The Story I Paint, The Story You Chase

Love is a funny thing. Was I in love? No, I don't believe I was. Or was it? I couldn't actually tell. I just know that after I said what I said, something shifted between Frank and I. Love is love rang through my head while I was finishing off dinner. I couldn't pinpoint what was significant about it, why it changed things, or why I was upset when Frank said this wasn't a date. I didn't see it as one. It wasn't a date and won't be one. I needed to stop with my foolish ideas. Frank was just a gentleman, my friend, a man who will turn my dream into a reality. Just a man who is everything anyone could hope for. No, that's not how it fucking works, Gerard. I sighed slightly and looked up at Frank. He was such a beautiful human, and I guess I was a good one too. I mean, I did let him stay with me, but how good a human does that really make me? I’m just doing what anyone with a heart would have done, maybe a little more because he’s the man from the bookshop but that didn’t matter. I struggled to get the proper words out this time, I wanted to be, excuse the pun, frank with him about this mess I was feeling. I didn’t have an explanation, but he deserved to know didn’t he? No. That was stupid. I’d ruin our friendship if I did that.

“You’re right, Gee,” Frank admit, “love is love and it shouldn’t matter who you love. Nobody should ever get any shit from anyone because they love someone of the same sex. Nobody should have to deal with that.” His smile would be the death of me. That’s it. That’s what it was. His smile made me feel so good. It brought back memories. Memories of people I spent time with as a kid. Memories of my mum laughing with my grandma, while I made the biggest mess of paints. I don’t remember their faces too well, but I remember their smiles. I had always made them smile but they were taken away from me too easily. Too painfully, and I was left with my dad and Mikey, both who barely smiled after that. Both who never spoke for months on end to each other, or to me. I was a little odd, come to think of it, but I completely understood because that period of time is when I fell into nasty habits that linger with me to this day. Frank’s voice ripped me from my thoughts of my teenage years. “-Loving you. I hope you understand that.” I was taking a sip of water when I nearly spit it out. “Shit- you okay? I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you with saying something like that.” I shook my head and recomposed myself.

“No, no, I zoned out… I’m sorry. Please repeat that.” I urged, wanting to know what he said, battering my hopes away. I had the slight bit of hope stored away at the very back of my mind that Frank had maybe said something about him loving me. I knew it was too good to be true though.

“Yeah. I said that love is love and nobody should need to deal with hate for same sex marriage or love. Nobody should have to deal with hate for who they love. But my god, my co-worker, she runs a shift with me sometimes… Think you met her… Beth? She needs to stop ‘loving’ you.” I nod and ask why. “She has this obsession with you, it’s not even love. Plus you’re kind of gay,” at those words I started laughing very hard and nodded, “but she has created this fantasy of how she’s going to get married to you and how you’re going to have three kids, which is dumb, because if anything an even number is better so one isn’t alone…” Frank rambled, making odd hand motions. “Plus! She keeps asking me for your number so she can sext you. She actually swoons over you when you pick up a comic.”

“She seems excessive. Can I file a complaint to the manager?” I ask Frank, watching him think for a minute. Slowly he nods, as if unsure of it himself. I understood why because it would be really awkward and there was a chance that I just wanted her gone, or that she’d say Frank just wanted her gone, but it’s not like it was that he wanted her gone just because. He wanted her gone because she was making everything weird. But- but I can’t help but wonder if there’s something else there other than him feeling odd about her talking about his gay friend like that. Maybe there was feelings behind the statement?

“You can complain if you’d like. I’m just not in the position to. Just say you overheard things she was saying to me.” Frank informs me with a smile. He was being very kind.

“Frankdoyoulikeme?” I blurt out suddenly. I didn’t mean to but the question was gnawing away at me slowly ever since he got defensive of me, ever since he bought me dinner, and ever since he might have landed me a job with Grant Morrison. His eyes widened slightly before he recomposed himself.

“Of course I like you. You’re smart, funny, you create beautiful art. You’re an amazing friend. Why?” I shake my head and look at my hands. “Oh- you mean in a romantic sense?” A small nod from me. “Well, no. I don’t. Why?”

