Look, I’ll be the first to admit that Frank is easy on the eyes, and that we get along really well, but you of all people should know I can’t lie to you. If I was really into Frank, don’t you think I would have told you by now?”

Mikey turns to him again. “I hate to say it, but you’ve got a point.”

“I always overshare my love life with you. You were the first person I told when I lost my virginity.”

“Awkward, but true.”

“So can you cut me and Frank some slack?”

Mikey takes a small swig of his beer and replies, “Yeah, I guess I’ve given you enough shit.”

Gerard is elated for this progression, ticking Mikey off his list, and settling for this small victory. Even if Ray still gives him grief, at least he finally has his brother back on his team. That alone makes this whole arrangement with Bert worth the trouble.

The lights go down shortly after, and the show goes off without a hitch. Everyone pours outside once it’s over, desperate to escape the stifling heat that it generates in poorly ventilated clubs like this. Bert finds Gerard in the smoking section, standing in a circle with Mikey, Ray, and the rest of Leathermouth. As soon as he reaches them, he nonchalantly slips a hand into Gerard’s and intimately leans into him like they’ve been dating for years. Gerard’s first instinct is to pull out of it, but Ray is looking right at them, eyebrows raised in a face that seems to be torn between being amazed and being disappointed. Gerard sort of feels bad about it, but also considers it a case of tough love, so he doubles down by resting his head on Bert’s shoulder. Eventually the shock appears to wear off, and Ray seems to make peace with it, much to Gerard’s relief.

After about an hour, Bert pulls Gerard aside and slips him a piece of paper. “I’m heading out, but you let me know if you ever need me to shield you from Ray again.”

Gerard opens the piece of paper. “This is just a smiley face.”

“I’m pretending to give you my number.”

“Oh.” Gerard smiles slightly, tucking it into his pocket. “Thank you for doing all of this. I know we just met and all, but I really appreciate it.”

Bert holds his hand up to his forehead in a salute. “Professional show boyfriend at your service. Call me any time.”

He leaves shortly after, but not before giving Gerard a quick pat on the ass before walking away. Gerard returns to Mikey and Ray once Bert is gone, and Ray instantly speaks up.

“Speaking of show dates,” he says with a friendly tone. “You and Bert are fucking adorable; Frank must be heartbroken.”

“Oh yeah, he’s real heartbroken, alright,” Mikey comments, pointing across the parking lot.

Gerard turns to look at where Mikey is pointing and is stunned to meet the sight of Frank pinned between a car and some random guy, arms wrapped around each other and not caring who sees them. It’s obvious they’re trying to go home together, as the car door is standing wide open as they carry on like teenagers on a first date, totally wrapped up in the moment. Gerard can’t tear his eyes away at first, almost lethargic from the blatant display, finally looking away when he feels too uncomfortable to continue watching. Public displays of affection like this always weird him out, and he’s especially weirded out now that he knows what Frank looks like when he’s making out like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. It’s a side of Frank that Gerard could have lived without knowing.

When he gets home later that night, Gerard is wide awake. He watches The Thing (the 1982 version, obviously, because he refuses to acknowledge any version that doesn’t include Kurt Russell) and keeps having to rewind the good parts, getting so lost in his own thoughts that he completely misses them. His mind is racing a mile a minute, unable to shut off, and he would give anything to be like Mikey right now, who can practically fall asleep standing up.

He wonders if Frank is asleep by now, tuckered out from his late-night romp with Tonsils Mahoonie. Did Frank plan this move all along, or did he just luck out and find someone that fits the bill for public groping? Gerard shivers at the thought, his chest pinched by that same uncomfortable anxiety he felt when he saw it happening. Not that he’s judging Frank for it or anything – he fully supports Frank’s current stint in the one-night stand department – Gerard is just more private about that kind of stuff. He would’ve had the same reaction if it were Ray, or Mikey, or Becca, or (horror of horrors) even Debbie.

Gerard cringes, grossing himself out. At least Frank is nice to look at; seeing Debbie in the same compromising position is a thought that no amount of therapy will ever make okay.

He lays down on the couch and pulls his favorite blanket up to his chin, eyelids slowly getting heavier. He finally falls asleep around three in the morning, sleeping so deeply that he doesn’t even dream.

<^>

The week passes quickly, and Gerard is surprised to receive an email from Becca the following Friday, who asks him to come visit her at her desk as soon as he has some time. The department inbox is busy first thing in the morning, so after he helps Ray and Mikey clean it out and get caught up, he gets up from his chair and strolls over to reception. Becca is on the phone when he gets there, and she smiles at him while motioning with a finger for him to wait. She hangs up the phone a few seconds later and turns to him in her chair.

“Hi, friend,” she greets with a warm, sweet smile. “Thanks for popping by.”

“No problem,” Gerard leans against her desk. “So, what’s up?”

“A little birdie told me that you are an artist. Is that true?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah, I am.”

“Excellent, how would you feel about possibly doing a few pieces for an exhibition in a couple of months?”

“An exhibition?” Gerard is floored; he’s never been asked to do a project that big before. “Really?”

“My girlfriend works for an art gallery uptown and she’s looking for a few local artists to feature in a show. We’ve got a few more spots open and I wanted to extend the invitation in case you would be interested.”

“Wow,” Gerard laughs slightly, running a hand through his hair. “That would be…I don’t even know. Wow.”

“You don’t have to answer right now,” Becca tells him. “Just think it over for the next few days. If you end up wanting to go for it, just send me a copy of your portfolio and I’ll pass it on to Jess.”

“Okay,” Gerard gives her a shy smile. “I’ll think about it and get back to you.”

He goes back to his desk in a slight haze, his mind overwhelmed by the offer. Once he sits down, he logs back into his computer and ends up staring blankly at the screen, his mind swirling with questions, doubts, excitement, and even a few ideas. Ray and Mikey have wondered off somewhere, which he’s thankful for, not quite sure he’s ready to divulge Becca’s proposition just yet. He ends up getting so adrift in his brain fog that when his desk phone suddenly rings, he jumps in shock, then sees that it’s Frank’s extension. He picks up on the third ring.

“Hey,” says Frank, sounding miffed. “I know I’m way early, but do you want to go to lunch?”

Gerard checks the time. It must be something big if Frank wants to leave this soon.

“Uh, sure, what’s going on?”

“Long story, I’ll tell you at lunch.”

They meet up at the usual spot in separate cars, Gerard arriving just after Frank. The conversation remains neutral until they are seated, and after the server takes their orders and delivers their drinks, Frank finally reveals his reasoning for wanting to leave work.

“Brian pulled me into his office earlier. He wanted to talk to me about a new position that’s opening in a couple of weeks.”

Gerard is pleased to hear it, knowing how hard Frank works. “That’s awesome!” he enthuses, “What’s the position?”

“It’s a management position in my department,” Frank stares at his drink, making lines with his finger in the condensation. He seems so miserable with this good news.

“I think that’s great,” Gerard tries to soothe. “You certainly deserve it.”

Frank doesn’t seem all that convinced. “I guess so.”

“You seem upset about it.”

“Yeah.”

“So what’s your deal?”

“I don’t know,” Frank says with a sigh. “I guess I just feel like I haven’t been there long enough to start bossing people around.”

“It’s not bossing people around,” Gerard argues, “It’s just more responsibility, and I’m guessing with higher pay.”

“Yeah, but I’ve only been there a couple of months. If I took the job, everyone would think I cheated my way to that position or something. I’d be the office pariah.”

“Since when do you care what anyone thinks of you?”

“I don’t,” Frank replies honestly. “I just hate company politics, and everyone would frame me as some kind of kiss ass.”

“Well, are you a kiss ass?”

“No.”

“Did you cheat your way into getting this job offer?”

“No.”

Gerard motions with his hands. “Who cares what people will say about you, then? They already talk about each other, anyway.”

A small grin finally tugs at the corner of Frank’s mouth. “You’re probably right.”

“Don’t let anyone else dictate your decision, not even me,” Gerard asserts one last time. “If you want the position, you should take it, to hell with what any of those fuckers think about it.”

“Thanks,” Frank swallows a quick mouthful of his drink, then asks, “So, what’s new with you?”

“Nothing much,” Gerard replies at first, then remembers, “Becca told me her girlfriend is having an art exhibition in a couple of months.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Gerard pauses for a second, his chest tightening somewhat when he goes on, “She asked me if I wanted to contribute some pieces.”

Frank’s eyes go wide with delight. “No way! Are you gonna do it?”

“Not sure, yet.”

“Seriously? How could you not?”

“I’m just not sure if my style is really made for a big exhibition,” Gerard fiddles with an empty sugar packet on the table, folding it several times. “I mean, yeah, it’s every artist’s dream to be featured in something like that, but I just don’t know if I’m good enough. You’ve seen my work; does it really say, ‘buy my art for hundreds of dollars’ to you?”

“Of course it does, do you really think I would have commissioned a shirt from you if I didn’t think your art was legit?”

“For band T-shirts, sure, but not for some fancy exhibition.”

“Dude,” Frank laughs, “Come on, this is huge; think of all the exposure you’ll get by doing it. Hell, you might even get to a point where you can quit this lousy desk job and finally make your art a career.”

Gerard looks up at him. “You think?”

“Hell yeah. The only thing you have to lose is the time it takes to do it.”

“I guess that’s true. It would be a pretty sweet gig.”

“It totally would be, you’d be an idiot to pass this up.”

Snorting, Gerard flicks the empty sugar packet across the table. “You and my mom should get together so you can spend all day agreeing with each other.”

“I would love to meet your mom,” Frank flicks the sugar packet back at Gerard. “I bet she’s a peach.”

“Whatever, like your interest in my mother is for anything other than digging up dirt.”

Laughing, Frank shoots him a warm expression, his gaze lingering long enough to make Gerard unconsciously shift in his seat.

“You should come over tonight. Ray is going out of town for a couple of days to see his parents, so I’ve got the house to myself until Monday. Plus, I just got a Gamera box set with four movies.”

Eyeing Frank skeptically, Gerard takes a sip of his own drink and replies, “That sounds suspiciously like a date.”

“Stop being paranoid and come over,” Frank rolls his eyes. “My only intentions are to show you the ways of Gamera. He’s a kaiju rite of passage.”

“Fine,” Gerard crosses his arms. “But I’m gonna complain the whole time.”

“Deal.”

<^>

It is just past eight thirty when Gerard arrives at Frank and Ray’s house, pulling into the driveway where Ray usually parks. He cuts the engine and stares at the house, still curious about their mortgage payment, but not rude enough to ask, and definitely not stalker enough to look it up using work resources. He climbs out of the car and walks slowly to the front door, ringing the doorbell and waiting anxiously on the front porch. Eventually the door swings open, and Frank appears wearing a faded Circle Jerks shirt and plaid pajama pants.

“Intrude,” Frank tells him, stepping aside to let him in. Gerard steps inside and Frank shuts the door. “I just finished making popcorn, hope you’re cool with no butter.”

“No worries,” says Gerard, hanging up his jacket on a nearby coat rack. “Too much butter upsets my stomach, anyway.”

