When We're Both Thirty

Blind Date

Gerard sits in the middle of a too-dark restaurant waiting, and hoping, that Frank isn't lying to him about getting him a date. It wouldn't surprise him, really it wouldn't, but Gerard did actually manage to find Frank someone and he would feel like an absolute twat if he'd done it while Frank hadn't.

It's been two days since he saw Frank, which means they have 31 days left. Gerard wasted one of them, he's not going to let another day go by though. Not this time. Today, he will keep an open mind, and hopefully he will actually be meeting someone rather than be stood up.

It wouldn't technically count as being stood up though if there was never a date to begin with. Frank is an asshole like that. Frank had said his dates' name was Brendon and that he would probably know him when he saw him. Gerard doesn't know what that means, but he'll just wait and hope some guy with hopefully a nice face walks up to him.

This place really is too dark, and Gerard isn't sure whether you could even classify it as a restaurant. It's more like a bar that happens to serve food, rather than a restaurant that happens to serve alcohol.

Gerard avoids the alcohol, instead nervously sipping on a glass of coke, which honestly tastes so watered down by a dozen ice cubes, that it's mostly just flavored water, but he's nervous, and it would look weird for him to just bite down on a straw. When he has the glass with him, at least when he bites on the straw he doesn't look mentally unstable.

It's not like this Brendon guy is late, it's just that Gerard doesn't think he's coming, so he's here in the middle of a restaurant when really, he could be at home watching reruns of Iron Chef. He kind of wants to be doing that, but no, he's not watching dumb cooking shows, he's absent-mindedly looking at the television screen above the bar counter that has some sports game. Gerard neither knows nor cares what teams are even playing, and he's honestly not even paying enough attention to tell you what sport it even is.

"You're Gerard," someone says behind him, and he turns so fast you'd think he was sitting on a lazy Susan or something.

"I am," Gerard stutters, and it's honestly too dark to tell if this guy is attractive or not. His voice is kind of deep, compared to Gerard's at least it's very much so, and he's tall, maybe the same height as him, but that's about all he can tell at the moment.

"Frank told me to look for the guy who was ugly beyond compare, who had a giant mole on his face and also may or may not have bright red hair," the guy, who Gerard is assuming is this Brendon guy, says.

"Do I meet the expectations?" Gerard asks.

"He must really hate you," Brendon says, and Gerard sees him sit down. "You don't look that bad to me."

"That's the best compliment I've had all day. I only look kind of bad, but not puke ugly?"

"Nah, not bad," Brendon says.

"How can you even tell? I don't think this place has lightbulbs," Gerard replies, and he squints at Brendon. He makes out his features, a nose, two eyes, and a mouth, all where they should be, but it's too grainy to get into much detail. His hair is dark, his attire is unimpressive, and his mouth is somewhat large, and that's basically all Gerard can tell.

"My eyes are just fantastic, I guess," Brendon says unenthusiastically, "I am Brendon by the way."

"I assumed so," Gerard says.

"Yeah well, I figured I should at least confirm that. So, answer a question for me, would you? The way Frank talked about you made you sound like his first murder victim, so why on earth am I here right now if he hates you so much?"

"I hate him too," Gerard answers.

"That's not an answer. Why do you two hate each other so much?"