All We Need is Daylight

It’s a regular goddamn Monday. Or what used to feel like a regular Monday before Frank’s life became anything but regular. He’s sitting here in his German class wanting to tötet sich. He can’t get Gerard off his mind. Gerard is so cute when he wakes up in the morning. His eyes are at half mast and he yawns in the cutest way. He has told Frank that he’s an asshole before coffee, but either that’s a lie or Frank’s the exception. He could daydream about that boy all day and night, which he has done, and still not get bored of him.

Last night he and Gerard stayed up until two in the morning telling each other stories. Gerard tried to retell Beowulf to him, only he kept getting the details wrong, and every time he got them wrong, Frank would laugh at him, and Gerard would bury his face into Frank’s chest. Frank told him about going on day trips to New York with his mom, and how he won one of those how many candy corn are there in the jar contests at school, but then he ate all the candy corn and threw up on the family computer. They talked about how Gerard didn’t learn how to ride a bike until he was fourteen, and how Gerard also didn’t learn how to drive until he was twenty. They talked about Frank burning his finger on the stove and how he had to sleep in his mom’s bed holding an ice pack that night and he thought that the white blister on his finger would be there forever. They talked about Gerard painting a whole line of his own Christmas decorations that Mikey broke because Mikey was four and didn’t realize glass breaks when you smash it on the ground.

Then they kissed and Gerard was the big spoon and Frank slept really well because Gerard was holding him. He woke up a few times in the night, very hazy, never awake for more than a few seconds, and he could feel Gerard’s arm on him still. Gerard’s face had been pressed into the pillow, and he looked like a brick, and his messy dark hair made him look too beautiful to be human.

Waking up was blasphemous, because it meant they had to part. Gerard has the best cereal taste, he didn’t know how much he valued that in a person, but now that he’s met Gerard, he knows why it’s important. Gerard has that Special K stuff with the strawberries, and Frank remembers his mom eating that and he didn’t know it was good until he tried it this morning and discovered a whole world of possibilities. Gerard doesn’t drink the milk in the cereal bowl and watched Frank intently when he slurped it from the bowl. Kissing Gerard is nice when they’ve both brushed their teeth beforehand. Gerard dug through many old bags that he hides in the empty cabinet on his TV stand that he pretends doesn’t have crap in it, and he found one of those free toothbrushes that the dentist gives you when you go visit, so now Frank has his very own toothbrush at Gerard’s apartment.

He misses him. He left Gerard barely an hour ago, but it’s been way too long, and Frank is having withdrawal symptoms. He’s got a headache and a heartache, and they’re both Gerard’s fault. Also his fault that he forgot he needed his textbooks for class and had to forego coffee in order to run all the way across campus to retrieve them from his dorm before he sprinted here.

It’s kind of stupid, but Frank is pretty sure he should stay in the dorm tonight. He can explain away staying out on weekends somewhere, but can Frank really explain to Ray why he’s not there on weekdays? Especially since Frank’s first class every Tuesday and Thursday are with Ray and Mikey both? Ray is definitely a good friend for pretending like it’s not weird that Frank isn’t there. He’s a very good friend for not prying too much even when he knows Frank is going through shit. Frank doesn’t have any plans on telling anyone about Gerard, though. Too many people already know, if more find out, it’s going to be hard to keep straight who knows what. Even if he is a close enough friend with most of these guys to know they won’t go blabbing, it’s still a lot of pressure to trust so many people with something as monumental as Frank having a boyfriend.

He feels his phone buzz ten minutes before the class is over. It’s getting close to the end of the first semester and Frank is still not used to classes not ending by the signal of a bell. This class has one of those professors that does not like it when you check your phone in class and will dock points for seeing one, which is borderline abusive if you ask him. Frank doesn’t have that kind of courage in him to actually read the text in class, even though he hopes that it’s from Gerard.