He follows Frank to the living room, which is a lot more spacious without hundreds of people clogging it up. The television screen is already lit up with a DVD menu, the title Gamera: The Giant Monster emblazoned with large white letters as they pass through the living room and into the open plan kitchen off to the left.

“You want something to drink?” asks Frank, opening the fridge and listing off, “I’ve got water, soda, and coffee.”

“Actually, coffee sounds great,” Gerard takes a seat on one of the kitchen stools. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Shut your mouth,” Frank dismisses easily, closing the fridge and opening one of the overhead cabinets beside it. “Oh my God, so I’ve got to tell you about this dude I hung out with the other night. I’m 99% sure this guy was a serial killer.”

“That was your first mistake,” Gerard offers with a hint of pity. “You never put your dick in people like that.”

“Yeah, well, it was pretty good dick up until that point,” Frank turns to him. “After we were finished, he felt the need to show me his collection of puppets.”

“Puppets?”

“Puppets!” Frank exclaims, “So he shows me these puppets, right, and they’re from, like, the early 1900s, so all of them are hardcore nightmare fuel. Then he gives me a demonstration of his ‘skills,’ and starts having a full-on conversation with this creepy ass puppet about all the dirty things he wants to do to me next time we hang out.”

“That guy will definitely wear your face as mask.”

“No joke. Needless to say, I made a very quick exit and blocked his number.”

“Thank God he didn’t show you his collection of severed heads.”

“I’m sure that was next,” Frank hits the start button on the coffeemaker. “This head is too pretty for a freezer.”

The pair falls silent while Frank putters around the kitchen. After the coffee is done, Frank hands Gerard a hot mug and they make their way into the living room, plopping down on the over-sized couch beside one another. Gerard grabs a coaster and sets his coffee on the table in front of them, then Frank quickly runs back to the kitchen to grab a giant bowl of popcorn from the microwave. Once they have both settled in, Frank hits “start” on the movie.

They watch the movie in silence for a few minutes until Gerard comments, “I really love black and white movies. They just don’t make ‘em like this anymore.”

“I know,” says Frank around a mouthful of popcorn. “Even if they shoot modern movies in black and white, it just isn’t the same.”

“Agreed, although Sin City was pretty great.”

“True, but I feel like that’s the only exception.”

The pair falls quiet again and focus on the film at hand for about thirty minutes. Gerard sips his coffee before setting it down in favor of grabbing some popcorn. He blindly reaches into the bowl at the same time as Frank, and as soon as their hands accidentally bump into each other, a small shock travels up Gerard’s arm and he rips his hand away, feeling a sudden heat in his face and his heart start thundering in his ears. Frank notices him flinch.

“Sorry,” he says, offering the bowl of popcorn. “Here, you can hold it for a while.”

Gerard takes the popcorn, currently in the middle of having a small crisis, though he is not sure why. It was a simple static shock, nothing more, so why does the air in the room suddenly feel electrified? Was Frank having this same conversation with himself? Gerard can’t put his finger on it, but for some reason it feels as if something is about to happen, though what that something is, he has no idea. He feels so uncomfortable out of nowhere, so much so that he can barely comprehend the movie they’re watching.

“Is there a glare on the TV?” Frank abruptly asks, snapping Gerard out of his thoughts.

“Uh,” sputters Gerard at first, his mind having to reset for normal dialogue. “Kind of? But it’s not, like, a huge deal or anything.”

“Hang on,” Frank leans over Gerard to turn off the lamp on the side table, getting so close that Gerard briefly catches a whiff of his soap. “There,” he says as he returns to his spot on the couch. “Much better.”

The room plunges into darkness, the oscillating light from the TV illuminating their faces. Gerard can’t seem to shake the spicy scent of Frank’s soap; it’s like the smell of it is all around him, lingering along with the growing anticipation of what happens next, an anticipation that Gerard is struggling to discern. When he is sure Frank isn’t looking, Gerard sneakily scoots farther away from him, hoping that the scent and all the alarm bells going off in his brain will dissipate. Why does he feel so awkward all of a sudden? Sure, Frank can be a little intense with his ad nauseum level of eye contact, but Gerard has never felt this weirded out spending time with Frank before. Nausea is starting to creep up his throat, and he starts sweating despite the cool breeze of air conditioning. This sick feeling escalates as the film plugs on, and as soon as the movie is over, Frank turns to Gerard to say something, then immediately frowns.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, brow furrowed with concern. “You’re white as a ghost.”

“I don’t know,” answers Gerard miserably. “I just feel sick all of a sudden.”

Frank gingerly takes the popcorn bowl from Gerard’s hands. “Do you need to lay down?”

Gerard waves him off. “I’ll be fine, just give me a few minutes.”

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea for you to drive,” Frank seems a little panicked at the prospect. “You should just stay here tonight.”

There are a few words of protest still in the chamber, but this sick feeling is sinking like a heavy pit in Gerard’s stomach, and a fresh wave of nausea hits him like a ton of bricks. “You’re probably right,” he finally gives in. “I feel terrible.”

“Come on,” says Frank, getting to his feet and offering a hand to help Gerard. “I’ll get you set up in the spare room.”

They carefully make their way upstairs, with Frank hovering like a mother hen the entire way to the guest room. Frank goes into the room first to turn on the lights and dress down the bed, then keeps a steady hand on Gerard’s back when he stumbles slightly from dizziness. Frank offers to take off Gerard’s shoes, but Gerard slaps his hands away, content to do it himself. Once he kicks off his sneakers, he climbs into bed and pulls the sheets up to his chin.

“Snug as a bug in a rug,” Frank comments, tucking the sheets under Gerard’s legs. “Do you want a bedtime story?”

“Better make it a short one.”

Frank nods and clears his throat for dramatic effect. “A guy walks into a bar and says ‘ouch.’ The end.”

Gerard groans wretchedly. “Cool story.”

“Ask and you shall receive,” Frank winks at him. “Feel better. I’ll make breakfast if you’re up for it in the morning.”

With that, Frank disappears out of the room and shuts the bedroom door behind him. Gerard rolls over to turn out the lights and settles in with a long sigh.

He’s asleep before he even realizes it.

<^>

Gerard’s eyes feel stapled shut and gravelly when he slowly blinks them open the next morning, the dim hues of sunrise peeking in through the blinds. It takes a few minutes for his brain to catch up with the rest of his body, and once everything stops looking so blurry, he rolls onto his back and rubs the sleep from his eyes. He spots his cellphone on the bedside table and tiredly checks the time, yawning big and wondering if Frank is up yet. This question is quickly answered when Gerard hears the loud clang of dishes downstairs, along with muffled swearing. Gerard snorts and throws back the covers to climb out of bed.

He makes his way downstairs and follows the sweet smell of syrup into the kitchen. Frank is in the middle of cooking something and looks up when Gerard enters the room.

“Buenos días,” he greets in a cheery tone. “How are you feeling?”

“A lot better,” Gerard takes a seat at one of the stools across from Frank and leans against the counter on his elbows. “I’m not sure what that was all about last night.”

“Maybe you were just dehydrated or something?” Frank suggests, flipping something in the pan with a spatula. “I know dehydration can make you feel sick.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Are you feeling up to breakfast? I’m making French toast.”

“Vegan?”

“Naturally.”

“Sounds good to me, is there any coffee?”

“Just brewed some, I left a cup out for you.”

Gerard hops off the stool and makes his way over to the coffee maker. He pours himself a cup and returns to his stool, asking, “Do you need any help?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Frank looks up and grins at him. “I’m a French toast professional.”

“You really are wife material,” Gerard remarks, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’m sure the Puppet Master is regretting his decision right about now.”

Frank snorts. “The only Puppet Master I care about is from 1989.”

“Have you seen the rest of the movies? They somehow get worse and better at the same time.”

“I haven’t, actually.” Frank pulls his phone out of his pocket and makes a quick note. “Added to the list.”

They continue chatting and Gerard finds himself even more confused about last night. Everything appears to be back to normal, and he no longer feels nauseous or sick to his stomach. Maybe Frank was right, and maybe he had just been dehydrated. It seemed like the only logical explanation for the sudden ill feeling that had taken over, but it still didn’t explain how awkward he had felt just prior to that illness. He certainly doesn’t feel awkward now; maybe it was just a fluke? Or maybe Gerard is just awkward in general?

Frank places a plate of food and silverware in front of Gerard and says, “Alright, full discretion: this was my first time with this specific recipe, so go easy on me.”

Gerard picks up his fork and takes a bite, Frank watching his face closely.

“That’s the best French toast I’ve ever had, holy cow.”

“You don’t have to lie; it won’t hurt my feelings.”

“I’m a terrible liar; you totally nailed it.”

Frank appears thrilled with this answer, then changes the subject as he sits down across from Gerard and begins to eat. “I meant to ask last night, but have you given any more thought about doing the art exhibition?”

Gerard finishes chewing before he speaks. “Yes and no,” he says. “On the one hand I’m really excited about it, but on the other hand, it would be a huge undertaking and I’m not sure my skill level is up to the task.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short,” Frank replies somewhat bluntly. “I mean, isn’t art subjective, anyway?”

Gerard grins at this. “That’s what people say when your art is bad.”

“I just mean who cares if your style isn’t some hoity toity painting of cottages and flowers? If there’s a market for Thomas Kinkade, there’s a market for someone like you.”

“Yeah, but Thomas Kinkade gets paid thousands of dollars for his paintings. Nobody is gonna pay that kind of money for what I’m doing.”

“I would,” Frank narrows his eyes slightly, “Or at least I would if you’d ever send me an invoice.”

Sighing slightly, Gerard pushes a piece of French toast around on his plate and says, “You’re just saying that because we’re friends.”

“No, I’m saying I would pay even if we weren’t friends.”

After a few silent minutes, Gerard eventually looks up and asks, “You really think I should do it?”

“Yes,” says Frank ardently, giving a small smile. “I really think you should, and me and Ray will totally come to support you.”

Taking the time to really mull things over, Gerard doesn’t speak again for a few minutes, then compromises, “Tell you what, I’ll do the art exhibition if you agree to take the manager job.”

Frank sticks out his hand and they shake. “You’ve got yourself a deal, but only because I think you’d be stupid not to do it.”

“I feel the same way; I think you should take the job.”

“Good. Everyone got what they wanted.”

“Good. I guess they did.”

“Good. Now shut up and eat before I smack you in the mouth.”

<^>

Spring arrives in a torrent of thunderstorms, making the drive to work more hazardous than normal. The near constant rain brings out the crazies on the road, either driving way under or well over the speed limit, leading to daily wrecks on the highway that make Gerard plan his route in advance. A middle-aged lady in a silver BMW apparently shares the same path to work lately, lane hopping and tailgating everyone who dares to get in front of her. Gerard begs the universe every morning for a pothole to materialize in front of her car one day and deal out some much deserved karma, just because it would ruin that lady’s entire day. Gerard never wishes violence on entitled assholes like her, he just wishes for mild inconvenience, because he’s petty like that.

