"So I was talking to Father Way yesterday" said Frank's mother one morning. They were sitting at the breakfast table as they often did on Saturday mornings in some desperate bid to seem 'close' or 'conventional.
The statement came seemingly from nowhere, and made Frank choke a little on his cereal.
"Oh? Uh. Who's that?" he asked nervously, wiping his hand on his jeans. His mother looked at him and cocked an eyebrow in a way that very clearly said "I'm not buying what you're selling, kid." She shrugged, poking at her eggs with her fork.
"I think you've met him. Tall, dark hair, walks with a cane, talks out of one side of his mouth," she said almost flippantly, gesturing with her fork. She gave Frank a dark, thoughtful look.
"He had a lot to say about you," she said. Frank cleared his throat, face burning as he looked down at his cereal.
"Yeah? Like what?" he asked. This was it. Gerard had probably told Frank's mother about the window. He'd told her that Frank was a delinquent and that he couldn't be trusted.
Frank couldn't help but feel a pang of betrayal. He'd really thought they'd been getting close to being friends. Hell, he hung out with him now about as equally as his actual friends. After Church, it was now customary for Frank to go to Gerard's house for tea. He'd never have thought that he'd want that sort of thing, previously, but it was actually a lot of fun. Frank liked watching Gerard transform from his serious priestly role, into a funny, affectionate, warm man with a very specific love for comic books from the 70s and bad horror movies. He even found himself missing their time together when he was away from him, which both excited and worried him.
His mother's voice snapped him back into reality.
"I didn't know you'd been helping him out around the Church," she said simply, arching an eyebrow suspiciously. "It's out of character for you."
Frank felt a wave of relief. Gerard hadn't told his Mother a damn thing. Frank smiled.
"I...it's a school thing," he stammered "y'know, community service. Helping the elderly. All that stuff," he said quickly, impressed with the fluidity of his own lie. His mother raised her eyebrows, looking amused.
"Father Way isn't that old, Frank," she chided softly. Frank shrugged.
"He looks old," he said, the second lie flowing off his lips just as easily as the first. If not more so, because he'd been trying to convince himself of this one for weeks now. It could have almost been the truth if he'd only believed it.
Frank stood up after a moment and began to clean out his bowl, watching the individual pieces of cereal slide down the drain. It was oddly hypnotic, but he knew it was his brain intentionally distracting him from the problem at hand.
Things were getting difficult with Gerard, and it was far past the time when Frank could be dishonest with himself about it. The man drove him crazy in all the best and worst ways. The power in his voice when he preached, his gentle laugh, the way he looked at Frank like he was sunshine rising over a hill at dawn. It was wonderful and it was killing him, all at the same time. The worst part was, he supposed, that he couldn't really tell anyone. Nobody, at least, that wouldn't judge him for it. His friends – specifically Mia, who had catlike intuition - knew there was something up with him, but couldn't tell them. He was old and he was a Priest. Those two things alone were enough to make him regret this. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't stop it –and at this point, he didn't even think he wanted to. He was never one to get interested in people this quickly – but he couldn't help himself. Gerard was so pure, so wonderful. He'd never met anyone like him. He was endlessly powerful, but then he'd ruin it by saying something dorky and right there, Frank would fall for that idiot all over again.
Not fall for. That wasn't right. It hadn't got to that point – it was just a crush. A stupid crush. He'd get over it as soon as his damn community service was over.
The idea made him both relieved and pained.
Crisis temporarily shoved to the back of his mind, Frank forced himself to focus on the day before him. The whole gang had been called to Mia's place for an emergency band meeting.
He couldn't say that the word 'emergency' made him at all wary – the last emergency meeting had been because Cooter's guitar strings had broken and the whole band needed to chip in to buy him new ones. Frank wasn't entirely sure what awful fate could really meet a band that hadn't even played a live gig yet. Still, he treated the situation very delicately and carefully, and focused his mind on whatever it was they might say to him. He figured he owed them that, he guessed.
