"I had a fight with Pete Wentz," Gerard mumbled, as he stuck his head around the door.
Mikey blinked.
"Not a fight, really. I sort of jumped him." Gerard pushed the door all the way open, but didn't step inside, just hung around the doorframe.
Mikey nodded, but he didn't look pleased.
"I know you told me in confidence," Gerard added, "So I'm really sorry."
Mikey looked down, his face reddening. He hadn't really told Gerard anything; he had just confessed that someone at school knew that he was gay and might tell everyone and Gerard had done the math. When Gerard had asked if it was Pete Wentz, Mikey's face had confirmed it. Pete had been Gerard's third guess, and the other two guys he didn't think Mikey had actually ever hung out with – that was how implausible the truth seemed.
Pete Wentz, Gerard still thought whenever he looked at Mikey, Jesus, what?
The only way it made sense was how Pete had fucked Mikey over.
--
"I'm going to piss in one of their helmets," Frank said, during lunch.
Gerard blinked. But next to him, Ray burst out laughing. "That's awesome," he gasped, spraying bits of bread on them. When he noticed they were both looking at him surprised, he added, "I'd pee in their helmets too if I could run as fast as Frank."
Frank grinned.
--
He really did it. Gerard was lookout while Frank broke into one of their lockers with a penknife that Gerard stole from art class, and he peed, not completely well-aimed, into the blue and silver lacrosse helmet at the bottom of the locker. Gerard was both half terrified and half hysterical with laughter.
"There," Frank said as he zipped up again. He left the locker door ajar, trickles of pee on the floor.
--
"I can't believe you did that," Gerard said, not for the first time that evening, as he watched the stars in the night sky, enjoying the breeze and the grass against his skin.
"Hm," Frank said next to him. "When you have to go you have to."
"Especially after three bottles of coke." Gerard glanced over and Frank was grinning at him.
"Yeah, well."
Gerard smiled back. He was still terrified that they had been seen, because this wouldn't result in your average beating; they would be killed. He was happy that the school was beyond the stone wall of the cemetery, but at the same time he would have given a lot to have seen the guy's reaction when he found the helmet. The lacrosse team had probably just finished their practice by now, so however it had come about, it had been discovered, and it was almost an anti-climax to do something like that and not get to see the resulting outrage.
He had a tight feeling in his chest. He felt like they had just done something profound, even though it had really been quite gross and childish.
"We're going to get killed," he mumbled.
"You didn't piss in his helmet," Frank said, quietly, from where he was lying on the grass with his jacket bundled up under his head.
"I was there."
"Yeah." Gerard could see Frank nodding. He stretched a little and looked over at Gerard, a hand under his head. "Well, I'm sorry if we're killed."
Gerard giggled. Frank hadn't sounded very sincere and neither was Gerard, couldn't be, not at the moment. Right now, everything was worth it.
"Maybe he didn't notice anything until he put it on," he suggested.
Frank snorted. "Not even the lacrosse team are that stupid." He dug out a cigarette and lit it, then threw the lighter on Gerard's chest.
Gerard took it but didn't get out his cigarettes. He just played with it for a while, "We're going to get suspended, if they find out."
"I know." When he glanced over, Frank was looking up at the sky again.
Gerard thought about how at the moment his mom thought it was a big deal that Mikey had taken the car. If she knew.
"If we get kicked out, I'm going to have to come and live with you," Frank said, "I'd have to get a job. My mom would kill me. Dad too."
Gerard nodded. "Yeah."
His mind wandered. He'd have to run away too, he thought. If he got expelled this close to graduation, after everything the school had cost, he wasn't sure what his mom would do. Maybe he'd get a job in LA at an art store. Frank could come with him, they could hitchhike to LA and rent a shitty room and make love and it'd be the kind of romantic life Audrey Hepburn would lead in New York or Paris.
"Don't worry," Frank said next to him, jostling him out of his reverie, "No one saw."
"Hopefully not." Gerard wondered if he was the lamest person in the town right then. He thought it seemed probable.
