FRANK

I’d like to say what time I fell asleep, except I didn’t.

I was too busy reading and rereading the texts I had been sharing with Gerard. What had gotten into him? I didn’t want to say anything about the feelings that were probably definitely not even there, and to be honest, I wasn’t embarrassed. I was just nervous. I felt awful about not reciprocating the feelings, and his apparent disappointment was enough to depress me for days. I was nervous when I received the messages, I was nervous when I walked into class the next day, I was nervous all throughout the rest of the day.

Something was obviously very, very wrong with Gerard.

I’m assuming it was about the loss of his sketchbook, which is yet another reason to make me feel like a giant dick. Yes, I had taken it. Yes, I had had it. I just… didn’t anymore.

I had lost Gerard Way’s dumbass sketchbook and I felt horrible because of it.

I swear, it was in my backpack one morning and then it wasn’t. I freaked out because of it. I didn’t know what had happened to it or who had it. All I knew is that I had messed up yet again, and this time, I could see the effects it had on people right away.

When I walked into class the next day, Gerard looked terrible. He looked like he hadn’t slept or eaten in days, his (gorgeous) (wait no) hair looked unkempt, his eyes were red, everything about him screamed ‘upset’, and I knew exactly why. It was that goddamn sketchbook.

“Um, about last night…” I trailed off when I realized it wasn’t registering. “When we were texting?” I tried again.

Wow. I must say, even though I was warming up to him, he sure did still get on my nerves. How do you forget words like those?

“I never texted you last night,” Gerard deadpanned.

My blood ran cold. “Yeah you did. At two, remember?” I tried.

“Um. I fell asleep at one, and I’m pretty sure I don’t text people in my sleep,” he said.

Now I was just confused. “Well, I have the texts right here on my phone. See?” I showed him the text conversation and watched his face go from confusion to complete lack of emotion. And that’s the worst, I think. When everything gets so bad you just shut down. Can’t be bothered. Everything just gets too much and you can’t feel anything at all. I knew that feeling all too well, and I could see it in his eyes.

“Gerard?” I asked after a moment.

“This wasn’t me,” he said again.

“Well if it wasn’t you, who was it?” I asked.

“My brother.”

Oh, Mikey. The one Pete likes. I wasn’t too happy with Mikey, even though I didn’t know the kid. Messing around like that, no matter how much I hated them, wasn’t right.

I saw Gerard fumble around in his desk for a moment before deflating even more than he already was and snapping at me for his sketchbook.

“I’ve told you, I don’t have your damn sketchbook,” I responded and immediately regretted it because of the look that was on Gerard’s face.

“Okay, whatever,” he sighed, and he went back to keeping to himself. This was gonna be a long science class.

The rest of the time went by with quiet conversation and tension so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. There had to be some way I could make this up to him. When class let out, Gerard left pretty fast, and I still had no idea what I was going to do. I spent the rest of the school day in a mild panic, because I knew better than most what those kinds of emotions could do to a person.

I didn’t pay much attention to Pete and Patrick for the first bit of lunch. Now, I’m the type to usually keep to themselves, so I don’t really pay much attention to them anyway, but it was bad today. They noticed and questioned me on it.

“What’s wrong?” Patrick asked, the concern apparent in his voice.

“Oh, nothing,” I said, trying to avoid his staring.

“When you say nothing’s wrong, something’s wrong,” Pete countered, and, well, that was a good point.

“Just worried about someone is all,” I muttered.

“Who?” They both asked.

This is not the question I would’ve liked to answer, but I knew they were just going to keep asking until I cracked, so I told them.

“I’m worried about Gerard,” I said in the smallest voice possible.

My friends just looked at me for a long while. I think they were torn between ‘wow, what a good guy, being worried about people’ and ‘Frank what the fuck you hate that guy’. And I didn’t blame them. That’s what I was thinking as well.

“He’s torn up about his sketchbook, I think,” I said in a somehow smaller voice than before.

Pete looked uncomfortable. “Uh, that old thing…” he started to say.

“What?” I asked.

“Um, Gerard Way’s sketchbook. Yeah. That’s kind of at my house.”

“What! Why?” I questioned through my shock. “That’s so weird. What.”

Patrick was laughing. “He made me steal it out of your backpack one day and run it over to his house. He wanted to keep you from succumbing to liking Gerard,” he explained.

“Why did you have to do it?” I asked Patrick.

“He told me that because of my fedora you wouldn’t be able to tell it was me. You know, what with it hiding my face and all.”

I froze. “Pete,” I started to say, “You’re a fucking idiot. You really think that I wouldn’t have been able to tell it was Patrick? The only kid in the school that still messes with fedoras?”

“Well, that’s not very nice, Frank,” Patrick chastised.

