Gerard doesn't actually stay true to his word. Technically, neither does Frank. Frank had said one more time. Gerard had agreed with one more time.
Two more times isn't that many though. That's only one more time than he'd planned on, and it's not like he's made a promise to anyone in particular. He was really only talking to himself so it's not like he did much of anything wrong.
Well, he fucked Frank, and that's morally against Gerard's self-made list of ethics, but that was before he realized how hot Frank was and how he just might really like him.
The first, well technically second time had been last night. Frank came to his door, and there was very little prelude other than that. Frank knocked, there was a small amount of small talk, Frank threw himself at Gerard, and the rest is history.
And then Gerard wakes up the next morning but he can't exactly leave, because this is his apartment. He can't just leave quietly so he instead goes to the kitchen, makes himself coffee and tries to clear his head. Gerard never really got to actually drinking his coffee though, because then Frank woke up, shit happened, Gerard found himself horizontal on his bed again, and that's really all there was to it.
Now he's just sitting here, looking at Frank awkwardly, vaguely remembering his cup of coffee which has probably gone cold by now. He can't think of what he should say though. Last time there was no awkward morning chat because Gerard left before there was time for one to take place. This morning didn't provide much space for chit chat either, because Frank was basically on a mission and Gerard's too weak under the spell of how much he likes Frank to stop things from happening.
That's how he ends up here, covered only by his bed sheet, while Frank sits awkwardly next to him. They've been holding this awkward sitting arrangement for so long that they probably could've had their picture taken by a 150 year old camera. It's like their posing for a really generic movie poster. This could be the next awkward chick flick movie promo that bored couples are dragged to when they can't think of any plans for a date night. Gerard's life is a cheesy romantic comedy, and he doesn't know how to deal with that information.
"Uh," Gerard says, and that's the most noise either of them has made since about twenty minutes ago when they were making a lot of noise.
"Yeah," Frank says in response.
That's basically their conversation for another five minutes. Weird glances, a few noises, and a substantial amount of fidgeting.
"So what does this mean?" is the most amount of words either of them says, and they come from Frank.
"Huh?"
"What does this mean?"
"I don't know... just a fluke," Gerard says.
"Three times isn't a fluke," Frank replies. Gerard has to admit that he's got a point.
"Well, it doesn't have to mean anything. After all, we're not teenagers. We're grown up, this doesn't have to be a big deal."
"But it is a big deal," Frank says. "Gerard, I'm not a guy who just has sex with people willy nilly. I know I led you on to think that, but what I mean is that I can get any guy I want, that doesn't mean I make a habit of it. But this... this isn't a one night stand if we do it three times over the course of a week."
"You're putting too much thought into it."
"No, you're not putting enough thought into it," Frank replies.
"Listen, Frank, I don't want to date you. That's not what this is about, and I don't want you to get that idea. This just happened, it just happened, okay?"
"Saying it 'just happened' makes it sound like you broke a plate, Gerard. That is not at all what this is. This is a much bigger thing than breaking a fucking plate."
"Well why?"
"Gerard, are you so stupid that you really need me to answer that question? Why is it a big deal that we've had sex three times? Because childhood enemies don't sleep with each other! That's why! That just doesn't happen. This isn't something that happens ever, least of all three times. In case you haven't figured it out yet, whatever the relationship between you and I, it's messed up. It's just weird, and it's gone on too long, and I can't bear it."
"I don't know what to tell you then," Gerard says, "because the fact that this doesn't make any sense, the fact that we're auditioning for a really shitty soap opera, that doesn't change what transpired. We can't change anything. We can't take it back! I shouldn't have let you come in last night. Jeez, I should've turned you down. I should've, but I just couldn't."
"It's because you like me," Frank says, and Gerard opens his mouth to contradict him when Frank shuts him up by saying, "Oh save it, Gerard. Just accept it! You and I like each other. The sky is blue, water is wet, and you and I are sexually attracted to each other."
"I just don't know how this could have happened. I mean, yeah, sure, you're hot, but so is Ryan Reynolds and you don't see me screwing him do you? I mean, you and I we have so much history, all this shit that's gone on between us and I can't do anything to take it back, but I still shouldn't be fucking you."
"Well, we're both guilty of letting this happen. But, it's not like either of us stopped it, and you were into it, so I don't see why that could be so wrong. We're both consenting adults," Frank says.
Gerard wants to be able to say that the reason he didn't stop it is because he really fucking wanted it, but somehow he doesn't think that's going to help his case. Instead, he keeps thinking of the conversation he'd had with Mikey last night.
"Mikey said..." Gerard starts, but he doesn't finish. He doesn't really know what he was going to say when it comes down to it. There's just no good way to finish his sentence.
"Mikey's said a lot of things Gerard, you're going to have to be a little more specific."
"Never mind."
"No," Frank says, "tell me what it is you have to say. We've got to figure something out, because I'm completely lost. So tell me what he said."
"It's just... Mikey said that you told him you never did that thing with the glue. Putting that shit in my hat, and forcing my mother to shave my fucking head. That was the worst thing that I could ever imagine happening to me at that age, and Mikey told me what you said. He said that you were adamant that it wasn't you."
"Well that's because I didn't. I told Mikey the truth. I never put anything in your hat. Why would I? We were best friends, I wouldn't have done that. That wouldn't have made any sense."
"So you really didn't?" Gerard asks, looking at Frank intently, hoping that if he looks at Frank directly in his eyes that he'll be able to weed the truth from the lies. When he looks at Frank though, he doesn't detect any shadow of deception which bothers him.
He's spent almost twenty five years sure of this one thing. More sure than he's ever been of anything else in his life. Gerard's pretty much sure of the existence of gravity, but if he believes in gravity, than he's so far past sure that Frank pulled that prank in second grade.