They were silent for a while. There was no noise around them, only the murmur of ghosts and the occasional rustle from the ivy. Gerard dared to glance over and watch the moonlight falling across Frank's face and neck.
"You know that they don't call me fag just because we're friends, right?" Frank said then, quite suddenly.
Gerard froze. "Um."
Frank turned to face him. "That dance group that me and Martha had in fourth grade performed in the talent show. Stuff like that's why people call me fag."
Gerard didn't know what to say. That sucks, seemed appropriate, yet he wasn't sure, because it was Frank and different rules seemed to apply to Frank sometimes, which made Gerard nervous, but was why he liked Frank. "Did you win?" he asked.
Frank looked over again, then laughed. "No. We were robbed, man."
"Did you use pom-poms?"
Frank let out a snort. "Fuck, no!"
"That's probably why you didn't win."
They grinned at each other until Gerard had to look away. He busied himself opening his bag and rifling through it for his cigarettes, even though he didn't really want one. They had been running a lot that day - away from the locker, to Frank's bike, climbing and jumping – and his chest was still hurting. Frank didn't ask for a cigarette either. He was still a little hoarse. He was a pretty fast runner, but he'd been wheezing just as much as Gerard.
Frank folded his hands under his head and was looking up at the sky again. "I think people just assume now. Martha even asked me for tips how to go down on guys last year." He paused for a few seconds and Gerard could see him frown. "I told her the truth, you know, that I haven't had sex with anyone. But it didn't bother me. I don't care what people think. If they think we're gay, I don't give a fuck. And if they think we're friends 'cause we're together, I don't give a fuck either."
"No." Gerard tried to stop himself turning red. "Sure. It doesn't bother me either," he said, which was a complete lie and Frank knew it.
Frank sniffed a little. He put both hands under his head. "Anyway, I've been called fag for forever, so don't worry about it."
"I - okay. No."
"And we've exchanged spit already, so maybe they're half right anyway." Frank lifted his head and grinned. It was obviously an attempt at a joke, but Gerard had to take a breath. He didn't know what to say.
"Yeah," he mumbled, trying to seem unfazed, casual, something.
Frank seemed to notice, because he made an apologetic gesture, and then they were quiet for a while.
Just as Gerard thought the conversation was over, Frank said, quietly, "You know, it doesn't have to mean anything. We could, again, if you want."
It caught Gerard off-guard. Surprised, he looked over, but Frank wasn't looking at him. "What?" he said.
Frank mumbled, "You know. Sometimes people do," and Gerard got it, far too quickly. He had heard about stuff like that, when straight friends made out because - well, he wasn't exactly sure why. To experiment? For fun? To practice? Because they could?
He licked his lips nervously, then quickly wished he hadn't. Frank had looked over again and when their eyes met, Gerard felt prickly heat creep over his skin. He knew he was a bit red.
When far too long had passed without Gerard saying anything, Frank sighed. "I didn't mean to freak you out."
Gerard shook his head. "You didn't." He hadn't. But Gerard didn't know how to turn Frank down. He wanted Frank to kiss him again, but he couldn't let him, not like this, not when Frank didn't know. Gerard had to make Frank understand that they couldn't be those types of guys without Frank understanding why, because Gerard may not have had a lot of experience with things like this, but he knew that straight friends didn't experiment with someone they were in love with.
Before he had time to think of anything to say, Frank got up and moved closer. He pulled his jacket with him and put it down on the grass next to where Gerard was sitting. "It doesn't have to mean anything," he said again, "It could be," he paused, as if he was considering the next word carefully, then said, "Interesting."
The night air was full of stars and the breeze ruffled Frank's hair. Gerard couldn't breathe, his heart was beating hard in his throat. He could see Frank's face better now, and Frank was biting his lip nervously, but his eyes were determined.
There was something surreal about the whole situation, Gerard couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that Frank was sitting next to him, close enough that Gerard could feel him breathing, and he was asking nicely if they could make out. Every sensible part of him was screaming at him to get out of it, stop meeting Frank's eyes, it was dangerous territory they were skirting and he needed to be fair to Frank. He needed to remember that. "Uh?"