The phone buzzes a few more times, which is weird because no one ever really texts him besides whenever Pete finds a meme that he thinks everyone needs to know about. Frank uses texting as a way to get important messages across to people who are not in close vicinity to him, and not much more than that. What if it’s Gerard though? Maybe Gerard misses Frank as much as he misses him. Wouldn’t it be adorable and cheesy as fuck if they send each other texts during the day? Like if Frank sees a worm after rain, he can send it to Gerard and say “it you.” Or, more likely, since it’s about to start snowing for real sometime in the coming weeks, he’ll see a black bird against white snow and write something very inspirational about it to Gerard and then submit it to a poetry competition and win a snowmobile.

Maybe he’s lost in a reverie. Frank looks up a little while later to realize everyone is starting to stand up around him, and he hadn’t realized it was the end of class. He starts to shove his textbook and notebook into his backpack so that he can, as the German’s say, yeet.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and sees that it’s not Gerard texting him that he misses him, which makes him a little bit sad. It’s also not Pete sending him the latest famous cat. Instead, it’s Patrick. In all caps it reads: “FRANK OH MY GOD, I HAVE TO TALK TO YOU!” The second, third, and fourth texts are all pretty much the same with minor additions, telling Frank it’s good news, rather than bad in case the original text had worried him, and to meet him for lunch at eleven if he can.

Frank texts back that he can do lunch at eleven, and then he sends a picture of a sad face graffitied on the wall to Gerard and writes, “when you’re not with me.”

Oddly enough, Mikey sends Gerard a very similar text at around the same time that Frank receives his. Mikey’s says only, “we’re having lunch at 12.” He doesn’t ask or offer anything other than the fact that they are doing that, so Gerard doesn’t think he has a say on it, he’s just expected to attend. That’s Mikey for you.

He has to ask Mikey where they’re having lunch, because he doesn’t specify, and Mikey tells him they’re eating at his apartment, which is so much work because Gerard has to walk all the way back from the ice rink to his apartment to have lunch and then all the way back from his apartment to the ice rink later for work and practice. It’s so much work, and Gerard would really rather go to the dining hall like he usually does for lunch because he’s an employee and he gets free lunch and he likes free things.

If Mikey wants to have lunch in his apartment, there’s probably a good reason for that, because it’s a long walk for the both of them, about twenty minutes away from the center of campus. So, if Mikey would rather go that extra distance then use the meal plan he spent too much money on, then it must be important.

More importantly, Gerard sends Frank a text back of a duck wearing a hat, because he thinks Frank will appreciate it.

A few hours go by and Gerard beats Mikey to his apartment by a solid fifteen minutes. He prepares himself a Way family lunch. A slice of cold turkey on white bread smothered in enough mustard that you can’t tell the turkey is from Walmart and the bread is just a little bit stale. Not extremely stale, but like, a tad. Also grapes, because they’re cheap and Gerard likes it when the only thing he needs to do to prepare fruit is stick it under a sink and then into his mouth. Ah, old times. And current times. As has been established, Gerard can’t cook.

Mikey, who Gerard is now extremely glad doesn’t know the passcode to the door or have a key, slams on the buzzer for Gerard to let him in. Up until recently, Gerard did not know that it wasn’t particularly normal to still have a buzz system in an apartment. This was his first apartment, he moved in at the end of last semester and thought it was normal until Pete told him that he thought it was a myth made up by the show Friends.

Gerard lets him in, if only to stop the relentless buzzing. That poor woman from The Bee Movie, how did she put up with it?

He assumes that Mikey will accept the same subpar sandwich so begins making him one, and he’s finished coating a slice of bread in too much mustard when Mikey opens the door.

“Brother,” Mikey says, and that’s one of those weird Mikey greetings, he supposes.

“Sibling.” Gerard can play.

“Is that dad’s old recipe?” Mikey asks, looking at the bread in Gerard’s hand.

“Sure is.”

“Excellent,” Mikey responds, and he thinks that it’s probably not sarcasm, but you can never tell with this boy. “There’s a burger station in the dining hall, Gerard. Do you know how many burgers I have consumed in the last three months?”

