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You Can't Define Love
17 reviewsFrank's got an impossible question. Can Gerard give him an answer? FRERARD one-shot. Read, review, rate and feel my love :P
4Ambiance
You Can’t Define Love
“You’re not gonna get any sense out of him, bro. I’ve been trying since English and all he’s managed to do is confuse me with all of his Socrates bullshit.” Mikey warns me exasperatedly, gesturing to our best friend who is striding happily along next to him, a smug and satisfied smirk plastered onto his adorably youthful face. “Fucking Miss Jones and her Greek philosophy.” He grumbles in disdain at what his English teacher has unleashed upon us; a Frank Iero who believes that everything needs to be questioned and that nothing can have a proper answer. “All he’s been doing since ten this morning is asking people to tell him what shit is and all they’ve managed to do is either get confused or majorly pissed off. Do you know how many angry jocks we’ve had to run away from, Gee?” He pauses for dramatic effect, adjusting his trademark glasses. “Four! And two nerds. He angered the nerds, Gee! The motherfuckers who are supposed to understand this shit!”
I can’t help but chuckle at how seriously my little brother is taking Frank’s wind-up. Still, something inside of me views it as some sort of challenge. A challenge that cannot be declined.
“Look, Mikes, you go home and I’ll sort out our wannabe Socrates.” I look to Frank to see him nodding, his deep hazel eyes telling me that he accepts my challenge and that the game is on. I love getting into something with Frankie, always have done; we always make each other smile and his unique take on things never fails to make me feel truly blessed at knowing such an irresistibly cute guy. A guy that I’ve been infatuated with and fascinated by for years, a guy that gives my heart a reason to beat, a guy that knows me better than I know my comic collection, a guy whose lips look as though they were made to dance with mine; a guy who just so happens to mine and my brother’s best friend.
“Fine, I give up. Good luck to you, Gee. See you tomorrow, Frank!” And with that Mikey accelerated down the street away from us as fast as his skinny legs could carry him. I’m unsure if this is because Frankie really has worn him down or if it’s because he knows about my thing for Frank; either way, I’m happy to have the boy to myself.
We stop and our eyes narrow playfully at each other, his rose-petal like lips parting in a grin that tells me he thinks he’s already won and that I’m just wasting my time. But I know that in the end I’ll be the real winner because I got to make those lips smile. You see, Frank’s smile is unlike any other that my eyes have ever been drawn to and, subsequently, make me feel unlike any other smile has ever before made me feel. It’s not like the soft smile that my mom gives me whenever I come home from school that makes me cringe slightly inside, but still makes me smile back because that smile is all the reassurance I need that, no matter what I do, my mother’s love will always be there to guide me. It’s not like the cruel hyena grins that the bullies flash me before they fire insults at me like deadly bullets and always make my stomach churn in fear. It’s not like the overjoyed beam that Mikey shows to me whenever he is truly happy, although it does make me feel content that he is happy and proud that my little brother is the great kid that he is, that only I seem to see him for. It’s not like the flirty smirks that the sluts force feed my eyes whenever I walk past that make me feel nauseous inside. No, it is not like any of them. When Frank smiles at me it’s like the whole world stops just to admire that wondrous arch of glorious glee and my heart stops at the thrill of having caused such a masterpiece.
I place my hands overdramatically on my hips to emphasise the fact that I won’t go down without a fight.
“Bring it on, Iero.”
“Tell me, oh wise one, what is love?” He looks at me expectantly, tapping his Converse-clad foot on the pavement.
My mind starts whirring away, shaking off the momentary surprise of the question, and tries to formulate a flawless reply that can’t get caught in his trap. This is no longer a friendly challenge; it’s a way for me to impress my crush. God that sounded gay. That’s alright though, because I am gay; gay for Frank Iero.
“Love is…” My voice trails off, my mind unable to keep up with it and come up with an absolute definition. “Love is an uplifting emotion.” My smile broadens at my, what I believe, true meaning of love. After all, that’s what love is; right? I feel it every time that I look at Frankie, so I think that I should know.
“An uplifting emotion?” I nod self-assuredly in response, taking his question as his surrender. “So is hope love?” His haughty tone digs at me, makes me rethink my logic and leaves me somewhat puzzled as to how Frankie drew that conclusion. Must be his infamous Iero quirkiness that I love him for.
