Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Just Two Men...
Boy's of Summer
0 reviewsAfter returning home from art school, Gerard is avoiding Frank until Mikey set's him up, however when Frank finally confronts him. He is confronted with a larger reality, that his feelings haven't ...
1Ambiance
A Year and half later, Summer:
I can see Frank pointing down to something and excitedly trying to get me to look as well. From across the river, he is leaning dangerously far over the railing but is too intent on getting me to look down at the something interesting to notice. I, however, can't help but keep my eyes on him. His peculiar Mohawk, shorter in the back and hanging in front of his dazzling hazel-green eyes, flying adrift in the spray from the falls below. I wonder where we are, but only catch the scenery directly around Frank. His mouth moves but the words are vague and i can only watch him lean further over, more captivated at just looking at him than interested in what he has to show me. Then without moving a muscle, I don't even know if I screamed, or can scream, he loses his balance and tumbles over the railing, instantly getting lost in the mist below. I feel...
*
Frank chewed on his lip ring again until a sharp pain reminded him to stop, but within minutes he was again gnawing on it absent mindedly. The unsheathed cup of coffee in his hand was a little too hot, but the text emblazoned on his cell phone distracted his attention. Having received it moments before, he stared at the plain unapologetic black words incredulously.
"Since Thursday." It read.
"Happen to know where he is?" He typed back. He impatiently sipped at the piping hot liquid and cursed when it scalded his tongue. He set it on the counter and added a dash of cream. He opened his phone on the first buzz.
"Filter."
"Son of a bitch." He cursed aloud, and typed "Thanks, Mikes." In response and slipped the phone back into his foodie pocket. Sipping his coffee was all Frank could to keep himself from throwing it across the cafe in bad form. Luckily, Filter was in walking distance of his location, but the truth of his realization stung and numbed quicker than the deadened sensation in his mouth.
He heard through the mutual grapevine that Gerard returned home about a week ago, and although he gave him an appropriate amount of time that actually ate at his anxiety, he still hadn't called. He knew that Gerard hadn't forgotten; how could he? Frank and Mikey were still close, and regardless if they hadn't spoken in months, Gerard knew Frank would be waiting for that one call them moment he landed in Jersey. Then the idea that he had actually been home almost another week prior turned Frank's stomach acidic. What was his deal? Craving confrontation, he struck out in the direction of Filter about seven blocks away with determination, forgetting his coffee on the condiment counter.
Gerard bit the tip of his tongue again when he became unhappy with his line, and cursed at having to erase it as well as the smart sensation. The table wobbled slightly beneath the pressure of his hand, but he steadied it with his foot and again swept his hand across the page, a thin dark line following behind. His phone began to vibrate next to his hand, and before opening it he noticed his brother's name flashing.
"Franks on his way. Sry if that's my bad." A cold guilty knot constricted like a boa in his stomach. Immediately he put his hand over his stack of pencils and considered slipping out the back, but hesitated. After a moment chewing on his tongue, he decided to leave but not in a hurry- for whatever reason. He began sliding his sketchbook and computer into his messenger bag, when his shoulders began to prickle. Without turning, he knew he was caught.
"Going somewhere?" Frank's characteristic deep voice, peculiar for such a short individual but appropriate for a spit fire like him, caressed his ears. And those exact words slithered through his head, caressed; Frank's voice caressed. "You recognize me, G? My hairs not that different."
He was somewhat correct, Frank's longer hair was less punk and more rock, but Gerard would recognize him with long hair or no hair, fifty feet away and without glasses even if he needed them. That's how well he knew his form; it wasn't just his voice or personality. What took him aback was actually despite how much he avoided him the last week or so, Gerard was as grateful to see Frankie as a swimmer was for the first breath of air. Looking at him across the room for the first time in ages he felt like he was breathing again
"Naw, Frankie, really, it's just so good to see you." He marched across the cafe in only a few strides and desperately wrapped his arms around him. The difference in height was almost comical but there was nothing funny about two halves of one love coming back together, Frank imagined this is what that 'movie shit' was as his anger melted away.
Without presence of mind, he leaned up and searched for Gerard's mouth like before. The adrenaline pumping through his veins was an antidote to reason, and without needing one, Gerard moved down and took his first love back in a firm and adoring kiss, ignoring the world around them. It was blissful, the warmth, his taste, the familiar pinch of Frank's lip ring against his teeth, but after the first persistent swipe of Frank's lustful tongue, guilt twisted again in his gut and reason came rushing back to him. Gerard was the first to pull away, and he physically held Frank at an arms distance for safety.
"What is it?" He questioned sensing something amiss.
"I can't jump into this like before. I, um, it’s been awhile and we should catch up before we get ahead of ourselves." He laughed nervously because truth was he wanted him all over again, and their first rule was to act on impulse as long as it was there. However, the truth was surprisingly that Gerard's feelings hadn't' changed for Frank but he also had met someone else, someone special, and it was a girl.