The weather has been terrible for driving but has been wonderful for inspiration. The gloomy early days of spring have been an excellent backdrop for painting, which he’s been doing daily for over a month. He only has three complete paintings so far, but he has thoroughly enjoyed unlocking new aspects to his style, really working hard to translate his designs onto larger canvases, something he’s never done before. He often comes to work with mystery paint splotches on his face or arms, spending most waking moments at home working on his pieces, even waking up earlier in the morning to get some painting done before his shift. He hasn’t shown any of his paintings to Frank, Ray, or Mikey, but not for lack of them trying. He doesn’t want to give anything away until the exhibition, as his paintings need to be seen one after the other to really get a grasp on what he’s trying to say. They ask him all the time for a sneak peek, but he tells them they will just have to wait.

Ray and Frank have been super busy behind the scenes, as well. As of the beginning of the month, Leathermouth has finally pooled enough funding to record their first EP, and their live shows have been put on the back burner in favor of spending time in the recording studio. According to Ray, the studio is nothing fancy, but the band remains enthusiastic just to get the chance to put their sound onto a record. Gerard hasn’t hung out with them in weeks, as they spend most of their free time in the studio. Much like Gerard hoarding his art pieces to himself, Ray and Frank are hesitant to share any of their demos for the sake of everyone hearing the album in its completion. Gerard even offered to show Frank a small snippet of one of his paintings in exchange for a chance to hear what they’ve got so far, but Frank declines, citing that he would rather be surprised and have Gerard be surprised in turn.

At work, Frank has been making great strides in his new position. Within the first few weeks, production in his department went up about ten percent, which has most people singing his praises, except for a select few. Debbie has been particularly interested in his rise to management, sniffing around the office for any slip ups, and actively pressing their coworkers for information. She seems bitter that there is no scandal to be seen for such a quick promotion, actively death glaring Frank whenever he passes her, though Frank says this is better than the alternative of Debbie constantly trying to set him up on a date. Thankfully that has stopped, but Gerard remains an easy target, having just been offered a date with Malesha from the marketing department. He politely reminds Debbie that he is gay for the hundredth time, to which she clapped her hands excitedly and rushed off to find him another prospect. He dreads this prospect more than the others and goes out of his way to avoid her whenever possible.

He relays this information to Frank on their smoke break one day. “I think I’m even more scared of her taste in men than her taste in women.”

“Isn’t she married?” asks Frank as he lights up his cigarette. “I always wonder what kind of man marries a woman who acts like that in public. Like, does he enjoy watching her scream at an 18-year-old just because she wants to save ten cents on a can of peas?”

“He’s not even her first husband; she’s been married three times.”

“To three separate men?” Frank seems impressed. “Good for her, I guess. Me personally, though, I’d file for divorce just to get away from those creepy talon nails.”

“No joke. Oh, hey, by the way,” Gerard reaches into the pocket of his slacks and pulls out a folded piece of paper. “Please accept this invoice for my services.”

Frank laughs and takes the paper, unfolding it to read a handwritten note that Gerard had quickly scribbled:

INVOICE

One (1) T-shirt Design - $200.00
+ Supplies & Labor - $350.00
- $550.00 Discount on Services
------------------------------------------------------
TOTAL BALANCE: One Copy of the Leathermouth EP

An unidentifiable emotion crosses Frank’s face as he reads the last line, a slow smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Eventually he looks up and meets Gerard right in the eyes, his smile now stretched all the way across.

“You were never going to charge us for the shirt, were you?”

“Doesn’t mean I won’t charge you in the future, but this one’s on me.”

“I’m gonna pay you back for this whether you like it or not, you know that right?”

Gerard shrugs, grinning. “You will once I hear the EP.”

“This is really all you want?”

“I just want to show my support, from one artist to another.”

Frank looks down at the paper again, then back up at Gerard, looking like he is bursting with emotion. “Can we hug it out right now? Would that be weird?”

Gerard narrows his eyes. “You can hug me just this once, but if you tell Ray about it, I will hunt you down and slam a dictionary on your family jewels.”

Without any hesitation, Frank enthusiastically throws his arms around Gerard’s neck, and they pat each other on the back a few times. Frank quickly pulls away when he can sense Gerard’s discomfort and they stand there somewhat awkwardly for a moment, silently smoking their cigarettes.

“Anyway,” says Frank as he tucks the invoice into his shirt pocket, “Are you coming to the party on Saturday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, it’s been forever.”

“I know, we’ve been so busy in the studio we haven’t had time to hang out,” Frank takes a drag and adds, “It’ll be rad to see everyone.”

“For sure, I haven’t gotten out much, either.”

“I have a date coming to the party.”

“Decent, I’m sure Ray will be devastated.”

“Bert is gonna be there, too, you know,” Frank gives a knowing grin. “And he did tell me that if you were ever interested, he’d snatch you up in a heartbeat.”

“Bert said that?”

“Yup.”

“Huh. Color me flattered.”

“Just something to think about.” Frank stamps out his cigarette with his foot and exhales, throwing it in the trash. “Anyway, I better get inside. I have a mountain of checks I need to sign before I leave today.”

“Go ahead, I wanted to read this article about The Creeping Terror.”

“Is that the one with the killer slugs?”

“No, it’s the one with the monster that looks like a carpet had sex with the Pope.”

Frank pulls out his phone and types something. “On the list.”

<^>

Gerard isn’t sure how, but Frank and Ray’s party seems even more massive than ever before, their entire house full of people standing shoulder to shoulder. Not even the smoking area is safe, with dozens clouding up the backyard with smoke and loud conversation. The music is cranked at full volume, everyone is having to shout just to talk to each other, and it’s all starting to wear thin.

Gerard excuses himself from a conversation about politics (a party faux pas he doesn’t wish to engage with) and makes a beeline for the stairs, taking them two at a time to reach the second floor. This floor is thankfully deserted, and Gerard leans against the upstairs railing to catch his breath, both from the stairs and from the people. As he stands there, he admires all the artwork hanging in the hallway, a collection of framed vintage rock posters and an awesome reproduction print of Vincent van Gogh’s Head of a Skeleton with a Burning Cigarette. He wonders who in the house is a van Gogh fan before moving slowly down the hallway to examine a small print of Knives by Andy Warhol, impressed that Ray and Frank would even have these pieces in their house. How had he missed all this that one night when he was here?

He eventually spots an open door and initially turns away to be polite, but then he turns back around after he notices a Creepshow poster on the door. It’s a poster he hasn’t seen before, and it draws him in like a moth to the flame. Curiosity gets the better of him and he peeks his head around the door frame, also spotting a poster for Vincent Price’s House of Wax and a framed poster of Boris Karloff. Through the power of deduction, Gerard realizes that this must be Frank’s room, as Ray is more of a science fiction fan than a horror fan (though Ray does appreciate when those two genres coincide).

Just as he is about to leave, Gerard then sees the very Pumpkinhead figure that he’s been lusting after on eBay for months, because of course Frank is an asshole who already has it. The figure is still in the packaging and everything, trademark sneering teeth finely painted down to the last detail. Gerard is so enamored with the pristine quality that he doesn’t notice he is no longer alone in the room.

“Why did I know I would find you up here snooping?”

Gerard jumps and spins around, greeted by Frank standing in the doorway. He points to the action figure he’s been admiring and says quickly, “Sorry, I just noticed your McFarlane Pumpkinhead, I’ve been thinking about buying one for, like, ever.”

“That’s my pride and joy right there,” Frank strolls into his room with his hands in his pockets. “Ray got it for me at a swap meet a couple of years ago.”

“I’m so jealous, I’ve been watching them on eBay but I’m just not willing to pay that kind of money.”

“What are you doing up here, anyway?”

“I just needed a break,” Gerard looks at him sheepishly. “Sorry again for intruding, I just wanted to see if the quality was worth the price tag.”

“You’re fine, I needed a break myself.” Frank sits on his bed and offers Gerard the office chair to his left. “So, how is the exhibit going?”

“It’s going,” Gerard sighs, taking a sip of his Diet Coke bought special by Ray, because he’s the realest. “It’s a lot of work, but I think I’m almost done.”

“That’s awesome, is there an event date for the exhibit, yet?”

“Should be in the next three weeks, why?”

Frank gives him a weird look. “Because I want to be there?”

Gerard laughs slightly. “Don’t worry about it, it’s just going to be a bunch of one-semester art appreciation students who think they’re art critics and legit art critics who think everyone not painting contemporary is a peasant.”

“Gerard,” Frank laughs, too. “How many Leathermouth shows have you been to?”

“A lot.”

“And who designed an entire T-shirt for the band for free?”

“Some asshole.”

“Some asshole who deserves the same support.”

“You have to dress nice.”

“So?”

“You’ll wish you were dead.”

“Probably.”

“And you can’t spend all night talking about death cults.”

“Drag, but fine.”

They stare at each other for a second, Gerard spinning the chair back and forth with his feet. He accidentally knocks the armrest onto the desk and makes it wobble, earning a quick laugh from both.

“Enough about me,” Gerard changes the subject, “What about you and the guys? Ray said you’ve been at the studio a lot.”

“It’s the best,” Frank gushes with a twinkle in his eye. “Every day after work I get to hang out in a studio with my best friends making music. I keep pinching myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

“I can’t wait to hear it, are you going to tour?”

Frank’s smile falters a bit. “We’ve talked about it, but our jobs are kind of limiting on where we can go. We’ll probably just do a quick two-week tour of the state or something, assuming we can all get the time off.”

Gerard stares at him hard for a moment. “Can I be blunt? Like, as a friend?”

“Definitely.”

“Don’t give up on your dream just for this job. Leathermouth is something special, and I’d hate for you and the guys to spend your lives wondering what could have been just because of some desk job. Worst case scenario? It doesn’t work out, and you have to find another job. You’re smart; you could work anywhere you wanted. Just don’t give up on something good when it’s staring you in the face.”

Frank smiles at him. “Do you always give advice that you should follow yourself?”

“I already had my chance,” Gerard argues. “It didn’t work out, so I got another job. I’ve made peace with that. You’re sitting on an atom bomb that could really take you somewhere, you know? Just promise me you’ll hand in your two-week notice as soon as Leathermouth takes off.”

Frank sits up straight on his bed and holds up his right hand. “I, Frank Iero, of semi-sound mind and devastating good looks, do hereby agree to hand in my two-week notice upon the tentative success of Leathermouth.”

Gerard holds up his right hand. “I, Gerard Way, of semi-sound mind and immaculate fashion sense, do hereby observe this contract.”

“On the agreement that Gerard Way hand in his two-week notice upon the inevitable success of his art career following the upcoming exhibit.”

With a quick roll of his eyes, Gerard sighs and agrees, “Signed this day of our Lord, Amen.”

“Amen.” Frank lifts his head and smirks. “Should we sign with blood or spit?”

“Gross, neither. It’s a gentleman’s agreement.”

“Don’t you have to be a gentleman first?”

Gerard dramatically clutches his chest. “Deep hurting.”

“Easy, old man, don’t give yourself a coronary.”

“Don’t you have a date you should be showering with flattery instead of me?”

“I got stood up,” Frank says with an unbothered shrug. “I’m cool with it.”

Gerard puts a hand on Frank’s shoulder. “You’re still a man if you cry.”

