Come, Angels of Unknown

“So, what have you been up to lately, Gerard?” Frank smiled as the waitress walked away, giving us a little while to chat before she came back. It was interesting how his eyes always crinkled when he would smile, even though he was way too young to have any aging marks on his skin. Weird, but it somehow added up to his charm.

“Well, nothing special,” I said thoughtfully, “I live the kind of life where the only fun thing is to choose which TV channel you’re going to watch on what night.”

“Oh, come on,” he rolled his eyes, clasping his palms together and laying them on the table in front of him. “There has to be something interesting.”

“Yeah, Doctor Who is getting pretty intense lately,” I said, not even trying to conceal my sarcasm, luring out a slight chuckle out of him.

“I’m being serious, Gerard.” He did look slightly more serious, but I didn’t know what he expected for me to say. I wasn’t having the time of my life, honestly – it wasn’t so bad either, other than occasional thought tangles I would just get stuck in somehow – but there wasn’t much to tell, either.

“So am I,” I cleared my throat, feeling slight tension overwhelming the air between us. “I just haven’t had anything going on in my life for a while now. I’ve gotten used to it, I guess.”

“Sorry for being a pain,” he gave me an apologetic smile. It was one of those smiles my mind just couldn’t seem to resist, and whatever tension there was between us just mere seconds ago – it vanished along with the sound of the words leaving his mouth. Somehow, I was attracted to the apologetic nature in him; it brought something up inside me that was just screaming ‘innocent’, like it made him more fragile or vulnerable. Maybe not even that, maybe it was just awakening my protective instinct. Whatever it was, it was enough to make my insides rebel against me. “I just like hearing you talking.”

That drew a smile on my face. I could bet I was blushing as heck, too, but it was probably something I wouldn’t let myself believe entirely. There was still a part of me dying to be one of those macho type guys – I’m not entirely sure every guy has that one, but I sure did – simply because they seemed to have had it easier. That probably wasn’t even nearly true, but all of us live with unrealistic cravings supported by the facts we made ourselves believe were true, right? I darn hope so, because if it wasn’t true – if it was just some idea I had buried deep inside my mind making it hard to sleep at night, heck – I might’ve been batshit crazy without even realizing it.

Sometimes, I wondered if everything I’d ever believed in was simply something I forced myself to believe, a complete hoax I pulled on my own self, just a prank of a delusional mastermind buried deep inside me and controlling everything I’d ever done and would do. It was a pretty grave and worrying thought, because there were times like these when I would get all deep and ponder into the meaning of my own thoughts.

“I can talk about a lot of things, I presume, at least,” I tried to explain it before I got buried deeper into my thoughts, “just not things that include routines. I hate routines. I always have.”

He smirked a bit, just a twitch of the corner of his mouth, but I caught it. “Why?”

Now, I had the excuse for talking. I mean, if he liked listening to me, heck, I could’ve rambled for years. “I just don’t like the fact it’s so trapping. Your body is so submissive about some things, you know? When you teach it a routine, it will remember it and it will follow the same pattern until you persuade it to change it. It’s fucked up.”

“But why would that be so wrong?” He furrowed his brow, looking genuinely interested. That was another thing about him I found extremely attractive; he took everything I said as gospel – even if he didn’t agree with it.

“Because it makes you afraid of change. And change is what keeps you alive, you know? We forget to value certain things if we’ve done them a billion of times already. That’s why continuous change is important. Because, for instance, when you first get a new haircut, you feel a certain kind of joy – even though it’s short term. And the next time you cut your hair the same way, it’s fading away, right? The next time it’s almost gone. Because you’ve seen it enough, and it got usual. I don’t like usual.” I scratched my nose.

“I’ve said this before, and I’m going to say it again, I love the way your mind works, Gerard Way.” He smiled.

I was just about to say something when the waitress came over with our orders. I thanked her and she smiled kindly before getting back to work. I’d just started picking on my ravioli when I noticed something I probably should’ve noticed earlier.

“You’re lactose intolerant?” I asked dumbly, pointing at his soy latte. “Sorry if it’s weird-”

“No, it’s fine,” he smiled, “I’m not, actually. I just really like soy latte.” He grinned.

“Oh,” I bit my lip. That was interesting, too.

“I am vegetarian, though,” he said before grabbing a bite of his sandwich.

“Really?” Not that I hadn’t said it in my mind enough times, but he was interesting. Not that being vegetarian was anything particularly special, but he looked like he had a story behind it, because he was about to say something.

“Yeah,” he grinned. “It started off when I was a freshman in high school, just for the sake of making Janet pissed. What can I say, I was a real rebel.” He grinned like he was mocking himself, and I couldn’t help but copy the action.

“Yeah, you seem like the kind of guy who would skip school and do PETA protests,” I smirked and he shot me a playful glare.

“Hey, it was for a good cause,” he said defensively and I laughed. It was interesting [again with that word, I should probably upgrade my internal dictionary] how he talked about himself and his family in such a joking manner now, but earlier, upon mentioning Janet and Tim, he’d immediately given out a vibe like he hadn’t wanted to talk about it.

“I’m sure it was,” I kept eye contact for way too long and he didn’t move his gaze from mine until he got distracted by something behind me, so I stopped looking at him too. I sniffed awkwardly and he chuckled from the back of his throat, making me bite my lip in slight confusion.

