Pretty In Punk

Frank’s never been to a party before. He almost entirely forgets that he had agreed to going with Gerard at all; he’s only reminded by the boy at lunchtime. Gerard brings it up casually at the table, asking, “So, Frank, are you ready to get lit tonight?”
Frank about chokes on his food at the reminder of the whole thing. All of the sudden, he’s very nervous. Not only has he never gone to a party, but he’s never drank, smoked, or gotten high. There seems to be a daunting learning curve to it all, one that Frank is not looking forward to navigating. He can’t bear the thought of making some sort of embarrassment out of himself, which he saw as inevitable. His humiliation is regular like clockwork; only he never knows exactly what form would bludgeon him out of nowhere or to what extent. In all reality, Frank rarely makes a fool of himself; what with all the time he spends fixating on it, he practically avoids it at all costs. Acting like a dork is usually more up Brendon or Pete’s alley. They don’t care, at least not as much as Frank would, if kids laugh at them, and Frank knows why. Brendon and Pete grew up learning how to take care of themselves and accept who they are. Frank missed this milestone somehow, and Josh must’ve too; for both he and Frank were the anally retentive members of their friend group. Mikey would probably fall into Josh and Frank’s category, and Gerard more so with Brendon and Pete. Who knows though; maybe Gerard will surprise Frank and be a totally insecure person. Frank doesn’t really see that happening what with Gerard having been fully naked the other night, but hey, there’s still time for the tables to turn.
“I don’t really… get lit,” Frank murmurs. He has his eyes lowered so that they can’t see over Gerard’s chest. Gerard is sitting across from him. Frank would rather he sat on him.
Gerard frowns, asking, “What, you mean you don’t drink or anything?”
Frank shakes his head while all of his friends speculate. Pete cuts in, “That’s a fucking lie, Iero!”, to which Brendon responds, “No; he’s serious. He literally never has; think about it. Every time we get lit, Frank takes a raincheck.”
They all turn to look at Frank, and Mikey asks, “So, why not, Frank?”
“Are you scared?” Pete teases.
“You’re a dick,” Brendon tells Pete. He then turns to Frank, telling, “If you don’t want to do anything, it’s fine, Frank. You do whatever keeps you comfy.”
Gerard’s eyes are as big as saucers. Having smoked weed since eighth grade and drank since ninth, he can’t imagine that Frank had never so much as had one sip of alcohol. There was Frank again with his conflicting duality. Frank literally hangs around a crowd that is into partying; Urie is one of the biggest known potheads among students, yet he has yet to do anything of the sort. The opportunity was always there, but for some reason, he never took it. “So, you’re not gonna drink or anything? Just a warning; I’ll be drunk. Like, real drunk.” Gerard pauses, adding, “Well, or high, or both.”
“Well, I didn’t say that,” Frank responds honestly. “Like, I dunno, I might try something.”
Brendon’s eyes now expand, along with Pete’s. Brendon cheers, “Frank, we’re going to pop your good boy cherry!”
Frank blushes a little and laughs, scratching his head. “If you wanna put it that way.”
“Oh, he does,” Pete jokes, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“So it’s settled then?” Gerard asks.
Frank nods. “I guess so. How about we have practice and head over to your place at 7?”
“Sounds good,” Gerard agrees. “I hope none of you guys are heavy drinkers, by the way; I don’t have a whole ton to go around.”
“I can bring weed,” Brendon says softly, his eyes darting around a bit. Brendon gets very paranoid when he talks about his smoking habits; he’s afraid that for whatever reason, everyone around him is listening at that very moment.
“I have Mike’s Hard,” Josh chimes in.
Pete blows a raspberry. “You mean alcoholic Kool-Aid? Where did you get that garbage?”
Josh furrows his brows as his cheeks turn the slightest bit pink, stammering, “M-my sister! I don’t like beer, okay?”
“I get it,” Pete says, standing up. He walks over to Josh and pulls him into a headlock, tickling the boy like mad. “Little Joshie doesn’t wanna hurt his tummy.”
Josh scrambles out from Pete’s death grip, face red from laughing. “Pete, go sit the fuck down.”
Practice can’t come soon enough. Frank is worried about what will happen for most of the day; not only has he agreed to go to a party, but he’s practically locked in to do stuff this time. He knows his friends well enough to be aware that if he really wanted to, he could just decide not to drink or smoke or anything like that. They wouldn’t pressure him, just give him a good-natured ribbing at the worst. Still, Frank dreads the whole event. All he wants to do after school is head over to practice and unwind playing some music. It’s not a lot to ask for, he thinks. Apparently, it just is; Frank’s entire life is in shambles within two minutes of arriving at Josh’s house.
His amplifier is blown. Or maybe some wires are fried, or got knocked loose, or maybe there’s some other technical explanation that’s flying over his head. Whatever the reason, all he knows is that they were already running short on speakers and amps, so without his that day, they cannot practice. Not only that, but with their show coming up, they not only need to practice, but they need to have the fucking materials necessary to perform. In Frank’s book, it’s a catastrophe, the second worse thing to happen to him all this month (behind only dying his hair pink). However, maybe his friends are more opportunistic, or perhaps they just have a small problem with partying, because they all see it as an invitation to head over and start partying early.
Frank is very nervous, like, stomach gurgling arsenic nervous, termites gnawing away at your throat nervous, hands holding a quarter pipe of dynamite and wondering if it’s a dud as the fuse is lit nervous. He doesn’t want to go, but he drives over there, Gerard happy as a clam, totally oblivious in the passenger seat, at least, that’s what Frank thinks.
But Gerard can tell something is wrong. While he’s still trying to fully understand Frank as a person, he knows the boy well enough to tell if something is upsetting him, and man, does Frank seem on edge to him. He doesn’t mention it during the car ride; he doesn’t want to say anything in front of Mikey for fear of embarrassing Frank. So he waits until they pull up to the Way’s house and his little brother is well out of earshot before asking, “Frankie, are you okay?”
“What do you mean?” Frank asks.
“Look, I can tell something’s bothering you,” Gerard begins. “So you might as well get it over with and tell me what it is.”
Frank hesitates, then answers, “I’m nervous, Gerard. All these people are gonna be there, I’ll be drunk… I just don’t want to embarrass myself. Or get into any trouble, you know?”
Gerard chuckles. “What are you talking about? It’s only us, Mikes, Josh, Brendon, and Pete.”
Frank’s eyebrows raise. “Wait, what? No one else is coming?”
Shaking his head as he continues to laugh, Gerard answers, “No, idiot! I’m new here; I hardly know anyone else!”
Initially cross, Frank softens, realizing how unnecessarily worried he’d been. “Good point.”
The two head inside, Frank feeling more at ease than he had all day.

Notes

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