When We're Both Thirty

Mikey is Basically Smarter Than Everyone On the Planet

Gerard leaves the bathroom a moment after he's finished snooping to see Frank busying himself with something in the kitchen. Gerard's not too sure what, because he's not really paying any attention.

"Do you still like cinnamon sugar on your toast?" Frank asks him, and Gerard's both taken aback and confused by the words.

"What?"

"Well, when we were kids," Frank starts, drifting off and looking uncomfortable, "that's what you liked. I was just..."

"That was such a long time ago. How on earth do you even remember that?" Gerard asks.

"Well I just-" Frank starts, but stops himself. "You know what, never mind."

"Why did you bother to remember that?"

"It's not important!" Frank insists, "I just did. Okay? I didn't mean to. You're one to talk though, you completely forgot about you and I ever being friends. If you ask me, that's a lot weirder than remembering things about a guy who did used to be my best friend."

"We were never really friends though," Gerard says, because he likes pretending they weren't. Ever since the memories have resurfaced of how they used to hang out, it's been easier to pretend that Frank was always his enemy. It's better on his conscience. He remembers just how close they were though, and he hates feeling guilty about the fact that they lost that.

They were close though. Everyone thought they were fucking adorable, and they probably were. It's kind of sad to think that they lost that so easily.

"Just, like, here," Frank says, and he pushes a plate over to Gerard with a piece of toast on it. "You do whatever."

"Yeah, okay," Gerard says, furrowing his eyebrows at the weird exchange. Frank awkwardly walks around the kitchen counter and to the other side of the room. He does his best to look anywhere but at Gerard, which is confusing for the both of them, because Gerard doesn't know why he's avoiding eye contact, and Frank doesn't know why he all of a sudden is incapable of looking at Gerard in the eye.

The painfully uncomfortable silence is mercifully broken a second later by someone hammering at the door.

"I will get that!" Frank says, jumping quickly to the door like it's all he lives for. Gerard just watches and grabs the toast as is, because he feels weird meddling around in someone else's kitchen. He likes to look through peoples stuff, but it's weird when said person is in the room to watch him do it.

"Hello mikeyway," Frank says when he opens the door.

"Where's Gerard?"

"No, don't say hi back. I'm just a human, no need to be polite," Frank says sarcastically.

"Hello Frank, where is Gerard?"

"Hey Mikes," Gerard calls from the kitchen.

Mikey walks past Frank and into the apartment, without any real invitation, but he's got a way of making you do just about anything he wants. There's really no questioning Mikey, especially when he's got that look in his eye like he's out for blood.

"You had me fucking worried, Gerard, you asshole," Mikey says, crossing his arms as he looks at Gerard.

"You're angry with me? What'd I do? I'm the victim here, Mikey!"

"I'm not saying it's your fault!" Mikey replies, "but you didn't even fucking call me to tell me that you're not fucking dead. That's why you're an asshole."

"I was unconscious!"

"That's not a valid excuse."

"Get angry at Frank then! I was asleep, he could've called you," Gerard points out.