Beautiful Fool

I held out the glass of champagne to him.
“Sure,” he said. When he reached for the drink he quickly grazed his fingers over the back of my tattooed hand before accepting the glass.
I shivered.
“A navy man?” He cocked an eyebrow.
“That’s right.”
“What’s your name, Sailor?” he asked. He leaned against the railing and lit another cigarette.
“Frank,” I said. “Frank Iero.”
“It’s nice to meet you Frank Iero. My name is Gerard Way.” He spoke with a strong East Coast accent and I immediately admired the way my name sounded on his tongue.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Gerard Way,” I said.
He smiled again and offered me a cigarette. I accepted. Something about his smile wasn't entirely happy. It was a genuine smile, but somehow it didn't reach to his eyes. His hazel eyes remained dark.
“What brings you to a Gatsby party?” he asked.
“My cousin and her friend Daisy are around here somewhere,” I said. “And yourself?”
He shrugged and exhaled a puff of smoke. “I never miss a Gatsby party, you just never know what will happen.”
Something about him made me nervous and comfortable at the same time. It was an effect I couldn’t explain, or understand. I felt I could tell him anything in the world, wanted to tell him everything in the world. I lit my cigarette and exhaled slowly.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked. When he talked his bottom lip pulled to the side oddly, endearingly.
I nodded and glanced past him towards the beach and the bay, “I am. I have never seen anything like this before.”
He nodded, and snubbed his cigarette out on the railing.
“You haven’t touched your drink,” I said, nodding towards the glass now sitting beside the snubbed out cigarette,
“Ah, right,” he said and handed it back to me. “I don’t actually drink much. I tend to get a little out of hand,” he said, raising his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth pulling down further.
“Why did you accept it?”
“I wanted to talk with you.”
I smiled and took a sip from the glass.
“I suppose we can still talk,”
“What a relief,” he said, winking.
“And what about you, Gerard Way, are you enjoying yourself?”
He nodded his head and ran his hand through his wild hair. “I am now,” he said.
I blushed and tried to hide it by looking past him and downing the rest of my drink.
“Slow down there, Sailor.”
I smiled at him and looked around. The band was taking position again and began in on a new song. Loud and full, the sound swept over the crowd who cheered. I looked back at Gerard and he was watching the band too.
He opened his mouth to say something but whatever he said was drowned out by the music.
I leaned forward, “Do you want to go on a walk?” I asked into his ear, “I haven’t seen the dock.”
“Uh,” he paused and looked around, and then he nodded suddenly seeming very shy again.
I put the empty glass back on the railing and lead the way through the crowd, Gerard following behind me. We dodged the dancing people, sometimes ducking a little as they swung their arms above their heads. I glanced back at Gerard and he kept his eyes on me.
It wasn’t until we made it past the last balcony and pool and stepped onto the beach that the crowd thinned out enough for us to walk beside each other.
Gerard walked with both his fists in his pant pockets and he stared out at the water. It was quieter and dimmer down by the dock. A single light shone off the water and reflected against Gerard’s pale face.
The music faded quite a bit as we walked down the beach.
“What do you do?” I asked him.
He glanced away from the water at me.
“I’m a writer,” he said, “and an artist. But that doesn’t pay as well,” he said.
I walked out onto the dock and he followed.
“What do you write?” I asked.
“Novels, mostly.”
“Anything I’ve read?”
“Maybe,” he said, smiling crookedly towards me.
“I’ve never heard your name before.”
“I use a pseudonym,” he shrugged.
“What is it?
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
I huffed but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Aside from being a navy man, what do you do?”
We were sitting on the end of the dock by this time, on a bench that looked across the bay at the house I knew was Daisy’s. A green light flashed from their dock.
“I’m a musician actually. It pays alright. We do weddings and parties sometimes, but mostly play the clubs.”
He nodded beside me and then turned and looked at me for a few seconds.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m just trying to decide if I’ve seen you in any of the clubs. But I think I would have remembered.” He shrugged and turned back towards the water and the flashing green light.
I felt halfway to drunk from the champagne and I inched my fingers close to his. He didn’t seem to notice.
“I like it down here,” he said. “It’s quiet enough to think and talk.”
“I agree. I spend so much time in the clubs with a ruckus crowd, this is actually really nice.”
“I sing sometimes,” he said, “in the clubs.”
“Writing, singing, and art? Is there anything you can’t do?”
He let out a soft laugh and I couldn’t tell in the dark light, but I assumed he was blushing.
I moved my hand a little closer to his. I don’t know what came over me. Champagne, I suppose. I, Frank Iero, who usually never bothered to succumb to any of my tendencies, was suddenly enchanted by the black haired man beside me, sitting by the bay. I wasn’t uncomfortable in our silence, but I wanted to get him talking, wanted to hear his voice and learn all about him.
“Where are you from?” I asked.
“Hm,” he paused. “I’ve been around quite a bit. Let’s say New Jersey though,” he said.
“Oh really? Me too,” I said.

