Entry tags:

stories

Impetuous Behavior. [1/2.]
Title: Impetuous Behavior.
Author: causticmayhemx aka me!
Pairing: Ferard, obvz.
Rating: Ha, NC17.
Word Count: Total: 10966. This Part: 6197.
Summary: When Frank doesn't know what to do with the rest of his life, a rash decision is quite possibly the best he's ever made.
Disclaimer: 100% fake, but the character's personalities and plot? That's all me, ha.
Dedication: For miserylovedme because she likes Ferard buttsecks [and now she owes me, ha, ilyalyssuhh].
A/N: This is a monstrosity. Thirty two pages of pure standalone, split into two parts. Enjoy! It's my baby-- Took me two days, ha. Title Credit: The lovely Aria.





When Frank was in the first grade, he wanted to be a teacher. He wanted to stand up in front of people and teach them. He wanted to be respected, the center of attention. He wanted to teach people how to count to ten, to twenty, to one hundred. He wanted to teach them that one plus one equaled two, and that apples were red and bananas were yellow. He wanted to have his own chalkboard, with multi-color chalk, and he wanted to help people learn.

****



When Frank was in third grade, he wanted to be an astronaut. He wanted to make his own spaceship --in his garage-- and he wanted to fly to the moon and the sun and all the stars in the galaxy. He wanted to wear the big boots he saw on television and eat weird food and fly high above the earth. He wanted to see people really small and be able to float around and do really cool gymnastics in the air.

****



When Frank was in sixth grade, he wanted to be a rock star. He wanted to live the glamorous life that he saw on television and in the magazines. He wanted to play the guitar and head bang and belt out lyrics that everyone thought were so deep and meaningful but were really only about drugs. He wanted to do heroin, just to say he'd done it, and go to rehab just for the notoriety-- That's what he told himself anyway; he didn't really have any desire to do any drugs.

****



By the time Frank hit senior year in high school, he had no desire to go to college at all. He had no idea just who the hell he wanted to be. He had long forgotten his childhood aspirations that were solely based on, well, nothing really. He had no desire to further his education when he didn't know what to do with his life. And every time they wrote essays about what they want to do with their future in one of his English classes, he didn't even do it. It was a waste of time.

"I swear to God, Mikey, the next time the class has to write a damn essay on what they want to be when they 'grow up,' I'm going to vomit. Am I the only one sick of this shit?" Frank asked Mikey, his best friend since freshman year, as they sat on Mikey's ratted old couch in the basement, The Misfits playing loudly in the background.

Mikey rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't be sick of it if you knew what you wanted to do with your life," he answered, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and writing another line or two on his college ruled paper.

Frank sighed. "Yeah, well, I do know what I want to do with my life."

"If it includes working at that damn music store and mooching off your parents, it's not a future," Mikey retorted.

"Yes, it is. Just. Not a good one," Frank shrugged. "Seriously, Mikey. For how long have you wanted to major in international communications specializing in Spanish? Like, two months?" he asked, taking Mikey's paper from him and reading over the first paragraph.

"No, Frank," Mikey growled, grabbing his paper and pulling it out of Frank's hand, ripping the side. "I've wanted to do that for a while and now you've ripped my goddamn paper with your stupidity."

Frank sighed and sat back against the couch. "College sucks."

"How the hell would you know? You've never been."

"Have you?"

"No."

"So...how do you know it doesn't?"

Mikey shrugged. "I don't. But I'm hoping it doesn't. Besides, Gerard says it's not that bad."

"How is it that I've known you for four years and I've never even met the illusive older brother that, apparently, lives in his room which is twenty feet away from where we hang out the most?" Frank asked, glancing over to the door on his left, covered in band posters and fliers from shows. It was always shut. He had never seen it open. And he was often consumed with the curiosity of what exactly was inside the room and what Mikey's older brother was really like.

He shrugged again. "He's been away at college three of those four years. And he's really busy. And when he's not busy, he's cramped up in his room doing his job," he said carelessly, taking another piece of paper from his binder and starting a new paragraph.