“Who cares?” I asked him. “Pete, I’m gonna want that sketchbook back tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever,” he responded, still bright red from the realization about Patrick’s hat.

We ate in silence for a little while, until Pete started to talk about a somewhat new record store close to the school that he found the other day.

“Sounds fun,” I said as the bell rang. “Meet you by my locker after school?”

“Sure,” they both said, and we went our separate ways.

*****

The bells above the door chimed as we entered. Pete had taken us to a record store called ‘Rick’s Records’, and from the looks of it, it was a rad place. All of us gasped upon arrival, but for different reasons. I gasped because of all the music, Pete and Patrick gasped because they saw something I didn’t.

Gerard worked at the record store Pete brought us to.

I turned to Gerard and we locked eyes. “You,” I said under my breath.

“What are you-?” he started to say.

“I thought I didn’t have to put up with you anymore today,” I said.

We stayed like that, focused on each other, for a long time, until Pete awkwardly cleared his throat.

“I feel like I’ve been caught in a Mexican standoff,” he said. I turned and glared at him.

“Don’t you have something of his?” I asked him, the glint in my eyes very apparent.

“Oh, uhm, well, yeah. I mean, I- well, maybe if, um, I think, uh,” Pete stuttered out.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Gerard questioned.

“Oh, nothing. You’ll find out eventually,” I said in a singsongy voice.

Gerard rolled his eyes and left for the back.

Patrick, obviously uncomfortable, cleared his throat. “So, we’re leaving now, right?”

“Oh no,” I responded, more than ready for Gerard to come back. I had some things in mind.

“Oh Frank. You aren’t actually going to…” Pete stared to say.

“Oh yes,” I responded.

*****

Gerard came back out from the back a little while later, saw us still there shopping, and sighed. He looked uncomfortable. “You’re still here?” he questioned.

“Yup,” I said. I was looking around the store, taking in all the records that were scattered about, and noticed a small sign by the front desk.

TREAT EVERY CUSTOMER WITH KINDNESS!! :)

Oh yeah. This was going to be a good day.

“So, Gerard,” I started out saying, “What album would you recommend?”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, asshat-” he tried to say.

“Uh-uh. Kindness,” I said, pointing at the sign.

I felt the tension in the room grow thicker and Gerard visibly tensed up. He let out a pained sigh and clenched his jaw.

“Well, Frank,” he said again, “Everyone has a different music taste, and that’s perfectly okay. Personally, I like hanging out in the pop section over there.”

I was able to keep my mouth shut, but Gerard was cut off by a strangled choking noise that Pete was making in disgust. Gerard started to roll his eyes, but then stopped himself.

“Anyways, I was going to say that if that’s not you, cool. Maybe you’ll find yourself more at home in the death metal section, or maybe some punk rock. What’s that genre where the listeners make blood sacrifices and worship Satan?”

“Hey,” I snapped. “Don’t be an asshole. Number one, people that listen to that stuff are perfectly normal people, they don’t do any of that crazy shit you just described. Number two, I don’t even listen to that genre, and three,” I gestured towards the sign again.

“Oh, I wasn’t offending you, was I? Sorry, I wasn’t aware that you were capable of feeling things other than anger.”

I was the one to roll my eyes this time. “Whatever.”

Patrick and Pete had wandered off, and suddenly this big guy came up to Gerard and muttered something in his ear. Gerard nodded and the other guy left after slipping him something. Gerard put it in his pocket and acted like nothing had happened.

“What was that about?” I questioned.

“Why does it matter?” Gerard countered back.

I sighed and left that area, wandering around the shop, and making a pointed glare at Gerard when I picked up a Black Flag record. He seemed to be ignoring me and was taking quite an interest in his phone instead. Meanwhile, Pete was looking at some hip hop records and I was busing myself with punk rock. I looked up to make sure we hadn’t lost Patrick, and he was looking at…

Oh. Patrick wasn’t looking at records. Patrick was looking at Gerard.

Straight on, head on hands, lovestruck sigh- okay, maybe not that last part. But it definitely looked suspicious. I wandered over to him.

“Um, hey Patrick,” I said.

“Wha-? Oh, hi,” he said, snapping out of his 7th grade trance.

“What are you looking at?” I casually asked him.

“Oh, this-this record right here,” he said, blindly reaching behind him and pulling one into our line of sight.

I stifled a laugh. “Oh really? You were looking at that?” I said, and Patrick started blushing.

“Oh, uh- well, I mean, no- not, not really, it was more admiring the cover art, um,” Patrick started to say.

I took the Katy Perry record from him and put it back. “What were you really looking at?” I asked behind giggles.

