FicWad

The phone buzzed. Gerard starred at the name on the electronic white screen. It was a name he had entered into his contact list mere hours ago. The phone buzzed in his hand again. He didn’t move. Gerard had an amazing collection of horror movies, and he’d seen each one of them several times, and he was vaguely reminded of the reoccurring scene in which some character refuses to move, rooted in place, even when being pursued by some form of danger. It was usually at that point that Gerard would yell at the screen, “What the hell are you doing?! They’re coming right at you! Why aren’t you moving?!” Now he understood. The terror had him frozen in place, rendered his mind and body completely useless. While the phone buzzed in his hand, all he did was stare, his mind momentarily going blank. Gerard blinked. The phone still buzzed.

If he didn’t pick up now, he would miss the call. Frank would think he was avoiding him. He’d live alone on the streets forever, begging for change and prostituting himself for money while the harsh, cold winds ripped at his skin.

Well, maybe not that. But he didn’t want Frank to think he was avoiding him. He swallowed and quickly flicked open the phone and brought it to his ear, his heart pounding painfully against his ribs, the rhythm not unlike the rapid pitter-patter of rain on a steel roof. Gerard opened his mouth to speak, but some sort of invisible blockage was lodged in his throat. He cleared his throat, then attempted to speak again.

“H-Hello?” When there was no answer within the first twenty-fourth of a second, Gerard felt his throat begin to close out of terror. It was completely irrational, completely unprovoked, and yet it remained. In that twenty-fourth of a second, his mind spawned a million different scenarios: Frank was cancelling their “hang-out session”, he was calling to say that Gerard should never talk to him again, Frank had been maimed by a rabid junkyard dog- some other sort of terrifying form of rejection. There was a weak cough on the other end of the line.

“Um, hi,” came the reply, the voice delicate and cautious. Gerard felt relief wash over him like a wave over sand when he recognized Frank’s voice. “.. ‘S this Gerard?”

“Y-yeah…” Gerard stuttered out. What he wanted to say was, ”Fuck yeah, this is Gerard, you sexy motherfucker”/. He took a breath and mentally tried to even out the nervousness in his voice. He could feel an awkward silence brewing, so he said the first thing that came to his mind. “So…I heard you didn’t like…go to lunch…or something…” Frank laughed his high, dry laugh on the other line, and Gerard was glad Frank couldn’t see him. He pulled the phone away from his face for a moment and shook it, mouthing the words, /”YOU’RE SO CUTE!” as he smiled broadly, crinkling his nose. He put the phone to his ear in time to hear Frank speak again.

“Uh, yeah. I just thought that maybe I would like, go outside and call you,” he said. Frank did a sort of sniffle. “Damn, it’s cold out here. I was stupid and didn’t bring my jacket.”

Gerard let out a motherly, nurturing, ”O-oh!” before he could stop himself. The image of Frank small and shivering, his thin sweatshirt tight to his body, made Gerard’s body fill with a loving compassion and overwhelmed with the unbelievable cuteness. He had never felt so gay in his entire life. The only word to describe it was “pink”.

“Go inside,” he replied. “But don’t get caught by the cell phone guy.” He heard Frank cough. It was a sick sort of sound, not a cough used to fill the empty spaces between sentences. Gerard would have given his left…/kidney/… to be there to hold Frank, to feel the smallness of his body, the way his chest felt so narrow, the bones small and fragile, like a bird or small animal. Gerard asked if Frank was okay and he got a quieter, throaty cough in return.

“Yeah, I saw him. I figured if a teacher was standing in the corner, I probably shouldn’t talk in there.” He made a sniffle sound. “So I came out here.”

