a/n: i didn't edit so chew me out if it's shit. there will probably be spelling errors, i was just in a rush to get this up.
i'm also drowning in drafts, like,,
:)))
×××
It's always -you're taking the job whether you like it or not. And parents are like this, especially my dad. My family owns this semi-famous Italian restaurant in Kearny, New Jersey that usually gets new people every once a week. It was way popular in the 19th century and what not. It's still passing through the family, on and on, and right now, our family is stuck with it. Not that my family minds, my dad loves it and he tells me that one day I'll be taking over the restaurant.
But that's not going to happen. It seems close and obvious, but I'm not going to let it happen. The thing also is that there's no other kid to take over. You see, of course we're Italian and it runs in the family, blah blah blah it's important. But I'm not taking it over. I'm clusmy, I'm bad at cooking and I'm not meant to be stumbling around with arms full of plates of pasta.
No, I wasn't an Italian, I was a musician. I was going to be a musician and pursue my dream without my family's business get in my way.
I was going to go on tour, jump around on stage, have fans and play guitar all day, every day.
"Anthony!"
I turned my head on a swivel.
"Are you done yet?"
I glanced down at the charred meatballs and frowned, a big look of disappointment crossing my dad's face.
He just shook his head, starting to come through the doors.
"Frank!" I yelled, trying to get his attention.
"That's dad to you," he corrected, coming through the push doors and pushing me away from the ruined meat.
I shook my head without him noticing and let him do his cooking thing.
"I'm not doing this for the rest of my life-"
"You're not being a musician, either." His words didn't shock me too much, he's said them too often. But they still ticked me off to the same level every time. My blood boiling and vocal chords yearning to let out screams of protest.
"Yes, I am," I muttered through gritted teeth, trying not to chew him out.
"It's Italian tradition and we're not letting some punk kid of ours ruin it! Are you ashamed of this family?! That you're an Italian and it's all you'll ever be?"
"You don't get it," I scoffed, biting at my nails. He just ignored me, fixing the food and quickly handing it to my mom to take out to the people awaiting on the other side. My mom gave us a suspicious look and raised one of her eyebrows at me.
"You too. Leave each other alone."
My dad muttered something under his breath, only making me more angry. I swear if I didn't do something I was going to lose my shit.
"Do you not understand?!" I yelled at him, making him pause and turn, staring at me under those constant hard eyes of his, that looks calmed only in the right lighting. "What does music mean to you, hm?! Nothing! Shit, that's what! It means everything to me! I'm not good at this and I'll never be! I'm a musician."
"You're an Italian," He mumbled, turning around and walking out.
I can't believe it, it's like he gets his head shoved even further up his ass every day. I threw off the uniform, rushing out and heading toward my car. I was going home.
"Anthony!"
I turned to the clear window, flipping him off. He was shocked to say the least. He would be furious with me later, but I couldn't find it in myself to give a shit at the moment. I ripped open the car door, starting and driving back home. Home to where I had been unable to pack all my bags fast enough and still went to high school. Permanently having to stay with my parents.
Pulling in the drive, I noticed Gerard from across the street. Sitting on his porch, having a smoke. Because he was eighteen, able to move out and be independent, all while watching my struggle.
He was a senior, and the hottest thing known to man kind. My crush, the person I admired and looked up to. Partly because I was short, but mostly because he was older and was more intimidating.
He didn't talk to me too much, but if he ever noticed me stepping outside or hearing my parents and me arguing as I fumed out the door, he would be outside sitting on his porch having a smoke. Smirking at me as puffs of smoke left his lips.
I stepped out, slamming the door, throwing him a glance as that playful glint reflected in his eyes and the corners of his lips curled into that famous smirk.
I blushed, hoping he couldn't notice from across the street as I rushed inside the house, up to my room to jack off.
×××
I knew that waking up would be hell. Because it was still a weekend and I still had to help out at the restaurant. I had to deal with my dad and mom saying: "you'll be fine" every five minutes.
But now, it wasn't going to be fine, I wasn't going to be fine. I was probably going to end up working at some damn family pasta restaurant for the rest of my life and god, I think I'd rather die than do that.
I rushed out the door, fully knowing I just threw on random clothes and that I was late for work. I was so fed up, and didn't even care about the fact that my pants were unbottoned and my shirt was wrinkled. That is, until I stepped outside, once again seeing Gerard smoking.
I made a low aggrivating noise in the back of my throat, as he eyed me from my parked car.
"I was thinking of coming over later," I heard him mumble as he started walking across the street. I gulped, nodding frantically and turning around hoping I didn't seem rude when really I just wanted to fix my pants and look presentable.
"What?" I asked, turning around to face him, tossing my bangs across my forehead. He smiled, tipping the ash off of his cigarette. Christ sake, I could probably have an orgasm just staring at him.
"I was thinking of coming over to Iero's Italian."
The way he said it was pure flirting and sexy. I looked him down, biting my lip and fighting back the yearning urge in my lower region.
"O-okay," I stuttered out weakly.