"How mad would he get if I just. Opened the door?" Frank asked.

"He'd probably kill you."

Frank paused. "Really?"

Mikey shrugged once more. "He might. You never know."

"Is he. Is he really homicidal?"

He rolled his eyes. "You're such a stupid fuck, Frank. Honestly, I don't know how you're passing anything."

"I'm sleeping with the teachers, you doofus," Frank said. "Duh."

"That's not even funny."

"It's. It's kind of funny."

Mikey just rolled his eyes and finished his paper, not responding to anything else Frank said that night.

****



"Frank, do we have to watch this movie every single time you stay the night?" Mikey asked, sighing.

"Yes," Frank answered without pausing. "It's one of the greatest movies of all time, Mikey."

"No, it's not. It's ridiculously stupid after about, oh, the first ten times."

"You're just scared," Frank smiled, popping the DVD in and going to the couch to sit with Mikey. "It's a fucking fantastic movie and you're just terrified Hannibal's gonna eat your brain."

Mikey rolled his eyes. "Why am I your friend?"

"Because I'm pretty and, because I'm gay, all the girls want to be my friend so therefore, I find you hot girls to date and bang," Frank said.

"I thought you were bi?"

"Oh, I am, but I get more attention from the ladies if I say I'm a gay. It's win-win, dude, you gotta think about these things," Frank told him, skipping through all of the previews.

"I'm so sick of this movie," Mikey grumbled, sinking into the cushions and falling asleep within minutes.

Frank waited about thirty minutes after Mikey fell asleep before he stood up slowly, keeping his eyes on his friend, as he backed away to the door that led to the basement. He glanced around quickly, making sure no one else was around, and he opened the door, slowly slinking down the stairs, as quietly as he could, without tripping. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he made it down without any stairs creaking, and he slowly and silently made his way over to Gerard's door. He looked around once more and grabbed the brass door knob, twisting it slowly, wincing when it creaked slightly, and he pushed it open.

His eyes widened as he stepped inside the small room, his hand fell from the knob. He took another step, looking all around him. It was darker than he would've thought, a single lamp in the corner of the room illuminated the paintings all over the walls and reflected in the single dirty mirror above the only dresser. The paintings and sketches caught his eyes instantly, all cartoons or super heroes, in battle sequences or in general poses. His eyes bypassed the small bed, messy and crumbled, and the nightstand filled with CD's and cassettes and paint, and he stepped closer to where he assumed the closet was, raising a hand to open the door when he heard a sound behind him and a hand covered his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

Frank froze instantly, his blood nearly going cold, and he opened his mouth to speak but the words wouldn't come out.

Another hand grabbed his left arm, pulling him against someone's chest. "I asked what you are doing. It's impolite to not answer someone's question when they ask you nicely."

"I-- I-- I don't know," Frank whimpered pathetically, growing more scared by the second. "Who are you?"

Whoever it was stepped backwards a few steps, pulling Frank with him, before they let go completely, turning him around. "Who are you?"

Frank's eyes widened as his feet tangled together in the harsh, quick turn, and he fell over, landing on his backside. He hissed in pain and the man grabbed his arm, helping him up. "Thank you," he answered timidly, glancing up at the man and found himself shocked to see eyes so bright in the dark.

"Who are you?" he asked again. "Did your parents not teach you manners?"

"They did," Frank said. "I'm Frank."

The man smiled. "Ah. You're my little brother's annoying best friend."

"I am not annoying!" he protested. "Wait, you're Gerard?"

Gerard's eyebrows rose. "Yes. What? Is that disappointing to you?"

"No," Frank said. "No. Just. I don't know. I imagined you..."

"Darker? More introverted?"

"Less creepy," he admitted. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Yes, well, you're in my room, without my permission-- I have the right to be as 'creepy' as I want," Gerard answered. "Now, tell me what you were doing in here or get the hell out."