A sudden warmth began to blaze inside Gerard’s body. It wasn’t warmth like a fire, but more like…some sort of light bulb. Like a small, fragile light bulb was slowly warming itself up inside him, glowing brighter and warmer and more vibrant with each of Frank’s words. No, it wasn’t even the words. It was the meaning/- the /feeling/. Frank could have been speaking French, but Gerard would have understood and that tiny light would have grown brighter inside him. It was as if…he actually /cared/. Somebody /cared about him. And enough to stand out in the cold, sniffling and shaking and coughing to talk to him for a few minutes. Something inside Gerard ached. It was a beautiful, weak ache in his very core that made the urge to just sob with an unadulterated bliss consume him until he was sure he would just break into a million beautiful pieces. Gerard hadn’t noticed how quiet it had gotten until Frank spoke again.

Cough. “Uh-Are you, uh…still there?”

Gerard snapped out of his daze. “Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “So, um….we’re still like, hanging out, right?” Frank replied with a low, /”Mhm”/, then clarified as if to make sure Gerard had heard.

“Yeah. So like, when…when do you wanna do this?”

Gerard breathed in and out deeply. This sort of thing required heavy consideration. Plan it too soon and sound too eager, his cover was severely blown. Act like he didn’t care enough and he could risk Frank feeling hurt. He felt like the man in the bomb-squad suit with the metal scissors. At the moment there were about twenty thousand wires between his sharp, silver blades. But he’d come this far, and he’d be damned if he cut the wrong wire now. Gerard realized while he asked Frank when he would like to do it that his free hand was tightly clenching and unclenching around a fistful of blankets. Every time there was a pause between them, his heart pounded like rapid machinegun fire against the inside of his ribs. Frank replied that he didn’t care when- he was free almost anytime. Gerard’s plan of letting Frank complete the difficult task of choosing a date fell like a lead weight.

“I’m free all-all the time,” he responded nervously. Gerard wished he could control his nerves, wished he could stop that stupid shaking (his entire body was trembling slightly), and wished that Frank would just pick a stupid time and place. Frank giggled.

“Okay,” he laughed. “Then um, how about like…after school…today?”

Gerard, who had been in the middle of inhaling, somehow choked on the air in his throat. The thing was, he wanted more than anything to be near Frank- and alone. But…now that the opportunity was presented to him, his insides were sent into an uncomfortable spasm of nervousness and excitement. He coughed, clearing his throat.

“Yeah,” he said. Gerard bit down on his bottom lip. An effeminate giggle escaped his lips and he was immediately embarrassed. “That’s cool. You have my address, right?” Of course Frank had his address. Gerard placed that little scrap of paper in his small, beautiful, gloved hands a few hours ago. He just wanted to hear Frank speak again. Frank said he did and Gerard said the word, ”Cool” through another tiny giggle. Gerard’s laughs were always giggles. They were never really laughs or chuckles or any other form of the word. Always tiny, feminine giggles.

“So…” Frank started slowly. Gerard could tell he was smiling- it was something in the way the words were spoken. “…I’ll see you soon then?” Gerard replied with an /”Mhm”/. He was about the hang up when he heard Frank speak again.

“Hey,” he said. The word was cautious, almost nervous. Gerard asked what and couldn’t contain a smile. He heard Frank click his tongue against the roof of his mouth before speaking again. The words came out in a rush, the light tension breaking.

“Ithinkyourlaughiscute.”

Gerard felt the hand on his blankets clench so tight that his fingers ached. He felt the breath in his throat stop as if it had frozen solid. Something happened to his heart. Something painful and wonderful and beautiful and…and, God, there wasn’t a word for it but he loved it. It was like the organ was swelling, swelling until it filled his entire inner cavity. He wanted to speak but every concept of speech was alien and useless now. Frank spoke again.

“Okay the bell’s ringing Ihavetogookaybye.”

Gerard heard a click as Frank flipped his phone shut. He looked at the blank screen on his phone. His heart was no longer pounding. Instead it was doing a strange sort of quiver. Frank’s voice replayed in his head. He thought it over and over again, trying to make sure it was real. It seemed almost dreamlike, as if it was something so easy for him to imagine that it just couldn’t possibly be real. He breathed in and out, feeling internally refreshed. He laid his head down on his pillow, closing his phone, and starred at the ceiling.