“Can’t cry over spilled milk,” Frank stands up. “Let’s go smoke, Bert just got here, and he said he’d bum me a square.”

<^>

The day of the exhibit arrives with a flurry of congratulatory text messages, social media support and nerves. Gerard had been at the gallery until midnight the night before helping to set up each of his pieces – fifteen total – and arranging them in the exact order in which he wanted them to be viewed. He, Becca, and her girlfriend, Jess, had been working together for months with other artists and vendors to pull this off, and their hard work would finally come to fruition tonight at six o’clock. Gerard was excited to see the work of the other artists, getting a sneak peek when he was setting up his own. There are some truly talented people involved in this shindig, and he’s happy to be a part of it.

He settles on black slacks, a black button up shirt and a black velvet suit jacket for his outfit, getting a sharp haircut the day before so that he would be looking his best. He arrives at the gallery a little before 5:00 p.m. and helps Jess set up the tables for the silent auction and business card raffle, chiefing half of a cigarette out back with Becca a few minutes before the gallery opens. He spends the first half hour of the event schmoozing with the other artists, discussing technique and inspiration, then finds a corner to drink his soda in peace while the room fills with art critics. Gerard can already feel his anxiety rising and moves toward the entrance to check his messages.

Just as he looks up from his phone, he sees Mikey approaching him, dressed smartly in a black button jacket with matching slacks.

“Hey,” he says while they exchange a quick brotherly hug. “Frank and Ray are here somewhere, they’ve been looking for you.”

“They actually came?” Gerard asks incredulously.

“You’re too modest for your own good,” Mikey comments. “I need a water, where is the bar?”

Gerard points. “Right over there.”

“Excellent, see you in a bit.”

Mikey walks off and Gerard takes one more moment to respond to a text from his mom, who has been blowing him up all night with her praise. Once he finishes a text promising her to a phone call once he gets home, he spots a familiar silhouette admiring one of his paintings toward the middle of the exhibit. Grinning slightly, he slowly makes his way over and parks himself right beside Frank, who is too enthralled with the painting to notice him standing there.

“I think this one is my favorite,” Gerard remarks fondly, staring at his work for a moment before turning his head.

Frank smiles widely, also turning his head. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

“I guess this is the part where I tell you that I was really inspired by the impressionists,” Gerard says haughtily, “And that the piece represents a call to arms for those who choose to create art instead of make war.”

Frank takes a sip of his beer. “And I guess this is the part where I tell you that your brush strokes invoke an urgency to act, and that your color palette suggests a sense of inner torment.”

Gerard snickers. “So you’re the van Gogh fan. I should have known.”

“I keep telling you I’m wife material,” Frank reminds him with a sneaky smile, turning around to face him fully. He’s dressed in a tailored black suit with a black tie, and Gerard is struck by how good he looks. Not that Frank ever looks bad – he just looks especially great in a suit. “How has it been so far? Has there been any interest?”

“Yes, actually, one of the other artists wants to buy that piece over there,” Gerard points. “As for collectors, not so much.”

Frank turns and gazes at Gerard’s piece again. “How much for this one?”

“Dude,” Gerard laughs at the absurdity of his comment. “You don’t actually think I expect you to buy anything, right?”

“Why not?” Frank turns to him. “I just got a promotion, right? Why can’t I treat myself to some cool art?”

“There is absolutely no way I’m gonna charge you this kind of money for my art. Let me paint you something for free, it can be your birthday or Christmas present or something.”

“You know,” says Frank thoughtfully. “Every time you’ve come to a Leathermouth show, you’ve had to pay money just to get in the venue. You’ve been to every show since we met, and every time you’ve paid that fee.” He looks at Gerard. “Am I lying?”

“That’s different, though.”

“Is it, though?” Frank gives him a doubtful smile. “When are you going to give in and let me show you the same support you’ve shown me?”

There’s an overwhelming sense of affection for Frank that suddenly bubbles up in Gerard’s chest, having never felt so completely complimented by a friend that he’s only known for a couple of months. He finds himself wondering if this is what healthy friendships are supposed to look like, showing support no matter what the personal endeavor. He’s so used to putting all of himself into his relationships with people...he’s not sure how to handle someone willing to give it back.

“Listen,” Gerard says finally. “You commissioned a shirt from me and wanted to pay full price. You pushed me to do this exhibit, and you showed up tonight because you knew it was a big deal for me. If it’s support you’re trying to show me, you’ve already done it a thousand times. Just being here is enough.”

Frank stares at him hard for a minute, and suddenly it’s like nobody else is in the room. There’s a warm smile on his face, one that Gerard has never seen before, and he can’t help but reciprocate. Moments like this in friendships are something Gerard could really get used to having.

They both look away at the same time, Frank taking a quick swig of his beer. “So tell me about this one,” he says while they both slowly make their way to the next piece. “Talk to me like I’m one of your art critics.”

“Well,” Gerard begins in a lordly tone, “In this piece I wanted to emulate the Neo-expressionism movement, which you can see by the abstraction of the human body.”

“Ah, yes.” Frank swirls his beer snootily like he’s holding wine and observes, “Your use of negative space is highly indicative of a soul who yearns for acceptance.”

“I was really inspired by the work of Jean-Michel Basquiat, and I wanted to do a protest piece in response to the struggle of women in a male-dominated world.”

“Feminist protest art,” Frank admires it with cheeky grin. “I’ve never been more attracted to you than I am right now.”

“You should be, I’m impossibly deep.”

“You’re definitely impossible.”

“It’s a gift.”

“Oh, who says? Your mom?”

“Obviously, who else is gonna love a mug like this?”

“What’s not to love?”

The question takes a second to register, but once it settles, Gerard feels his stomach drop, terrified to ask, “What do you mean?”

“I mean look at this,” Frank motions with his hand. “Look at all of this. You fucking did it, dude. You got your art shown in a gallery full of people who want to buy it. Ambition is hot, who wouldn’t want a piece of you?”

Gerard can feel his heartbeat in his throat. “Frank, what are you saying?”

A confused expression is mirrored back at him, then Frank bursts out laughing, “No, no, no! That’s not what I’m saying at all! Oh my God, I’m so sorry – I just meant you shouldn’t sell yourself short, that’s all. This isn’t a confession.”

“Thank God,” Gerard breathes a sigh of relief. “Jesus, I wasn’t ready for that.”

Frank pats him on the back a few times. “Do you always get that freaked out by people confessing their love for you?”

“Yes, every time. My worst fear is being proposed to in public.”

“I guess this means you’ll never go to a soccer game with me.”

“I’m never going to dinner with you again,” Gerard promises. “It’s too risky.”

“Far too risky,” Frank agrees. “What about a walk in the park?”

“No, that won’t work because you’ll wait until we’re in front of a fountain and then boom – drop to one knee. I’m screaming, you’re screaming, everyone screams, it gets awkward.”

“What about going to the movies?”

“That won’t work, either; you’ll pop the question right in the middle of a death scene.”

“Damn, you know me too well. How about coffee?”

“Nice try, we are not getting engaged at a coffee shop like some half-assed Hallmark Christmas movie.”

“Oh?” asks Frank with a smirk. “Thought about this a lot, have you?”

Before Gerard can retort, he spots Ray and Mikey approaching off to the left. Without thinking, Gerard launches at Ray for a hug, then quickly pulls out of it when he realizes he’s never hugged Ray before. To his surprise, Ray pulls him in and pats him on the back, shaking Gerard’s hand when they separate.

“Thanks for coming out tonight,” Gerard gushes from the heart. “It really means a lot.”

“Nothing but love on this side of the room, my dude.” Ray wraps an arm around Frank’s shoulders. “My dude, where can I get one of those beers?”

Frank offers Ray a drink from his beer. “My dude, you can get them right over there.”

Ray finishes the beer and hands Frank the empty bottle. “My dude, I’ll be right back.”

Ray walks off and Frank turns to Gerard. “So, where should I start?”

“Start over there,” Gerard points his finger, “Walk left to right, then end in the back corner next to the silent auction.”

Frank nods. “You owe me a guided tour at some point before you leave.”

“Sure, I’ll meet you over there in a few minutes.” Frank walks off in the direction instructed, Gerard watching after him longer than he intends to. Turning his head to Mikey, Gerard meets a smug expression and asks, “What?”

“So...”

“So what?” Gerard asks a little more firmly.

Mikey looks like he’s in awe. “When are you and Frank going to stop kidding yourselves and just bang it out?”

This again, Gerard thinks irritably. He can’t win for losing. “Fake news, you’ll be hearing from my attorney.”

“Like I didn’t just witness the two of you making goo-goo eyes at each other for ten minutes.”

“We were just talking,” Gerard argues, losing count of how many times he has said it. “The only one making goo-goo eyes at anyone is that super drunk dude who keeps following Becca.”

“Didn’t just look like talking to me.”

Gerard pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighs. “He wanted to buy my art, and I wouldn’t let him, that’s all we were talking about. I thought you were past this already.”

“I was...at least until I saw you two gazing into each other’s eyes like high school sweethearts. I’ve never seen you look at someone like that, I felt weird just watching it.”

“Look, I’ll admit, we were having a moment, but it wasn’t romantic at all. He wanted to buy a piece, and I talked him out of it. It was a nice gesture, but I told him showing up was enough. Just like you and Ray showing up is enough; I’m having a lot of moments like that tonight. It’s a good night.”

Mikey smiles slightly and pats Gerard on the back, mercifully dropping the subject. “Proud of you, Gee.”

Gerard could kiss him, but he won’t, mostly for Mikey’s sake. “Thanks.”

Before Gerard can get too emotional, Becca approaches with a local reporter who wants to interview him for a column in a magazine. He excuses himself from his brother and steps off to the side of the reporter, shaking off the feeling of being watched the entire time.

<^>

Gerard is in the middle of cooking dinner a few weeks later when he receives the text from Frank:

So the EP is finished…

The empty pot in Gerard’s hand clatters unnoticed to the floor as he texts furiously, swearing every time he makes a typo.

Fantastic news!!! I’m so fucking stoked for you guys, can’t wait to hear it!

At work the next day, Frank and Ray are positively glowing with pride. Gerard and Mikey take them out for a celebratory lunch that lasts a little too long and they all arrive back at the office thirty minutes late. Toward the end of the day, Ray gives Gerard and Mikey free VIP tickets to the EP release party and show that is to take place downtown in two weeks, at the very club that Gerard and Mikey saw Leathermouth for the first time. Gerard feels oddly nostalgic about the band’s journey and his friendship with Frank and Ray coming full circle like this. He is honored that the band wants him and his brother there to celebrate with them; a worldwide apocalypse wouldn’t stop him from coming.

The completed EP and upcoming release party are the main topic of conversation during designated smoke breaks. Frank eagerly chatters away while they smoke and Gerard listens intently, only interjecting to share his own excitement. Frank is talking a mile a minute, almost manic with glee. He’s a little hard to follow these days, but Gerard understands, and he navigates the best he can. This is a big deal – Gerard was the same way with his mom before the art exhibition. His mom had been a captive audience to his exhaustive phone calls about vantablack, the doleful death of Paris green, and had even patiently sat through a minor breakdown over Gesso. That poor woman. He should send her some flowers.