"I could use the practice," Frank said, simply.
"I thought you were the make out king," Gerard replied on automatic, and Frank laughed.
"Yeah, well, I'm not kissing thirteen year old girls anymore."
Gerard smiled. Then Frank kissed him, and Gerard didn't protest, couldn't, forgot to be fair.
He tried to be good at it, because they weren't drunk and there was supposed to be meaning to this. He wanted to catch his breath and start again, but he was afraid it might break the moment altogether and Frank seemed to think so too, because he kept his mouth pressed to Gerard's, closed-mouthed, as he arranged his limbs so that only their knees were touching, then deepened the kiss.
When Frank finally pulled back, Gerard's lips were a little numb, slick with spit, and his head was a little out of sorts.
"That's probably too much tongue," Frank said.
"I," Gerard said. "A bit."
Frank slid the leg he'd had pulled underneath him out with an audible crack, and shifted closer. "Maybe less spit would be good too."
Frank's cheeks were a little flushed with color, but Gerard thought that it was probably nothing to how red and flustered he looked right then, even in the darkness. He wished he didn't dye his hair, because then maybe it wouldn't be so fucking obvious whenever he blushed.
There was a moment when he thought it wouldn't happen again, but then Frank leaned over and carefully pressed their lips together.
It wasn't as perfunctory this time. He wasn't sure when they overbalanced, but suddenly he was on his back and Frank's hand was by the side of his head. It broke the kiss briefly, but Frank just followed, and he didn't let them get back up, just kept kissing him, tongue dipping into his mouth, and Gerard started to panic. He was getting turned on, which was a real problem, because Frank was above him and his hand was in Gerard's hair, fingers edged behind his head comfortably.
He made a sound of protest and pushed at Frank's shoulder.
"Sorry," Frank said. Gerard's tie was twisted up, pulled tight and Frank started to undo the knot. "Do you want to take it off?"
Gerard stuttered out "Uh, no, don't," and watched Frank frown.
"Okay. No, sure. Keep it on." His hand slid over Gerard's throat instead, slightly uncertain movement, pushing his hair back and tucking it behind his ear in a friendly gesture. When his hand pressed lightly against his throat, Gerard thought Frank must be able to feel how hard his heart was beating.
"Do you want, again?" Frank asked, hesitantly.
Gerard cleared his throat. His mouth was still sore and all he could taste was Frank. "I – I think I heard something," he lied.
"Really?" Frank looked around, over at the ivy-clad wall, then down at Gerard. He seemed to understand, and he nodded quickly as he let go of Gerard's tie, "Maybe they've seen my bike. We're probably not supposed to be here." He sat up, grabbed his jacket off the ground and squeezed Gerard's shoulder. "Come on, we should go."
Gerard was grateful to be able to breathe again. He scrambled up after Frank, picked up his jacket and bag, and they climbed over the wall again, dropping down on the other side by Frank's bike.
They were the only ones around, of course. Frank gave Gerard a lift part of the way, the cool wind soothing his overheated mind.
--
It didn't happen again. It didn't become a regular occurrence every time they hung out the way Gerard dreaded and fantasized about. By the end of the week, he had to remind himself that it had even happened at all, because nothing about the way Frank talked to him gave any indication that they had fooled around on top of Gerard's jacket in a graveyard. He also had to remind himself that the only reason it had happened at all was because neither of them got it from somewhere else, from someone they actually wanted to kiss - except for Gerard. He had to remember that if Frank found someone to make out with for more than just experimentation, he wouldn't bother kissing Gerard while Gerard would bother kissing Frank in any kind of weather, any circumstances.
He drank all night between Friday and Saturday, because it was easier to think about Frank, or any guy, when he was drunk. He sat on the floor in his room with a comic on his lap, but he wasn't reading it, just watching the sky as it appeared briefly between the curtains when the breeze blew them apart. The house was as quiet as an old, dingy house could get on a windy night.
