When We're Both Thirty

Yet Another Chapter in Two Parts: Part Two

He just wishes it weren't so obvious that the appeal is mutual. He wishes he were better at hiding it, at choking it down. He doesn't want to be attracted to Frank, he really doesn't, but he is. Frank's words are basically just stolen from Gerard's tongue, because unfortunately, Frank's dead right about him. He is attracted to Frank, and he can't help it. It disgusts him, and he really wishes he weren't, but he can't deny that it is true. Well, he can deny it, he supposes, but no one will actually believe him. They'd be right not to.

"I still hate you," Gerard says.

"Yeah me too."

"Oh you hate yourself too?"

"That's not what I meant! I meant, oh forget it. Fuck you, Shitdick."

"Are you going to admit to wanting to do that too?" Gerard asks.

"Please," Frank scoffs, "I wasn't kidding when I said I'd rather marry Jabba the Hutt than you."

"Yeah, but I'm not talking about marrying me, I'm talking about fucking me. You totally want to."

"Your head is in the clouds, Gerard."

"I think your head is just stuck in denial. Actually, I don't think you've even managed that. I think that you know you want me, but you're so afraid of that feeling that it practically incapacitates you."

"That's a big word, I'm proud of you. I didn't know you could define words that have that many letters."

"You deflected my question because you know I'm right," Gerard says.

"Oh please," Frank says, "That is so not true. Gerard, I wouldn't even want to kiss you."

"Aw, well is that anything to say to your first kiss?" Gerard teases, "Or have you forgotten that you already have kissed me?"

"That was like a million years ago, and you were awful."

"We were six! There's no way you can remember if I was or wasn't a good kisser."

"I can," Frank says. "You were awful."

"You have no idea how good a kisser I am," Gerard says.

"Yeah, I do," Frank says, "there's no way you're any good."

"You totally wouldn't say that if you actually kissed me," Gerard replies, shaking his head.

"Oh yeah?"

"Definitely," Gerard smirks. He doesn't have a complete answer sheet which all the people he's kissed have filled out or anything. It's not like there's an online survey that people fill out after making out with him. He's never had people hold up numbers like he's in a skiing tournament or something. Gerard is at least confident enough in his kissing ability to say that he's not bad. He's not a washing machine or a prude. He's maybe not nationally ranked, but he does okay for himself.

"You're full of it," Frank states.

"I am not! Seriously? Being confident nowadays just means I'm full of it? This doesn't seem fair! I have been told by like, a whole... two-ish people that I'm a great kisser!"

"Wow impressive standings, Gerard. It's so hard to argue with someone who's had feedback from that many people," Frank says, sardonically.

"Fuck off," Gerard frowns, "I'm a good kisser, okay? Deal with it. It's not like you're ever going to be able to prove me wrong, is it?"

"I could totally prove you wrong," Frank mutters.

"Yeah whatever. I'd be the one proving you wrong, and we both know it."