By the time Frank arrived, the other band members were already gathered in Mia's garage, clearly waiting for him to arrive. Cooter was gently strumming his guitar, while Damien and Daniel spoke quietly to each other in the corner. Mia, for one, looked excited. She was practically bouncing out of her seat, a wide smile plastered across her face. It was cute, if you liked that sort of thing. Frank could normally forget that she was a couple years younger than him, but when she got excited, she got this whimsical glow in her cheeks that made her look childish and very sweet.
Although, since Frank liked his balls in-tact, he didn't mention that to her, or anyone else for that matter.
Frank approached her and raised an eyebrow.
"Someone's excited," he pointed out. The brightness dimmed from her face for long enough for her to scowl at him, before the grin set back on her face.
"Shut up and sit down," she said, standing up. It was almost funny, the way all the guys did as she told them to within seconds. They too, apparently, liked their balls where they were.
Once she had everyone's attention, she stood up on her chair and beamed.
"What's this about, Princess?" Cooter asked lazily, leaning back in his seat. Mia bit her lip, as if to stifle the words. It seemed that way even more when they eventually burst from her.
"We have a gig!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together.
Frank felt a rush of genuine excitement. A gig? For real? Someone actually wanted them to play with them? The idea seemed almost ridiculous. He slowly noticed the guys around him reacting to the news. Even Daniel seemed exuberant.
"Shit. That's amazing," Damien said, breaking the silence.
"Whose daughter did you bang to get this one, kid?" Cooter teased, trying to play off his excitement. Mia glared at him and popped a hip.
"No one's, thank you very much. Actually, I was sort of confused. They came to me and offered us the space...they're even gonna pay us" she said, shaking her head.
"What? Who? Did you show them our music?" Damien asked. Mia gave a little shrug.
"I mean, I played him a couple songs from my phone, but he didn't seem that interested. He just offered us the space and stuff. He even said he'd cover all the advertisement stuff – isn't that weird?" she said, biting her lip. Cooter raised his eyebrows.
"That is weird. Very weird. Who was it? You sure he's legit?" he asked. Mia sat down in her chair.
"I assume so. It's that new Priest. Father West or somet-
"Father Way," Frank cut in immediately, his cheeks burning. The group turned to him, each giving him a different look, but all unanimously saying 'what the hell?'
Mia cleared her throat.
"Um. Yeah, Father Way. He said he wants us to play there next Saturday night. He's gonna put an ad for it in the paper and get a bunch of people in. He said he'll pay us like, 20 bucks each,"
"What about ticket costs? Y'know, the money we make from it. You think we'll get that?" Cooter asked, already searching for some sort of plot hole. Mia shrugged, and it was Frank that answered, a lump in his throat.
"No. He's gonna save it, I think. For the Church window," he mumbled, his face paling. Damien looked over at him, his face a mask of concern.
"Frankie? Are you okay?" he asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. It was the touch that broke him out of it, and Frank smiled, nodding weakly.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just real excited," he said, handing out unconvincing smiles all around. He could tell by the looks on their faces that they didn't buy it, but he also knew that they wouldn't ask any further. They were pretty good at letting him deal with his own stuff. In that sense, he was lucky.
In every other sense – not so much.
Once the band was dismissed, having discussed rehearsal times for the next week, Frank walked a down to the park that lay between Mia's house and the Church. The sun was high in the sky, illuminating the steel bars around the field, each blade of grass glistening like a field of emeralds.
Frank felt like his feet were leading him forward without his own conscious consent as he approached a bench, his body sliding down onto it. Once he was sat down, he crumpled in half, putting his face in his hands.
He wasn't an idiot. He could see what was happening. Gerard was hosting a charity concert event to get money for the window so Frank wouldn't have to stick around anymore. Gerard didn't want Frank around anymore.
