What's My Age Again

When Frank finally, finally gets home he is exhausted and he wants nothing more than to flop down on his bed, close his eyes and dream about the intriguing - and not forgetting totally hot - Gerard Way. Frank doesn't know what it is but the guy just has some endearing quality that makes him seem so warm and friendly. He's the kind of person, Frank can already tell, that you would kill that have for a best friend. All he wants to do is go to sleep and dream that he and Gerard are best friends - or perhaps even more - so it's an unwelcome surprise when he opens his bedroom door to see his best friend, Ray Toro, perching on the edge of his bed with a book in his hand.

Frank's mother neglected to tell him his friend was over so it's a little bit of a shock to see him sitting there like it's his own room, his own home, but Frank is used to Ray's weirdness - it's almost as wacky as his own weirdness, but not quite - so he doesn't let it get to him when Ray chuckles at his surprised expression. He shrugs off his backpack (which he is allowed to store in the staff room of the ice cream parlour because he goes straight from school to work) and flings it haphazardly into a corner of the room. He joins Ray on the bed, bouncing a little because he knows it annoys his friend, and then throws himself onto the bed, his the back of his head so close to slamming painfully into the wall.

"Ray." He says, sighing as he thinks about how he has two lots of homework for the next day and he has to work an extra hour shift to cover Ryan. When he asked the man why he couldn't be in to work he gave some half-assed excuse about having to go to a distant relations birthday celebration, but he knows Ryan after a year and a half of working with him, and he knows Ryan would never go to some depressing birthday party where he would be prodded and examined and told 'how fast he's growing up' so he can only assume the dude is lying. He wouldn't tell Pete or Patrick that though; he's not a snitch, and there are certain things you just don't do if you don't want your workplace to be so full of tension you could slice through it with a blunt butter knife. Selling your fellow employees out when they're skiving off work is almost at the top of that list - right under sleeping with your boss, and there is no way Frank is sleeping with either of his bosses - and besides, Ryan probably has a very good reason as to why he can't be in tomorrow and is therefore forcing Frank to work another hour on top of his usual shift.

Ray doesn't answer, he just sighs deeply and Frank can hear him turning a page so he knows Ray is still reading. Ray hates to be disturbed when he's reading, but really this just gives him all the more inclination to irritate Ray and honestly?- the fucker shouldn't have decided to read on Frank's bed if he didn't want disturbed.

"Ray." Frank repeats, a little louder this time just to get under Ray's skin. The taller boy sighs heavily and fights to concentrate on his book - which is actually very interesting. The main antogonist is just about to get impaled on his school's pointy gate and if he squints hard enough he can pretend the characters name is Frank Iero.

"Ray. Ray Ray Ray." Frank chants over and over again until the word has lost all meaning and he's about to give up - really he is - when his friend lets out a pained sounding groan and closes his book so fast the cover makes a slapping sound against the paper. He then turns to where Frank is lying, his hair bobbing up and down quickly, almost hypnotically.

"Frankie, sweetie, can I ask you something?" He smiles thinly and scowls when he sees Frank, smiling innocently up at him. This is obviously a job well don even to him. "How do you fit so much stupid into such a tiny asshole?"

For a second Ray thinks he's got Frank, but of course he's never got Frank. The kid has a smart-ass answer for everything and it's impossible to catch him out - especially whilst on his favourite topic.

"Ah, I wouldn't know Ray dearest. I'm not a bottom." He gives Ray a somewhat apologetic look that would seem almost genuine if Ray didn't know how annoying Frank truly was behind his innocent exterior and shuffles along the bed so he's sitting next to his best friend. Their height difference is even more noticeable when they sit next to each other and Frank would honest to God feel ridiculous if he could see what they looked like now, but thankfully he can't and that spares him from the horror of self consciousness.