Frank sucked in a deep breath. "I was. I was curious. I just. Mikey and I hang out down here a lot. Out there. And I'd never seen your room. So..."

"So you decided to nearly break in when you thought I wasn't home?"

"I--" Frank sighed. "Yes."

Gerard shook his head. "Get the hell out right now and never come in here again. I hope this brief glance satisfied your curiosity because if you ever step foot in my room again, without my permission, I will rip your legs off."

Frank gulped. "Um. O--Okay," he stuttered, turning around and rushing out of the room and up the stairs, tripping over one and falling onto his knee. He overlooked the pain, though, in order to scurry up the stairs faster, leaving Gerard in his room to laugh over the scene before him.

The next morning, Frank found himself sitting at Mikey's kitchen table, slowly eating a bowl of Apple Jacks, eating all of the green first and leaving the red in the bowl to get a little bit soggy. He heard the basement door opened and felt his cheeks flush and he stared at his bowl of cereal, left hand absently running over the scrape on his left knee, the only physical reminder of the humiliation from the night before.

"Good morning, Mikey," Gerard said easily, walking into the kitchen and grabbing himself a cup of coffee.

"Um. Morning, Gee," Mikey said slowly. "It's. It's ten am. There's no way you're awake this early on a Saturday."

"Oh, I haven't gone to bed yet," Gerard told him.

Mikey sighed. "Figures. I don't see how you can do that, Gee. Stay up all night and go to work the next day-- You're insane."

"I'm not insane. It's just my own schedule, you know that," he told him. He walked over to the table and set his coffee mug down, eyes landing on Frank. "So who is this?"

"Frank. My best friend. C'mon, I've mentioned him enough."

Gerard nodded. "I know. I just now have a face to put with the name. Or, well, a head of hair."

Frank flushed deeper and slowly looked up, sending Mikey's brother a small wave. "Hi."

Gerard smiled. "Nice to finally meet you."

Frank felt his stomach twist up. "Yeah. Same to you."

Mikey looked between the two of them and rolled his eyes. "You both are a bunch of freaks," he muttered, standing up and dumping his empty bowl of milk in the sink. "I'm going up to my room to play some Guitar Hero," he told them before exiting the kitchen.

Frank helplessly watched Mikey leave, unable to make himself ask him to say, before his eyes slowly fell upon Gerard. In the bright sunlight, his eyes even brighter than they were earlier, and hair darker than he could've ever imagined, and he suddenly felt smaller than ever. He stood up slowly, abandoning his bowl, and he pointed towards the stairs leading up to Mikey's room, feeling more uncomfortable by the second. "I'm. I'm just. Gonna. Go," he said, turning and running up the stairs again, this time without falling, but he still left a laughing Gerard behind him.

****



"Why in the hell are you so good at Guitar Hero?" Mikey asked, crossing his arms and sulking against the side of his bed.

Frank shrugged, smiling. "Because I own at life, dear Michael," he said, setting the guitar aside.

"Sure."

"I do," Frank said, leaning back against Mikey's bed next to him. "So... What does your brother do?"

"He works for Cartoon Network."

"Doing what?"

Mikey shrugged. "I don't know. He doesn't tell me shit."

"I thought you two were close?"

He shrugged again. "We were. We were closer before he went to college. We kind of drifted then because he was always away. But we're still relatively close. Just not all...best friends close, I guess."

"I’m sorry."

"Don't be," Mikey said, reaching onto his nightstand and pulling a book down. "I'm going to read. Why don't you go home?"

Frank laughed. "I don't like my house, you know that. It's totally boring."

"Yes, well, why don't you just not bug me for a bit."

"You're mean."

"Okay."

Frank shrugged. "I'm going to go walk around your house and make fun of your baby pictures then. How 'bout that?"

Mikey rolled his eyes. "Do whatever the hell you want, man, I just wanna read."

Frank kissed Mikey's forehead, earning him a loud 'ew!', and he stood up, walking out of the room. He walked downstairs, stopping to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator, before he cast a curious glance towards the basement door. He didn't know what it was about Gerard, or his room, or whatever it was, but he found himself opening the door again and sneaking down the stairs and over to Gerard's room once more.