On the night of the release party, Gerard scrambles to find a good outfit, and finally chooses a black Army of Darkness shirt, dark jeans, high-top Chucks and a black jean jacket with patches on the front. Nodding at his reflection with approval, he grabs his keys and heads down to his car to pick up Mikey. He is running a little late, but he hopes to make up some time by taking side streets to avoid traffic on the main drag.

The marquee of the club is emblazoned with Leathermouth’s name when they arrive, along with the words SOLD OUT underneath. Gerard parks down the street and pays the fee, the pair of them walking up the alley behind the venue. They flash their tickets and give their names to the security guard manning the rear entrance, who steps aside and lets them in, wishing each of them a good night.

They find the band in the first room on the left, along with Bert and his band, and what appears to be friends and family. Ray introduces Gerard and Mikey to his parents, who seem like the nicest people, and the five of them stand around chatting for a while. After about twenty minutes, Gerard looks around the room and notices Frank is absent, but he already has an idea of where to find him. Politely excusing himself from the conversation, Gerard slips outside to the smoking area.

Surprisingly, Frank isn’t hiding with the smokers when Gerard steps outside. He decides to smoke since he already came out here and picks the usual corner off to the side. His phone pings when he gets a text message, and he pulls it out of his pocket, not noticing someone approaching him.

“Hey stranger.”

Gerard looks up, grinning at Frank as he tucks his phone back into his pocket. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Likewise.” Frank lights a cigarette, then holds out a small gift wrapped in decorative paper. “This is for you.”

“Really?” Gerard takes it from him. “What for?”

Frank rolls his eyes. “Just open it.”

Tearing off the wrapping paper, Gerard reveals a copy of XO – Leathermouth’s new EP. Signed by everyone in the band, including Ray and Frank. A smile lights up Gerard’s face as he admires it.

“I can’t believe it’s finally here,” he remarks fondly.

“Your neighbors are gonna love you.”

“They already hate me,” Gerard shrugs, smirking mischievously. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint them.”

Before Frank can reply, a guy built like a lumberjack staggers over to them, the smell of liquor oozing from his every pore. He puts a heavy arm around Gerard’s shoulders and gets almost into his face when he asks, “Hey man, can you give me one of those cigarettes?”

Gerard tries not to yak from the smell of alcohol on the dude’s breath and brushes the unwanted arm from his shoulder. “Sorry man, this was my last one.”

“Don’t be a fucking bitch,” the guy barely strings together, “You have plenty.”

“Hey dude,” Frank intervenes, trying to guide the man away from Gerard, “He said it was his last one, there’s plenty of other people out here to ask.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Drunk Guy repels, stumbling on his feet and bumping into Gerard, knocking him back a few steps. This appears to anger the guy, and he shoves Gerard backward by the chest. “Don’t fucking touch me, pussy!”

Frank immediately drops his cigarette, grabs Drunk Guy by the back of his shirt and shoves him hard, sending him careening several feet away. “Take a walk, my guy,” Frank warns in a dangerous tone.

“What the fuck are you gonna do about it?!” The guy shouts back, getting in Frank’s face and shoving him.

The next few seconds are tense, as Drunk Guy keeps repeating the same question over and over, while Frank just keeps telling him, “You don’t want this, dude. Walk away. Walk away, my guy.” The two of them keep bumping chests, Drunk Guy screaming right in Frank’s face, while Frank looks at him right in the eye and keeps talking to him in a calm tone.

Gerard finally stops standing there like a deer in headlights and wedges himself between Drunk Guy and Frank, and right when other people start to notice and run over to them, Drunk Guy makes a hard right hook toward Frank but misses entirely and cracks Gerard right below his eye. Gerard lurches backward and almost loses his balance, and he spins his head around just in time to see Frank swiftly punch Drunk Guy right in the middle of his face, eliciting an audible POP of the dude’s nose breaking under the pressure. Drunk Guy falls back onto his ass, blood pouring down his nose and staining his shirt right as security arrives. The security team swarms Frank immediately, two giant refrigerator-sized men in black T-shirts grabbing him under the arms and dragging him toward the exit several yards away. Gerard follows without a second thought.

“That guy hit him first!” he barks angrily behind them.

“Doesn’t matter,” the biggest security guard calls over his shoulder. “They’re both out.”

Frank doesn’t even try to fight them, stoically silent all the way to the exit until they toss him ungracefully out into the parking lot. He doesn’t try to argue his way back in, glaring wild-eyed and defiant at Drunk Guy as security escorts him to the exit on the other side of the building. The only time Frank stops glaring is when Gerard reaches him at the exit.

They stare at each other for a long time, neither of them saying anything. Gerard’s never seen Frank this pissed off before, but he gives credit for how restrained Frank is with his anger. He only fought back when Drunk Guy threw the first punch, and even now, utterly seething with rage, Frank shows so much self-control that it’s astonishing.

Eventually, Gerard cracks a crooked grin. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of sexy when you’re angry?”

Frank scoffs a small laugh but doesn’t smile, his eyes still following Drunk Guy from across the lot. “You okay?” he asks Gerard in a taut but concerned voice. He finally looks at Gerard and frowns even deeper, staring at the spot under his eye, which is already swelling to a purple lump.

“I’m fine,” Gerard assures him. “Not the first time I’ve gotten a shiner. Should make for an interesting day at work on Monday.”

“Fuck that guy,” Frank spits out, angry all over again, his eyes scanning the crowd.

“He’s just drunk,” Gerard tries to ease. “Forget about him.”

Frank doesn’t say anything for a minute, then he suddenly lets out a genuine laugh. “Fuck, we’re supposed to play tonight.” Pulling out his phone, he calls Ray and puts him on speaker.

“Dude, where are you?” Ray asks as soon as he answers. “We’re on in like 30 minutes.”

“So, funny story, me and Gerard are outside.”

“Then...come inside?”

“Let me elaborate: we got kicked out.”

“You got kicked out,” Gerard specifies. “I’m just here to party.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I sure did.”

“You’re lying.”

“On the grave of Ian Curtis, I’m not lying.”

Ray sighs. “Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll talk to Ricky.” With that, Ray hangs up.

Frank pockets his phone. He pulls out his smokes and offers one to Gerard. “What a clusterfuck,” he comments around his cigarette. “Can’t even play at my own show.”

“Just give it a few, you know Ray. He’s the king of schmoozing.”

“Compared to the king of Shit Mountain over there,” Frank mutters bitterly, throwing another side glance at Drunk Guy.

“Dude,” Gerard says, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m fine. Okay? Seriously. Forget that guy. He’s not worth it.”

Frank turns to him and abruptly smirks. “Hey, do you really think I’m sexy?”

“That was your takeaway from all of this?”

“Do you…?” Frank cocks his head to the side, smiling. “Do you have a crush on me?”

“Oh thank God,” Gerard cuts sarcastically, “Now I don’t have to hide it.”

“It’s okay,” Frank says smugly. “I won’t tell Ray.”

Gerard rolls his eyes. “Now twist the knife counterclockwise.”

Laughing, Frank stubs out his cigarette and reaches out, putting a hand on the other’s chin, turning his face to the side and studying the violet bruise blooming underneath Gerard’s eye. Gerard freezes at the contact. It’s such a tiny gesture on Frank’s part, but something about it feels too intimate. Too nurturing. Too familiar.

Too close.

“We’ll get you an ice pack,” Frank says in a low tone, his hand still on Gerard’s chin. He smiles softly at the corner of his mouth. “You took that punch like a champ.”

“That dude’s punch was weak. It was the ring that got me.”

“Are you usually this cocky after getting punched in the face?”

“Only on days that end in Y.”

“Kinda hot.”

Gerard narrows his eyes. Frank still hasn’t moved his hand. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Of course not. This would be flirting with you.” He drops his hand to grab the front of the other’s shirt, pulling him in, closing the small gap between them and gingerly pressing their mouths together. It instantly feels like the ground is giving out beneath Gerard’s feet. He stumbles slightly but Frank grabs onto him, first to steady him, then to hold him. Their lips move gently together and Gerard grips at Frank’s arms, initially to push him away, but eventually rising to wrap around his neck and pull him in closer. His body is solid and warm against him, easing away any anxiety trying to scratch at the surface.

Frank suddenly pulls his head back. “Shit. Shit. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Gerard says breathlessly, both staring at each other in mild horror. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know.”

They stare at each other, panicking. Gerard still has his arms around Frank’s neck.

“Do we...” Gerard trails off. “Does this mean…?”

“I don’t know.”

They’re still holding each other.

“Oh God,” Gerard says, finally letting go of Frank and pushing away from him. “Ray’s never gonna let us hear the end of this.”

Frank is staring at the ground, deep in thought. “What time is it?” He checks his phone, nods his head, and puts it back in his pocket. “Okay. I have an idea.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” He grabs Gerard by the hand and starts dragging him toward the cars in the parking lot.

“Where are you going?” Gerard asks exasperatingly.

“To my car.”

“What? Why?”

Frank stops in the middle of the lot and looks Gerard dead in the eyes. “Because if I don’t get my hands on you, I’m gonna have an aneurysm.”

“Now?” Gerard looks behind them at the venue, his heart racing at the thought of Ray or Mikey seeing them. They’re going to destroy him. “You’re supposed to be on stage in like 20 minutes!”

“Plenty of time,” Frank assures him confidently, grabbing him by the hand again.

They reach Frank’s car in record time and he unlocks it, opening the door to the back seat and practically shoving Gerard inside. He climbs into Gerard’s lap and shuts the door, tossing his keys onto the floorboard. Cupping Gerard’s face in his hands, he asks, “Am I going too fast?”

Gerard gazes at him for a second, weighing his options. He gives Frank a slow smile. “I don’t want to fuck in the car,” he requests. “Everything else is free game.”

Frank nods. “Agreed.”

With that, he adjusts so that he’s straddling Gerard’s leg and leans in to kiss him. It’s a totally different kiss this time, slow and intense, Frank opening his mouth and slipping his tongue past Gerard’s lips. His hand slowly slips down his chest to his stomach, then from his stomach to the fly of his pants. Frank splays his fingers across the zipper and begins rocking his palm up and down, touching Gerard through his pants and grinding against his hip. Gerard breathes an involuntary noise into Frank’s mouth, sliding a hand up his leg, over his hip to cover his ass, eliciting a low grunt from the other.

Sweat beads up and slips slowly down the back of Gerard’s neck, and he is quickly running out of air, but he doesn’t dare break away. Frank moves his hand up from Gerard’s pants to cradle his neck, hips making a fluid rolling motion as he rubs into him. It feels like the blood in Gerard’s veins is igniting and burning him from the inside, warmth spreading between his legs when Frank pulls away with a wet popping sound, his breath hot on Gerard’s mouth. They don’t stay apart for long, Gerard tilting his head upward slightly to meet Frank’s lips a third time, their tongues swirling as one of them emits a groan, but Gerard is so wrapped up in Frank that he doesn’t know who made the sound. All he knows is the heat in Frank’s kiss, the solidness of his body against Gerard’s, and the rising pitch of Frank’s breath as he grinds and grinds and grinds.