“You’re doing so many sweet things for me Frank, it’s hard to think that you don’t. A friend wouldn’t land a friend a job with Grant Morrison, or take him out to a fancier restaurant, or even go out and take photos of graffiti art, and get them printed for him.” I ramble. I couldn’t hold words back anymore, or so it seemed.

“Oh, yeah… I can kind of see that now that you point it out, but I’ve never really had a proper friend, and sorry if I’m really forward but I think that you are a proper friend to me, and maybe you think we’re not friends… We’re just roommates or something, but you’re my friend and if I’m not yours, that’s okay.” Of course Frank was my friend. Why wouldn’t he be?

“You are my friend! I promise you. I’m sorry if I made anything weird.” I sigh out. Frank tells me that it’s okay, and so he asks for the cheque and pays, not letting me step in, not letting me even lend him a dollar, once the waitress brings a cheque. I couldn’t help but whine slightly, at which Frank laughed. “I will pay for something in full one day and I’ll watch you whine about it.” I huffed out. The short punk just shook his head and laughed at me, as if I’d never pay for anything ever again.

After dinner, I was the one to drive us back to my apartment. I laughed at him as I was the one to pay for gas on the way back. Frank radiated calm energy. It was a much laid back vibe, but it was more than that. He had this power to just help even with a small smile. A few words that he said could simply leave you feeling relaxed and better, and somehow, he seemed to have the answer to every single problem in the book. He could crack a joke when you were at your worst and then magically make you feel your best. Frank was the definition of nirvana when it came to his vibe. Frank’s story didn’t actually flow into finding nirvana, or so he had told me. In fact, Frank himself wasn’t very calm at all. He was always afraid, always on edge, and even now, after living together for a good few weeks, he gets night terrors. His night terrors can last for a few minutes up to an hour, at which point I need to wake him. Sometimes it doesn’t work, but as soon as he wakes up, relief washes over the both of us. More recently he started to let me hug him, letting me hold him as he slumps against me. After the first night he was very resilient and didn’t want to be touched, but he was more open now. Having the few weeks to get to know each other, and to see what makes the other tick really helped out. It was a completely new experience to me, having a friend and roommate. I loved it.
Frank and I listened to Nirvana in the car, a little ironic but fitting. The short punk liked to sing along, and nobody could deny that he had a voice made for grunge and post-punk. It was his trademark. Frank was made, no he was born to sing grunge. In all honesty, it was really breath-taking hearing Frank sing. I felt special to be able to hear him. I joined in and sang with him, and that’s when his head snapped towards me, his grin taking up his face. I loved how he smiled and how it took up his entire face when he did, and I love how I’d catch him looking at me with a hint of something unknown in his eyes. Frank was something I couldn’t really describe. He was someone in my life who stumbled in, and made a home there, and for once I didn’t actually mind. He was someone I’d hold close, and would try so hard to keep near. I knew for certain I didn’t want Frank to just walk out of my life as if I was nothing, and worth nothing at all to him. I had this feeling that I was worth something to the short punk. What it was, I wasn’t sure yet.
We arrived at my apartment safely, or mostly. I swerved slightly when Frank gently placed his hand on my knee and told me that he was proud of me. Just thinking of the moment again made my cheeks burn slightly.

“Thank you for dinner, Frank. It was really enjoyable.” I said in a low voice even though nobody was going to bed, and nobody was my neighbour. The punk turned to me a grinned from ear to ear.

“Who knew vegan food could be so good, am I right?” He let out a little pot giggle and I couldn’t help but smile and look to my feet. His laugh did things to my heart that I didn’t want to admit to anyone, that I couldn’t admit to anyone.

“I- erm,” I cleared my throat, “well, you knew, and I knew.” I answered in a sheepish voice. I couldn’t seem to find it really. My voice just disappeared.