Ray would probably smack Frank if he makes any more comments about what role he plays in the bedroom, so he chooses to keep his mouth shut about that topic. Y'know, for the sake of his beautiful face. One thing he can't quite shut up about, it seems, is Gerard Fucking Way, who has been on his mind since the unnaturally attractive man bought a double coffee ice cream earlier on in the day. The flavour he chose only served to convince Frank further that Gerard was perfect; he respects anyone who orders a coffee flavoured ice cream, but you've be definitely got balls if you order a double coffee flavoured ice cream. To willingly subject yourself to double the overpowering, bittersweet flavour... Gerard has got to have balls, and Frank would like to know all about them.

"So I met a guy at work today." Frank begins, casually picking at his nails like he really is making just a passing comment. Ray, who has known him since he was five years old, knows better though and he readies himself for what is likely to be a two hour one-sided conversation on The Guy Frank Met At Work Today.

"Oh yeah?" Ray replies despondently.

"Mhm. Called Gerard."

"Right." Ray says out loud, and then in his head begins to count: one, two, three...

"Okay so you know I don't usually freak out about seeing unnaturally attractive men at work because you know me and I never do that right!- but seriously Ray you should have seen this one!- he had red hair! Red! And he ordered a double coffee ice cream! And paid in cash!"
Ray wants to interject that a lot of people pay in cash in an ice cream parlour but interrupting Frank when he's in his obsessive state is never a good idea, so he flops back on the bed and wishes he stayed in his own home rather than invading Frank's. It wouldn't spare him the two hour one-sided conversation - no, Frank would just tell him all of this at school the next day - but at least he wouldn't be having to deal wits this now - now, when he has an essay on crime and punishment due to be done tomorrow and approximately zero and a half hours to do it in.

"And anyway so he was on the phone with someone, I don't know who it was because I didn't ask 'cause that would be weird, y'know?- like, why would I listen in on his conversation, right?- but from what I could hear it sounded like he'd been in a car crash and he had this adorable plaster on his cheek and I just..."

Ray sighs and closes his eyes, falling back onto Frank's bed with a thump. When Frank starts on about subjects he's passionate about -mainly guitars and guys - it's easier to tune out and ignore it; adding little 'mhm's' whenever necessary. Ray figures he can do that for the next half an hour or so before Linda Iero inevitably will come in and ask if Ray wants a homemade cookie and some milk before he leaves. It's a subtly way of saying both, "my cooking is fucking incredible," and, "you need to leave now," at once. He likes Linda though, because she never tells him outright to get out of her house and, honestly, her cooking is fucking incredible. Much better than the pre-cooked shit Ray stuffs in the microwave whenever he says feeling hungry.

Frank is lucky enough to have his mother make his meals for him; although Frank swears up and down it's a perk of having an evening shift. Ray wouldn't know - he's never needed to work to make ends meet.

The taller boy is jolted out of his private thoughts when Frank's bony elbow meets his ribs - which fucking hurts, goddamnit, even if it was accidental - and he has no other option that to focus on what Frank is said saying.

"So like, if they were girls I'm thinking Cherry. Cherry has to be one of their names. And the other... I don't know. Lily maybe? I had a cat named Lily once. She bit me all the fucking time, Ray I swear to God! But that's good, right?- I mean, it means she's got spirit!" He's saying, and Ray has no clue what he's on about until he continues, and then he wishes he still had no clue what the boy was on about.

"So, hypothetically speaking, if we were to get married - which I'm not saying we will because we won't need a piece of paper to declare our love - but if we were to get married, would it be Way-Iero, or Iero-Way?"

He turns to Ray, a look of genuine indecisiveness on his face, and chews his bottom lip in a way Ray knows he only does when he's thinking really hard about something.

"Frank Iero-Way. Frank Way-Iero. Cherry Iero-Way. Lily Way-Iero." He is muttering to himself under his breath and Ray despairs of him, not only losing hope of his friend's sanity but also losing hope that he will get a homemade cookie tonight. He hasn't smelt cookie dough from the kitchen and usually, when Linda cooks, the wonderful smell backs up and gets all over the house. If he's not getting a cookie out of this there really is no reason to be here - except to support his best friend in his romantic escapades, and Frank doesn't deserve that since he
elbowed Ray earlier.