He smiled to himself. Gerard reached behind his head and grabbed one of his pillows. He held it tightly over his face.

Gerard laughed until the tears came and bliss threatened to never end.
---

The mirror was his best friend, and his reflection was his worst enemy. The glass, fogged from his shower, told him what to fix, told him what was already put together. His reflection told him what wasn’t good enough, what could never be fixed. His teeth were too small. His features were too girly and pixie-like. His hips were too “pretty” and not masculine enough. Disappointment and self-loathing burned in his stomach like a hot and writhing pestilence.

With his towel wrapped around his waist, he looked at the rest of himself and tried not to wince. His body was effeminate. Thin in all the weird places like his arms and hips. His stomach was flat, but not like Frank’s. Gerard was sure he didn’t have any muscle on his body. He was just soft all over. There was also a severe lack of body hair on his form. During his awkward glances in the locker room, he noticed that Frank had a thin line of hair leading from his navel down into his shorts. Something about that touch of masculinity was unbelievably attractive to him. But Gerard had none of that. No facial hair, no body hair, no… well, there was /that/…but everyone had that. He wrapped his arms around his chest so he wouldn’t have to look at himself. It was too awkward. He remembered being the fat kid in elementary and middle school and his closed his eyes. Thank God or Jesus or Buddha or whomever that he had grown about half a foot and his weight had evened out. The thought of going back to that was indescribably painful.

He swallowed and remembered what Finch had told him a few weeks prior. He didn’t look at himself as he whispered, ”I love you” a few times. Confidence remained non-existant.

After Gerard made the short journey from the bathroom in the hall to his bedroom, he grabbed some fresh clothes. Well, he tried to. But every time he grabbed an article of clothing, some naggy voice would give a reason not to wear it.

Don’t wear those pants! They’re too tight! He’ll think you’re advertising your dick.

That shirt is stupid. Why do you even own it?

Oh, don’t even think about trying that on.

Gerard wondered why the voices in his head were out to get him. They never offered advice or compliments. All they did was bitch. He wanted new voices. They complained about the black pants he choose, saying they were too “obviously gay” (they did cling to his legs in a tight manner that flaunted his “pretty” hips), but he really had no patience to change back and forth between clothes. He pulled a random shirt out of his drawer and, as the majority of his shirts were black anyway, it matched. His long-sleeved jacket went over that to hide his arms. The cuts would begin to fade soon and he could wear short sleeves again. He looked forward to dissipating guilt.

Gerard kept the makeup Finch gave him in a plastic cup on his dresser. He grabbed it and took it to the bathroom. Lucky for him, Finch was a collector of all things cosmetic. He didn’t know if this was vanity or an aspiring career in the makeup artist industry, but at the moment he didn’t really care. The contents were dumped onto the counter by the sink: concealer in the palest shade companies made, sticks of black and brown eyeliner, a small, round container of golden-brown eye shadow, mascara, and an eyelash curler. Gerard felt his testosterone level do a nosedive.

But he really didn’t understand why more guys didn’t wear some form of makeup. It didn’t have to be feminine. The concealer made his ivory skin look porcelain smooth. The black eyeliner and brown shadow made his eyes look golden, and the mascara made them look enormous and innocent. Maybe it was in modern society’s mentality that you only wore makeup if you were a guy when you were gay, losing a bet, or a rock star. Gerard looked at his reflection. Of course he wasn’t satisfied, but like he wanted to spend any more time than necessary feeling uncomfortable about his aesthetics. He ran a hand through his hair to make it even more disheveled than it usually looked, scooped up his makeup, and journeyed back to his bedroom.

