Follow Me Home (Frerard)

Gerard's POV
"Gee-Way, my man!" I duck my head lower, hiding my face from the glances that strangers are casting in my direction. I make my way to the desk where Gabriel, the comic shop clerk, sits, grinning at me. He takes no notice of my coyness, opening his arms wide and looking cheerful. "Dude, I saw the new Vanya you uploaded last night. She is bitchin'! I loved the white, really reflects her personality."
I manage a modest smile and look up at him through my eyelashes, feeling slightly embarrassed by the boasting in his voice. "Thanks," I mumble.
Gabriel perks up a second later and jumps up from his stool. "I got some new stuff I think you'll like," He says, his slender body moving swiftly behind the desk, lifting the latch on the counter and holding it up for me to join him behind the counter. I abide, knowing that only employees are supposed to go in the back, but also remembering the special permission I got from Shaun Simon, the owner of this place, to go anywhere I "damn well please." I recall the day when Shaun told me that I was better than an employee; I was an artist. I wasn't just some customer-- I was a creator. So I follow Gabriel into the back room quietly. The comics that are too expensive or delicate to put out front with the others gather in piles along one wall, while action figures and collectibles line another. A few unpacked boxes of new arrivals are pushed into the corner, half-hidden behind a long wooden desk that Shaun uses whenever he comes in. That's where Gabriel leads me, shuffling through a few books before finding the one he wants.
"Hot off the press this morning," Gabriel grins as he holds out a comic book for me to take. When my eyes graze over the front, they widen in surprise. I think my heart stopped beating and I nearly choked on my own breath when I realize what this is.
The Eiffel Tower stretches vertically down the center of the cover, each side lined with familiar faces of the characters. A burnt red layers them, tinging everything an orange-brown color. The words Umbrella Academy are stark white, just down from the center. In the middle, the names are printed; Gerard Way & Gabriel Ba.
I take the comic book from his grasp, gaping at the physical copy I have of my own work. More than just a sketchbook or a series of loose-leaf papers; It's real. "You got it printed?" I ask, incredulous.
Gabriel grins, nodding fervently. "Yeah! I changed the name-- I thought it sounded better than Umbrella University and Shaun agreed. Of course, this issue won't have Vanya or any of your other newer characters, but--" He shrugs. "It's your story. I just changed a few things, fixed some drawings to make them smoother, blah blah blah."
I feel my lips spread into a grin and I can't help the sudden urge to practically leap forward and hug Gabriel. "You're the best!" I say. "Thank you so much!"
"Aww," Gabriel waves like it's nothing, but smiles anyway. "You deserve it, man. And I think what Shaun has will make this surprise seem like nothing."
I'm about to ask him what he means, but before I have the chance, the door swings open and in walks the man himself. "Gerard!" Shaun grins when he sees me. But when he sees the smile already in place on my face, he turns his attention to Gabriel, glaring. "You didn't tell him, did you?" He demands. "If you told him, I'm firing your ass and ripping up your vintage Batman comics."
Gabriel puts both hands up in surrender and widens his eyes in innocence. "I didn't say a word!"
"About what?" I interject, looking between the two of them. "Tell me about what?"
Shaun smiles and puts his jacket down on his desk before motioning to for me to follow him. I'm led back into the main room of the comic book shop, down a few aisles to the new release section. "This," Shaun states and opens his arms in a gesture to the shelf. Lining the top three rows of the new release shelves are my book, each one bearing the red-brown cover, the title Umbrella Academy, and my name.
My eyes widen and this time I really do choke on my own breath. "What the hell!?" I gape at the comic books-- MY books-- lining the shelves and can't help the grin that spreads across my face. I attack Shaun in a hug, mumbling a billion thank yous. Shaun pats my back and laughs at my excitement.
When I finally look back up, Gabriel is coming back into the aisle with another clerk, I think her name is Becky, waving his phone around in the air before handing it to Becky. "Push that button," He says, coming to my side. He wraps one arm around my waist, Shaun on my other side mimicking his motions. "Gerard, you better smile or I'm burning all of these books," He threatens, beaming at the camera. I smile, not really having to force the gesture; As much as I hate cameras, I don't think anything could ruin this moment.
My happiness is still creating a buzz when I get back to the dorm. Bob is still MIA, but I don't ask questions. I simply turn on my computer, logging onto Twitter. Before I can even re-think my actions, I upload the new photo from the comic shop-- Of Gabriel, Shaun, and myself standing in front of my comics-- with the tag of "Get your asses to Shaun's Comic Shop in NY to get the FIRST edition of Umbrella Academy! #Stoked" and press Tweet. Of course, when the picture is up on my Twitter page, I start having doubts. My face is very visible in this photo. You can see everything and the longer I stare at it, the more exposed I feel. The smile that spreads across my face looks almost painful, my teeth looking too small. My hair is too gross-looking, I should have at least brushed it. And I'm wearing a Madonna shirt-- What the hell? Do my jeans look too tight? I look fat, don't I?
I force myself to refrain from deleting the photo, reminding myself that there are three men in this image; No one will be able to tell which one is me.
Still, I leave the page just to save myself from having to see the photo any longer. Somehow, within a matter of second, I find myself once again on Frank Iero's profile. The newest tweet catches my attention and seems to burn into my throat; "Thanks for moving away without telling me sooner... Must be nice in NY... #fuckexgirlfriends."
Of course, the cutest guy who's ever talked to me has to be straight. Just my freaking luck... I roll my eyes, clicking out of the page to check my messages instead, though the small icon appears there as well, along with two new messages. The first one reads, "What can I say, I'm short and fierce ;) and you're only taller than me by 3 inches.."
THAT DAMN WINKY FACE WILL BE THE MOTHERFUCKING DEATH OF ME.
I try to calm my breathing. He is not flirting with me. He is straight. I repeat this in my head like a mantra, trying to convince myself it's true. Of course, his second message makes my heart stutter and my eyes widen. "By the way, that's not the only thing I have that's bigger than me... ;P"
WHAT. NO WAIT, WHAT? What the actual fuck? I swallow painfully hard, rereading the message six times before I can breathe properly again. Is he.... Is he suggesting what I think he's suggesting?
Oh you dirty dog, you...
I shake my head. I must be reading too into this. He cannot be talking about his--
Nope. I'm misinterpreting this. He must be talking about something else. Still, I interpret the message in a perverted manner and smile as I type back a response.
"I think you got those messages confused, sweetheart. I think the three inches was supposed to be measuring something else, not our difference in height. ;)"

Notes