We talked for a while. I felt like we could have stayed on the dock the rest of the night just talking. I had never been so drawn to another person as I was to Gerard. I couldn't explain it. I had been with men before, and was certainly homosexual. Gay, the new word I had heard to describe my tendencies. I preferred the word gay. But I digress. I had been attracted to other men, and wanted to see inside their beds. I had never once cared so much to see inside their heads.
We had been quiet for a while now and he turned his head to me and smiled.
Something about the smile jolted me. For the first time it seemed as if he finally had let his guard down a little. Wide and bright and I felt suddenly as if we weren’t strangers, but two friends who had spent a long time apart.
With that courage I touched his hand with the tips of my fingers. He looked down and smiled lightly at my hand. I placed my entire hand over his. We stayed that way for a few moments. He looking down at our hands, mine on his, and me looking at him. His eyelashes sent long shadows down his cheeks.
I brought my other hand up and gripped his chin with my thumb and forefinger. I heard his breath hitch in his throat and he stared wide-eyed into me.
“Frank,” he said.
From behind us we heard laughing and yelling. Gerard cleared his throat and stood, pulling away from me. He leaned against a pole and looked across the water, his back towards me. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The butt of it burned gold and contrasted against the dark water. He tossed the lit match over the railing and it gave a light hiss as it burnt out.
He turned slightly and offered the pack and matches to me.
“Thank you,” I said. He still stood with his back to me, looking sideways so I could see the profile of his face. He blew a long breath of smoke out.
Mesmerized by his graceful movements, I suppressed a moan.
He flicked his cigarette and ash fell to the water.
I looked away and lit my own cigarette. I stood and held out both the pack and matches back to him.
He pocketed them both, nodding at me.
I hardly knew this man. I knew he was a novelist, an artist, and didn’t drink. I knew he was from Jersey,he smoked like a chimney, and had a smile that tied my stomach in knots.
And I knew I wanted to know more.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” I said.
He exhaled, then turned and smiled lightly. “You didn’t upset me, Frank,” he said.
I furrowed my brow.
"Then what-"
He looked back, away from me and began to speak.
“A couple of months ago I was caught in that house with another man,” he said. “And, uh,” he cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. “Uh, it was not received well by some of the men who found us. Gatsby, good man, he stopped the beating before it got too bad. And those fellows are forever banned from the parties. But something like that, you don’t forget. They make sure you learn the lesson.”
“Beating?”
He turned and he wasn’t smiling anymore, and then he shrugged.
“I would love to hold your hand. Hell, I’d love to do a lot of things. You’re a brave man, Frank Iero. But they beat the bravery out of me.”
He tossed his cigarette into the water. It hissed and continued to float, bobbing against the dock with the light current.
“Gerard,” I began.
“Frank, I’m going to go. It really has been nice meeting you. I wish you nothing but the best.”
“Gerard.”
He stepped forward and pressed his hand to my shoulder, patting lightly. He wasn’t looking at me, he was looking back up the lawn.
He walked down the dock and I watched him light a cigarette as he went. I kept my eyes on him as he walked up the stairs and lost him somewhere in the crowd.

Notes

Thanks for reading, friends! I hope you're enjoying it.

-Me