His hands were shaking, palms sweating slightly, as he quietly opened the door, pushing it open just enough to peer in and his eyes landed on Gerard. Naked. Sleeping. In bed. The covers thrown off carelessly, the paleness of his skin appearing even brighter considering the only light in the room was shining in through the dirty window above his bed. Frank's breath caught in his throat as Gerard mumbled in his sleep, turning over, an arm slung over his chest.

His eyes widened, his heart race sped up as his eyes involuntarily --or so he told himself-- slowly drifted down the length of Gerard's torso. He bit at his lip ring and forced his eyes up to Gerard's face, realizing that he really was quite beautiful-- When he wasn't scaring the shit out of Frank, anyway. Frank found himself breathing a little heavier as something stirred in the pit of his stomach and he shut the door quickly, not caring if it woke Gerard up or not, as he ran up the stairs again and out of Mikey's house without even saying goodbye. He didn't stop running until he was in his room at home, with a major hard on, and he collapsed face-first into his bed, groaning into his pillow.

****



"Why have you been avoiding me this week?"

Frank froze, looking side to side. "Um, what?"

Mikey sighed. "You've been avoiding me. Why?"

"I have not been."

"Yes, you have. You're my best friend, I know when you're avoiding me. I just don't know why."

"I haven't been meaning to," Frank answered, scratching at his arm even though it wasn't itching.

"So you'll come over after school today? We have that English homework and I know you're gonna need help on it," Mikey said, offering a small smile.

Frank bit his lip. "Um. Is your. Brother gonna be there?"

Mikey thought for a minute. "I don't think so. I think he has a date. Or he's working late. I don't know, they rhyme and I don't listen. So. I doubt it."

He nodded. "Kay. I'll be over."

"What's your fixation with my brother?"

"It's not a fixation. He's just really creepy."

"I'll give you that."

****



"I hate my fucking job!"

Mikey cringed as the front door slammed shut and he looked over the back of the couch. "Hi, Gee. Bad day?"

Gerard scowled. "Bad doesn't even begin to-- Are you always here?" he asked Frank who flushed under his stare.

Frank involuntarily slouched in the seat even more. "Um. No. I'm not. I just--"

"No, you're always here. You're here when I'm not here. And I hear you here when I'm here," Gerard groaned. "Why doesn't your annoying friend ever go home, Mikey?"

"Because I'm not an asshole like you, Gee, I let my friends stay."

"I'd let my friends stay if I had friends," Gerard retorted. "Don't you have a house? A family?"

"A house? Yes. A family? Yes. But I don't like either of them, so..." Frank shrugged.

Gerard sighed. "Whatever."

"Why do you hate your job, Gee?" Mikey asked impatiently.

"Because they're mind-numbingly dull people who don't give two shits about anything creative or outside their damn precious box of like, Dexter’s Lab or whatever the fuck they're showing these days," he ranted. "I hate them. I hate going to the stupid building. I hate riding the damn ferry to get to the building. I hate wearing fucking slacks and goddamn ties. I hate sweaters, I hate sweater vests, and I hate having to wash my hair."

"Pretty sure the last is just basic hygiene," Frank threw out there. He wished he hadn't when Gerard scowled at him again.

Gerard rose a hand and pointed at him accusingly. "You. Just shut the fuck up."

"Don't tell my friends to shut up, Gerard, and why don't you shut up," Mikey suggested, turning back around to work on his paper again.

"Why don't you shut up," Gerard mocked, rolling his eyes. "I'll be in my room. Working. Leave me alone or I'll kill you both," he said, walking towards the door to the basement.

"Sure you will," Mikey muttered in disbelief.

"I will," Gerard said.

"Keep telling yourself that, Gee."

Frank waited until he heard the basement door slam shut and he turned to look at Mikey. "Is he always like that?"

