"Gerard," Frank called, holding a wooden spoon over a pan of scrambled eggs. "You left your crutches here again."
"Coming," Gerard responded, entering the kitchen a few minutes later. "I love not needing to carry around these hunks of metal to walk anymore," he admired, resting his head on Frank's shoulder from behind.
"Yeah, if only I didn't trip over them twenty million times. I'll be needing them soon." Frank grinned and turned his head to kiss Gerard's cheek.
Gerard giggled. "Isn't it funny? We haven't had a single ghost-related issue for three months. I guess Bart's scared of us now."
"Thank God. So now you can tell me what you really think of this place." Frank scooped the eggs out of the pan onto two plates with toast.
"To tell you the truth, I really like it. It's got character, y'know?" Gerard smiled and grabbed his plate of breakfast.
"Good. That's really good to hear, actually," Frank responded, stabbing a fork into his eggs.
Gerard took a bite of his toast and his eyes widened.
"Something wrong?" Frank asked.
"Uh, no, I just wanna know how someone manages to fuck up toast." Gerard laughed and placed the slice back onto the plate.
Frank frowned comically then smirked. "Okay, smart ass, how about you make breakfast?"
"Actually, I think it's great, no need for that." He picked up the piece of toast again and hesitantly took another bite, struggling to give a smile of approval which ended up looking more like a cringe.
Frank smirked. "God, you're such a douche."
"An awesome douche," Gerard responded confidently.
"Bart's a douche," Frank stated, "and so is that other dude, Benedict. They're both douches."
"So you believe in ghosts now? Look at that character development." Gerard nodded in approval.
"Who said I believe in ghosts? I still think they're fake. That Bart situation was obviously just some little hallucination between us both." Frank shrugged, truly believing in his point.
"Wow. Explain it to me, then," Gerard insisted.
"Well, it's simple. It was dark, I was tired, and the draft in this place sounds like voices. And as for you, you had your nose in that ghost book for days. Obviously it was a placebo. You know what they say—if you believe something hard enough, then it's real." Frank took a sip of his glass of orange juice and opened his hands. "Case closed."
Gerard stared at Frank in disbelief. "Yeah? Well what about when that fucking ghost threw me down the stairs?"
"It is possible that you lost your step and simply fell." Frank shrugged.
"Man, you're a tough one. You oughta be possessed yourself to actually believe." Gerard smiled and shook his head. "You skeptic."
"Yeah, I'd rather be a skeptic than constantly believe I'm not alone when I really am." Frank cocked an eyebrow and looked at Gerard with a smug expression.
YOU ARE READING
He Who Doesn't Believe Is Aggrieved ☆ FRERARD
Paranormal"If God was a villain, He'd be me." When Frank Iero sees a beautiful Gothic house encompassed between hills and valleys go for Sale, he buys it for him and his husband, Gerard Way, to live in. A steal. Perfect, so they thought. When they begin to...