“What?”

“I don’t even know,” he looked down, shaking his head while an amused expression crossed his face, “you’re so complicated, you know?”

“How come?”

“I just don’t get you. It doesn’t have to do with anything you did today especially, I mean usually. You’re so hard to read and yet so open to talk to and I’m really confused about you but on a certain level it’s all clear to me. I’m not entirely certain what to think, you know? I’m having a battle with myself over you.” He looked at me, chewing on his lower lip thoughtfully and fiddling with his fingers.

I never thought that someone ‘having a battle with themselves over me’ would bring me to the point of feeling honored, proud or grateful, but there I was. I somehow loved and hated the fact he was thinking about me as much as I both loved and hated the fact he couldn’t decide. I mean, it would’ve been much easier if he could. But this way it was more interesting. And I liked interesting. If you couldn’t tell by now.

*

“You know, this street is called Dead Lovers’ Lane,” Frank said when we turned the corner in the middle of our mindless walk around town.

“Seriously?” I asked, certain that I had heart that expression somewhere before.

“No,” he giggled and I rolled my eyes. “I’m bored out of my mind.”

“Oh,” I pretended to sound offended. Of course he bought it. “Thanks.”

“It’s not you, idiot,” he sighed. “I guess I’m just bored with life.”

“How come?”

“I think you’re rubbing off on me,” he chuckled, “No pun intended. No, seriously, I’m sick and tired of the routine I’ve been living in. It’s just too mundane.”

“I know the feeling,” I admitted.

*

“So,” he said as he walked me to the door of my building. It was late, not too late, but late nevertheless, late enough for the streets to clear out almost completely. Not like it was a really busy town we lived in, it was just… late. I liked it liked this; it was pretty – all dark, fresh; the moonlight mixing with the cheap outdoor lighting and shining across the lonely road. “I had a great time.”

“Me too,” I admitted, sighing quietly. “If you’d like to do it again sometime…”

“Yeah,” he said, gazing into my eyes. I felt like that was the moment I should’ve done something, but I didn’t; for whatever reason. “I’ll text you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I bit my lip, slightly disappointed in myself. “Good night, Frank.”

“’Night, Gerard,” he smiled.

I sighed and turned around, about to get inside the building when he called my name again.

“Yeah?” I turned around.

And before I knew it, a butterfly kiss was placed on the skin of my cheek, the breath lingering a lot longer than the lips that grazed it – the one you know was there – but don’t actually feel.
It was enough for me, though. I’d felt enough to know it was there, even though it was weird to comprehend, but it was just the right amount of everything. Even though it was almost nothing, it was everything at that split second it happened. And that paradox was probably the exact thing that made it so amazing… even though it was just a kiss on the cheek.

“You looked a bit disappointed, so I took the shot,” he smiled sheepishly, so the moonlight caressed his lips like they were glowing. I remembered I had a trace of those on my skin, and I immediately felt slightly privileged.

“You hit it,” I grinned awkwardly, “full on.”

And with that I entered the building, a smile on my face and haze in my eyes.

*

“You’re in pretty late,” Mikey threw me as soon as I closed the front door.

“Just… save it tonight, yeah?” I said, panting slightly. I kind of ran up the stairs, for some reason.

“Never,” he grinned. “You player.”

“The only thing I can play is The Sims and I suck at it, so please go fuck yourself and enjoy the rest of your evening while I go to my room and push the play button inside my head and watch the entire thing that happened tonight all over again. Thank you, glad we could cooperate.”

And with that I stormed off to my room, threw myself on my bed and sighed loudly.

Notes

I'm sorry about:
- the length [I'm a bit rusty]
- the quality [I'm a bit more rusty]
- the late update [I'm a bit lazy, sleep-deprived and dangerously hooked on Supernatural]

Anyway, enough with the apologies, I've got some news if you're interested:

a) [not really an interesting one, but nevertheless] I've changed my tumblr theme and I'm completely in love with the new one, so you can always check it out [that theme is seriously the prettiest thing I've seen in a while] here. If you do, thanks. Don't feel obliged to follow, message or anything, but if you're willing - don't be a stranger, I'm nice sometimes [plus, I follow back].

b) I was serious about the Supernatural thing, if Frank suddenly becomes Cas or something it's not my fault, okay, the show dragged me in and lured me into the pits of Hell.

c) I've deleted the storyline about this. It's just too simple and too boring, it was a really mundane plot which I simply couldn't follow. So, I'm making another one - there will probably be slight paranormal elements, but nothing you don't see in real life. I've never done a fic with fantasy stuff in it, so I'm really and seriously excited. And I'll be editing the first few chapters so I get the plot working, but it'll be nothing grave. I'll notify you when I do it.

That's about it, I think. I really hope you're enjoying reading the fic as much as I enjoy writing it, and thanks for bearing with me and my idiotic update schedules and stupid ideas.

All the love in the world,

- Milo

P.S. I might be adding stuff to chapter titles, just for the sake of it, you'll see what I mean when I do it. Au revoir, 'til next time.

P.P.S. HAPPY CROATOAN DAY I REALLY HOPE YOU SURVIVE, DEAR FELLOW... creatures?