The bed was eager to have him back. He plopped down onto it after placing his cup-o-makeup back on his dresser, flipped out his phone and looked at the time displayed on the electronic screen. A pang of impatience shot through him. Several hours remained in the school day. He suddenly regretted leaving. At least there he could admire Frank and have something to do while he waited.

Gerard suddenly realized how nervous he was. Nervous and excited. But mostly sick to his stomach with nerves. There was the possibility that he could be caught starring at Frank like he always did when the boy wasn’t looking. Or maybe, this one time, he would just lose himself completely and just kiss him. The thought made his insides tangle uncomfortably and he writhed around on his bed, shaking his head to rid himself of the possibility.

But…but Frank had told him he thought he laugh was cute. Not even, “I like your laugh”. ”I think your laugh is cute.” It seemed like flirting. And he seemed nervous, hesitant, when he said it. But…Gerard wasn’t sure. Maybe it was that he didn’t want to get his hopes up, but it just didn’t seem like something he wanted this badly could come so easily. If there was indeed a God, he/she/it was spending all its extra time teasing him. But what if…what if Frank was teasing him? What if he knew how Gerard felt and he was just playing with him? No. That didn’t seem like it. But…

Gerard turned on his side and clutched his pillow. Somebody so beautiful couldn’t betray him like that. Frank was like an angel. He had the most beautiful lips Gerard had ever seen; giant, chocolate, puppy-dog eyes; his lean, firm body with its tattoos and sexy piercings and that thin trail of hair that disappeared down into the shorts Gerard would have loved to just tug down on…

Gerard shook his head slightly, trying to rid himself of the disrespectful thoughts. This was someone he actually knew/, someone who he was going to see in a few hours. It seemed okay to fantasize about people you didn’t know personally, but this just sent off a signal of /wrong in his brain.

Oh, God, but those lips were just so perfect. They were full and soft and fit perfectly on his face. Gerard imagined the texture of Frank’s tongue. He envisioned the two of them kissing gently, tongues gently poking out of their mouths, their noses rubbing together as they pushed their faces closer. It was a satisfying thought, but not as satisfying as it had been initially. The images had replayed themselves in his mind (with only slight variation) so many times that he was sort of bored with them. They left a longing hole in his stomach. He let the kissing in his head progress until he could literally feel the heat in his body. In that cloudy space in his mind, the two of them were swishing their tongues around each other’s wet, warm mouths. Frank bucked his hips into Gerard’s and the two of them groaned onto each other. Sweat gathered in droplets on their skin as their shirts were pulled from their sticky, hot bodies and tossed somewhere out of their way. They tugged at each other’s hair, pressed their flesh together. They could feel each other’s hardness through their jeans and they reached down to satisfy that aching organ.

Gerard unzipped his jeans. He wanted to stop, he felt disgusting and dirty, but really, fuck it. He pushed the clothing down to his ankles and pushed his shirt up slightly so he wouldn’t dirty them and have to change again. His hand made its way to the front of his black boxer shorts. He kept his eyes closed, bit down gently on his bottom lip, and let his hand go to work.

About seven and a half minutes of awkwardness, suppressed groans, hitching breath, and whispered names passed, ending with a low cry, followed by a sudden warmth flowing onto Gerard’s hand. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, yet it remained as awkward and guilt-inducing as if it had been. Gerard grabbed a few of the tissues out of the box on his nightstand and cleaned himself off. He pulled up his boxers and jeans and sighed, letting out a few of the mixed emotions along with the breath of air. He swallowed, then got up to throw away the soiled tissues. It wasn’t exactly an effective way to pass time.

Gerard grabbed one of his many comic books and started to skim through it. He’d read all of them so many times, he could probably recite them all from memory. This didn’t occupy his mind enough. The minutes on the digital clock on his nightstand refused to move. He got up, unlocked the cabinet on his dresser, and pulled out his sketchbook, along with some charcoal pencils. Gerard knew what he wanted to draw, and as he began to sketch, he felt the familiar comforting warmth begin to heat up inside him.

