Chapter 7

Gerard didn't want this anymore.

He realized that now, after over nineteen years of life, after fifteen years of having his future decided for him, after nine years of agreeing to this, to having his future and career choice manipulated like that by his family. Well, his Dad.

As Gerard was growing up, when he was just an itty bitty tiny baby crawling on the floor only able to pronounce the words 'ma' and 'poo', he didn't really pay much attention to anything going on around him. What mattered to him at that time were the toys in his hands, where his mom was, and how many things he found on the floor would be able to go in his mouth. No, he wasn't paying attention at the world around him then.

He had no idea that his future was decided when he grew up either. At eight, he had wanted to be a fireman. No one told him otherwise; his mom always said he could be anything he wanted, so he settled on that. Mikey was quite good at playing the person inside the building on fire too, so that was a plus.

Gerard's thoughts changed once again when he was nine. Screw being a firefighter, other people could take care of that, Gerard wanted to be a dancer.

His mom's encouragement remained, even when Mikey decided his career choice was being a vet. As a Christmas gift that year, Gerard received his very own MP3, whilst Mikey got a children's vet kit. That was a nice kick-start to his career, since he now could hear his music as he danced to the beat.

But, looking back on the years, his Dad had never offered him such a gift or such motivation on his choices. When he was ten, he understood why.

They always knew his father owned the art shop slash library named The Way To Go, for Mikey and him had been sat on its' counter plenty of times, talking with the customers as their dad ran the cashier, or reading children's books (or playing with action figures) on the small sofas the shop offered whilst their dad was busy elsewhere.

When Gerard turned ten, his Dad brought him to the shop, and the child was confused until his father started talking, explaining that his own father (Gerard's grandfather, whom he never got to meet) had opened the shop, and when he passed away, Donald had taken over and started running the shop, and that when he was older, it would be Gerard's turn.

Gerard was delighted. He had forgotten everything about dancing, and instead had focused on helping out his Dad with anything and everything to do with the shop, arranging things or carrying books. His Dad was ecstatic. His Mother wasn't.

He remembered lying on his bed at twelve, face pressed into his pillow as the screaming in the house got louder. He remembered little Mikey entering his room quietly, as to not wake up his older brother, and slipping into his bed with his teddy bear. Gerard had turned around, wide awake, and shushed the crying Mikey, pressing him to his chest and trying to calm him down, to take him away from the yelling.

It was as if nothing had happened the day before. Their parents smiled at each other and kissed each other, so Gerard and Mikey figured there was nothing wrong and just shrugged it off. But in the back of the twelve-year-old's mind, he knew what they were talking about. He wasn't that young anymore, and had long realized that his Mom didn't want him to be forced to run the shop; she wanted him to be able to pick his career, not have one handed to him like that. Yet Gerard said nothing.

He said nothing for seven years, because he figured that was it. And he was quite happy, actually, he had never considered any other choices, he knew his Dad wanted him to have the shop, and he did want to carry on the legacy his grandfather had left him. Plus, it was nice to have something immediately after school, not to have to bother with the whole college application thing or whatever like his friends did.

Gerard liked the shop, and as soon as he was of age -fifteen- he began working as the cashier, getting paid a few bucks from his Dad. He had quit many extracurricular activities and things he did after school to spend more time at the shop. Donald was damn proud of his son.

But Gerard was nineteen now, and he had realized that although working the shop was a safe bet, a shelter from many things, and although he was okay with it, he realized that was it. He was okay with it. Just okay. The shop didn't strike any passion inside him, and he soon realized he didn't want this, he wanted something he was not 'alright' with, he wanted to do something worth his while, and he wanted to love what he did.

It took him nineteen years to realize it though, and, as Mom's do, his own mother had taken less time to see that.

His train of thoughts was interrupted when the bell of the very shop he was thinking about rang, signaling someone had entered the place.

It was his shift, and Mikey had already left him alone to hang out with his friend or something, leaving him to be bored out of his mind behind the counter, using up all of his phone battery scrolling through Twitter and Instagram. He was wearing his regular work attire, which consisted of his street clothes (today they were a brown shirt and regular jeans), with the little nametag which he dreaded pinned to his chest, reading 'Hello, my name is...' and Gerard had just lazily scribbled a 'G' on the blank space, though he was very tempted to make an Eminem joke or something. He had stolen a red and white baseball cap from Mikey, and was nonchalantly wearing it over his mop of white hair.

His outfit was a mess, just like his life. He liked making a fashion statement of his mood.

When the door opened, Gerard raised his head from its' previous position, which was pressed against his crossed arms on the table. He probably had a red mark, but he really couldn't be bothered.

Gerard looked at the person who entered, ready to roll his eyes and give the 'Welcome to The Way To Go, I'm Gerard how may I help you?', when his eyes actually recognized the boy who entered, and that made him roll his eyes for a whole lot of another reasons. He groaned.

"The fuck do you want, now? Haven't you bugged me enough?"