“Gotta be over four.”

“At least five,” Mikey nods.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

Gerard slides the sandwich at Mikey and he takes a deep breath in, before eating in like a solid four bites.

“Why does mustard taste so fucking good?”

“It’s the mustard,” Gerard nods. There are certain times when he can really tell that they’re related. Usually it’s when they have those telepathic conversations, but sometimes all it takes is a shared childhood and some mustard.

“Alright, perfect,” Mikey says, before he grabs a box of cereal, though thankfully not the kind Frank had liked this morning, and he starts digging his hand through it. Another childhood memory. Mikey never drank milk out of the carton, but he always did get his hands all over the goddamn cereal, and he always kept the toy in the cereal box, because he was younger and he cried way louder than Gerard ever could.

“Gerard,” Mikey says, with a face. It’s his regular face, but it’s like a trademarked face anyway. “Alright, I’m gonna lay it all out and see what you have to say, okay? No interrupting.” He takes a handful of Cookie Crisp and eats it as seriously as someone who’s eating miniature cookies can look.

“Okay,” Gerard nods.

“I said not to interrupt!”

“What? But that was just me confirming that I understood.”

“You’re interrupting, stop, the adults are talking,” Mikey says, in that Mikey sort of way, so Gerard decides not to say anything at all.

“Alright, I’ve got a few puzzle pieces, and when you put them together they tell a very particular story. Here goes,” Mikey cracks his knuckles. “We both know that you have a major, debilitating, disgusting crush on Frank. That’s just something we know. Second thing we know is that Frank, for whatever reason, has been very depressed these last few weeks, big bummer, but what’s there to do? We also know that about a month ago, there was an article in the school paper about a gay hockey player on the team. Alright, so here’s where the pieces start to come together. Ray mentioned that Frank hasn’t been sleeping in their dorm for a few nights now. Strangely enough, the last time I saw you was at the movie theater, where it was discovered that Frank has suddenly, miraculously found a girlfriend. However, at the theater, even despite hearing that Frank had a girlfriend, which should probably have killed you, you were quite a bit happier than you have been for some time, instead of soul crushing depression like when you thought Frank was dating that girl, Hayley. You told me it was because Frank had agreed to return to the team, and I believed you because I hadn’t connected the dots yet. But then, almost like the final piece, Frank ran out in the middle of the movie, and you ran out after him. We all thought he had to puke, and you were making sure he was okay. Neither of you ever came back, and I have a sneaking suspicion that if I ask Ray, he will tell me that Frank didn’t go back to the dorm that night either. Those are all the pieces, Gerard, would you mind drawing me a picture?”

“I…” Gerard starts. There’s pretty much no way out of this one. Mikey has backed him up into a corner, and there’s nothing he can say to get out of it. He realizes he’s defeated before he even got to put on his armor. Denying it at this point would be pointless, so he decides to own up. “Okay, so you can’t tell anyone.”

“I fucking knew it, you’re absolutely hopeless at lying to me,” Mikey says, shaking his head and feeling victorious. Gerard is easier to decipher than a maze on a kid’s menu.

“Yes, okay, I’m a bad liar. But seriously, Frank and I are trying to keep it a secret. Don’t even tell Frank that you know, okay, I have to be the one to tell him that you know myself. And god, he’ll probably know that I didn’t tell you myself, because we both know what you’re like, I think it’ll be obvious that you figured it out on your own, but I still don’t want him to be upset, so if I chicken out, and don’t say anything to him, you just gotta pretend like you don’t know.”

“Please,” Mikey says, making a face and then eating cereal. “You think I’d tell? When have I ever told you anyone’s secret ever?”

“I wouldn’t know, Mikey, that’s why it’s a secret.”

“People tell me everything,” Mikey says, and the sound of his voice is like he considers this to be an actual problem that has troubled him on many occasions. “If you only knew the things I’ve heard… but back to Frank.”