“No, hope is hope. Love is love. Simple. Sure, love can give hope but the two don’t mean the same thing.” By the time my words have left my mouth I already doubt them, trying to spot the flaw that Frank will find. Perhaps they are the same thing; after all I don’t think that I’ve ever felt one without the other. Whenever I see Frankie I feel love for him and the feeling of hope that comes with it is overwhelming; hope that we’ll one day be together, hope that he feels for me like I do him, the kind of hope that yells at me that the world isn’t as shit as it seems just loud enough to drown out all of the doubt telling me that it is.
“But hope is an uplifting emotion, don’t you think?” I nod once more, this time like a toddler waiting for the next line of his favourite adventure story book. “Therefor, according to you, hope is love.”
Very clever, Frankie. Very clever indeed. But I think that I can be cleverer.
“Well, I guess to some people and in some ways; yes it is.” The look in his eyes shifts from mild amusement to deep interest, like before this he’d seen the little contest as won and only now fully considers me a worthy opponent. My heart swells in pride for my brain, a brain that has just proven to my Frankie that I am not just a pretty fucking face; a brain that has given me the full attention of his wonderfully wide eyes, thus costing me a childish blush. Great. What little respect I’d just gained in this has now been robbed of me by my stupidly red cheeks.
It’s amazing really, how one boy can have such a warming effect on my cold heart.
“Oh?” His look of mild surprise only intensified his cuteness, the ‘o’ shape of his mouth making me want it even more. “Care to expand on that, Gee?”
His smug air had returned, trying to stump me with a question that I had unwillingly set up for myself; a question that I can’t possibly be able to answer. Or at least, that’s what he thought.
“Hope. Love. Happiness. Faith. They’re all the same really, aren’t they? All little mental and emotional reactions to the things going on around us and to us. But let’s go deeper than that. Love is, by far, the emotion that has the most power over us. It has the power to give us hope, happiness and faith that life can be good. But it can be cruel too; tear families apart, alienate people, kill people even.” My competitive smile broadens into a triumphant and pleasantly pleased grin; I don’t think I’ve ever reeled off so much intense, sincere bullshit in all of my life, not even in any of my school work. When Frank looks like he’s about to find a snag in my perfect silk of an explanation, my eager mind jumps in first. It’s my turn to play with him now. “So, Frankie, what’s your take on what love is?”
He falters slightly, but then clears his throat and takes a contemplative breath in.
“Dunno.” What? That’s it? No, philosophical debate; no Socrates-style dissection; no attempt to succeed. Just a simple schoolboy response, the sort that I would’ve normally expected out of Frankie had it not been for his earlier behaviour. “And I don’t think you know either.”
“What are you on about? I just gave you a definition, didn’t I?” I can’t help the playful annoyance that splashes into my voice as I smirk disbelievingly at his suddenly humble facial expression. How was it that he was making me second-guess every solid statement to leave my chapped and hungry lips?
“You see, I don’t think that you actually did, Gee. You just relayed to me what films and telly and books and other shit have taught you about love. I’m not saying that you’re wrong, just that I don’t think that you’re entirely right.”
“Okay, mister oh-so-deep-and-meaningful, if you’re so sure of yourself how come you can’t tell me? Surely, you’ve felt love before. Haven’t you?” He nods shyly, like a lost little rabbit that needs find its mother, and I start to regret my question; he goes from looking like the arrogant so-called philosopher he was messing around as, to looking like my beautiful Frankie to looking kind of lost and anguished. Perhaps I pushed it too far; I didn’t mean to upset him. Especially not when seeing him anything less than gleeful rips me up inside.
“Yeah, yeah I have. And it hurts like hell. But that doesn’t mean I can pretend to know anything about it.” His voice comes out quiet and regretful, a voice that doesn’t suit his usual joyful demeanour, a voice that I hope to never hear coming from his precious mouth again. For a second I swear that I can see a diamond tear shimmer in his left eye, before his hand reaches up and shatters it. “Have you ever felt love, Gerard?”
“I’m feeling it now.”
My honest mind lets my concerned heart take over.
“Oh. He’s lucky, whoever he is.” He tries to smile up at me with broken eyes reflecting an apparently broken heart.
Wait. Is he inferring that…
My lips quickly capture his own in a short peck, one of his diamonds falling from their case and adorning my upper lip. It’s only quick, but I can feel his consent; feel his frown turn to a smile; feel my heart rate increase and my breathing all but stop.