"Foul tempered and ill-mannered?"

"Yes. And...creepy?"

Mikey nodded. "Yeah. It's because he went to art school, I swear. He has to be all weird and shit," he shrugged. "But he's always been weird. "I mean, there isn't one source of light in his room at all."

"There's a lamp," Frank said without thinking.

"What?" Mikey asked, head whipping around to look at Frank.

"I mean. Don't you think there's a lamp? Or a light? I mean, something? No room can be totally dark," he said easily.

"Nothing that I've seen," Mikey told him. "And I've actually been in there-- You haven't."

"Yeah," Frank said, looking at the basement door, distracted. "That's true."

Mikey sighed. "Get back to work, Frank. The only time you actually do your work is when I make you so do it already."

"Yeah, okay, okay," he looked back down at his paper to see he only had his name, class period, and date written in the top right corner. "Wait, what's this paper about?"

Mikey sighed and rolled his eyes yet again. "Do you ever pay attention in class?"

"Apparently not. Now tell me," he demanded, "please," he added as an afterthought.

"Okay, you're supposed to write about where you want to go to college, for what, why you chose that college, famous people who've majored in what you're majoring in, and why you chose that major," Mikey explained.

"Yeah, I'm going to vomit. And then slit my own throat," Frank said. "I'm sick of this 'future' shit. Why can't anyone just take it one day at a time and let whatever's supposed to happen happen?"

"Because most people like to have a plan and know if they're going to be able to have a house, a car, kids," Mikey said.

Frank rolled his eyes. "Boring people want a plan," he muttered. He was about to continue when he heard the basement door open and he looked back to see Gerard stomping into the kitchen, paint smeared over his torn old jeans, faded black shirt and his hands, grumbling about something.

"Whatcha complaining about now, Gee?" Mikey asked loudly, so his brother could hear him from the kitchen, without even bothering to turn around.

"My stupid paint sucks ass," Gerard groaned, turning on the water and washing his hands. He dried his hands on his jeans and walked back out into the living room and stood behind the couch. "What are you two working on?"

"English essay," Mikey said. "About our future. Frank hates it."

"Yeah? Why do you hate it, Frank?" he asked, turning his gaze to his brother's friend

Frank's eyes widened slightly as he met Gerard's and he had to force himself not to think about just how beautiful he looked with his hair disheveled and hanging in his eyes, or how the red paint smeared across his cheek made Frank want to jump over the couch and pin him to the floor and-- He forced himself to stop thinking about that. "I don't hate it."

"Yes, you do. You were just complaining about how you don't want to go to college--" Mikey started.

"I want to go to college," Frank said quickly.

"Yeah? For what?" Gerard asked.

"Art," he replied, without thinking. "I want to go to art school."

"What the hell? Since when?" Mikey asked.

Frank looked down, shrugging. "Since now," he muttered.

Gerard smiled. "Good idea, kid. You won't regret that," he mumbled sarcastically before walking back downstairs.

An hour or so passed while Frank wrote his paper, bullshitting his way through it and lying about every single thing because, really, why would he waste his time on something like that? Mikey's cell phone rang and he excused himself, not bothering to tell Frank who it was, even though he had an idea that it was the moderately attractive red-head he saw Mikey talking to in the hall earlier that day. Frank made sure Mikey was locked away in his room before he set his paper aside, going into the kitchen and getting a bottle of water from the refrigerator, and he made his way downstairs, even more nervous than he was the first time. He stopped in front of Gerard's door, pausing for nearly thirty seconds, before he raised a fist and knocked on the door, three times in rapid succession.

The door swung open and Gerard stared down at him. "I thought I told you to never come in my room without my permission again?"

Frank rolled his eyes. "I'm not in your room, jackass. I brought you some water-- I thought you might be thirsty," he said, handing him the bottle of water. "Sorry for caring."

"You don't care," Gerard said, taking the water and stepping back into his room. "No one does."

Frank glanced around his room without stepping in. "I find that hard to believe."