"My family wanted to celebrate my birthday and so-"
"Oh fuck, i-it's your birthday," I groaned out, pulling at my hair. How the hell could I have forgotten. I even wrote it down in my fucking calander, how shitty could I get.
He shyly smiled at me.
"Yeah, it is. But they wanted me to pick somewhere to eat."
I wish he would've kept talking, I would let him talk forever. How sometimes one side of his mouth curled up and his lips quirked in a smile. Beautiful.
"You're a vegan?"
That's the first thing you think of, Frank? Nice, nice going, he totally digs you.
"Yeah," He answered simply, smirking.
"O-Oh, I um... Fuck like, I'm sorry, I love you, I-I have to get to work I'm... fucking word vomit."
Just shut up, for fuck sake. I shuffled into the car, rolling down the window only so he wouldn't feel like total shit. Although, with his ego and ignorance there's no way he were to ever feel like shit. I just feel like shit, I feel stupid and like I always make a fool out of myself.
He actually chuckled, leaning against my car door, crossing his arms over the window. A small smile played on his lips and he looked adorable.
"I saw your little problem last night, what's up this time?" He asked sweetly.
"My parents, like usual, just don't support me. Not that I'm suprised but- I ugh, really should be going, I'm sorry," I rushed out, not wanting to feel awkward nor get my ass chewed out by my father.
"Well, I'll be seeing you later, Frankie," He simply said, pulling his arms back. The way he said my nickname made me gulp and actually start to sweat. The way he said it was so pleasing, it just made me feel good in general. It was teasing and I kind of wish he would say it again. Just. Like. That.
No, I might come.
Don't, Frank.
"Y-Yeah," I stuttered, rolling up my window as I watched him walk back across the street in his tight jeans and loose Misfits shirt.
How does he make the simplest clothing look so hot? I wear the same thing and I still look like a crack head. I groan, pulling out and driving off.
I regret this every day. Feeling sorry and guilty and crawling back like the stupid bitch I am. I'm pretty sure Gerard would take me under his wing whether we were in school or not. But he probably doesn't want to deal with a lower class-man and I don't want to end up making a fool of myself infront of him. No, no, I don't want to because I'm stupid and I like him. Jesus, I'd fuck everything up. I just thought that because he's usually nice and at least a considerate person.
I pulled up, getting out of the seat.
"Did you come back to apologise?" My dad instantly asked as I rushed through the door.
"No," I spat. "I just pity you."
He seemed shocked, even though he really shouldn't because honestly... this happens more than usual. Almost once a week, but I never say anything back when he asks that same question.
×××
It was boring as usual and I didn't even do anything. There were barely any people and it was getting late. There were about three families and all I did was a half-assed job of cleaning the tables.
I'm just glad I wasn't cooking or taking orders.
But as it grew darker I kept thinking back to my conversation with Gerard and how he mentioned he'd be coming here for his birthday. Did he just say that to rile me up? He probably did. I couldn't help but feel the tinge of sadness and finding it hard to brush off like I do all the time. I don't know why I got so upset over him. Over a simple lie from someone that doesn't even care about me?
Pathetic.
I shook my head, noticing that the bell rang, but I was too annoyed and tired to look over.
"Frank, go take those last orders," My mom said, peaking her head through the window into the kitchen.
"What if I don't want to?"
"They're regular customers, Frank, give me a break," he muttered, rolling her eyes into oblivion and throwing the order form at me. I quickly grabbed it, ignoring her crabby attitude.
Without looking or really paying attention, knowing I didn't have my uniform on, walked up and clicked my pen. "What do you want?" I simply asked.
"No, Frank," my dad interrupted, resting a hand on my shoulder, making me glare up at him. But then letting my eyes land straight to Gerards. I could nearly feel myself melt and want to fall into a hole at the moment. "You're not doing it properly."
"Y-Yeah," I stuttered, looking down from his peering gaze, my dad completely oblivious to the situation.
"It's, 'Welcome to Iero's Italian, what can I get you today on this fine afternoon-?"
"Its eight o'clock," I mumbled, smirking and noticing how Gerard's body shook with small quiet chuckles.
"Manners, Anthony."
"You know, Dad, since you know so much about this, why don't you do it?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow and pressing the order forms to his chest.
"You need to learn."
"N-No, I think I'm quite alright," I mumbled, sensing Gerard's signature smirk and bright eyes.
"Frank Anthony Thoma-"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," I rambled, brushing my hand through my bleached faux hawk and ignoring his staring. Each one of Gerard's five family members gave me their orders, not including Gerard because he declared that he wasn't hungry -and a vegetarian.
I tacked the orders to the window and let the cooking go to work, while I waited for the butterflies in my stomach to subside. He actually came.
Late, but hey, he's here. He hadn't lied and maybe he actually cares about my well being. Or he wouldn't have come... right?
Ugh, whatever.
I regret driving home that night and having the run-in with Gerard and just every stupid fucking thing I said to him. I shook my head, feeling tension rise in my chest as I noticed his dark hair from across the room.
"Frankie, Hun, what's wrong?" My mother asked, a nervous concerned look on her face.