This is what love is.
A/N: Thanks for reading, I hope it wasn't too bad. Please, please review! :)
“You’re not gonna get any sense out of him, bro. I’ve been trying since English and all he’s managed to do is confuse me with all of his Socrates bullshit.” Mikey warns me exasperatedly, gesturing to our best friend who is striding happily along next to him, a smug and satisfied smirk plastered onto his adorably youthful face. “Fucking Miss Jones and her Greek philosophy.” He grumbles in disdain at what his English teacher has unleashed upon us; a Frank Iero who believes that everything needs to be questioned and that nothing can have a proper answer. “All he’s been doing since ten this morning is asking people to tell him what shit is and all they’ve managed to do is either get confused or majorly pissed off. Do you know how many angry jocks we’ve had to run away from, Gee?” He pauses for dramatic effect, adjusting his trademark glasses. “Four! And two nerds. He angered the nerds, Gee! The motherfuckers who are supposed to understand this shit!”
I can’t help but chuckle at how seriously my little brother is taking Frank’s wind-up. Still, something inside of me views it as some sort of challenge. A challenge that cannot be declined.
“Look, Mikes, you go home and I’ll sort out our wannabe Socrates.” I look to Frank to see him nodding, his deep hazel eyes telling me that he accepts my challenge and that the game is on. I love getting into something with Frankie, always have done; we always make each other smile and his unique take on things never fails to make me feel truly blessed at knowing such an irresistibly cute guy. A guy that I’ve been infatuated with and fascinated by for years, a guy that gives my heart a reason to beat, a guy that knows me better than I know my comic collection, a guy whose lips look as though they were made to dance with mine; a guy who just so happens to mine and my brother’s best friend.
“Fine, I give up. Good luck to you, Gee. See you tomorrow, Frank!” And with that Mikey accelerated down the street away from us as fast as his skinny legs could carry him. I’m unsure if this is because Frankie really has worn him down or if it’s because he knows about my thing for Frank; either way, I’m happy to have the boy to myself.
We stop and our eyes narrow playfully at each other, his rose-petal like lips parting in a grin that tells me he thinks he’s already won and that I’m just wasting my time. But I know that in the end I’ll be the real winner because I got to make those lips smile. You see, Frank’s smile is unlike any other that my eyes have ever been drawn to and, subsequently, make me feel unlike any other smile has ever before made me feel. It’s not like the soft smile that my mom gives me whenever I come home from school that makes me cringe slightly inside, but still makes me smile back because that smile is all the reassurance I need that, no matter what I do, my mother’s love will always be there to guide me. It’s not like the cruel hyena grins that the bullies flash me before they fire insults at me like deadly bullets and always make my stomach churn in fear. It’s not like the overjoyed beam that Mikey shows to me whenever he is truly happy, although it does make me feel content that he is happy and proud that my little brother is the great kid that he is, that only I seem to see him for. It’s not like the flirty smirks that the sluts force feed my eyes whenever I walk past that make me feel nauseous inside. No, it is not like any of them. When Frank smiles at me it’s like the whole world stops just to admire that wondrous arch of glorious glee and my heart stops at the thrill of having caused such a masterpiece.
I place my hands overdramatically on my hips to emphasise the fact that I won’t go down without a fight.
“Bring it on, Iero.”
“Tell me, oh wise one, what is love?” He looks at me expectantly, tapping his Converse-clad foot on the pavement.
My mind starts whirring away, shaking off the momentary surprise of the question, and tries to formulate a flawless reply that can’t get caught in his trap. This is no longer a friendly challenge; it’s a way for me to impress my crush. God that sounded gay. That’s alright though, because I am gay; gay for Frank Iero.
“Love is…” My voice trails off, my mind unable to keep up with it and come up with an absolute definition. “Love is an uplifting emotion.” My smile broadens at my, what I believe, true meaning of love. After all, that’s what love is; right? I feel it every time that I look at Frankie, so I think that I should know.
“An uplifting emotion?” I nod self-assuredly in response, taking his question as his surrender. “So is hope love?” His haughty tone digs at me, makes me rethink my logic and leaves me somewhat puzzled as to how Frankie drew that conclusion. Must be his infamous Iero quirkiness that I love him for.