He had surfed the internet for a bit, then worked on his comic, and now it was late and his skin was hot and he was sitting with his head against the side of the bed, wondering what Frank was doing. He knew that Frank was more than likely asleep, but he still had an urge to call him, because maybe Frank was up too, thinking and watching the sky. There was a low beat coming from Mikey's room, and he wondered if Mikey was still up or if he had fallen asleep with the stereo on.
He finished the bottle and shoved it under the bed, which was a dangerous practice, but he was too wasted to deal with it now; he would just dispose of it as soon as he woke up again. Leaning his head back, he remembering how Frank's mouth had felt pressed against his. When he closed his eyes he could remember exactly what it had felt like to be pressed down on the grass. He moved his hand from his thigh to between his legs. He was already hard, his eyes were already closed.
He was too drunk to think, so he jerked off quickly, then crawled into bed and lay awake for a while, panting and coming down. The music was still coming softly from the shared wall and soothed his mind, the night air filling the room felt good against his skin. He watched the shadows move across the ceiling and thought about New York.
Saturday, he spent the whole day in his room, drinking coffee and playing video games. Mikey came out about noon, looking like he had just woken up. When Gerard asked if he'd fallen asleep with the stereo on, Mikey just mumbled "no, fucking phone kept waking me up" and then hurried downstairs without saying anything more.
--
At school, everything was like normal. Frank laughed at Ray's attempts to get a date for the prom, which involved a lot of staring, and Ray tried to pretend Frank wasn't sitting next to him when he started in on yet another embarrassingly geeky subject, and they both beamed whenever Bob said hi in the hallway.
Gerard was a bit more wary about Bob. It wasn't that he didn't like Bob, but he was a pretty big guy and often sarcastic and Gerard wasn't sure whether he still held their first meeting against him. But Bob seemed happy enough with the music they wanted to play and that was the important thing. He sometimes came by at the end of croquet practice and Gerard had a feeling he was trying very hard not to laugh at them, but he would wrestle with Mikey affectionately, like they were friends, and Gerard couldn't really fault him.
One afternoon, he was caught alone in the changing rooms with two of the guys from a team – Gerard couldn't really place them, but they had a problem with him - and while the next class started streaming in to get changed, they started in on the usual, mainly about whether he liked cock. Gerard had already resigned himself to being late for Chemistry when Bob suddenly popped out of nowhere and said, quite calmly, "Hey, what's going on?"
Bob didn't even flinch when one of the guys told him that Gerard liked to suck cock and asked if Bob did too. He just crossed his arms over his chest and glared, and the guys were both smaller than him, so in the end, they just sneered and walked away and Gerard thought he might even get to class on time. "You okay?" Bob muttered, as he peeled off his shirt and started changing for the class.
"Yeah. They were just being assholes," Gerard said, embarrassed in the way he always was when people found out that he couldn't take care of himself. He finished putting his gym clothes in his bag.
Bob looked around. "I thought you and Frank had most classes together."
Gerard shook his head. "Only Chemistry. And croquet."
"Right."
"I'm going to be late. I'll see you later?"
Just as Gerard stood up, Bob said, "Hey, the latest one you and Ray wrote is fucking great. We should try to record it, see what it sounds like."
Gerard couldn't help smiling proudly. "Thanks."
Bob bent to pull on his shoes. "See you at practice."
"See you."
Gerard thought maybe Bob would tell the others what had happened, but he didn't say a word. He just wrestled with Mikey like normal and rolled his eyes at Frank and patted Gerard on the shoulder once, reassuringly.
The Zombie Audrey Hepburns were sounding better with each practice and Gerard found screaming into a microphone freeing. The only thing nobody liked was the name. Frank had made them take a vote, and when everyone voted no, Frank had decided to call them that anyway until someone came up with something better, and now the name was kind of stuck in their heads
Gerard had written a few more songs. They were coming pretty easily, but he was embarrassed to show most them to the others, because they were pretty soul-baring and he didn't know how to cover it up lyrically. Even in metaphors, the songs were simple to understand. They were about lust and sensuality and frustration and Frank, wanting him, dying inside.
