Waiter! Frank and Basement! Gerard
Chapter Five
Gerard is walking home from Frank’s job with him, a to-go coffee cup clutched in one hand and Frank’s hand in the other. He swings Frank’s arm happily as they walk, and Frank doesn’t say anything about it, just smiles and tells Gerard how his day went.
“How was yours?” Frank asks.
Gerard shrugs. “I drew some. Slept a lot. Came to pick up you.”
Frank furrows his brows. “Do you just spend all of your time either sleeping or making art?”
Gerard blushes. “Well, not really, I mean-”
“That’s awesome,” Frank interrupts. He shakes his head and looks at the ground. “Man, I wish I had a job I actually enjoy.”
Gerard grins and pecks Frank on the cheek, smiling into his skin. “You’ll get there, babe.”
Frank sits on the bus bench, wanting to take a break to retie his shoe. He props up his foot and motions for Gerard to sit next to him.
“I sure hope I do,” Frank starts. “I don’t want to be refilling vanilla bean Frappuccino’s for white girls and dorks like you for the rest of my life.”
Gerard shoves him. “Who are you calling a dork?!”
“Gerard, I’m sorry, but you are one,” Frank giggles.
Gerard sticks his head up Frank’s shirt and blows raspberries on Frank’s stomach. Frank squeals and blushes, although he’s laughing up a storm.
Gerard finally pulls himself out and stands, reaching his arms out to help Frank up. Frank takes his boyfriend’s hands and is pulled to his feet.
“So is your apartment clean enough for me to go inside this time?” Gerard asks.
Frank shakes his head and giggles. “No, but you can come in anyways.”
They get to Frank’s house, and Gerard is greeted by shelves and shelves of cluttered comics, movies, and CDs. In the single clean corner of the house sits a white Les Paul. Stickers on its side read “Pansy”.
“I see you’ve noticed Pansy,” Frank smiles. He ducks down to pull a carton of chocolate milk out of the refrigerator. He takes a swig straight from the container before handing it to Gerard, who tentatively accepts it.
“Yeah it’s a nice guitar,” Gerard compliments. He takes a sip out of the milk. He couldn’t imagine living like Frank did; he lived alone, but he had to limit himself. He felt like an animal if he didn’t use a glass. Gerard is an orderly person that needs rules to stay sane. Clearly, Frank is not this kind of person.
“I’m starting a new band,” Frank informs. He brightens, his hazel eyes gleaming. “Hey, do you want to practice with us? I mean, if you play anything.”
Gerard blushes with embarrassment, remembering how many times he’d been called a faggot for revealing this information. “I can sing and I really like it.”
Frank looks even happier and hugs his boyfriend. “Perfect! We don’t have a singer!” He frowns. “Or a second guitarist.”
“I know a guy, Ray,” Gerard tells.
Frank nods. “Is that the guy that was with you when I met you?”
“Yeah,” Gerard answers. “He’s an amazing player.”
A yapping erupts from a room, and the next thing Gerard knows a chubby little grey dog is all over Frank, licking his face and pressing its tiny legs into him.
“Who is that?” Gerard asks, admiring the dog. It’s unconventionally cute; what with its bulging eyes, tangled hair and obvious age. That’s Gerard’s kind of adorable.
“Her name is Sweet Pea,” Frank replies. He laughs when Sweet Pea French kisses him. “I got her from a Chihuahua adoption mission. No one would take the poor girl.”
“Poor thing,” Gerard coos, scratching behind her ears. “Is she a Chihuahua mix?”
Frank shrugs. “They weren’t even sure she was part Chihuahua at all.” He passes Sweet Pea over to Gerard, who is immediately greeted with a sea of wet puppy kisses. Gerard just giggles and rubs her head.
“She’s adorable,” Gerard compliments.
“You and I are the only ones that think that,” Frank responds. “Even my mom is repulsed by old Sweet Pea. But Sweet Pea’s a real sweet heart, trust me.”