“No, hope is hope. Love is love. Simple. Sure, love can give hope but the two don’t mean the same thing.” By the time my words have left my mouth I already doubt them, trying to spot the flaw that Frank will find. Perhaps they are the same thing; after all I don’t think that I’ve ever felt one without the other. Whenever I see Frankie I feel love for him and the feeling of hope that comes with it is overwhelming; hope that we’ll one day be together, hope that he feels for me like I do him, the kind of hope that yells at me that the world isn’t as shit as it seems just loud enough to drown out all of the doubt telling me that it is.
“But hope is an uplifting emotion, don’t you think?” I nod once more, this time like a toddler waiting for the next line of his favourite adventure story book. “Therefor, according to you, hope is love.”
Very clever, Frankie. Very clever indeed. But I think that I can be cleverer.
“Well, I guess to some people and in some ways; yes it is.” The look in his eyes shifts from mild amusement to deep interest, like before this he’d seen the little contest as won and only now fully considers me a worthy opponent. My heart swells in pride for my brain, a brain that has just proven to my Frankie that I am not just a pretty fucking face; a brain that has given me the full attention of his wonderfully wide eyes, thus costing me a childish blush. Great. What little respect I’d just gained in this has now been robbed of me by my stupidly red cheeks.
It’s amazing really, how one boy can have such a warming effect on my cold heart.
“Oh?” His look of mild surprise only intensified his cuteness, the ‘o’ shape of his mouth making me want it even more. “Care to expand on that, Gee?”
His smug air had returned, trying to stump me with a question that I had unwillingly set up for myself; a question that I can’t possibly be able to answer. Or at least, that’s what he thought.
“Hope. Love. Happiness. Faith. They’re all the same really, aren’t they? All little mental and emotional reactions to the things going on around us and to us. But let’s go deeper than that. Love is, by far, the emotion that has the most power over us. It has the power to give us hope, happiness and faith that life can be good. But it can be cruel too; tear families apart, alienate people, kill people even.” My competitive smile broadens into a triumphant and pleasantly pleased grin; I don’t think I’ve ever reeled off so much intense, sincere bullshit in all of my life, not even in any of my school work. When Frank looks like he’s about to find a snag in my perfect silk of an explanation, my eager mind jumps in first. It’s my turn to play with him now. “So, Frankie, what’s your take on what love is?”
He falters slightly, but then clears his throat and takes a contemplative breath in.
“Dunno.” What? That’s it? No, philosophical debate; no Socrates-style dissection; no attempt to succeed. Just a simple schoolboy response, the sort that I would’ve normally expected out of Frankie had it not been for his earlier behaviour. “And I don’t think you know either.”
“What are you on about? I just gave you a definition, didn’t I?” I can’t help the playful annoyance that splashes into my voice as I smirk disbelievingly at his suddenly humble facial expression. How was it that he was making me second-guess every solid statement to leave my chapped and hungry lips?
“You see, I don’t think that you actually did, Gee. You just relayed to me what films and telly and books and other shit have taught you about love. I’m not saying that you’re wrong, just that I don’t think that you’re entirely right.”
“Okay, mister oh-so-deep-and-meaningful, if you’re so sure of yourself how come you can’t tell me? Surely, you’ve felt love before. Haven’t you?” He nods shyly, like a lost little rabbit that needs find its mother, and I start to regret my question; he goes from looking like the arrogant so-called philosopher he was messing around as, to looking like my beautiful Frankie to looking kind of lost and anguished. Perhaps I pushed it too far; I didn’t mean to upset him. Especially not when seeing him anything less than gleeful rips me up inside.
“Yeah, yeah I have. And it hurts like hell. But that doesn’t mean I can pretend to know anything about it.” His voice comes out quiet and regretful, a voice that doesn’t suit his usual joyful demeanour, a voice that I hope to never hear coming from his precious mouth again. For a second I swear that I can see a diamond tear shimmer in his left eye, before his hand reaches up and shatters it. “Have you ever felt love, Gerard?”
“I’m feeling it now.”
My honest mind lets my concerned heart take over.
“Oh. He’s lucky, whoever he is.” He tries to smile up at me with broken eyes reflecting an apparently broken heart.
Wait. Is he inferring that…
My lips quickly capture his own in a short peck, one of his diamonds falling from their case and adorning my upper lip. It’s only quick, but I can feel his consent; feel his frown turn to a smile; feel my heart rate increase and my breathing all but stop.
This is what love is.
A/N: Thanks for reading, I hope it wasn't too bad. Please, please review! :)
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