He didn't use a guitar when he wrote, but he was thinking about getting one. Just a cheap acoustic one, maybe as a graduation gift; that, and some weights. He knew he would just get art supplies from everyone if he didn't ask for something specific.
He was sitting at his desk when there was a smattering from the window, and when he looked out, Frank was waving from the lawn. Gerard frowned, as he quickly hid the lyrics spread out, half-written, on his desk. It was Saturday night, but not late enough that Frank couldn't just have buzzed the doorbell.
Gerard went downstairs and opened the front door. "It's prom night," Frank said.
Gerard had forgotten, even though he wasn't sure how, because the school was buzzing with nothing else, the way it was usually only about sports.
"I called Ray," Frank continued, "but he didn't want to come over and hang with us. He is probably hoping someone will get stood up and call him as a last resort. Can I come in?"
Gerard let him in. He was getting a bit sick of the tension between Ray and Frank, but he didn't say anything. The truth was probably somewhere between what Frank had said and Ray preferring to sit in his room and write songs rather than hang out with them. Frank stumbled a little as he bent to unlace his sneakers in the hallway.
"Are you drunk?" Gerard asked, surprised.
Frank nodded. He giggled when he stood up again. "My dad let me have some beer because my date stood me up. You know." He looked a little sheepish, but his eyes were bright and he was clearly drunk, but he was also looking really happy, buzzed on more than beer, and Gerard thought he hadn't really hung out with Frank after he'd been to see his dad before. It was sort of sweet.
After getting his shoes and jacket off, Frank steadied himself against the wall. "They - my dad and my uncle dropped me off here. They said they knew your family, or, like, knew of them." He pushed his hair away from his eyes and grinned, making Gerard weak at the knees. "I think we got their blessing to continue being friends."
Gerard smiled back. He was happy his parents weren't home, because Frank wasn't subtly drunk. He fell over once climbing the stairs and when they passed Mikey's room in the hallway, he rapped hard on the door and shouted, "Hey, don't try anything, we will hear if you try to sneak out, Romeo."
When Gerard finally got him into his room, Frank crawled up on Gerard's bed. "Do you know if Mikey and his sweetheart made up again?" he asked.
"Uh, no. I don't know." Gerard said.
"It's a shame," Frank said, distractedly. "They should – like, do you know who it is?"
Gerard shook his head. "No," he mumbled.
Frank was lying against his pillows, his arms splayed, his t-shirt riding up, and he was watching Gerard. "Do you want to kiss me?" he asked. Then he pushed a hand over his face and grimaced. "That's not why I came over," he added almost apologetically, and sat up so he could touch Gerard's arm.
Gerard sat down at the end of the bed, a little nervously. He tried to think of something suitable or clever to say. "Okay," he said, "Okay, so."
"Yeah?" Frank sat up. The hand on Gerard's arm slid up to cup the back of his neck. "You sure?"
Gerard wasn't sure why Frank was surprised, really. It wasn't like he had said no to anything Frank had asked so far. "Yeah."
Frank leaned in, and the kiss was light and tentative, they had done this so many times now, Gerard had almost lost count. He knew how Frank kissed by now, but he still flinched at the first touch of Frank's tongue to his own.
It wasn't maybe a good idea to do it on a bed, he reflected hazily, but it wasn't really anything; Frank was braced on his hands and knees and they weren't touching, only their mouths moved together. Frank tasted of beer. And something sugary. Gerard couldn't place it.
He knew he probably shouldn't be turned on by this, because Frank wasn't moving, but his mouth and the wet slide of his tongue inside Gerard's mouth was enough to make him hot all over. He wasn't sure if they were pretending it was just for practice anymore, but he tensed when Frank placed a hand on top of his stomach, sliding it over Gerard's t-shirt, then underneath it.
"You – are you – you're gay, right?" Frank asked, muffled against his mouth.
It was a strange time to ask, but Gerard had his eyes closed, his mouth against Frank's, and it was the easiest time ever to answer, "Yeah," he mumbled.
"Like, completely?"
"Huh?"
"Completely gay or just a little?"
