The Chasing of Moons

Rated Gee

Instead he lays his head back on his bed, groans, and tries to think of something to distract himself.

Frank eventually settles on blaring his music as loud as it can go, which probably pisses off his mother to no end but she doesn't say anything about it. Frank should really have been grounded for staying out all night, or he would if he lived in a normal household, but his mom is about as close to an actual saint that there ever could be.

Frank, because he's technically an adult who is free to make his own choices, then cries into his pillow for a couple of minutes before getting tired of it and just staring at his ceiling.

Frank's house isn't entirely old as much as it is a tad bit outdated. They have a popcorn ceiling in every room of the house. Frank doesn't think anything of it, but his mother thinks it's the ugliest thing known to man. He doesn't get it. The fun thing about a popcorn ceiling though is that it's a lot like having clouds on the top of your room. You get to find shapes out of the bumps, even though you're the only person who could ever be able to see the ones you've designated.

Right above his dresser, there's a man holding a pitchfork. If he were ever to try to point it out to someone, they wouldn't see it, but Frank does. There's a small, possibly demonic face that is literally right above where his pillow is when he's in bed, and when he wakes up to the sun cracking in through the window in the morning, that face sometimes scares the shit out of him.

The shape that is taunting him right now is that heart that's a couple feet away from the demon face. He feels like it's laughing at him. Frank refuses to look at it, instead closing his eyes and doing his best not to picture Gerard.

Frank would very much like for the world to think his mind is perfectly clean, washed with soap daily. Usually, this is not true. Usually it's about as far from rated G as a person could get, but right now, it's more innocent than it's ever likely to be again. Technically though, it is still rated Gee. The fact of the matter is that, Frank doesn't care if he ever gets to kiss Gerard ever again, or do anything that you would be led to believe is involved in the foundation of loving someone, but that's not even important to him. Frank doesn't care if he never sleeps with Gerard. He just doesn't. He would of course love to have all those things, there's nothing about Gerard that he doesn't want, but he doesn't need them.

Right now, Frank's mind is focused on all the things little kids want. He wants to go on dates to amusement parks or movies. He wants to have a Lady and the Tramp moment, buy him flowers and chocolates, kiss him before work and every night before bed. He also kind of wants Gerard to wear clothing typically associated with a princess, but that's not really included in the innocent parts of his mind so much.

The point is, Frank could be celibate for the rest of his life and not give a damn as long as he gets to come home and watch reruns of Chopped with Gerard while they make fun of Barbara who thinks it's a good idea to start cooking a steak three minutes before her time runs out. When he thinks about Gerard, even thinking back on Gee, he doesn't focus on the sexy moments, he's thinking about the ones that matter. Like when he and Gee were talking on the roof, that had seemed far more important than anything else that happened.

Beyond anything, Frank's not sure he even really cares what Gerard looks like nearly as much as he does about the way his mind works. Frank thinks he has the most gorgeous smile in the world, but that's nothing compared with the way he'll be talking about one thing one minute and then somehow get himself distracted by another topic of conversation, which will turn into a completely different tangent about something stupid or unrelated to whatever he'd been talking about before. Frank thinks Gerard has eyes that could stop a train in its tracks, but he's also got a laugh that could do the same thing, and do it faster.