Frank grinned widely, practically skipping to the counter Gerard was sat behind and resting his elbows on it, way closer to Gerard than he'd like, his chin on his hands like an adorable puppy.

"Hi there, Gee! I promised to come by, didn't I? You came by my work place last time, and I figured I'd be a nice boyfriend and turn the tables,"

With a cheeky smile, Frank pushed himself away from the counter, and walked to the art supplies happily, hands shoved in his hoodie (which was still splattered with white paint, did this guy own any other clothes, Jesus Christ). Gerard narrowed his eyes at him as he spoke, "We're not boyfriends,"

Frank looked up from the pack of markers he was currently holding up, shot Gerard a dazing smile and threw the packet back onto its' pile.

"Sure, whatever you say, pumpkin... Ever tried putting one of these up your ass? Let me tell you, not comfortable," Frank held up what appeared to be a thick paintbrush, and, shaking his head, he let it drop once again. Gerard looked horrified.

Frank then bended down, and Gerard couldn't see him anymore, since he was between two displays of shelves. Gerard didn't know what to do, because it wasn't like he could kick him out, now could he? He was too much of a nice person to do that, so he let Frank continue rummaging through the art stock, listening to packages being shifted around carelessly. Gerard just hoped he didn't break anything; Frank had done enough damage to the shop for a lifetime. Standing on the tips of his toes, Gerard tried to catch sight of Frank, but to no avail.

Suddenly something similar to a crash sounded.

"Frank?"

"It's okay! I'm okay! I didn't break anything," His head popped once more from above the shelves with a smile. Gerard raised an eyebrow, watching Frank as he walked from the art aisle to the bookshelves that created a square on the other corner of the room, like a secluded space for those who wanted to read on the two couches there. Gerard stayed put even as Frank started talking once again, "Do you guys have any horror books?"

"Yes,"

There was a pause, then, "Help me find them?"

Gerard sighed once again, making a face since Frank couldn't see him and walked out of behind the counter, headed to the library spot. When he entered it, he saw Frank with a hand on his chin, staring intently at the bookshelves, and he seemed actually interested in some titles. Gerard cleared his throat and pointed to the very top row, where the horror novels where at. Frank looked at it.

"Are you making fun of my height or are they actually there?"

Gerard rolled his eyes and went to the corner of the little room, retrieving a small little ladder with about five steps to get to the taller books. He positioned it under the shelf and climbed it, a hand caressing the spines of the books. "Anything in mind?"

"Give me a classic, surprise me,"

Gerard knew just what to give him. His eyes scanned the whole row, finally landing on the Stephen King collection. When he saw the small little white book, he reached for it, careful not to fall or damage anything. When he got it, he tossed it down at Frank, who easily caught it with both hands, then turned it around to read the title as Gerard climbed back down.

"Cycle of the Werewolf," Frank read aloud, watching Gerard place the ladder back in its place. "It's like you know me already, dude, read this like eighty times,"

Gerard glanced at Frank, who was staring at the cover adoringly, "Didn't have you as a bookworm,"

Frank winked, "You don't know many things about me, Gerard Way,"

Gerard crossed his arms, "Nor do you,"

"Ah, that's the difference, Gerard Way," Frank said smiling, completely ignoring the book in his hands and instead stepping closer to Gerard than he'd like him to be. It was also quite annoying how Frank kept calling him by his full name. "I do want to get to know you,"

Gerard blushed and looked away from Frank's gaze, though the shorter boy continued looking at him. He mumbled, "What would you want to know about me, I'm just... me,"

"You're interesting, Gerard. I like you; I wanna get to know you, if you'd let me, which I'm honestly hoping you will. How much for the book?" Gerard was confused. This cute boy wanted to get to know him? Gerard honestly wouldn't mind that, besides, it wasn't like anyone knew Frank had tagged the shop besides the two of them, so there was honestly nothing stopping him from 'getting to know' Frank. Even if the short guy annoyed Gerard to no end.

"You can rent it for a few bucks and take it home, or read it here for free, even though we're not supposed to say that," Gerard mumbled half-heartedly, nodding at the book in Frank's hand. Frank nodded, still smiling. Gerard was kind of annoyed by how happy Frank looked all the damn time, but soon, his own expression softened, because isn't that how everyone is supposed to look?

He didn't voice his thoughts though.

"Well, you just gave me yet another reason to stick around, Gee-boy. For someone who says they don't want to hang out with me, you sure seem to like my company," Frank smirked, and leaned forward to place yet another kiss on the corner of Gerard's mouth, then walked away to search the rows of books at eye-level, touching the spines of the books and making noises in approval or disgust.

This time though, Gerard didn't wipe the side of his lips like he would've.

--
i rlly like the last half of this chapter, actually, i rlly like all the chapter :"-)

fuk im running out of pre-written chapters also i finished ahs season 4 in two days lmao

i send love and shitty smut,
-blue