Follow me home (Frerard)

Just find ways to cope with feelings that you don't understand

Gerard's POV

"What about this one?" Mikey holds up another sheet of paper, this drawing one of a vampire adorned in glitter glue and outlined in a metallic silver sharpie. The fangs are bared and it's growling not very ferociously. My brother grimaces through the camera and casts me a dubious and slightly concerned look. "Seriously, Gerard. When the hell did you draw this?"
"When that one book came out," I explain, shaking my head as a silent gesture for him to throw the image away. "We had to read it in Fitz's class Junior year. I drew that as an attempt to make the vampire look bad ass, but not even my mad skills can make him scary."
Mikey chuckles, adding the sheet of paper to the discard pile and moving onto the next. For the past nearly forty minutes, we've been going through some of my old drawings packed away in the attic, trying to decide what was worth saving and what should be left dead to the world.
"This one?" Mikey asks. He raises another sheet of paper, this one holding a picture of a zombie. Much scarier than the previous vampire. Decaying flesh peels off, dripping and revealing muscle and bone underneath.
I tilt my head, studying the cartoonish image-- the way black hair sweeps across one red-rimmed eye, the dead gaze and slightly parted lips. I smirk a little, instantly seeing a resemblance between the hand drawn figure and a familiar boy in Florida. It's one of my more amateur drawings, but with some revision and retouching, along with Gabriel's help, I could make it something better. So I nod. "Can you send that one to me?"
Mikey tosses it into the pile and then holds his hands up. "That's all of them," He tells me. He cracks his knuckles, like sifting through old papers was hard work, and leans back in his chair. "So how are things going with Frank?" He smirks. "You guys are still not-really-but-totally-really-boyfriends, right?"
I frown at him through the screen. "Yes. I mean... No. I mean..." I sigh heavily and my frown deepens. "I don't know what the fuck I mean. And I don't know what the fuck he means. We're just... Us. We're Frank and Gerard. We're not boyfriends."
"But you totally want to be boyfriends," Mikey says, and it sounds more like an accusation than a question.
"I don't know what the hell he wants," I admit. Mikey has heard all of this before, but still it feels nice to be able to vent to him. "When I asked him, he said that we're just friends, but friends don't write love songs about other friends. They don't flirt. They just fucking don't. But me and Frank-- We do. I talk to Frank more than I talk to you, and that's weird because you're my brother. And he says stuff to me that someone would usually say to their boyfriend. For all intents and purposes, we're kind of a couple. But when you put it into actual words; No. We're not a couple. We're friends. Just friends."
"He admitted he likes you," Mikey says, and I nod. "It's just the distance that's making it weird for both of you to commit." Mikey pauses, pursing his lips and humming quietly, looking thoughtful for a moment longer before asking, "Do you think he has commitment issues?"
My head tilts to one side and I continue watching my brother. "What do you mean? It's not like I'm asking him to marry me." I imagine Frank dressed in a neatly pressed tux, all black with a silky red tie. His hair could be overly gelled and greasy, but in a cliche kind of way-- Maybe he'd even style it like Johnny Depp in Cry Baby. What if Frank wore the leather jacket, too? And rode the motorcycle? Fuck, that's an attractive image...
I shake my head, forcing myself to focus back on Mikey because I'm getting off track over here. Mikey just shrugs uselessly. "I don't know," He says. "Maybe Frank is afraid of committing to a relationship."
I think back to everything that I know about Frank's previous relationships, which, granted, isn't much knowledge. I know he dated Jamia for awhile-- He still wasn't aware I knew her in person, so when he mentioned her name I pretended to be ignorant to her existence. Their relationship died out just as fast as it had started, though. From what I understood, Frank didn't have the best reputation with dating. I wasn't sure why that was-- He was nice and cute and funny, talented and passionate and honest. It didn't make sense that he hadn't found someone who saw all of that in him. Maybe Mikey was right; Maybe Frank had an inability to stay loyal, or never found someone worth settling down for, or maybe he was just terrified of being tied to one person.
Whatever the reason may be, it was very possible that my brother was onto something here. "So if he's afraid of commitment," I say. "How would I know? Aside from just outright asking him."
"Well..." Mikey thinks it over, offering another slight shrug. "He's mentioned certain friends to you, right? But have you ever met one of his friends?"
"I've never even met Frank," I argue, rolling my eyes. But when the question sinks in, it unsettles me a bit. "Actually, no. Come to think of it, I've never seen any of his friends around when we're talking. Wait..." I shake my head, remembering back to a few months ago. New Years Eve; One of Frank's friends showed up at the door while we were Skyping. I'd heard a bit of their conversation in the background and when the unfamiliar voice asked if he had plans, he said he was jerking off. But he wasn't. He was talking to me. At the time, it didn't seem like such a big deal. He was joking. It didn't occur to me until now that Frank hadn't just been joking with his friend, he had been lying to them.
I relay the memory to Mikey, whose frown deepens with my every word. "So you've never met any of his friends. They may not even know you exist."
The thought feels like a strike to the chest-- Frank has been keeping me a secret. It's not like I expected him to be boasting about me on his dorm's PA system, but I guess I had figured he would have told someone. Granted, only my brother and Bob knew about my friendship with Frank, but that was a lot of people considering they were really the only people I knew. If Frank hadn't told even one of his friends about me, this went beyond commitment issues. He was hiding my presence from them. But why?
"Do you think he's ashamed of me?" I find myself asking Mikey. I hate the way my voice sounds to my own ears, kind of whiny and pathetic.