"That's it, I'm out of here." He exclaims, standing and grabbing his book from the bed, but he doubts Frank even hears him over the sound of his own mumbling.

***

Everyday I regret choosing the sixth floor apartment. It has a nice view, I can't deny that, but I refuse to climb six flights of stairs and I hate the elevator. I just can't get inside one of those metal, human death traps. If I'm not involved in a fatal accident then I'm pretty sure some weird Japanese prank show would do something with that thing with me someday: trap me in there with hidden cameras or something...I'm not paranoid. It's true.

After an infinitive number of stairs - because I hate stairs a little less than I hate the elevator - and my headache getting worse at every step, I reach the precious door of my precious apartment shared with my not so precious roommate: Brendon Urie.

He is sitting on the couch with a sad expression, a ps3 controller in hand and the screen showing The Last of Us.

"Did you beat the game? Or did the game beat you?" I sit at his side and try to forget the painful feeling running trough my muscles. The crash did a lot more damage that I first thought.

"Oh, it definitely beat me! It was so beautiful!... all the graphics, the story, the game was just pure perfection! Now I feel like I lost a friend." He sighs heavily and looks down at the controller in his hand pitifully. Then he looks back up at me and frowns, scrutinising me. "What the heck happen to you man? You get hit by a car or something?" He chuckles at his own joke, and I relish in the comical look on his face when I nod.

"I was inside the car, but whatever. Man, I'm so tired. And hungry. So very hungry." I put on my best puppy dog face and look at him meaningfully, batting my eyelashes.

"Oh no, get your ass to the kitchen! I'm not your servant!" He crosses his arms and looks straight ahead - though I choose to believe that's because he knows he can't resist my puppy dog face.

"Need I remind you that you owe me two months rent? Tuesday will be the third month that you haven't paid me for, I should really start looking for another - more responsible - roommate."

"Oh my God! You have the worst memory ever but you still manage to remember that! Why won't you just forget that tiny little, minor detail? Okay, just because you look like shit I'm gonna make some Ravioli, but this is strictly a one time thing. Got it?" He stands up and I nod happily, starting to get comfy on the couch.

"Gerard Way..." I hear from the kitchen, and I groan. People never let me relax.

"What?" I call out weakly.

"Why is there a shoe in the freezer?" He comes out of the kitchen holding a lone, black converse sneaker and I jump up excitedly, stretching out my arms to snatch my missing shoe.

"Oh, there you are! I've been looking for you for weeks!" I hug it to my chest and promise myself I'll never let it go again.

"At first I was scared about the bruise on your forehead, but you know what? Never mind, you're stupid as always. That's reassuring."

"It's not my forehead you should be wondering about, Brendon my friend." I giggle as I glance up at him and see him red in the face. Forehead jokes are the key to Brendon's rage.

"Have you ever been so annoyed by someone that even their breathing pisses you off?" He questions, cocking an eyebrow at me and I nod enthusiastically and make shooing motions at him to get him to make my food.

"I hate you!" He screams over his shoulder as he walks back to the kitchen.

---

In general, I am an asshole who enjoys other people's pain. That would explain why, at four in the morning, instead of sleeping like I should have been, I decided to text Brendon from the next room because I know he finds this extremely irritating. If there's one thing he loves it's sleep, and if there's one thing I love it's annoying Brendon. He always forgets to put his phone on silent and I can hear the chime of an incoming text from his room.

From: Stupid Way
To: Forehead Urie

Hey man! I just calculated 04:03
I'm 70 kilos and I just ate 500 grams of ravioli 04:03
That's means I'm 0.35% of Ravioli! 04:04

Not too long later I get a reply.

From: Forehead Urie
To: Stupid Way

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Notes

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