It was Frankie, of course. And, although he hadn’t been there to see it, the basic shapes and lines began to resemble the boy standing outside, his phone pressed to his ear, one arm hugging his tiny chest. The expression was what Gerard loved the most. Frankie looked uncomfortable, cold, and his eyes were slightly squinted as though the wind was blow in his direction. But, simultaneously, his mouth was pulled into a slight smile. Happy. Gerard wanted him to be happy. He also wanted the sketch to be perfect. He wanted to be able to, in the event that he and Frankie never spoke again (he prayed it wouldn’t come to that), look back and remember how beautiful that boy was, how he inspired that light bulb to warm itself deep inside him. It was taking longer than he thought it was. But perfection can’t be rushed.

It took so long, actually, that Gerard didn’t even look at his digital clock. He just let his hands-they were artists hands, definitely; hands that were thin and effeminate and had seen trouble and depression and hurt- slide across the paper. He was so engulfed in his drawing that he did a sort of twitch and a jump when a low thudding came from upstairs. The thudding occurred three times, all at even intervals. He scrambled off his bed, not even taking the time to carefully lock away his sketch pad, ran down the hall, up the stairs, through the kitchen, and to the front door. Gerard shook himself, jumped up and down for a moment to rid himself of the nerves that were crawling in his body, ran a hand through his hair, and reached for the door handle. His arm was shaking when he opened the door.

“Hey, Gee-gee.” The beautiful lips formed an equally beautiful smile. “Hey, you look good.”

Gerard stuttered out a hello, his insides on fire, and let Frank inside. Frank was wearing the same clothes as he had been earlier that day. He looked perfect. Gerard cleared his throat as they stood in the doorway. Frank looked up at him because of his short stature.

“So, um, what do you wanna…do?” Gerard asked, unable to hold back a smile. He looked at the ground. The shorter boy shrugged his shoulders and said he didn’t care- that this was Gerard’s house so he could pick. The taller boy shrugged his shoulders, imitating Frank’s response. Gerard didn’t frequently have visitors; his social and entertainment skills were the lowest of low.

“Well, um, we have like, a million horror movies…”

Frank smile at him and gave one of his little laughs. “Bad ass, man. I love horror.” Gerard nodded his head. He tried to stop the smile, but it had been plastered to his face. He lead Frank to their small living room and they knelt down by the cabinet full of DVDs. True to his word, Gerard had one hell of a horror movie collection. There were even some things in other languages that Frank had never heard of- and he’d heard of a lot. Gerard reached in and pulled out one of the DVDs.

“How about this?” he asked. “It’s really good. Really gory and stuff.” Frank said okay and nodded. Gerard gently bit his bottom lip through a weak smile. Everything about that moment felt so…human. Real. He knew what it was like to have a friend- a guy friend- for the first time since elementary school. Gerard looked up to find Frank looking at him. The other boy blinked slowly. Gerard giggled and asked what. Frank leaned in close to his face. So close, Gerard could have counted the brown hairs mixing with the yellow and black ones. He could smell Fran’s cologne. When Frank spoke, he could feel his breath against his lips. The air was knocked out of Gerard’s lungs as if he’d been punched in the stomach.

“Has anyone ever told you… that you’re really good looking?”

Gerard parted his lips. He was going to say no, even though that wasn’t exactly true. Finch told him he was good looking, but it was in a friendly way. She didn’t say it two inches from his face with her breath on his lips and her beautiful smell in his nose and the tension between them so thick that he couldn’t move. Gerard wanted to tell him, no, no one’s told me that, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t because there was pressure of lips on his. They were there for only about a second- maybe two- before that wonderful pressure was gone and Frank gave him a smile and said, ”Okay then!” and plopped onto the couch. Gerard’s fingers clenched around the box of the movie they were going to watch. His arms trembled.

Gerard’s insides were a beautiful ache.