Patron Saint of the Denial

Chapter Five.

Fast forward 25 minutes and a beer.

Gerard is here, and his brother Mikey is with him. He's most definitely the Mikey from the Dairy Queen, the one who seemed to be in quite deep shit when we last met.

But all that trouble had disappeared.

And I was freaking the fuck out.

Bob was currently rolling a joint on my dresser and making buttfucking jokes, now night wind brushing past all 6 of us in the small shed erratically.

Pete had changed positions to sitting on my dresser, right next to where Bob was creating his latest weed masterpiece.

Mikey had chosen to sit with him, then on him, both heavily intoxicated. Pete had his head set on his shoulder, playing with his hair as I sat with Gerard.

I had always been the type to develop crushes easily. Ever since I had accepted who I was, I had also been quite accepting when I was attracted to someone.

But I couldn't just accept whether I was attracted to Gerard yet or not.

There had been many guys I had easily developed crushes on, immediately deciding that that they were hot shit and that I wanted them. But that had led to many losses. Losses of boyfriends, friends, the viewed as golden thing called virginity. That was a painful memory, literally and emotionally. I didn't invite him over to mope.

Following that revelation, I took a beer in each hand and brought them back, bits splashing on my face as I cracked each one open fast. I chugged both. By the end of the can I could barely recognize the voices of the guys behind me. They were drunkenly chanting my name, cheering me on. I could make out the smell of beer floating through the air as I crushed the cans.

Gerard placed a kiss on my cheek. "Victory!" he'd yelled. I didn't think much of it, yet my stomach still churned a little, and not even because of the quick alcohol consumption.

I brushed it off. Everyone in this room has kissed me on the cheek at least once, especially Pete, the most flamboyant of us all. He had pulled a boa out from nowhere, dancing to a The Used demo, a 5 song EP made by a band Pete's friend fronted.

"Don't you just think The Taste Of Ink brings out my personality's glow?" he said, sashaying around the table.

"Should I have ever given him that boa?" Gerard asked, laughing with me and the rest of the room.

"Yeah, because now he'll be Vine famous!" I yelled, walking towards the side he was on to get my phone.

"STAY ON THAT SIDE OF THE ROOM, MOTHERFUCKER, I'LL KNOCK YOU OUT!" He yelled, flipping his boa in the process.

The room exploded with screaming and laughter. With the crushing of cans and the dropping of weed.

This was what real fucking fun was like. Real fucking friends.

"I could beat you to a fucking pulp Wentz, you'll be some black orange juice in fucking Kroger," Ray slurred. I laid across Gerard, feeling warm yet numb. I didn't care about actions or consequences anymore.

After watching Mikey and Pete sloppily make out on my own fucking bed, resulting in Ray's either extremely awkward shifting or awkwardly uncomfortable hard-on, we learned about Mikey Way, tumblr God.

"Fucking Pop Punk drinking game?" he asked, the question directed at all of us but still facing Pete. Probably only an inch away from his face, causing Ray to shift again, all of us sitting on the bed feeling the mattress bounce.

"Hell yeah! Time to get this motherfucker drunker...fucking -er," Gerard said, sitting on my lap yet facing toward me, straddling me a small bit. I could already barely see, warm feelings everywhere, but more alcohol never killed.

"Hell yeah! We've played all these bands, let's play shit from Fall Out Boy!" Pete screamed. He played bass in Fall Out Boy, and they had just released an EP, Evening Out With Your Girlfriend.

Bob had brought in vodka by then, so we were so fucking drunk I couldn't move. Everyone was just babbling and slurring.

"Wentz and Mikey! Kid!" They quit their drunken groping for a moment, turning to Ray to ask what the hell he was yelling for.

"Out of the two of you, who would top?" Ray yelled. "My brother is a bottom! A fucking bottom, man," Gerard shouted. "What the fuck dude!" Mikey motioned as if he was pushing him, even thought they were feet apart.

"Pete would top. Because he's too much of a daisy to take it up the ass," I said, barely able to hear my own voice. It was weird, but I liked it. I liked this.

"Bitch, lemme get this straight right now. I. Am. A daffodil. 'Get it right before I snap ya. Kay?" Screeches erupted again, except for me, who just gave an accomplished smirk.

"Let's get out of here," Gerard whispered to me. I don't know by what power, but I followed.

We snuck into my house and watched High School Musical. We sat, and ate, and left. "Sharpay is queen and you know it," he reminded me, with a Z snap for emphasis.

I saw Gerard take a few things from the bathroom cabinet, but I didn't care. It was the master bathroom, my parents', so they deserved it.

We went back to the shed, only to see everyone was knocked out in the same places they were before.

Gerard and I sat, me on top of him this time. We were facing each other though, talking about stupid things. Basically just to hear each other talk.

"You want your lip pierced?" He asked. That's what he had taken. I had pierced my nose myself when I was 14, the start of my exile from my family. "Why not?" I shrugged. Who cares? Plus, it'd probably be pretty rad.

I could only feel a pinch when he stuck the needle through my lip, still wincing though. He was so drunk he lost the ring. "Hold on, I'm so sorry..." he kept repeating that. I spent at least a minute bleeding into the ground while he got a grip on the silver loop.

He finally pushed it through, and cleaned it. He smiled and pulled me up, looking at his handiwork. You look cute, Frankie," he said pulling me back in the shed, where he laid next to me. I could see he was at the verge of passing out, right here on my bed next to his brother and Pete. He looked so gentle when he was sleeping, fragile even. Still...pretty. Somehow. "'Night, Gee," I whispered to him. I threw half a cover over him, feeling satisfied with my mom-like tendencies. "Nighty, Frankenstein," was the last thing I heard before I passed out under the blanket and the wind.

A/N: If you don't know what the Pop Punk Drinking Game is, I put it in the header with the song.

I'm supposed to be writing an essay on Lorraine Hansberry's "A Raisin in the Sun" right now, (because we read it AGAIN) but nope, I'm writing about Pete Wentz being a daffodil. So yeah, maybe no fluff after all. But just look out for next chapter. 🌚 (Update: I did 5 paragraphs this morning in another class and still got a 96. Omfg, AP L/A shouldn't be this easy.)

Oh and a friend of mine made me a copy of The Used's Shallow Believer so that gave me motivation. Have a rad week/day/year/existence.

(((( writing vibes, ))))
xøMay.