“Fuck,” Frank hisses, breaking away, his eyes closed for a moment before opening to look right into Gerard’s, their hue a darker shade of amber than before. Gerard can’t move under a gaze like that, paralyzed by the intimacy, by the unadulterated need behind it, but his stupor is soon dissolved by the tingling sensation building in his stomach and spreading downward. The steady motion of Frank rolling his pelvis into his hip is building a kind of friction that Gerard desperately needs to release, and he fingers the hem of Frank’s shirt, sliding his fingertips under the fabric to ghost along the bare skin of Frank’s lower back. A sharp breath escapes from the younger man and Frank ducks his head to worry a spot on Gerard’s neck with his teeth, drawing out a long, soft moan from somewhere deep in Gerard’s chest.

“Pain kink, huh?” Frank laughs softly against his ear.

“Please stop talking,” Gerard grunts out, his head falling back briefly before looking down at Frank’s hand working the top button of his pants. The top button pops open with no trouble. Frank unzips the fly before licking his hand, then slips it under the waistband of Gerard’s boxers and –

“Fuck, fuck, Frank.” Gerard’s eyes snap shut, and he bites his lip to keep the noise down, not wanting to sound too desperate. He chances another glance below at Frank’s hand, buried in his boxers up to the wrist, watching as it moves in a corkscrew motion. Frank is whispering the filthiest dialogue right up against Gerard’s ear (Come on, I wanna see it, you’re so close) and Gerard fights to maintain some semblance of composure, even though every flick of Frank’s wrist threatens to extract noises from him that would even make a sex therapist blush. He can already feel it building and tries thinking about anything other than how fucking amazing it feels, like baseball statistics or all the different acrylic paint mediums he wants to try or holy shit he’s not going to make it. “I’m…” He tries to say, unable to form proper sentences anymore.

“Yeah?” Frank asks in a heated tone. “Tell me.”

“Mm,” Gerard strangles out, trying to find the words, trying to give Frank what he wants, but rendered totally unable to do so. Snickering, Frank seems to understand Gerard’s predicament and doesn’t press the issue further, choosing instead to kiss him again, which Gerard is thankful for. All it takes is for him to feel the soft nip of Frank’s teeth against his bottom lip before his entire body tenses and he inhales, feeling himself pulsing in Frank’s hand, moaning a sharp cry into the other’s mouth. Everything feels foggy and dreamlike, Gerard's nerve endings suddenly raw and overstimulated. He doesn’t realize that at some point they stopped making out, Frank watching him come back down with dark eyes that almost look black from this angle.

His breathing slows down to something steadier, and Gerard can’t tear his focus away from anything other than Frank in that moment, having a momentary internal crisis at the firm boundary that no longer exists between them. This is it, he thinks, there is no going back to the way things were, now. Despite his post-orgasmic haze, there is a sudden pit of despair at the bottom of Gerard’s stomach. What if things would be awkward, now? Gerard could never look at Frank the same way again, not after this, not after knowing that this is what had been waiting on the other side all along.

Frank leans down and presses his mouth softly against Gerard’s, slower this time, and Gerard tries to take as many mental notes as he can. He doesn’t know what awaits him on the outside of Frank’s car – profound awkwardness or something more – but right now, he feels his fingers grip the front of Frank’s shirt and pull him closer, not wanting to let him go or give him a chance to second guess anything. Gerard is so sure that as soon as they get out of the car, the spell will be broken, and Frank will go home with Ray, and Gerard will go home alone to his apartment, and tomorrow it will be like this never happened. He grips Frank’s shirt harder to hang on just a little longer.

The ringtone of Frank’s phone loudly interrupts them, and they both jump in surprise. Frank reaches into his pocket and swipes the screen to answer.

“Ray?” He says, turning his head to the side and looking out the window toward the venue. “Yeah, we’re hanging in the parking lot,” Frank replies, glancing at Gerard and smiling at the corner of his mouth. Gerard smiles back. “You’re the best, Toro, we’re coming in right now. Okay. Thanks. Bye.” He ends the call and brings his attention back to Gerard, looking sympathetically disappointed. “We’ve gotta go.”

“Yeah,” Gerard agrees, also disappointed. Spell broken. Back to reality.

“Hey,” Frank says gently, making sure Gerard meets his eyes. “This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

Once again, Gerard is floored by Frank’s innate ability to read his mind, but he still frowns. “What does any of this even mean, Frank?” he asks bluntly. “Like, does this mean we’re together or…?”

Biting his lip slightly, Frank answers honestly, “I really wanna talk about it, but let’s put a pin in that for now.” He climbs off Gerard’s lap and opens the car door, maneuvering out of the back seat. He offers a hand to Gerard to help him out of the car. Gerard quickly buttons and zips his pants, annoyed at the wet spot in his underwear that he will have to endure for the show’s entirety, but when he gets out of the car and sees the crafty grin that Frank gives him as he locks up the car, Gerard grins back and realizes he wouldn’t change a thing.

The pair is quiet on their way back to the venue, walking side by side in a comfortable silence. Every so often they glance at each other and submit to pre-pubescent snickering, immaturely shoulder checking each other as they walk around the back of the venue to the rear entrance. The security guard manning the door lets them in with a quick grunt, stepping aside and opening the door. They cross the threshold and enter the long dark hallway that leads to the green room, where raucous laughter and voices emanate. Gerard swallows anxiously, trying to suppress the events of the last half hour enough to appear as normal as possible. He dreads seeing Ray and Mikey’s faces, knowing they’ll be watching his every move for any slip ups, searching for any inkling of something beneath the surface. Mikey will be the most difficult to fool – Gerard can’t lie to him even if he tried, and Mikey is Matrix-level observant. Gerard’s hand flies up to touch the spot on his neck that Frank had been gnawing minutes earlier, suddenly terrified at the thought of there being a distinctive mark in the shape of Frank’s mouth.

“You’re good,” Frank notes out loud as they stop just outside the green room, reading his mind again. “I was careful.”

“I hope so,” Gerard replies anxiously, then groans miserably. “They’re gonna be so annoying when they find out.”

Reaching up, Frank affectionately pats down Gerard’s hair, fixing a few wild spots leftover from their romp. “One thing at time,” he reminds Gerard calmly, winking at him, then turns to enter the green room. Gerard hesitantly enters behind him, both ready to put on the best performance of their lives.

<^>

By the time the outside temperature begins its steady climb during the early inklings of summer, they’d been sneaking around for weeks.

The EP release show had been a major success, grabbing the attention of most of the city’s local publications, and before long, Leathermouth is getting near constant invites to play for other venues around the area – even some from venues hundreds of miles away – including a spot on the roster for a multi-day music festival at the end of the summer. Their album had blown up on streaming apps, getting thousands of plays per day, and by late spring, they’d been featured in a few national music publications, including a full-on photoshoot and interview with one of the most popular music magazines in the tri-state area. Ray, Frank and their band are burning the candle at both ends for weeks, fielding offers, playing shows, and showing up to work promptly every morning to grind out their eight hours, clock out, and then do it all again the next day, sometimes running on less than four hours of sleep. At one point Gerard texts Frank after work to ask him how he’s holding up, and all Frank has the energy to send back is a skull emoji. Dead.

In the weeks following Gerard’s exhibition, his phone is blowing up just as much as Leathermouth’s. An indie comic label called to tell him they were impressed with his work at the exhibition, and wanted to invite him to a meeting with their higher ups to possibly commission some cover art. Several bands had also reached out to commission album covers and merch, and a local beer brewery had even touched base to talk to him about designing a label for their newest IPA. Due to time constraints, he can’t say yes to everyone, but he commits to everything he can feasibly complete in time. There is hardly a day that he comes to work not speckled with paint, frequently bringing his sketchbook to the office so he can brainstorm on his lunch breaks.

For the first few weeks or so after the EP show, the only moments Gerard gets alone with Frank are during their routine smoke breaks at work. Sometimes they hide in Gerard’s car at the back of the parking lot and make out, but they try not to do it too often to avoid raising any eyebrows. One day when they find a rare opportunity to sneak off for lunch alone, Gerard turns to Frank in the car and probes, “Can I ask you something?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?”

Gerard makes a face. “Is that a yes or are you asking me?”

Frank chuckles while tossing shelled pistachios into the air, trying to catch them in his mouth. “What’s your question?”

“Are you seeing anyone else?”

“Nope.” Frank glances at Gerard with a quicksilver grin. “Are you?”

“No.”

A brief silence settles between them, the pair watching a woman from the HR department walk all the way across the parking lot from her car to the back entrance, disappearing inside the building.

“Does that mean we’re exclusive?”

Frank faces Gerard, prompting the other to do the same. They stare at each other for a second and Frank smiles at the corner of his mouth. “Is that what you want it to mean?”

“I don’t know,” Gerard replies earnestly, looking away. “I haven’t really thought about it until just now.”

“Let me ask you this,” Frank pivots, “I’m not saying I am, because I’m not, but how would you react if you saw me on a date with someone else?”

Turning, Gerard once again meets the other’s conscious expression, narrowing his eyes dangerously. “You know that needle scene from the movie Audition?”

Frank’s face goes slightly green at the memory, but he still responds with a knowing smirk, “The feeling is mutual.”

“Is it?” The other nods. Gerard reciprocates the smirk. “Now I kind of want you to do it.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah, I don’t even like needles,” Gerard sighs. “I don’t know why I lied.”

Laughing through his nose, Frank rests his head on the other man’s shoulder. “I’m not kidding, though. I will straight up merk you where you stand if I see you with another dude.”

“So possessive,” Gerard teases as he shrugs away from Frank. They look at each other and he jokingly grimaces. “Kind of a turn off.”

Frank flips him off and tosses another pistachio in the air, finally catching it in his mouth. “We can be boyfriends if you want, my mom said it’s cool.”

“My mom said it’s cool, too.” Gerard steals a pistachio and catches it in his mouth on the first try. “And she said you can come over this weekend.”

The following two weeks are a blur, Frank intermittently crashing at Gerard’s apartment when they can get away with it, and the first time Frank spends the night is the first time they have sex. They had kept things relatively tame after the EP show, mostly for lack of opportunity; between both of their schedules inside and outside of work, the first night Frank crashes begins purely as an opening for Frank and Gerard to have a movie marathon, which isn’t super suspicious in and of itself. Gerard has crashed at Ray and Frank’s place plenty of times by this point, but Ray is, naturally, always home. They’d become masters at communicating non-verbally around him, and for image purposes, they sleep in separate rooms, texting each other until they both fell asleep. On this particular night, however, Ray is staying at his parents’ place two towns over, and Gerard innocently invites Frank over, purely as an offering to alleviate any boredom, and it’s only after they’ve been curled up on the couch for a while that Gerard becomes abruptly aware that they are completely alone for the next twelve hours.

A bowl of popcorn (without butter, because Gerard is nice like that) sits between them, and without looking away from the TV, Gerard boldly asks, “How would you feel about getting gently laid tonight?”

Franks immediately bursts out laughing. “I hate you,” he manages to choke out, his laughter infectious as it bubbles out of him.

