It was definitely the best fifty dollars Frank's mom ever spent. Short FRERARD one-shot. Read, review, rate and feel my love! :P
”Aw, I love it, Frankie!”
It was perfect. All crisp, clear pages looking like they had been shed straight from an angel’s wing and that wonderful smell emanating from it that just screams adventure; perfect. Just like him, just like my Gee. Apart from Gerard is an uncountable amount of times more perfect than that comic book ever was. Perhaps that’s because Gee isn’t perfect; he’s perfectly imperfect. Like, he knows that he isn’t completely flawless but that’s okay, because it’s his imperfections and ability to acknowledge them that make him perfect to me.
Of course, I didn’t see it like that then; neither the comic book nor Gerard. I just saw the comic book as something cool that I hoped Gerard, then turning ten, would love. And Gee-
Fuck that; I did think Gee was perfect, always have done, even when I was just some snotty-nosed seven-year-old beholding one of Batman’s holy testaments in my chubby little paws and smiling nervously up at my big best friend; eyes aglow with wonder at all of the things he could do, like drawing pretty pictures or climbing the tallest trees. But back to the comic. It was Gee’s tenth birthday and I, determined to outdo Mikey, had insisted on dragging my mom through Belleville’s comic book store for hours until my expertly-trained (by Gee, of course) found it; the perfect present for my perfect best friend. Mom at first had said that there was no way she was spending fifty dollars on a comic book when I could just get him one for two dollars across the street, but after my, as Gee calls it, undeniable puppy-dog look she gave in.
And it was worth it. Oh so worth it.
”Wow, Gee! This is incredible!”
“Really? Thanks, Frankie. Glad you like it.”
“I love it!”
The comic book came back into play three years later, on my own tenth birthday, when Gerard gave me the best present anyone ever could have; he drew me a picture. But it was so much more than that, so much more than the meaningful pencil curves and delicate felt-tip splodges, it meant that he remembered how much I put into his tenth birthday present all those years ago. He had always known how much I love his artwork, especially his superhero drawings, and so it meant that what some may consider to be a thoughtless present something indescribably special.
It was, of course, a drawing of Batman. It wasn’t, however, at all like the comic book version; this was based off of all the things I said I didn’t like about the caped crusader. In short, he had drawn Batman exactly how my ten-year-old mind had wanted to see him, meaning that he ended up being about half of his actual height and skinny; Converse on his feet and the Nirvana logo replacing the yellow bat on his chest; a soft smirk on his lips as opposed to his hard line of apathy. Okay, maybe it wasn’t so much a drawing of Batman as a drawing of the superhero that I wanted to be. But that just made it mean all the more to me.
When he gave it to me, a nervous red taint to his pale cheeks, I had actually squealed like a girl at a boy-band concert. Squealed and jumped straight into the unsuspecting thirteen-year-old’s arms, thus somehow spawning one of the greatest tickle wars of all time.
I think that’s when I got my first real crush, on my tenth birthday and on my raven-haired best friend, at the exact moment that I saw just how awesome he is.
”Gee, I’m scared.”
“Don’t be, I’m here; I’ll be your Batman.”
“And I’ll be your Robin!”
“God, I love you, Frankie.”
I guess a lot of people might find it funny or weird that I have a comic book to thank for my first kiss. Hell, I find it funny. Not at all weird though, but then again, that’s probably because I am weird. Gerard had talked me into, with his deep pools of brown and gently curved lips, watching this or that new horror film with him. I would have said no, but I was a cocky fifteen-year-old boy being told that he was a chicken; what else could I do?
It was after the film that the comic book worked it’s magic once again, or rather memories from it did, when I was settling down to go to sleep on Gerard’s bedroom floor. I couldn’t get images of Freddie (the film had been Nightmare on Elm Street) from my childlike mind and I suddenly found myself feeling very scared, very weak and very, very small. So, doing the only thing that my fear-impaired mind, could think of, I crawled into bed next to Gerard. I had thought that he was already asleep, or at least close enough to not notice the lanky punk-kid curled up into him, but apparently I’m not the quietest of people when I move around and so he was wide awake. Wide awake and feeling extremely guilty for making me scared, spurring him on to wrap his arms around me and comfort me like he always has done.
This time was different though; this time when he pulled the same routine of saying that he’s my Batman, the one person who can protect me from everything without even having to use superpowers, and me saying that I’d be his Robin, the one who’ll always be right here with him, he rounded it off by saying that he loves me. Something that suddenly made me feel like I’d never have to be scared of anything ever again. Why? Because Gee’s my motherfucking Batman.
I responded, as anyone in the arms of Gerard Way would, by pressing my lips carefully to his; everything that’s good in the world tingling in my veins as his own beam of appreciation pressed back against my moonlit grin.
”Shit, Gee I’m so fucking sorry!”
“Chill, Babe, it’s fine. It was only an accident, I’m not mad at you, Robin.”
“Hey, Frankie, don’t cry; I’m not mad, see?”
“But you loved that comic and I threw it out!”
“Frankie, I never loved that comic; it’s just a collection of pictures sewn together. What I loved about is what it meant to me and everything that it meant to me is you, Frankie. I love you, Robin.”
“I love you too, Batman.”
I threw it out last week, by accident of course; I killed that which has been present in our life for twelve fucking years. I thought he was going to be furious, yell at me, maybe even cry as much as I did when I realised what I’d done.
He just held me and told me something that made me see just how much I really do love my Gee; he told me that he only loved the comic because of the memories of us that it held, but who needs memories when you’ve got the real thing?
When he’s got his Robin and I’ve got my Batman right here, right now; forever fighting against whatever life throws at us.
A/N: Thank you very much for reading and sorry for the beyond-crappiness of this, I hope that you like it. Please let me know what you think! :)