He's Not Dead He Only Looks That Way

Mikey ends up joining Frank and Gerard in their hangout session, which consists of them hanging out in Gerard’s room (a dimly lit basement) watching horror movies, eating and drinking pop, and talking.
Frank’s having an awesome time, when halfway through The Children, Gerard pulls a cigarette out of his front pocket. He places it between his lips, lighting it. Frank braces himself for Gerard’s first exhale, and holds back his coughs when Gerard blows the smoke out.
Gerard glances over at Frank and immediately turns white as a sheet, stubbing out his cigarette hastily on his slacks as he smiles sheepishly. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay,” Frank lies, his eyes watering from the smoke already in the air.
Gerard looks down at his singed pants, and curses, “Shit! Anyone know how to fix this?”
Mikey scrunches his nose at the burned fabric, questioning, “Why are you apologizing?”
“Frank has bad lungs,” Gerard explains, poking at the small hole burned into his pants.
“Well, not necessarily bad,” Frank mutters. “Just not fully functional.”
“So, bad,” Mikey replies with a smirk.
Frank makes a face at him before turning his attention back to the screen.
Gerard’s still fussing with the mark left by the cigarette, rubbing at it and even applying spit to it, with no luck. Finally, he stands, unzipping his trousers.
Frank tenses up, and asks, “What are you doing?”
Gerard, brows furrowed, answers simply, “I’m changing pants. I need to either mend these or toss em.” With that, he undoes the button as well and yanks his pants to his ankles.
Frank snaps his head in the opposite direction before he can get a good look at Gerard’s legs or underwear and give an overwritten lengthy description based on them. He can tell by the heat in his cheeks and on the back of his neck that he’s going as red as a tomato.
Gerard chuckles, “Frank, you can look now.”
Frank peeks over at Gerard, to see that he’s traded his school regulation pants for a pair of Invader Zim pajama bottoms. Gerard sits back up on the bed, and Frank gestures at his choice of clothing, asking,
“A bit early for pajamas, isn’t it?”
“Kurt Cobain got married in pajamas,” Gerard informs. He leans back, shaking his head as he continues, “It’s never too early for pajamas.”
It’s about five when Gerard realizes, “Shit, Frank, are we ever going to redo your art or what?”
Frank groans, “Shit, I forgot about it. I don’t have any supplies or anything.”
“Well, I have plenty. You can use them, if you want,” Gerard offers. He stands, stumbling over to his cluttered desk, overran with papers and notebooks. He produces a sketch pad and a package of high quality markers and hands them to Frank wordlessly.
“Are… are you sure I can use these?” Frank asks, nodding towards the art supplies.
“I don’t see why not,” Gerard responds. “Why do you ask?”
“I was… I was kind of troublesome as a little kid, y’know?” Frank confesses. “Like, I’d break everything and be mean to everyone. I basically wasn’t trusted with anything expensive or brand new, so I’m not really all that used to nice things.”
Gerard’s brows tilt in sympathy, and he changes the uncomfortable subject by asking, “Do you want me to help?”
“I think I got it,” Frank mutters, outlining the head of his superhero.
“Wait!” Gerard barks, rushing over. He takes Frank’s hand and straightens out his wrist, explaining, “You were going at a really weird angle. It’s all in your wrist.” He guides Frank’s hands to sketch out the eyes, telling, “See?” as he releases him.
“Thanks,” Frank mumbles, proceeding to draw. Frank’s not much of an artist, so he can only imagine how horrific it is for Gerard to watch him create such an artistic monstrosity.
Frank’s afraid that Gerard will be rude about it; as he’s clearly not the type to beat around the bush. But Gerard just hovers over the paper, remarking, “I like your style. Very unique.”
“You… you don’t think its shit?” Frank stammers.
Gerard grins and shakes his head. “Hopefully you don’t either.”
Frank smiles, and buries his head into the sketchbook to try to hide it.
Gerard’s smile is faint on his lips and he leans over Frank, watching him draw. Frank begins to get nervous with Gerard looming over him, and he manages to fumble the pen.
The pen flies from his hands and rolls across the room. Frank groans and starts to rise, but Gerard puts a hand on his shoulder, telling, “I’ve got it.” He crosses the room, grabbing the pen, and tosses it back to Frank, who is barely able to catch it.
Mikey asks, “Gerard, are Mom and Dad gone this weekend?”
Frank jumps at his voice, and it’s embarrassing to admit that he completely forgot Mikey’s obvious presence in the room.
Gerard nods, replying, “Yeah, why?”
“Do you want to have a party?” Mikey questions. “I have some friends coming over anyways.”
“Which friends?” Gerard inquires.
“Pete Wentz and Patrick Stump,” Mikey answers.
“I don’t know if I like Pete,” Gerard admits.
“Why not?” Mikey demands.
“He’s kind of a little shit,” Gerard responds.
Mikey rolls his eyes, and nudges Frank, almost making him fuck up a stroke. “Frank, are you coming?”
“To a party?” Frank asks. “I dunno; that’s not really my kind of thing.”
“But Frank, it’ll be fun!” Mikey insists. “And there’ll be drugs and beer, if you’re into that stuff! It’s great; trust me. Ask anybody at Bellville high and they’ll all tell you that the Ways throw a kickass house party.”
“‘The Ways?’” Frank repeats.
“Um, our last name,” Gerard elaborates. “Yours?”
“Iero,” Frank answers. “And, about the party… I really don’t know…”
Gerard pouts. “Please, Frank? It’d mean a lot. Usually it’s just all of Mikey’s friends. I’d like to enjoy one for once.” Gerard gives his best hazels to Frank, and unintentionally flutters his thick lashes.
Frank just fucking melts, and he’s ashamed of how soon he agrees to go after being so reluctant. Gerard seems happy to have Frank on the attending list though, which is all that really matters to Frank.

Notes

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