“I was just asking,” Gerard feigns defensiveness, shifting away from him. “Jeez, fuck you and your dick, then. I’ll even take the couch tonight.”

“I wasn’t opposed or anything.” Frank watches him pout and laughs again. “I just figured you would, like, make a move whenever you were up to it, or whatever, I didn’t think you’d actually ask my permission.”

“Consent matters to me,” Gerard argues, only half serious. “I don’t want to throw myself at somebody who doesn’t want it. That’s awkward for everybody. Plus, I have standards.”

“You can throw yourself at me anytime,” Frank assures him. “But just know that I’m gonna wreck you tonight.”

He makes good on his promise after they shut off the lights in Gerard’s room an hour later, Frank jumping him as soon as he rolls onto his back in bed. The automatic light from Gerard’s balcony spills in through the blinds, casting uniform blue stripes along Frank’s back as Gerard peels off his shirt. Frank tosses it over the side of the bed and melts up against his side, kissing him greedily, all over him, not giving him a chance to breathe. They pause long enough to tug Gerard’s shirt over his head and cast it aside, followed rapidly by the rest of their clothes.

Frank doesn’t waste any time; as soon as they’re both naked, he pins Gerard on his back and rocks his hips down into him, both gasping at the sensation of skin-on-skin. Frank raises slightly to maneuver his way down between the other’s legs, bending low to flatten his tongue against the underside of his dick in a long, wet stripe, then he’s grabbing the base and tonguing the slit and fuck, fuck, fuck.

Gerard’s comes out in short bursts as Frank envelops him in wet heat, slowly bobbing up and down. Gerard can’t remember the last time anybody offered to blow him, much less actually do it, yet here Frank is acting like Gerard is doing him a favor. Gerard bravely looks down at Frank’s mouth in that perfect O shape around him, reaching a hand up to hold Gerard down. It’s a power move that Gerard doesn’t expect – on any other occasion, Frank would be following Gerard’s lead, just like he had said. But right now, things are different. Frank is taking the lead; he has all the control. Gerard doesn’t fight him and physically feels himself let go, every muscle in his body relaxing at the same time. Frank makes an approving noise in the back of his throat and briefly comes up for air before diving back in.

When Frank’s first wet finger breaches, Gerard lets out an obscene sound so loud that he’s sure his neighbors will be leaving a passive-aggressive note on his door in the morning.

At two fingers, he almost loses it, but manages to reel it back in.

At three, Gerard is shaking all over as the other takes his time stretching him. “Frank, Jesus Christ,” he finally breaks in a hoarse voice, delirious, practically begging. Frank lifts off him into a kneeling position and lets him catch his breath, and even though Gerard can only just make out Frank’s features in the dark, he knows he’s relishing in the desperation of his tone. Frank tears open a condom and slicks himself with lube that Gerard doesn’t remember him opening, then lines up between his knees and suddenly Gerard sees stars behind his eyelids, his mouth falling open with a soft sigh.

Frank fucks him slowly, deliberately, one hand planted firmly in the middle of Gerard’s chest to keep him down, looking him right in the eye. Gerard reaches down between them and pumps into his own hand, both working in tandem with each other. Gerard can already feel that familiar warm coil in his stomach when Frank bends down to prop up on his elbows and worry his favorite spot on Gerard’s neck.

“I’ve been thinking about this since the first time you spent the night,” Frank whispers in a filthy tone that sends goosebumps up Gerard’s arms, the gradual comprehension of how long Frank had wanted this washing over him in waves. Gerard remembers that night clearly, the unexplained electricity between them before he had succumbed to inexplicable nausea. It’s in this moment that he realizes that he’d subconsciously picked up on Frank’s intentions that night without knowing it, and his body had reacted to protect itself because it knew instinctually that he wasn’t ready back then. He hadn’t been ready to accept that he’d been thinking about Frank for a lot longer than he’d been willing to admit at the time.

But he could admit it now. “Since I first saw you on stage,” he whispers back, and Frank lifts his head to look at him, their faces just barely visible from the balcony light outside. Frank stills his movements as they remember the night they first met simultaneously, Gerard recalling the way Frank got on stage that night and bared his entire soul, every ugly part of himself poured into his lyrics and screamed at the top of his lungs. Gerard had been like a moth to a flame, wanting to be close to Frank’s light ever since he’d asked to borrow a lighter. It had been such a minor event that had set this entire thing in motion. Gerard can just make out a nostalgic expression on Frank’s face and he laughs tiredly.

“What?”

“I’m so screwed,” Gerard confesses miserably. “Literally and figuratively.”

Frank’s grin falters in concern. “Should we stop?”

“No, no, I just mean –” He motions with his hands, wanting to clarify. “I had just gotten out of a shitty relationship when we met, and I was so ready to just be alone for a while and figure things out, maybe hook up with a few randos here and there. Really figure out who I am on my own, you know? But then here you come, totally out of nowhere, and you’re so fucking hot and you’re so fucking cool – and thus far, a fantastic lay – and I’m screwed.”

Dissolving into a small fit of laughter, Frank replies, “If it’s any consolation, I feel exactly the same way.” He ducks his head to the crook of Gerard’s neck and adds heatedly, “And you’re right, you are screwed.” He reaches down and teases him with soft strokes, rolling his hips, quickly finding his rhythm again.

It isn’t long before Gerard tenses up and lets out a soft mewling sound, his finger tips digging into the skin of Frank’s back while he pumps Gerard through the aftershocks. Frank gives him time to come down for a minute before rising and gripping Gerard’s hips, pulling him closer and giving him the ride of his life. For a long stretch of time the only noise in the room is their breathing, and then Frank throws his head back slightly, his mouth hanging open in a silent scream, sharp breaths escaping his mouth as he finishes, a small tremor traveling up his spine. He collapses on his back beside the other, breathing hard and staring at the ceiling.

“You really are wife material,” Gerard comments after a few minutes pass.

“I keep telling you,” Frank agrees. “I don’t know why you won’t listen to me. I’d make a great homemaker. Except for gardening, I’m really bad at gardening. I’m like hospice for house plants.”

“We can get fake plants.” He realizes how forward that sounds as soon as he says it. “Not, like, right now, though.”

Frank turns his head. “Are you saying you’d move in with me?”

“Not right now,” Gerard hastily makes clear. “But…I mean. I guess I can’t imagine a world where we wouldn’t move in together at this point, especially after what you just did to me. My God, Frank, I don’t know if I can look you in the eye right now.”

Frank’s face is entirely too smug when he self-assuredly retorts, “You should see me when I bottom.”

“Oh,” Gerard makes sure to note, “That will absolutely be happening in the near future. Just you wait, Iero. You ain’t seen nothing, yet.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Frank yawns and stretches like a cat. “Do you wanna take a shower?”

Both are so drained that the shower is strictly clinical, neither noticing the other’s nudity under the scrutiny of cheap fluorescent lights. They take turns washing their hair under the showerhead, briefly trying to give each other shampoo mohawks until exhaustion ultimately overtakes them, practically zombies by the time they wrap things up.

Dried off, dressed and back in bed, they turn off the lights for a second time and Gerard rolls over onto his side, closing his eyes. He feels Frank sling an arm over him and press up against his back, burying his face between Gerard’s shoulder blades with a content sigh. A smile tugs at the corner of Gerard’s mouth, and he decides to be nice and not push him away, even though he hates being held while he’s sleeping. If it were anyone else, he would squirm away, but there’s something comforting about the reckless abandon with which Frank drapes himself around Gerard, like they’d somehow been together for years in just a few short weeks. He bites back a laugh at the soft snores Frank is already breathing against his back and decides he could probably find a way to get used to this.

<^>

It’s the last week of June when they say the L Word for the first time.

Leathermouth is four short days away from leaving on a two-week tour of the entire state, each band member using PTO just to get the time off work to do it, which according to Ray, had been no easy feat to coordinate. The band also recently just signed up with a manager, a chill but ambitious woman named Anna, who Ray had met at one of their earlier shows and who had also been watching their growth for months before striking while the iron is hot. She really seems to believe in the band and is funding most of the tour with her life savings. They have been practicing like maniacs after clocking out from their day jobs, which cuts into most of their free time, which meant most days, Gerard and Mikey only see Ray and Frank at work, but at least they still have that.

The meeting with the indie comic label had gone better than expected, and Gerard is currently in the middle of a multi-cover deal for a new superhero series they are launching in a few months. He has been cranking out preliminary sketches at lightning speed to keep up with his deadlines, often already asleep by the time he collapses onto his bed at night, not even bothering to change out of his clothes. He just got paid one hell of a paycheck for designing the label for that brewery’s new beer, and Gerard is amazed that the company is stupid enough to pay him that kind of money for licensing rights, but he doesn’t dare argue when he sees all those zeros on the check they sent him in the mail. He had to read it twice and hold it up under a light just to make sure it wasn’t fraudulent. When the check actually clears into his account at the end of the week, he takes Mikey, Ray and Frank out to lunch the next day to celebrate.

Frank has been crashing regularly at Gerard’s place under the guise that his apartment is closer to Leathermouth’s practice studio, which probably would have raised more suspicions if Ray wasn’t currently tied up in his own blossoming relationship with a woman named Christa, or if Mikey wasn’t playing D&D with some of his old high school buddies twice a week. Frank usually arrives at the apartment sometime after 11:00 p.m. and greets Gerard each night with a toothy smile, closing him into a bear hug as soon as he walks in and pecking him on the lips. Their domestication is officially complete, and it’s only been a month.

Gerard tries to keep dinner warmed up by the time Frank gets there, and the first time he cooks for him, he watches Frank intently to see his reaction, having never prepared a fully vegan meal before.

“You made this?” Frank asks curiously, taking another bite.

“Yeah,” Gerard answers as nonchalantly as possible, pretending he’d been staring at his plate. “Any good?”

“It’s great,” Frank smiles while he claps him jovially on the back. “You did good, kid.”

Finally taking the time to try it himself, Gerard nods his head in approval as he chews. “Hell yeah, not bad.”

“I knew you could cook, but I didn’t know you could cook like this. I might have to marry you just for this recipe alone.”

Gerard laughs indifferently. “Slow down, there, tiger, you gotta love me first.”

Frank’s brow furrows as he continues eating.

“What if I said I already do?”

It takes a second for his words to sink in but when Gerard puts all the pieces together, he stops eating and looks at Frank slightly wide-eyed. Frank meets his gaze with a quizzical expression and props his elbows on the table, linking his fingers together in front of him.

“You better be so fucking for real right now,” Gerard warns him somewhat defensively. “Because if you don’t really mean what you’re saying –”

“I mean it.” Frank’s voice is calm and steady, almost as if he was prepared for this reaction ahead of time. “I know I’m saying it too soon, and I don’t expect you to feel the same way, but you’re kind of the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’ve wanted to say that to you for a really long time, pretty much as soon as I met you. So.” He shrugs his shoulders and meets Gerard’s stare. “That’s all I wanted to say.”

Gerard sighs and leans back in his chair. “I don’t know if I’m there yet,” He admits, respecting Frank too much to lie to him. He knows the rejection will sting, though, even if Frank isn’t showing it, so he smiles to soften the blow and tilts his head thoughtfully. “But I’m happy you came over tonight, and your ass looks really good in those pants.”