Gerard looked up from his phone then, sending a glare in our direction, and Patrick started to stutter again. “I-I’ll tell you later,” he said, standing up and walking over to Pete.

Well, that was weird, I was thinking.

I couldn’t find any reason to stick around him, so I walked back up to the front desk and started back in on the teasing.

“So, how long have you worked here?” I asked.
“Well, it’s a new place. Rick is a family friend. I got the job when the place opened.”

“Oh, nice. You do know that a lot of metalheads come in here, right? A lot of punk rockers. People like that. Not people like you.”

He looked confused. “What are people like me?” he asked.

“Hipsters,” I said, looking him in the eyes.

He immediately started defending himself. “I am not a hipster! Why does everyone always say that? Just because I look professional and approachable doesn’t mean I’m a hipster.”

“Oh. Okay. I wasn’t aware. I obviously need to get to know you better. Hey, what’s your favorite band?”

“Well, I quite enjoy Taylor Swift. I think the way she presents herself, whether that be in live shows or in interviews-”

I cut him off. “Taylor Swift?”

“Yeah. That’s what I said. And Of Monsters and Men. And Imagine Dragons. And Walk The Moon. And-”

“And that’s all I need to hear. Favorite drink?”

“Coffee. Anything from Starbucks, really.”

“Favorite author?”

“John Green.”

“Favorite movie?”

“Anything Disney.”

“What do you do in your free time?”

“I draw. Or, I did. Before you stole my sketchbook.”

“That’s beside the point. Where do you shop?”

“Thrift stores, American Apparel, that kind of thing.”

“Favorite song lyric?”

He hesitated. “Well, I’ll tell you, but I doubt you’ve ever heard it. I’m not even sure who it’s from, the band is incredibly obscure. It’s ‘I want to hate you half as much as I hate myself.’”

I froze. That… that was Patrick and Pete’s band. They barely had any recognition and had only played a couple gigs. Actually, they didn’t even really have a band, it was just them goofing off and playing a few songs. But either way, that was them.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. I-I think I’ve heard that once. I could be wrong, though.”

Gerard just nodded and went back to messing around with the desk.

“All that and you still don’t believe you’re a hipster?”

“Nope.”

I shrugged and started playing with the pens at the front desk.

“Could you not do that?” Gerard asked.

“I could, that doesn’t mean I will,” I said.

“Frank. Stop touching the pens.”

“Why? It’s not harming anything.”

“It’s harming my well-being.”

“Since when do I care about your well-being?”

I immediately regretted those words. I don’t think I’ve ever regretted words more. The look on his face was enough to silence me for a long while.

“Oh. I- I suppose that you’re right,” he said, and I felt like crying.

“Gerard,” I started.

“No. No, you’re, uh. You’re right. You’ve never really cared about me. Why should you start now?”

“No, but I do care about you,” I was trying to say.

“Don’t fake it. Please. I’m just being annoying and selfish. Please, just, no.”

I bit my tongue. I offered a small “I’m sorry,” and walked over to Pete.

“I think we should go,” I told him.

Patrick approached us as well, a small grin on his lips. “We leaving?” he asked, slightly disappointed.

“Uh, I guess,” said Pete, giving both Patrick and me confused looks.

I turned around to wave at Gerard, but he wasn’t interested. He was staring into space, looking like crap, which made me feel like crap.

“Why so soon?” Pete asked.

“No reason,” I said, feeling a bit deflated.

“Hm,” Pete said, and I turned to Patrick.

“So,” I started, “What’s that thing you were gonna tell me later?”

Patrick went red immediately. “Oh, yeah. I just- um, well, you know how maybe, well, I think, if, um, we were, I maybe, uh. I know this is later, but I’ll tell you more later.”

I stared at him. “Okay then.”

The rest of the journey home was spent pretty much in silence. We parted ways with a few hollow goodbyes, and I entered my house with spirits low.

I climbed into bed quietly despite the hour and played around on my phone. My fingers hovered over Gerard’s name for a while, before going to Patrick’s contact and sending him a bunch of question marks. His response, which I had been waiting for all day, was the last thing I would’ve expected.

‘I think I like Gerard.’

Notes

So... hello. Long time no see.
I would like to start off by saying this: WE'RE REALLY SORRY. School started back up last week and we've both been lazy and stressed and nervous and yeah. We're also sorry to say that because of that, updates won't be as regular. We are not giving up on this, however, it'll still be an active fic, but you'll probably notice big time gaps between uploads.
We're excited to say that the next chapter will be up within the next few days. Look forward to it! I know I am.
As always, let us know what you think! We love getting your feedback, we will never not love getting your feedback, so we hope you'll continue to comment.
Until next time, stay alive, sunshine.

- frank-iero-is-attractive