I can see Frank pointing down to something and excitedly trying to get me to look as well. From across the river, he is leaning dangerously far over the railing but is too intent on getting me to look down at the something interesting to notice. I, however, can't help but keep my eyes on him. His peculiar Mohawk, shorter in the back and hanging in front of his dazzling hazel-green eyes, flying adrift in the spray from the falls below. I wonder where we are, but only catch the scenery directly around Frank. His mouth moves but the words are vague and i can only watch him lean further over, more captivated at just looking at him than interested in what he has to show me. Then without moving a muscle, I don't even know if I screamed, or can scream, he loses his balance and tumbles over the railing, instantly getting lost in the mist below. I feel...
*
Frank chewed on his lip ring again until a sharp pain reminded him to stop, but within minutes he was again gnawing on it absent mindedly. The unsheathed cup of coffee in his hand was a little too hot, but the text emblazoned on his cell phone distracted his attention. Having received it moments before, he stared at the plain unapologetic black words incredulously.
"Since Thursday." It read.
"Happen to know where he is?" He typed back. He impatiently sipped at the piping hot liquid and cursed when it scalded his tongue. He set it on the counter and added a dash of cream. He opened his phone on the first buzz.
"Filter."
"Son of a bitch." He cursed aloud, and typed "Thanks, Mikes." In response and slipped the phone back into his foodie pocket. Sipping his coffee was all Frank could to keep himself from throwing it across the cafe in bad form. Luckily, Filter was in walking distance of his location, but the truth of his realization stung and numbed quicker than the deadened sensation in his mouth.
He heard through the mutual grapevine that Gerard returned home about a week ago, and although he gave him an appropriate amount of time that actually ate at his anxiety, he still hadn't called. He knew that Gerard hadn't forgotten; how could he? Frank and Mikey were still close, and regardless if they hadn't spoken in months, Gerard knew Frank would be waiting for that one call them moment he landed in Jersey. Then the idea that he had actually been home almost another week prior turned Frank's stomach acidic. What was his deal? Craving confrontation, he struck out in the direction of Filter about seven blocks away with determination, forgetting his coffee on the condiment counter.
Gerard bit the tip of his tongue again when he became unhappy with his line, and cursed at having to erase it as well as the smart sensation. The table wobbled slightly beneath the pressure of his hand, but he steadied it with his foot and again swept his hand across the page, a thin dark line following behind. His phone began to vibrate next to his hand, and before opening it he noticed his brother's name flashing.
"Franks on his way. Sry if that's my bad." A cold guilty knot constricted like a boa in his stomach. Immediately he put his hand over his stack of pencils and considered slipping out the back, but hesitated. After a moment chewing on his tongue, he decided to leave but not in a hurry- for whatever reason. He began sliding his sketchbook and computer into his messenger bag, when his shoulders began to prickle. Without turning, he knew he was caught.
"Going somewhere?" Frank's characteristic deep voice, peculiar for such a short individual but appropriate for a spit fire like him, caressed his ears. And those exact words slithered through his head, caressed; Frank's voice caressed. "You recognize me, G? My hairs not that different."
He was somewhat correct, Frank's longer hair was less punk and more rock, but Gerard would recognize him with long hair or no hair, fifty feet away and without glasses even if he needed them. That's how well he knew his form; it wasn't just his voice or personality. What took him aback was actually despite how much he avoided him the last week or so, Gerard was as grateful to see Frankie as a swimmer was for the first breath of air. Looking at him across the room for the first time in ages he felt like he was breathing again
"Naw, Frankie, really, it's just so good to see you." He marched across the cafe in only a few strides and desperately wrapped his arms around him. The difference in height was almost comical but there was nothing funny about two halves of one love coming back together, Frank imagined this is what that 'movie shit' was as his anger melted away.
Without presence of mind, he leaned up and searched for Gerard's mouth like before. The adrenaline pumping through his veins was an antidote to reason, and without needing one, Gerard moved down and took his first love back in a firm and adoring kiss, ignoring the world around them. It was blissful, the warmth, his taste, the familiar pinch of Frank's lip ring against his teeth, but after the first persistent swipe of Frank's lustful tongue, guilt twisted again in his gut and reason came rushing back to him. Gerard was the first to pull away, and he physically held Frank at an arms distance for safety.
"What is it?" He questioned sensing something amiss.
"I can't jump into this like before. I, um, it’s been awhile and we should catch up before we get ahead of ourselves." He laughed nervously because truth was he wanted him all over again, and their first rule was to act on impulse as long as it was there. However, the truth was surprisingly that Gerard's feelings hadn't' changed for Frank but he also had met someone else, someone special, and it was a girl.
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