Hell-Bent On Slipping Away

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"Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent." -Victor Hugo

"I need to know," said Frank one afternoon, the tiredness tugging at his eyes like anchors on a boat, but he forced them open with a shake of the head and a few heavy blinks.

"Need to know what?" Gerard asked as innocently as ever.

It was a chilly November Saturday. The two were walking into the mall, money burning holes in their pockets as the prospect of new music lingered fresh in their minds.

Frank rubbed his eyes in order to wake himself up. He was barely out of bed when Gerard fetched him for their outing. "I need to know where you've been going, dude. You just disappear for a couple of days and come back. I'm afraid to ask about it." The total episodes had made their tally at three now, apparent that this was going to be a regular occurrence.

"I wonder why you're asking about it now," said Gerard dreamily, looking anywhere but at Frank and taking a left turn from the entranceway into a coffee shop that both of the boys loved.

Frank rolled his eyes, simultaneously fighting the urge to smile at the sweet scent of brewing coffee and pastries. "If you don't want to tell me, then what about the bruises?"

The bruise around his eye had faded into just a reddish circle, but the other small injuries appeared again as soon as they were healed. "The what now?" Gerard wouldn't look him in the eyes.

"Please don't play dumb," Frank begged. He was desperate for answers and had not a shred of patience for bullshit.

Gerard finally turned to the younger boy. Fire caught flame in his eyes and his mouth was a thin line. An expression like this was saved only for the worst of moods when it came to the red headed dreamer, so seeing one fairly out of the blue terrified Frank. "Can we not talk about this now, please?" he hissed, gritting his teeth on the last word.

Taken aback, Frank put his hands up. "Okay," he said softly with a shake of his head. "I'm sorry."

Gerard turned away from him and said clearly, "One cup of black coffee, two sugars, and a caramel frappichino." Frank hadn't noticed that they were at the front of the line already; he was so busy trying to get a resolution from his friend that time must've slipped away. "And I love your shirt," Gerard said to the tired looking barista. "It really brings out your eyes." The woman blushed and thanked him. Gerard was so nice to everyone, especially people in the service industry. Frank was so cold to everyone, colder than the air outside.

Gerard no longer looked upset when he sat down with his mug at the table a minute later. Frank clutched what his friend called a "pansy drink," in one hand, the other sitting awkwardly in his lap. Pansy or not, caramel tasted pretty fucking good to Frank, and the surge of caffeine kept him awake.

With a clattering noise, Gerard suddenly leaned over, elbows on the table and coffee disregarded. He was right in Frank's face, the distance uncomfortable, but so very comfortable at the same time.

He closed his eyes and cocked his head to the side, slowly getting closer. Time seemed to go at half speed for Frank, Gerard lingering just centimeters away, lips ready to be met. Frank was tempted to lean in too. And if he wasn't such a wuss, Frank may have gotten his first kiss with the person he probably would want it to be with.

He pushed Gerard back. "Fuck man, not in public..." His voice trailed off.

A triumphant smile broke out of Gerard's face. "Chicken!" he taunted. Frank didn't respond, only brushing the comment off. There was no way he would actually kiss Gerard, but then again, if he did, would it be so bad?

It wasn't like Frank was going to admit to anyone, especially himself, that he actually liked Gerard more than a friend. The gay side of him had to shoved far, far into the closet for him to be around his companion and function normally. He suppressed it well enough, and disregarding the games of gay chicken (which didn't count), Gerard didn't seem to have a clue. The thoughts in the back of Frank's head concerning romantic attraction in Gerard's general direction were covered.

And such were the musings of Frank Iero as the pair finished their beverages and made their way to the little music store in the west wing of the mall. The sign, thin black letters followed by a depiction of a vinyl reading Highway Records, hung above the entrance and brought back memories to Frank of the many trips he had been on to the store. The owner, a man with a heart of gold called Ray, knew Frank and Gerard so well that, when he saw something they would like, he would set it aside until they came in again. Their trips were never far apart, so the music Ray would hold for them wouldn't have to wait long. Whether it was Iron Maiden or Green Day or some eccentric band fresh to the scene, there would always be something worthwhile, handpicked by the friendly store owner.

The bell chimed as Gerard and Frank walked in, terribly excited like every other time they came. Ray smiled instantly at the two and bent down behind the counter to pull out two CDs. They made a beeline to where Ray had set them down.

"Frank, Gerard," Ray greeted, "how you doing?" He flashed a genuine smile.

"Pretty good," said Gerard, beaming. "What do we have today?" Frank could safely say that he looked amazing when he smiled like that, like he was on cloud nine.

Ray pushed a CD towards Gerard. "For you, The Stooges. Raw Power, 1973. Sound good?"

"Sounds great," said Gerard, taking the disc case and examining it. "I've been wanting it for a while, actually." He grinned, obviously pleased with what Ray had picked out. Frank wanted to jump up and down like a child at Christmas, begging to find out what was for him, but he knew better.

Ray nodded and turned his attention to the younger boy, who was practically bursting with anticipation. He hadn't heard anything new in a while and his insatiable desire for just a little more punk music was overwhelming. "And Frank, have you ever heard Operation Ivy?" Frank shook his head no. "This one's called Energy, 1989, and I think you'd like it."

Frank took his selection and scanned it over. It didn't look half bad, but knowing it was from Ray, it would be three times as good as expected. He couldn't wait to get home and play it as loud as the speakers would let it go. There was no stopping it, and Frank's poor mother had just learned to let it happen.

The two thanked Ray, paid, made some small talk, and left, thus concluding their trip to the mall. Once in the car, a game of rock, paper, scissors ensued, and the winner (Gerard) got to play his new music in the car. Frank had never really liked Iggy and The Stooges as much as his friend, but they were damn good anyways, and if it made Gerard happy, Frank would make sure to listen to it. He would honestly do anything to make him happy, and listening to a good band together in the dumpy pickup truck for fifteen minutes wasn't a bad deal at all.

Frank didn't have to do much to make his best friend happy because Gerard was naturally a positive person. In truth, Frank probably needed him a lot more than he needed Frank when it came to happiness. Just a small smile could brighten Frank's day, and, while he wasn't exactly depressed, he needed that daily. So when Gerard left for these extended periods of time, Frank was left in the dust wondering, what would he do without Gerard?

I'm not sure if I can update next week because I'll be at a lake house for a week and wifi isn't guaranteed. On the bright side, I might get rid of the horrible tanlines I have acquired.

Remember to comment/vote if you like :)

-cady