Mikey sets me with a stern look. "There is no way he's ashamed to be your friend," He states. "He's written songs about you and he's posted them on YouTube for the entire world to see. Why would he do that if he were ashamed to be friends with you?"
I shrug. "Let's assume he hasn't told any of his friends about me-- That's not a commitment issue. That's secrecy. I'm his dirty little secret."
Mikey chews on his lip for a long time, so long that I'm afraid he's going to eat the whole thing if we sit here in silence much longer. Eventually, he sighs. He looks like he wants to say something reassuring, but those words have failed him. Instead, he shrugs and says, "Maybe you should ask him?"
I blink a few times. "Ask Frank if he has commitment issues?"
"No," Mikey shakes his head. "Ask him if his friends know about you. Or ask him if you could meet one of them."
The thought alone of meeting yet another stranger online, allowing them to see me through the tiny camera I'm looking into right now, terrifies me. What if they hate me? But even worse than that thought, another comes to mind; What if I ask Frank to meet one of his friends, and he says no?
In the end, I wind up nearly shaking with nerves when I sign onto Skype that night. It's our usual time and, when the screen finally loads, I see Frank is already signed on. I get a message from him a moment later.
From frankstein: Hey. You online?
Of course, he could see the little green dot that signaled I was already logged on. I didn't need to type a message back, but I do anyway. A simple 'Yeah.' A second later, the little box appears in the center of the screen, asking if I'll accept a call from Frank.
Folding a yellow post-it note in half, I set it across the top of my laptop, blocking the camera and therefore myself from view, before accepting.
I say nothing, simply watching him and sulking. Frank, leaning back against his wall and looking disheveled, pushes a hand through his messy black hair. It looks like it could use to be washed, dark circles fall under his eyes, and he's frowning, and yet he's still the most gorgeous person I've ever seen.
"You're hiding," He states. He crosses his own arms and the frown deepens. "Are you okay?"
I shrug. "I don't know," I say in a hard voice. "I don't know anything anymore, Frank."
His brows rise and looks taken aback. "Okay, you sound pissed," He says, looking concerned. "What happened?"
"Nothing happened," I admit. I take a deep breath. I'm not mad at him, not really. Part of me feels like I should be, but mostly I'm sad. This could be a big defining moment in our friendship, maybe even a step toward or away from a relationship.
"So what's up?" Frank wonders. "You sound... different. Upset."
Another deep breath. I'd spent the past few hours since ending my Skype call with Mikey trying to decide how to breach this subject. And even after so long, I came to no conclusion. I was winging this.
Frank frowns when I don't reply. "Hey," He says softly. "Are you still there?"
"Yeah," I grumble. "I'm here. I'm just... thinking."
"Can I look at you while you think?" He asks and I see a tiny smile twitch on the corners of his lips. "I wanna see your beautiful face. It always makes my day a little brighter."
Shit... There he goes again with the mixed signals. I must sigh heavily enough for him to hear me through the speakers because he begins to frown again.
"Sweetie, can you please just look at me?"
Damn it. Even with all of my uncertainties, I can't help myself. I smile a bit and then say, "Fine. But on one condition."
I recall a few months back using this same tactic. Frank must remember, too, because he grins. "Anything."
With one last exhaled breath, I take down the post-it. Frank's smile widens and he looks genuinely happy this time. "I missed that face," He states.
I can feel myself blush, making no move to cover it. Instead, I end up blurting out, "Are you embarrassed by me?"
Frank looks surprised, watching me with wide eyes. He's silent for a long moment, confusion mostly clouding his perfect features. He shakes his head dumbly. "What?"
I bite down on my lip. My cheeks flare with color again. This is why I wanted the post-it note up, but I can't hide my face now. I settle with shrugging a bit and looking down into my lap. "I'm curious," I tell him. My voice is low, mostly devoid of emotion. "Do any of your friends know I exist?"
I glance up at Frank to see him looking down at his own lap. "No," He admits. "I haven't told anyone."
My jaw clenches. I don't know whether to feel relieved because he's at least telling me the truth, or pained because he's confirming what I suspected; I'm his dirty little secret. "Why? Is it because you're embarrassed to be my friend?
Frank looks up, surprised again. Fervently, he shakes his head. "No, of course not. I'm not embarrassed by you, Gee. Why would you even assume that?"
"Because none of your friends know who I am." I shrug, pursing my lips. "I told my brother about you, and my roommate knows about you. I just find it kind of weird that you've never even mentioned me to one of your friends before. It's like you're hiding me."
Frank shakes his head again, letting out a sigh. "No, that's not it," He assures me. "I just... I didn't tell any of my friends about you because then they would want to meet you. I know how you feel about people and I didn't want to push a group Skype call on you because I figured it would overwhelm you and make you uncomfortable. I didn't want you to do that unless you were ready and my friends are kind of relentless."
He falls silent and I feel, in all honesty, ashamed. It was wrong of me to doubt him, but I'd been betrayed and abandoned so much that it was what I expected out of friendships anymore. I figured, at some point or another, Frank would leave me like everyone else did-- If I wasn't important enough to at least be mentioned to his friends, I was more easily disposable. He could throw me away and pretend like I'd never existed. I knew that most of my logic was nothing more than extreme self-doubt, but I needed to know, I needed him to reassure me, that I wasn't just someone he would use and throw away.
"Frank?" I wonder, my voice quiet when I finally find myself able to speak again.
Frank hums in response and tilts his head to one side. "Yeah?"
I bite down on my lip nervously. "Can I meet one of your friends?"