"N-Nothing," I stuttered, wringing my hands together and staring at him as he walked closer.
I watched him walk outside, his round hips swish and my face heat at the very thought of gripping his smooth bare skin.
"Frankie, you look warm, you should go home, Sweetie," my mother said, drawing my attention back to her as I subconsciously nodded, passing her as she kissed my forehead. I smiled lightly, going out the same back door Gerard had went through.
The night air hitting my face sent a chill down my back.
I turned, seeing him taking a drag from a cigarette.
"Is that why you came out here?" I mumbled, feeling grateful of my confidence and that my mom was caring enough to let me go home. "To have a smoke?"
"Do you have a problem with that?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow and fully turning to face me. I stumbled back a little, gulping and brushing my bangs out of my face.
"N-No," I answered shakily. "It's just- It's your birthday."
"And?" He pulled back his hand, smoke flowing from his delicate lips.
"Your family at least cares about you," I said confidently.
"No, Frankie, just mind your own business, little boy."
"Why are you.., y-you're being so rude to me," I whimpered sadly. "I actually only came to work and stayed because I thought you cared. I know, I'm dumb as fuck, 'poor Frankie wanting attention, the little whore he is'," I phrased, knowing he's said it before. "I'm sorry." I turned on my heel, ignoring his gaze and walking toward my car.
"What do you mean Frank? I only tease you for the fun of it," He said. grabbing my shoulder tightly and making me turn to face his angered expression. I could care less if he were mad or did those things for fun. It was annoying how I still found attraction toward him after all he does to me. "I don't actually think that. I'm just suprised you still like me."
"Whatever, Gerard," I mumbled, feeling my face heat up. I almost felt sick, my stomach churning with every second. I turned back to walk away but he pulled me back and pushed me against the brick of the restaurant.
"Now you're the one being mean," he snickered, taking a quick drag. "See?" He blew his smoke in my face and the horrid smell and taste entered my lungs making me cough and sting my eyes. I whined, wiping my tired -now burning- eyes and pushing his shoulder. "Don't push me." I opened my eyes a little, taking in his soft pink lips first, and then the dark bangs dangling infront of his hazel eyes.
"You look sick, Frank," He said, tossing his cigarette to the floor and stomping it out.
"I know."
He smirked, wrapping an arm around my waste, only making my insides twist into more knots. I still felt my throat burning from inhaling the smoke. I coughed, letting him adjust me into the passanger side of his car. For now, just resting in Gerard Way's fucking car, I couldn't care.
"Gerard?" I mumbled once he had gotten into the driver's side and started the car.
"What?" He asked, glaring over at me.
"What are you doing?"
"Taking you home," He replied, shifting gears and starting to drive out of the horrid un-vegan restaurant.
"B-But, Gerard-"
"Hush," he scolded lightly as I lazily leaned back and rubbed my eyes still not being able to get rid of the smokey feeling looming in them. I ignored things for now and felt small tears arise to my eyes with how much they burned. Almost as if they were to melt or a match was about to be plunged in each socket.
I tried not touching them and wiped away my water works effortlessly without Gerard's question.
He pulled outside of my house but once I got out he followed me up toward the door. I turned and eyed him curiously.
"Give me the keys," he ordered.
"What about your parents?"
"They'll be there all night, Frank."
I grunted away my fished the house keys from the pocket of my tight pants, letting them fall into Gerard's hand. I had collapsed on the couch once inside, but Gerard stayed.
"Go home," I mumbled, digging my hands in my hair, completely annoyed with him.
"No," He stated. I could hear him shuffled about and grabbing things from the cabinets, moving from room to room. "You're sick."
I coughed once again, my knees bending up with every shudder of my chest.
"I'm fine," I protested, my voice coming to a scratch as he entered the room and popped down about five different medicines on the coffee table.
I quickly sat up, scooting back against the far corner of the couch and letting Gerard search through the medicines. I nervously ran a hand through my hair feeling sweat form at my forehead.
"Take these," He mumbled, turning around and handing me a bottle of old pills I used to overdose on.
"Gerard, I'm fine."
"You're sick."
I grunted, taking the pills from him and dry swallowing two. they made my throat burn even more but I couldn't possibly care.
"Are to staying here?" I mumbled, feeling sleep start to sink in.
"No, Frankie," He said softly, pushing back my bangs. I felt bad that his hand was pressing against my sweaty forehead.
"Why?" I asked, placing a hand on the back of his, getting his hand at my head. He started gently rubbing his fingers into my scalp and it felt oh so good right now.
"I thought you wanted me to leave just a minute ago."
"UgH, Gerard- I d-did but... Thanks."
I let him pull his hand away, but I wasn't expected him to lean in and place a kiss on my lips.
His lips that I had looked at, studied, for years had pressed to mine absolutely perfectly. I was right when I made the guess that they were soft, plump and the prettiest color. They felt better pressed to mine. Although his breath did smell his cigarettes, I liked it.
"Bye, Frankie," He said, shutting the door and leaving before I even got the chance to say anything.
His classic smirk was there.
All I could do was smile.