Gerard blinked. "I don't know. Probably a lot?"
Frank moved so that he was straddling Gerard. "I didn't call Ray," he said, and there was something a little challenging about the way he looked down on Gerard.
"Okay." Gerard didn't know what to think. He was confused and dazed already, and he had enough problems trying to keep Frank from noticing how turned on he was. Frank was sitting against him and Gerard needed Frank to lift off his lap a little bit, so he pushed carefully, but Frank pushed back, and Gerard thought, god, fuck, shit, I'm so into this, he's on my lap, he's going to know.
Frank bent to kiss him again and then stretched out on top of him. After a few minutes, Gerard wasn't the only one getting hard, which was understandable, because there was suddenly a lot of friction.
He felt Frank's erection, unmistakably, and blushed, not sure if Frank even realized what a bad idea this had become. They were keeping their mouths busy kissing, but Frank was heavy on top of him and he was wriggling around too much. They were best friends and this was second base and it was going to cause a problem. Gerard was panting into his mouth; he had slid his arms around Frank's waist and could feel his back moving under his hands, and he just tried desperately not to thrust up against Frank's leg.
"I'm gonna come," Frank said suddenly, almost without warning.
When Gerard looked up, Frank's eyes were closed.
"What?" Gerard said, stupidly.
Frank got a hand down between them before Gerard could protest more than sharply inhale with a whimper. He fitted his palm against Gerard's erection, through his jeans, then pressed his head against Gerard's neck and his hips jerked. "I'm just gonna - " His fingers went to the top button in Gerard's jeans and started tugging.
"Wait," Gerard panted, "Wait. I, uh – do we need a condom?"
Frank lifted his head. He looked a little surprised. "I don't know. Do we?"
"I'm a virgin," Gerard said, feebly.
Frank laughed softly. "Yeah."
Gerard bit his lip and tried not to blush with embarrassment. His hands were shaking. "I just meant that if we're both virgins we don't need condoms."
Frank tilted his head. "Do you have any condoms?"
Gerard had an unopened pack only because his mom had forced them on him. He wasn't even sure where they were; he thought she had probably stacked them in the cupboard under the sink in the bathroom where Mikey would also be able to grab some if, god forbid, he needed any.
"No," he said. "Maybe."
"I'm a virgin too." Frank leaned closer, "Can I jack you off?"
There was no good answer to that, Gerard realized. Frank got his jeans open, but left his boxers on as he started stroking him through the fabric, and this time Gerard could feel the heat from Frank's palm.
"God," Frank said, his voice a bit strained, "God." He maneuvered so that his leg was between Gerard's and when Gerard looked up Frank's eyes were closed and he was rubbing his hard-on against Gerard's thigh in time with the movements of his hand.
"Wait, I'll – I can – " he fumbled for the buttons in Frank's jeans, and Frank made a choked sound then helped him. As soon as they were open, he grabbed Gerard's wrist and shoved his hand inside, not giving him much choice. Gerard couldn't do anything with his hand trapped inside the tight pants and he had to pull Frank's dick out.
"Fuck," Frank gasped and started pushing suddenly, desperately, fast and wetly into Gerard's hand. Gerard couldn't tear his gaze away. He knew what it was that was making his palm so slick, and that's when it really started to feel like they were having sex, like maybe they should have used condoms. "Shit," Frank mumbled, "Oh, shit. Wait," and he shot all over Gerard's hand and stomach.
He had let go of Gerard's dick when he came, but he quickly pushed his hand inside Gerard's jeans again and with his free hand he tried to push them down, and Gerard closed his eyes, trying not to hyperventilate. There was a moment when he thought he would never be able to come like this, with his feelings like this, but Frank only needed to tighten his grip and press down a bit harder, and Gerard came, shuddering, far too loudly.
Then they lay still for a while, silent and panting.
A few moments later, Mikey's stereo started playing on deafening volume.
"Oh shit." Frank burst out laughing. He looked up at the wall and then down at Gerard with a guilty, giddy look on his face. He was devastating, flushed and panting, his hair was standing in all directions, his eyes glittered.
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