Gerard just doesn't see how Frank could be lying right now though. Maybe he's repressed the memories, but that doesn't seem likely, because he knows to what Gerard is referring. The big thing is the fact that, if Gerard's right, he's still lying. Still lying twenty five years later. What's the point in that though? What's the actual point of keeping up a lie for that long? Eventually he's bound to have given it up, but he's still going strong on his side of the story.
That gives Gerard this gaping feeling in his stomach, because he doesn't want to fathom that his entire life of hating Frank, all of it, is based solely on a lie. What if he's been hating Frank and resenting the very ground he walks on over something that he didn't do? That thought is almost too painful to think about, because how on earth could they have been torn apart by something so stupid?
Looking back on it makes Gerard think about how dumb a fight it was that instituted their loathing, but what if that really is all that happened. What if Mikey's right? What if someone really did frame them both and that's why they've hated each other all these years. All of this hating, all of it, over a simple problem of miscommunication. This was the whole problem with Romeo and Juliet, and now Gerard's realizing that this dumb exchange might be even worse than that. Now obviously, five people died as a result of Romeo and Juliet's failure to properly communicate, but Gerard has let twenty five years go by thinking something that might not even be true.
Gerard knows with a fact that he never tampered with Frank's shirt which is what Frank blamed him for. He knows that wasn't him, because it wasn't. Gerard is absolutely sure of that one thing, so why is it so hard to believe that Frank honestly is telling the truth. If someone definitely ruined Frank's shirt and Gerard's sure it wasn't him, than the idea that the same thing happened on Frank's end of the story is not only plausible sounding, but actuallymore likely than what Gerard believes. Frank's right, why would he have done that to his best friend? Why would he have risked their friendship for that? That doesn't make sense. Gerard was so young at the time, it's not hard to believe he made a snap judgment, but they say hindsight is 20/20 and there's a good reason for that phrase.
"Oh god, I might puke," Gerard says, making a face.
"What?" Frank asks, looking at him with a wary expression.
"You're telling the truth aren't you? You really didn't do it?" Gerard asks.
"I've been trying to tell you that for the last million years. Yes, Gerard, I'm telling the truth. I never put anything in your hat. It would never have occurred to me to even combine glue and paint."
"Oh my god," Gerard says, putting his head in his hand, because it's just way too much to take in. There's no word in the world in any language that could describe how awful this realization is. Gerard literally has the feeling in the pit of his stomach equivalent to what it would feel like if he'd just accidentally killed someone with a car.
"What is up with you?" Frank asks.
"Frank," Gerard says, turning to look at him, "I have hated you for most of my life over something that you did not do. My entire life of animosity towards you is based on false pretenses. I can't even believe this, I don't... how is this happening?"
Frank looks at him for a moment before he turns a preposterously pale color like his skin was all of a sudden replaced with milk.
"Gerard, you didn't do what I've been blaming you for either, did you? You never did it at all?" Frank says, and Gerard nods, making Gerard think that he's looking in a mirror all of a sudden. Frank looks precisely how Gerard feels.
"So we've actually been hating each other for this?" Frank asks, "I've been hating you for something you didn't do?"
"I have as well," Gerard says.
"Oh god," Frank replies.
"This is so weird and fucked up," Gerard groans, "I mean I still hate you, but I hate you on grounds that aren't even backed up by fact. I've lived my whole life hating you, finding new ways to detest you, and all of that has been fueled by something that's not even true. I might as well have devoted my entire life to tracking down the Loch Ness Monster."
"This just became so much more uncomfortable," Frank says.
"You could say that again," Gerard replies.
"Oh god, it's so petty," Frank states, "Like, all of this, it's so immature. Gerard, you and I have been treating each other like we're eleven. I've been completely blinded my entire life and I don't even know how to process this. How can... god. Who did do those things then?"
"Mikey had a theory. Do you remember that super religious girl in our class? She used to tattle on people if they said things like 'oh my god' or stuff like that. Well, Frank, you and I were the gay first graders. You're bound to remember that. We were infamous for being gay, and we were so small it was a wonder that people could've possibly thought that about us. Because, everyone's always so heteronormative about this shit. People don't believe first graders are old enough to make that sort of decision, hell, people don't think sixteen year olds are old enough to make that decision, like it's even a fucking decision in the first place. But we were gay, everyone just decided we were, and alright, maybe they were right, but they couldn't really have known that back then!"
"But if she thought we were gay," Frank says, following Gerard's train of thought, "what better way to get us to stop desecrating her religion than to make us hate each other. You don't actually think a second grader could've been an evil mastermind to that extent do you? We're not actually that stupid to have fallen for it?"
"Well it comes down to this," Gerard says, "I swear I never wrote on your shirt. I absolutely swear it wasn't me."
"Well since we're talking about something that happened twenty four years ago, would you be willing to pinky swear?"
"You serious?" Gerard asks.
"This happened when we were six, Gerard! We never worked it out for ourselves back then so this conversation is about two dozen years too late, so I want you to swear on it in a way that makes sense given the context. Do you swear to me that you never did what I've been blaming you for? My shirt? Because I swear that I never would have put paint or glue, or anything at all for that matter into your hat."
"I absolutely promise you, I did not draw on your shirt," Gerard says, and he can't actually believe he's a thirty year old man, naked in his own bed with a guy who he just fucked, pinky swearing over a sharpie on a twenty five year old shirt.
"Dude," Frank says, looking completely bewildered that any of this is happening, which is an emotion Gerard can relate to quite easily.
"I know."
Frank then says the truest words that have ever been spoken, "This is so fucked up."