“You have to promise,” Gerard says.

“I promise. You need my pinky?” Mikey asks, and Gerard shakes his head. “You have to tell me though, how long has this been going on? You didn’t break his heart or anything, did you? That’s not why he was-”

“No! God, no. I would never do anything to hurt him, not ever. That was something else he’s working through, and I’m helping him out, because he’s my boyfriend now and I would do anything to make him happy.”

“And you’re not going to tell me what happened, I suppose,” Mikey asks.

“Nope,” Gerard says, and the very idea of Gerard telling anyone any of Frank’s secrets is almost laughable. Gerard would help Frank cover up an assassination plot. He would help Frank make a crop circle if he asked. “It’s, Frank is… Mikey this is big. Like it’s bigger than anything. Frank is so, oh my god. Mikey, I love him. Like love love him. I met his mom yesterday. Like it’s serious, Mikes.”

“Hold up. His mom? Already? You didn’t tell me how long you two have been dating. How long have you been lying to me, Gerard?”

“Like… three days,” Gerard says.

“Christ,” Mikey puts his hands to his head.

“Mikey, it’s not like… it’s, oh my god! So, he’s my best friend. In the whole world. More than you, well a lot more than you, but like just picture it, okay? I have liked him since he came here, you know that, and it turns out, he’s liked me that long too. So, when all the pieces came together and we both realized… it felt kind of natural to say I love you. And it’s not a rush into it, like it’s so different from anything I’ve ever felt. You ever been in love Mikey? Because there’s a kind of love that you know isn’t just fake. It’s not like, oh it’s the beginning when things are all nice and sparkly. I know that I love him in a really deep big way. I feel like, god, Mikey, I can see myself marrying him. Not now, in like a few years, but I can see it, easily.”

“My brother is kind of a slut,” Mikey says. Then there’s a crunch because it’s not called Cookie Crisp for nothing.

“I’m really not.”

“A slut for Frank, at least.”

“Oh, well I am that.”

The two of them look at each other, and Gerard smiles, because he’s thinking about how this morning Frank sat where Mikey’s sitting and he gave Gerard a detailed explanation of why strawberries are the foundation of every great breakfast food including, toast, cereal, waffles, oat meal, and pop tarts.

Frank. He wonders what Frank is doing right now. He wonders if Frank is thinking about him. Frank is probably being really cute right now. He can’t wait until he sees him again. They can talk about comic books and Gerard can give him more comic books to read, or they could watch a comic book show, or Gerard could just kiss him until they fall asleep. Or Frank can go with him to the grocery store and then show him how to cook something, and they can talk about music, and movies and comic books. Frank doesn’t even know anything about comic books, but he likes it when Gerard talks about comic books because he said Gerard is cute when he’s talking about comic books. Frank is cute when he’s just talking.

“You’re thinking about Frank right now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Gerard says, rather dreamily.

“Disgusting.” A signature Mikey face that can be purchased at your local Walmart is coupled with the word. Gerard knows Mikey is happy for him. He knows that you’d have to twist Mikey’s arm off for him to admit to it. It wouldn’t matter if he wasn’t happy for Gerard, because Frank is worth doing anything for.

It’s stupid, god, it’s fucking stupid. But he loves Frank more than he has ever loved anything before. Like, he likes Frank more than comic books. Gerard loves comic books. Frank is a new color, a color that shouldn’t exist but he’s there anyway. He’s pretty, god is he pretty. He’s funny. He’s insightful. He’s really goddamn smart, like he is such a good student compared to Gerard who regularly turned work in late. He’s that feeling of climbing into bed after one of those godawful days, and the sheets are warm and have been waiting for you all day. He’s the crackle of a vinyl player before the song plays. He’s a salted caramel candle from a department store. He’s like water, and like fire. Frank is light and the sky and happiness. He’s the muse, the poet, the very ink on the page. He brightens everything and colors the world. Frank is daylight.

Notes