“I can tell,” Gerard replies. He sets the dog down. He and Frank settle into Frank’s worn sofa, and they turn on a Baccano! Marathon and fall asleep bundled up together under the covers, Frank snuggling his face into Gerard’s chest.
“How was yours?” Frank asks.
Gerard shrugs. “I drew some. Slept a lot. Came to pick up you.”
Frank furrows his brows. “Do you just spend all of your time either sleeping or making art?”
Gerard blushes. “Well, not really, I mean-”
“That’s awesome,” Frank interrupts. He shakes his head and looks at the ground. “Man, I wish I had a job I actually enjoy.”
Gerard grins and pecks Frank on the cheek, smiling into his skin. “You’ll get there, babe.”
Frank sits on the bus bench, wanting to take a break to retie his shoe. He props up his foot and motions for Gerard to sit next to him.
“I sure hope I do,” Frank starts. “I don’t want to be refilling vanilla bean Frappuccino’s for white girls and dorks like you for the rest of my life.”
Gerard shoves him. “Who are you calling a dork?!”
“Gerard, I’m sorry, but you are one,” Frank giggles.
Gerard sticks his head up Frank’s shirt and blows raspberries on Frank’s stomach. Frank squeals and blushes, although he’s laughing up a storm.
Gerard finally pulls himself out and stands, reaching his arms out to help Frank up. Frank takes his boyfriend’s hands and is pulled to his feet.
“So is your apartment clean enough for me to go inside this time?” Gerard asks.
Frank shakes his head and giggles. “No, but you can come in anyways.”
They get to Frank’s house, and Gerard is greeted by shelves and shelves of cluttered comics, movies, and CDs. In the single clean corner of the house sits a white Les Paul. Stickers on its side read “Pansy”.
“I see you’ve noticed Pansy,” Frank smiles. He ducks down to pull a carton of chocolate milk out of the refrigerator. He takes a swig straight from the container before handing it to Gerard, who tentatively accepts it.
“Yeah it’s a nice guitar,” Gerard compliments. He takes a sip out of the milk. He couldn’t imagine living like Frank did; he lived alone, but he had to limit himself. He felt like an animal if he didn’t use a glass. Gerard is an orderly person that needs rules to stay sane. Clearly, Frank is not this kind of person.
“I’m starting a new band,” Frank informs. He brightens, his hazel eyes gleaming. “Hey, do you want to practice with us? I mean, if you play anything.”
Gerard blushes with embarrassment, remembering how many times he’d been called a faggot for revealing this information. “I can sing and I really like it.”
Frank looks even happier and hugs his boyfriend. “Perfect! We don’t have a singer!” He frowns. “Or a second guitarist.”
“I know a guy, Ray,” Gerard tells.
Frank nods. “Is that the guy that was with you when I met you?”
“Yeah,” Gerard answers. “He’s an amazing player.”
A yapping erupts from a room, and the next thing Gerard knows a chubby little grey dog is all over Frank, licking his face and pressing its tiny legs into him.
“Who is that?” Gerard asks, admiring the dog. It’s unconventionally cute; what with its bulging eyes, tangled hair and obvious age. That’s Gerard’s kind of adorable.
“Her name is Sweet Pea,” Frank replies. He laughs when Sweet Pea French kisses him. “I got her from a Chihuahua adoption mission. No one would take the poor girl.”
“Poor thing,” Gerard coos, scratching behind her ears. “Is she a Chihuahua mix?”
Frank shrugs. “They weren’t even sure she was part Chihuahua at all.” He passes Sweet Pea over to Gerard, who is immediately greeted with a sea of wet puppy kisses. Gerard just giggles and rubs her head.
“She’s adorable,” Gerard compliments.
“You and I are the only ones that think that,” Frank responds. “Even my mom is repulsed by old Sweet Pea. But Sweet Pea’s a real sweet heart, trust me.”
“I can tell,” Gerard replies. He sets the dog down. He and Frank settle into Frank’s worn sofa, and they turn on a Baccano! Marathon and fall asleep bundled up together under the covers, Frank snuggling his face into Gerard’s chest.
Notes
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8/24/13