Thirty-Five

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Gerard cackled, holding the guitar close to his chest.

They had been playing Lazy Bones, a Green Day they both liked. Gerard wasn't exactly sure how they had started, only that Frank looked absolutely hilarious when singing passionately into a hairbrush, his black hair sweaty and tousled. Frank's gray comforter was not smooth as it had been before, but now dented-looking from where they had stood. Gerard felt sort of bad for stepping on Frank's bed with his boots still on, but what was a bed if not used for dancing?

Gerard put the guitar back in its stand. "I really like your room," he said, pulling off his Docs. Frank looked around. "Thanks," he said. "I'm thirsty. Do you want to walk to the grocery store? It's, like, five minutes from here."

So Gerard put on the boots that he had just removed and Frank tied the frayed laces of his Converse, and after alerting Frank's mom of their future whereabouts, they were off.

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