“I’m only pulling your leg.” Frank beamed at me. “Hey, so, you know that comic you’re working on?” I nodded slowly and cautiously. “Well, maybe that can be your pitch to Grant. He loves the super hero kind of stuff and you seem to have this incredibly unique idea. I don’t think anyone has done something as such. I really like it. I’m sure Grant will love it, and let you work with Gabriel.” I got quiet and shuffled slightly. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure about this, but Frank had a point. The superhero world would need something refreshing and new, and not Squirrel Girl, or whatever the fuck her name was.Although she was pretty badass, there have been things too similar. The more Frank talked to me about this idea, the more I came to accept it and enjoy it. It made sense to me and I knew that I needed to continue on this comic book so I could submit it to Grant in the time space of three months.
I started as soon as the whole plan set in. Frank accompanied me, providing helpful feedback to me from time to time, all while strumming his guitar quietly. I didn’t know how, but Frank’s aggressive music, and heart-breaking lyrics calmed me down to the point where I could fully focus on all my characters. To some I gave a sad plotline, and in fact, the plot to the first issue would be unhappy, but would have that twist of what would be the true plot. That’s where the superheroes come in. As time wore on, the more excited about it I got about the comic.
After three or four hours of straight up work, I turned to Frank and stretched, and soon after, cracked all my fingers.

“Want to come see it?” I asked with a hint of hope in my voice. I earned a small nod from the shorter man. He was writing something over his already looped riff. I smiled happily as he tried to figure out how he wanted to overlay guitar parts. He stopped after a few minutes and put his guitar down gently.

“Shoot.” He grinned and sauntered over to my desk, leaning over it to see what I had done. I swallowed hard as his shirt rode up slightly and revealed his tattoos. “So this one here,” Frank started, “the white violin, right?” I responded with a very small yes. “So your idea is that she isn’t accepted by her family. Vanya. I like her birth name. Very traditional and it really brings out that she’s not like the rest of the heroes.” As Frank read more and more about the plot, and looked over my character designs he seemed to smile more and more. “Goddamn you know how to write a good motherfucking story.” The silence was broken by none other than the punk.

“Would you like one written about you?” I ask jokingly.

“God yes. And if you do, make it the fucking truth.” I bit my lip hard. How was I supposed to reply to that? The truth was that it would be biased, it would be beautiful, and it would sure as shit be accurate. Of course there’s a few things here and there that would make it evident that I favoured Frank above any other human other than my brother. I had no clue where my brother was though.

“Frank, I do hope you know it’ll be very biased.” I answer quietly.

“And why is that?” He turns to me slowly, his doe eyes finding mine with ease, giving me the most innocent look, filled with curiosity, and complexities that I have never in my life seen in a person. I felt like cracking and telling him of the feelings that he caused in me, however, I knew that I couldn’t do that.

“Because, Frank, you’ve become my friend. Tell me it won’t be biased.” I laughed it off. A new emotion filled the punk’s eyes, but not one I could figure out so easily.

“That’s right. You biases little shit.” He laughed and got up properly. “Hey, you can say no, but I had a question for you, and I know it’s a lot to ask.” He bit his lip and toyed with the metal ring that was placed on the left side of his bottom lip. I nodded and told him to ask away. How bad could it be? “So, I know that I have this sort of small-ish amp, I was wondering if you wanted to come help me look for a bigger one, and some pedals. And I know it’s not cheap and it makes a lot of noise, but please? I’m working on saving for a microphone as well, and-“ I laughed and nodded.

“Yeah, sure. We can do that if you really want to. It’s your passion, we can do it.” I beamed. “When do you want to go?” I inquired.

“Maybe next week after work? Would that be okay?” He asked hopefully, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“Yeah, of course.” I smiled and went to make us both some coffee. “Hey, Frank?” I earned a hum in response. “When do you go back to university?” I threw the question out there. I was going back in a few weeks. And I’d finish in April. It was my last year. I started University when I was twenty three because I tried to go right after high school, but my mental health made it very hard, so I dropped out. I then took a few years off until I got a lot better and went off to art school. I had a job which also made it easier to live near the university, and it also made it easier to pay rent. I saved all my money over the past few years.

“I um… I don’t actually go to university. I don’t have enough money for it. Maybe one day.” Frank sighed. “I’d want to major in music. Would make it easier for me.” He sighed. I swallowed hard. Time to play the hero.

Notes