Frank laughs as they both dig back into dinner. “I’m glad I came over, too.”

The pair is silent for a few minutes, then Gerard feels the need to tell him, “It doesn’t freak me out, you know. That you do.”

“At least that makes one of us.”

Gerard watches him quietly until he finally looks up at him again, giving him a slightly crooked smile. “Do you wanna watch Wayne’s World and make out on the couch?”

He does. They do. Then they pass out sprawled across the sectional in the living room with Frank on his back and Gerard on his side, curled up between him and the couch. When they wake up in the early hours of the morning the next day, Gerard watches Frank’s eyes flutter open, his dark hair sticking up at odd angles. The half-asleep look on his face wells up something inside of Gerard and before he can even process what he’s saying, he spontaneously confesses, “I think I do, too.”

Frank blinks slowly. “You think you what?”

“Love you.”

It takes a second, but Frank eventually catches on. “You don’t have to say it just because I said it.”

“I’m not.” He props his chin on Frank’s chest. “I thought about it before I fell asleep last night – I want to tell Mikey, and Ray, and everyone else, and I want to move in with you, and I want to see how far this rabbit hole goes. And after I really thought about it, I realized that if I truly wanted all those things, it couldn’t be for any other reason."

The younger man rolls over and faces him, both laying there watching the other. “I’m all in if you are,” he says after a while.

Gerard smiles shyly at him. “You think it could be alright?”

“Yeah.” Frank reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind Gerard’s ear. “We can talk about it more when I get back from tour.”

The smile on Gerard’s face falls into a frown and he asks, “What are we gonna do if you end up on the road for months at a time?”

“We don’t even know if that will happen,” Frank gently reminds him. “And even if it does, we’ll figure it out.”

“It sucks that this had to happen right before you’re about to be gone for two weeks. I don’t think we’ve ever gone that long without seeing each other before.”

“We’re playing a couple of weekend shows that aren’t far from here, maybe like a one or two-hour drive. You and Mikey could come out, spend the night, and be back in time for work on Monday.”

“True.”

“And you already know I get bored on long drives, so I’m gonna be bugging you constantly.”

“Also true.”

“It won’t be so bad,” Frank concludes, affectionately ruffling the other’s hair. “I think telling Ray and Mikey is gonna be way worse.”

“Ugh,” Gerard yields glumly, “Ray is gonna be insufferable.”

“When do you think we should tell them?”

Pursing his lips in thought, Gerard considers the question for a beat before answering. “We can tell them at lunch tomorrow. It would be tough trying to explain why we’re sharing a hotel room when I come see you.”

“Extremely valid point.”

Gerard drops an arm across Frank’s side, pulling him closer so that their foreheads are just barely touching. It’s only a recent development that he’s been more handsy with Frank, who has welcomed the change with enthusiasm, often quick to reciprocate with an answering touch, much like he is now, with his hand lightly resting against Gerard’s chest. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, slowly falling back asleep.

“You want me to make some coffee?”

“Mm.” Frank doesn’t open his eyes when he elaborates in a sleepy tone, “We can make coffee later.”

“I’ll go get a pot started.” Gerard sits up and untangles himself from the oversized blanket they’ve been sharing, throwing it back and purposely digging his elbow into a sensitive spot on Frank’s ribs when he hoists himself off the couch, eliciting a sharp cry of pain.

“Fucking ow,” Frank complains loudly, immediately annoyed. He shoots a scowl at Gerard as he crosses the room into the kitchen, now fully awake against his will. “You’re not winning yourself any favors on getting laid. Just so you know.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Gerard promises slyly from the kitchen, running a hand through his hair to get it out of his face while he works on getting the coffee pot brewing. He grabs the mug Frank always steals when he drinks coffee in the morning, the over-sized black and green one with the Bride of Frankenstein on it. He pours them both a cup when it’s ready and brings both mugs into the living room, setting Frank’s beside him on the side table, who gives Gerard one last look of contempt before picking up his coffee and taking a sip.

“You’re lucky this tastes so good,” Frank threatens menacingly, glaring over the rim of his mug while he takes another petulant drink. “And that you’re ridiculously good looking.”

“Yeah,” Gerard scoffs as he sits down on the other side of the couch. “Okay.”

“You genuinely don’t know that you’re hot, do you?”

“Whatever, it’s actually just really good coffee.”

“You can’t be humble and hot, that’s cheating,” Frank contests lightheartedly. “At least have the decency to be just a tiny bit vain about it and save some dick for the rest of us.”

His comment draws a quick laugh from Gerard. “You’re the one out of my league, Iero, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Frank doesn’t reply, setting his mug on the side table before he launches across the sectional to body slam Gerard with a large couch cushion, who sees it coming just in time to safely set down his coffee. He curses loudly under Frank’s full weight and tries to push him off, both struggling for a few minutes until they run out of breath. The couch cushion rolls onto the floor and Gerard takes the opportunity to shove him back, his legs now sprawled haphazardly across Frank’s lap.

“If you’re done trying to suffocate me for the insurance money,” Gerard says irritably, “I want to check out that new bookstore down the street at some point today.”

“We can do that,” Frank pats him lightly on the thigh. “But first, I was thinking we could go to the bedroom and you could make a man out of me.”

Gerard responds by rolling off the couch and taking off at full speed toward the hallway, Frank following swiftly behind him. They both stumble into the wall as their socks skid across the faux hardwood floor, Gerard yelping in surprise when Frank crashes into him. They push off the wall at the same time and bolt into the bedroom, where Frank tackles Gerard like a linebacker onto the bed. A brief wrestling match ensues until Gerard manages to pin him down, panting heavily when he says, “I hope you’re ready for this, because I’m about to ruin your entire life.”

Frank bites his lip suggestively and jokes, “Say that last part again, but slower.”

Gerard leans down, his voice dropping to a sultry tone. “Ruin. Your. Entire. Life.”

“Finally, I’ve been waiting for someone to finish what my childhood started.”

“Damn, that was dark.” Gerard gives him a delightfully evil expression. “I’m gonna make your therapist a millionaire.”

“I’ll pencil you in between my emotional trauma and abandonment issues.”

Gerard doesn’t respond, just pins him more determinedly to the bed and kisses Frank hard enough to give him a whole new diagnosis.

<^>

Four coffees sit on the table in front of them at the usual diner the next day. There is a natural lull in the conversation as Ray and Mikey stir sugar packets into their mugs, and Gerard frantically glances at Frank sitting in the booth beside him.

“Me and Gerard are dating,” Frank just blurts right out, earning a sharp kick to the shin under the table. Mortified, Gerard buries his face into his hand.

Ray pauses in the middle of drinking his coffee and slowly sets his cup back down on the coaster. He then looks directly at Frank and raises a finger, pointing at him. “I knew it.” He slams his palm loudly on the table in confirmation, disturbing a booth of elderly women several seats down, who turn their heads and glare at him. “I knew it, Iero, you asshole, and don’t you dare think for one second that I didn’t call this right from the beginning.”

“I think this means I get money,” Mikey comments excitedly, pulling out his phone. “I have to text Mom; we had a bet going.”

“Okay,” Gerard acquiesces, “No fake, but I seriously hate all of you.” He shoots a pointed look at Frank, who snickers in response. “Yuk it up, Chuckles, we’ll see how funny it is when you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Finally calm enough to drink his coffee, Ray switches to a businesslike tone when he asks, “How long has it been going on?”

“Not long,” Frank says, “Like, a month.”

“How serious is it?”

Frank turns to Gerard and they each bite back a laugh. “It’s mostly serious.”

“I knew something was going on when you started texting each other in the same room all the time.” Ray leans back in the booth, satisfied with skills in deduction. “And I swear I saw a hickey on Gerard’s neck at the EP show.”

Gerard smacks Frank on the back of the bed. “You said you were careful, you dick.”

“I didn’t think it looked that bad!” Frank defends, giving him an apologetic look before kicking Ray under the table. “Thanks a lot, Toro.”

Ray winces at the kick but doesn’t miss a beat. “Wear a scarf next time, rookie. Or, you know, maybe don’t buy a ticket to Pound Town right before a show.”

Mikey, still typing furiously, adds, “Mom says I owe her twenty bucks, and that she had you two pegged since the show she came to back in April.”

Frank both tries and fails to hide his glee. “Did she really say ‘pegged’?”

Ray snorts so hard he almost chokes. “Now I owe your mom money.”

Gerard pinches the bridge of his nose impatiently, annoyed at himself for not anticipating the conversation derailing this violently. “Can we all just collectively agree to never use that word in the same context as our mother ever again?”

“Don’t think you’re off the hook, Way,” Ray is quick to point out. “You’re just as complicit in all of this as Frank. What was it you said to me that one time? Something about never dating a coworker?”

“I also said I’d stop drinking Red Bull two years ago,” Gerard fires back. “You should know by now that my impulse control is dubious at best, and none of this would have even happened if it weren’t for you and Mikey’s weird fixation with setting us up.”

“So, you’re saying this is all our fault?”

“Of course this is all your fault.”

Ray grins proudly, like a man who has just been given a large trophy. “You’re welcome.”

Mikey finally tucks his phone back into his pocket, nodding his head towards Frank. “Mom said you can come over for Christmas this year, she knows a recipe for vegan casserole.”

Frank turns to Gerard. “I love your mom; she’s good people.”

“It’s not my mom you need to worry about,” Gerard notes darkly.

“Our dad traumatized his first boyfriend,” Mikey reveals, “He took him into the garage for a ‘talk,’ and then the kid never came over again.”

“That was never gonna last, anyway,” Gerard says dismissively. “Dad did me a favor.”

A small flicker of distress crosses Frank’s features when he asks, “He’ll be cool that you’re bringing home a dude and not a woman, right?”

Gerard waves him off. “Dad never cared about that.”

Mikey interjects to explain, “He just thinks nobody is good enough for his first-born son.”

Frank frowns slightly. Gerard pats him on the leg sympathetically.

“I’d kill to be a fly on the wall for the garage conversation their dad is gonna give you,” Ray remarks while sipping his coffee.

“It’s not the conversation that scares me,” Frank replies somewhat fearfully. “It’s the power tools.”

Resting his head on Frank’s shoulder, Gerard reassures him, “You’ll be fine. Mom wears the pants in their relationship, so if she likes you, Dad will at least learn to tolerate you. And she already invited you to Christmas, so you’re pretty much a shoo-in.”

“Just bring him a gift,” Ray suggests helpfully. “You could get him a mug that says World’s Okayest Father-in-Law. If that doesn’t scream ‘please don’t dismember me with a table saw,’ then I don’t know what will.”

He starts bickering with Mikey about which type of mug makes the best gift, and as they argue, Gerard turns to Frank, who smiles at him and knocks his knee against Gerard’s under the table. Gerard responds by resting his head on Frank’s shoulder again, settling closer against him in the booth. As the other two debate microwave logistics of ceramic mugs, Gerard gripped Frank’s hand and squeezed.

He can’t wait to come see him on tour.

THE END