☆// you don't trust him to love you in a way you would enjoy. //☆

-richard siken

...

Frank always wanted to hang out with Gerard on Fridays. 

Well- correction- he wanted to hang out with Gerard every day. Friday just happened to be the day that the two friends usually got together. Neither of their schedules were very restricted on that particular day and there was no work the day after, so Fridays were often the best days to end up getting drunk on the living room floor and watching horror movies and playing truth or dare. You know, normal things that 21 and 23 year-old people do. 

This particular Friday, Frank and Gerard were doing just that. They weren't drunk, but aforementioned, they were getting there. 

"Truth or dare?" Gerard had giggled after his second can of beer, reaching out to grab another one from the cooler beside Frank. 

"Fuck, dare," The latter smiled. 

"I dare you..." Gerard bit his lip and looked around the room for something to humiliate his friend with. "I dare you to draw a mustache on the back of that clock. I dunno. I didn't think this through." 

And really, it wasn't that funny, but Frank happened to think it was hilarious, because he suddenly doubled over in laughter, clutching his stomach as if Gerard being stumped about this stupid dare was the funniest shit he'd ever heard. Gerard started laughing, too, and it was a mess of tipsy laughter from both men sitting on the floor. 

Eventually, Frank grabbed a sharpie and unmounted the old clock from the wall, drawing a little swirly mustache and beaming as he put it back on the wall. "Okay, Gerard, truth or dare?" 

"Truth." 

"Hmmm," Frank hummed and swirled the last bit of his beer in the bottom of the can. "Have you ever had sex with more than one person at a time? Like a threesome or a foursome, or...?" Frank trailed off before he allowed himself to start listing numbers over four. 

Gerard held his breath and looked away, his face burning, "Y-yeah..." 

"With who?" Frank leaned forward excitedly. 

"That's more than one question," Gerard retorted, playing with his fingers. "Truth or dare?" 

Frank pouted and gave Gerard his best puppy dog eyes. It was a genuine question, Frank wanted to know who had been involved in this threesome or moresome that he'd never heard about.

Gerard sighed and looked down at his lap, "Me, Lindsey, and Bert McCracken." 

Frank gasped and clapped his hands excitedly. "No way! Is Bert a top?" 

"Frank," Gerard whined, putting his hands over his face. 

"Oh, please?" Frank scooted forward more. "I just wanna know! I won't tell anyone, I just want to know some dirty details, that's all." 

Gerard scrunched up his nose and sighed, "Okay, okay. So, yeah, Bert is a top. A-and Lindsey sort of..." Gerard gestured with his hands something that Frank didn't understand. "She, uh, gives... as well. So, before me and Linds were officially together, she and Bert kinda..." 

"Oh fuck," Frank's stomach felt knotted. "Like, both? At once?" 

Gerard nodded. 

"Oh. You don't seem the type to like double-penetration." 

Gerard whined and hid his face again at the bluntness of Frank's statement. He was always so open about sex. Gerard wondered how in the world Frank just... said things like that. 

"That reminds me!" Frank exclaimed, breaking Gerard from his embarrassment quickly. "I have a sorta weird thing to ask you..." 

Gerard put his hands in his lap and listened, anticipating the reason that Frank was going to ask Gerard a question when their conversation before had been about threesomes. 

"So, uh... Jamia sort of proposed an idea to me." 

"Oh. Oh." 

"Yeah. And, hear me out. It's kinda like a... a swap?" Frank was blushing then. 

"Oh!" Gerard felt his face become so hot it probably could have melted off of his body. "I- well, J-Jamia is... Jamia is very pretty and all, b-but-" 

"No! I, uh." Frank rubbed the back of his neck. "That's the thing. She wants to swap... with you." 

Gerard was quiet. 

"Like, her and Lindsey. And... me and you." Frank gestured weakly between himself and Gerard. 

Gerard gaped madly, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. Then he mumbled, "I can't." 

"W-what do you mean? Do you not wanna, y'know-" 

"No! I-I mean yes, I do, but... I can't..." He trailed off. 

Frank didn't respond. This new conversation consisted of mostly silence already, but now Frank was waiting. Waiting for an explanation, maybe. Waiting for an answer to the question he hadn't asked yet: 'Why the hell don't you wanna have sex with me?' 

"I think I'm in love with you." 

That was enough of an answer. 

It seemed as if it was Frank's turn to only converse with long bouts of silence. His jaw was dropped slightly and he was looking at Gerard with an expression that said, 'are you serious?' 

Gerard felt the need to clarify because there was just so much not talking going on, "Well, and, yeah. If we... do it... I-I'll get attached and... and I know you're in love with Jamia, and I feel like I should love Lindsey, but it's so hard, because it's just always been you." He got quiet. "It's always been you." 

There was an obvious set of reasons for which Gerard emphasized his words. The first point he wanted to get across was that he's never loved Lindsey because he loved Frank. The second, and most terrifying point for Gerard to make was that he's always loved Frank, which he supposed was why it was so difficult to love anyone else, and so difficult to watch Frank love someone else. 

Gerard trembled when took a breath in. "I think I need to leave." 

The worst mistake Frank Iero had ever made was letting him leave. 

No, that's not true. 

Because Frank didn't let Gerard leave, he really didn't. He was just frozen. He couldn't bring himself to say anything because the other boy had been right. Frank did love Jamia. But he also loved Gerard. 

And as soon as his front door was shut, Frank was able to move again. He put his face in his hands. He willed himself not to cry until it became obvious that he couldn't stop it. His eyes burned and sobs made his whole body shake against the floor. 

It didn't calm down, he started to cry harder, his head throbbing and his hands attempting to muffle the gasping and wails. He cried until his whole body hurt. Frank fell asleep on the floor in front of his couch, face red, eyes puffy, and an ounce or two of beer still left in the can that he abandoned because he felt too sick to drink the rest.