Gerard looked over at him. "You can come in. Just this once," he said.

Frank could tell Gerard wasn't exactly happy about allowing him in but he walked in nonetheless. He glanced over at Gerard's easel, where a medium sized canvas sat, a creature painted upon it that Frank didn't recognize. "This is really good," he said casually.

"I know," Gerard answered, opening the bottle of water and taking a drink.

"Oh. Well. That's. Good, I guess. That you know you're talented or...something," Frank mumbled.

Gerard smiled. "Why do you want to be an artist?"

He shrugged. "Because it looks like fun?"

He shook his head. "You're kind of an idiot, kid. You don't base your whole future on what looks like fun. You base it on your interests, your talents, and job availability."

"So why did you go to art school?"

"Because it's fun," Gerard said. "And I'm good at it. And I like to do it. And because I'm good at it, I got a good job. But you. You don't look like an artist."

"I'm not one."

"So why go to art school?"

He shrugged. "Because I can."

Gerard sighed. "My brother has the stupidest friends," he muttered, looking back towards his painting. "I hate this."

"But you said you liked it--"

"No, I said it was good, not that I liked it," he corrected. "Art isn't about liking everything you do, not necessarily. It's about whether or not it's good."

Frank nodded slowly. "Well, it is good."

"I know it is. Why are you here? I thought I scared you off for good last time," he muttered to himself.

"Is that what you wanted? To scare me off so I never return?"

Gerard nodded. "Sounds like a plan to me."

Frank sighed. "Okay. I'll go," he said, turning and walking away. The minute he passed the door frame, Gerard grabbed his arm and spun him around, pinning him against the frame. "Wh--"

"You talk a lot," Gerard said. "I don't like people who talk."

"People who talk don't like you," Frank said childishly.

Gerard shook his head. "It's a shame."

"What is?"

"You're so beautiful. But you talk so much, it makes me want to hit you," Gerard said.

Frank didn't know whether to feel insulted or not. "Um. Thank you?"

"Could you not talk for once?"

He snapped his mouth shut, looking down.

Gerard grabbed his chin with his right hand, tilting his head upwards until their eyes met. He trailed a finger down the side of his face, across his lower lip, then up his other cheek and across the bridge of his nose. "Your face really is a work of art, you know," he said quietly, thoughtfully. "Your cheeks, nose, lips-- All of it. Like it was made by a master." He shook his head. "If you never spoke, then life would be grand."

Frank opened his mouth to say something but was cut short by Gerard pressing their lips together. Frank froze then thanked any higher being that he was trapped against the door frame and Gerard's body because his knees nearly gave out when he felt Gerard's tongue barely touching his own. One of his hands gripped Gerard's bicep, digging his nails in to keep a hold of him, and the other moved to his hair, and Gerard pulled away quickly, causing Frank to nearly fall over again.

"Now get the hell away from me," Gerard spat, pushing his shoulder so he moved out of his doorway.

Frank grabbed the wall, regaining his footing, as Gerard's door slammed shut right in his face.

****



After that, Frank avoided Gerard all together. Even when they were in the same room, for those brief periods of time, he wouldn't even look at him, let alone talk to him. Gerard was okay with that-- He didn't want to speak to Frank, either. Mikey didn't take notice of the tension between the two of them or he did and just didn't care.

When Frank and Mikey graduated early June, Gerard was there. Frank hugged Mikey's parents, who were really like his own second set of parents, and fell into formation next to Mikey for the endless amount of pictures his own mother, and Mikey's mother, took. Gerard stood behind his parents, his eyes never leaving Frank's, the smile never leaving his face. When they caught a second alone, Gerard congratulated him and shook his head, and Frank scowled in an attempt to ignore the excitement coursing through his veins.

When summer came, Frank and Mikey spent less time together. Mikey was staying at home for the first two years of his college education, choosing to go to a local college since he had to pay for it himself and tuition was proportionally lower at community schools. Frank was also staying at home, he found a rather prestigious art school --in New Jersey, anyway-- only thirty minutes away, so he figured he would commute also.

