Summertime (Frerard)

39: We Fuck And Fight Like Vagabonds

Gerard walked almost in slow motion as we approached his house; his actions seeming to slow and his breath irregulating in a manner that was perhaps just a little concerning. I wanted to say something but my vocal chords rendered themselves utterly uncooperative, and I had nothing in me but to walk beside him as we approached the front door in a delayed and slowed down time, almost as if we had waltzed to our very own psychological demise.

Common sense had to vouch for the fact that whatever he was keeping hidden inside couldn't be all that bad, and it was simply an overreaction fuelled by a lack of understanding regarding just how much I cared about him. But Gerard wasn't quite so stupid like that, was he?

I couldn't help but let thoughts like these run through my head at a thousand miles per hour, because if we weren't at a fast pace, I guess something just had to be.

I reconsidered for a moment, even contemplated stepping back on my whole decision and the countless requests in favour of this all so elusive secret that my perhaps still boyfriend thought it best not to tell me. I mean, Gerard wasn't like Mikey, he didn't just keep things from you without reason, and Gerard and I were close after all, so surely it shouldn't matter.

But I just couldn't help but notice they way Mikey looked at Gerard like he couldn't recognise the man before him as his brother, and I needed to know why.

I could never really hate Gerard. It just didn't seem at all feasible; I was sickeningly head over heels for him and the possibility of that all disappearing at the telling of one secret was not only unbelievable but unnerving too.

That scared me - the thought scared me, and very much so.

Perhaps Gerard was simply nothing more than embarrassed in recognition of bad and stupid decisions he'd made in the past, and I guess, as were we all, but Mikey just threw that theory out of credibility. Mikey still wouldn't look at Gerard like that. Okay, Mikey held grudges, but he always came around someway or another.

And this time I just couldn't quite shake the feeling it was all because of me. Pete's words came back to me and I couldn't help think about the destruction we'd cause and how easily he'd forgiven me for hurting him like I had. It confused me and contorted my stomach in a manner that was tripping me precariously on the end of spontaneous vomiting, which I really was not up for, especially right now.

But I just couldn't silence the thoughts that perhaps I was wrong and Gerard had his reasons and Pete was right, but I couldn't not know, not now anymore. Perhaps knowing was better than accidentally finding out, I guess in the long run, anyways, but for right now I really wasn't so sure.

This was all hit and miss but I seemed to just keeping missing, perhaps there wasn't even anything I could hit in the first place, besides my boyfriend's face.

I guessed I'd made my mistakes, and he'd made his, but perhaps he was right and perhaps I shouldn't know, but I couldn't help but be horribly curious.

And I guess curiosity did kill the cat in the end, but don't we all just need something to die for?

-

The slam of Gerard's bedroom door was enough to pull me back into reality and quickly panic at me surroundings before the memories of making my way up to his bedroom in a barely there kind of trance state flooded back to me.

"How do you want this to go, Frank?" He asked, speaking to me in a formal manner and using my full name in a manner that caught my attention almost instantly, mostly because my father addressed me as 'Frank'... that or 'fag', and I couldn’t afford not to pay attention when it came to him.

"I just want us to know, I just want there to be no more secrets, and I want the two of us to have a fresh start and I want this to go well." Gerard stood and looked at me for a moment, our gazes meeting and I fought back the urge to kiss him, because I doubted that a sudden spring of romantic affection wouldn't exactly be all that appropriate.