When summer ended and their first semester started, Frank realized just how much of an idiot he truly was. Hindsight's twenty-twenty, he told himself repeatedly. He had no artistic talent whatsoever-- Unless you counted stick figures. And the professors at his college did not. He got himself in deep, all because of Mikey's incredibly gorgeous older brother who, half the time, Frank wanted to either hit or kiss or, well, both.

It was undeniably frustrating.

****



"Mikey, come on, you've got to help me," Frank pleaded, following his best friend around his house.

"No, I don't have to help you," Mikey said.

"No, you do! You're my best friend! And he's your brother-- You've got to convince him to tutor me. I suck at art!" he exclaimed.

"Then why the hell did you decide to major in it?"

He shrugged. "Because I'm an idiot. But come on, I need his help."

Mikey sighed. "Why don't you ask him?"

"Because he hates me."

"Then why would he tutor you?"

"Because you're his adorable younger brother whom he just can't say no to?" Frank offered, smiling awkwardly.

Mikey rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll ask. But if he says no, that's it."

"He won't say no."

"He will."

"If he says no to you, I'll ask him. And I'll annoy him until he says yes."

"Why isn't that Plan A?"

"Because he scares me. Now ask him and let me know what he says quickly. Okay? Good. I gotta go. My shift at the diner started like. Ten minutes ago."

****



"Gerard. Please."

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No. No, no. No."

Mikey sighed. "C'mon. How many times have I asked you to do something for me?"

"A ton."

"Not recently!"

Gerard rolled his eyes. "Please away now. I have to finish this sketch tonight."

"Why?"

"Because I want to. And it's more fun than tutoring your lame ass friend anyway," he answered.

Mikey stamped his foot on the ground. "Gerard! Fucking please! He said if you said no to me, then he would ask you and annoy you until you say yes. Do you really want that?"

"I really don't want to do it either way."

"Please, Gerard. Just to get him past this semester. Then he'll change his major because he sucks at life," Mikey said.

Gerard paused, setting down his charcoal pencil. He looked from his sketchbook to Mikey then back to his book and up to Mikey again. The pleading look on his brother's face caused him to roll his eyes. "Fine. Whatever. Have him come over Saturday afternoon. It's the only time I'm free," he said.

Mikey scoffed. "You don't do anything, Gerard. And you never go anywhere."

"Don't make me rethink this, Mikey. Oh, and tell him to wear a tie," Gerard said, the thought twisting up in his mind of adorable little Frankie tied to his bed and he quickly snapped out of it.

"What the hell? Why?" Mikey asked.

"Just do it, little brother. You can leave now."

And that was the end of that particular conversation.

****



Frank nervously adjusted his tie with his free hand before he knocked on Gerard's door. He shifted his sketch book and pencils to his other arm and ran his hand through his hair. The door opened and Gerard smiled down at him. "Hi," Frank said, awkward and uncomfortable.

"Hi. Come on in," he said, stepping aside for Frank to enter and he shut the door behind him. "Sit down. We're going to make this quick."

"Yeah, I just love hearing that," Frank said, rolling his eyes.

Gerard grinned, sitting next to him. "Nice tie."

Frank looked down at his simple black tie with a Misfits pin in the middle. "Oh. Um. Thanks. Mikey told me I had to and, well, instead of arguing with him, I just did because that boy loves to argue and it's rather tiresome so. I just saved some time and a headache and just did it. Why did I have to wear one?"

He shrugged. "I wanted you to."

"Why? So you can strangle me?"

Gerard laughed. "There will be no strangling, kid. Show me what you got?"

Frank slowly handed over his sketchbook. "I'm not that good."

"I'll determine that," he said, flipping open the book to the first sketch. He paused. "Yeah, you're not that good."

"Uh. Thanks."

"What's your assignment?"

"Landscape. Nature. Something totally fruity. Due Monday at the start of class. You have to help me. I will pay you to do my assignments for me, no joke," Frank said, sighing. "Why the hell did I pick this stupid major?"

"Maybe because...you're stupid?" Gerard suggested.

Frank pouted, looking down. "Look, I already know I suck. So if you're going to spend time insulting me and making me feel like shit, I'll just go now. I don't want to because I need your help but nothing's worth this humiliation."

"Humiliation? Kid, if I wanted to humiliate you, I'd have you naked and tied to the bed right now while all my friends came over and we laughed at you squirming. Or I'd tie you to the bed, naked, and enjoy the sight all by myself," Gerard said, smirking.

Frank subconsciously scooted a few inches away from Gerard. "Can you help me or not?"

"Of course I can-- I'm amazing," Gerard said. "But we can't do landscapes inside. Follow me. I'll take you to where I did my first landscape sketch for school."

****



"Wow."

"It's pretty beautiful, right?"

"Definitely," Frank said, climbing onto the hood of Gerard's car to sit next to him. "I'm surprised. A place in Jersey is beautiful."

"Everywhere in Jersey is beautiful. You just have to look for it. That's what artists do. Writers, poets, painters-- All artists find a way to find the beauty in even the most dark things, even in the most crime-ridden areas, there's beauty," he explained, handing Frank his sketchbook and a pencil. "Now just. Sketch what you see."

Frank sighed, opening his sketchbook to a fresh page and he began to draw, line by line, with Gerard looking over his shoulder the whole time. Five minutes into his drawing, Gerard grabbed his hand lightly.

"Stop."

Frank set the pencil down. "What am I doing wrong?"

"Nothing, really. It's just. If you want to progress as an artist, you have to learn to take in every detail. Every leaf on every tree is important, the way the bark flows, the birds sitting on exposed branches, the way the smog from the industries darkens the sky even though it's only noticeable at sunrise and sunset. You have to look at the big picture, look deeper than just what the common eye can see. That's where you're messing up," Gerard said, his voice softer than Frank had ever heard it. The creepy edge was gone, the malicious twinkle in his eye disappeared, and all Frank could see was his love of art.

"I didn't. I never really thought of it that way," Frank told him quietly.

"You can now. It's not necessarily about ability or natural talent. Anyone can become a great artist with time and patience," Gerard said, slowly removing his hand from Frank's. "Continue."

Frank nodded, going back to his drawing and following every bit of Gerard's advice. He was surprised when Gerard didn't interrupt him again. Thirty minutes later, or roughly so, he set his pencil down and angled his book so that Gerard could see it. "How's that?"

Gerard smiled. "You got it, kid."

Frank looked back down at the drawing, surprised that it had turned out so good, and he felt himself smile. "Yeah?"

Gerard nodded. "It looks good."

"Thank you. I mean. A lot. Like. Seriously. Thanks so much. I couldn't have done this without your tips and...stuff," Frank rambled, signing and dating the bottom of the picture and shutting his sketchbook. "Words cannot express my thanks."

"How about you show your thanks by blowing me?" Gerard suggested, shrugging carelessly.

Frank froze. "Um. I'm thankful. But not blowjob worthy thankful. Maybe if I pass my midterm or whatever."

Gerard shrugged. "All right. Unzip your pants."

"I'm sorry?"

"Hey, if you're not gonna blow me, I'm gonna blow you," he said.

"That's. I don't see the logic in that," Frank said, confused.

Gerard rolled his eyes, leaning over Frank and crushing their lips together, biting at Frank's lip ring instantly. Frank moaned, sinking into the kiss immediately, and he wrapped his arms around Gerard's waist, who then pushed him away. "Unzip your pants?"

Frank nodded numbly, moving his arms from Gerard's waist to unbutton and unzip his jeans, pushing them down his thighs, choking down a gasp as the cool air came in contact with his half-hard erection. Gerard slid his hand up the inside of Frank's thigh, causing him to tremble slightly and thread his fingers through Gerard's hair.

Gerard smiled up at him. "You're going to enjoy this."



Part Two.