"Fuck," Frank whispered, sitting up a little and rubbing his hands over his face. Had he done something wrong? Had he offended him in some way? Frank couldn't think of a single thing he could have done to provoke this.
No, wait, scratch that. Yes he did. He could dance around it all he liked, but he knew that the issue here was his damn infatuation. Gerard had clearly picked up on it, and it was making him so uncomfortable that he didn't even want Frank around anymore. The realisation of this fell on Frank even more heavily than the initial truth of his attraction.
"God damn it," he breathed. As far as he could see, he had two options at this point. He could go to Gerard, confront him about the gig, ask him what was wrong. Or he could observe. He had to go help him out with a service the next day – he might as well just wait and see if anything seemed unusual. Then, and only then, would he take any form of action against the man.
Having decided that, and with a heavy heart, he stood and walked back home. He could have kept walking down the lane and come to the Church and – by association – the small home next to it. But he couldn't bring himself to do so, so he walked away, abandoning the building that cut the sky like a crucifix-shaped knife.
The next morning, Frank was both eager and reluctant to go to Church. Eager, because he had the opportunity to see Gerard.
He was reluctant, though, for the same reason.
Frank got ready with an air of trepidation about him that was entirely tangible even to himself.
That's why, when his Mother asked him delicately if he was feeling okay, Frank wasn't even slightly surprised. He knew he must look like a hurricane in human form. At the very least, that's how he felt.
"I'm fine, Mom. I'm just...I don't know. Feeling weird," he mumbled, zipping up his jacket. His Mother arched an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe.
"You don't have to go, Frankie. Father Way will understand. He's not going to hate you because you didn't turn up to one session. I can explain-
"No, Ma. It's fine, really. I wanna go. Maybe being with all that religious crap will make me feel better," he said with a weak smile. His mother looked suitably uncertain, but nodded.
"If you're ready soon I can drive you," she said simply, before sweeping out of the room. As soon as she was gone, Frank plopped down onto his bed, curling up like he had the day before on the bench. This was too much. He was so nervous. His heart slammed in his chest like a stampede of zebra being chased by a lion.
Gerard, of course, being the lion. It was an almost amusing comparison – what, with Gerard being so meek and holy. But Frank wasn't afraid of him because he thought he'd actually harm him. He just knew he could hurt him. In some ways, that was worse than falling victim to a lion's jaws. At least it seemed so.
In the end, Frank declined his Mother's offer for a ride, instead choosing to walk the distance to the Church. It allowed him to clear his head, breathing in the fresh air deeply and reminding himself that, no matter what happened today, he was alive. The mantra faded as he approached the Church, but he clung to it anyway.
It dissolved entirely when he saw that Gerard was already there, unlocking the door.
Frank approached him slowly, his heart pounding in his ears.
"Good Morning, Father," Frank said softly. Gerard turned around, and the look on his face made Frank's stomach drop. It was a look of pure disdain and disappointment. He tried to clear it from his face a moment later, but it was already too late. Frank knew the truth.
"Frank. I didn't think you'd be here," Gerard said, his voice shaking slightly. His hand fumbled with the key for a moment, making it drop to the floor. He clicked his tongue and made to grab it, but Frank got there first, holding it out to him.
"No? Why wouldn't I be?" he asked nervously. Gerard made a soft noise of what Frank assumed to be thanks as he turned back to unlock the door. He was silent until there was a solid click and the door opened. He turned back to Frank.
"Your friend told you about the gig, right?"
Frank's blood ran cold, his heart pounding so hard, he was almost certain Gerard could hear it. He swallowed hard before he replied, not trusting his voice to be even.
"She did. And thank you. But why does that mean I shouldn't come here anymore?" He knew he was supposed to be playing it cool, but he was nervous. The words came blurting out of his mouth before he could stop them. "Aren't we friends?"
Gerard paused, hand on the door, and looked at Frank with wide, almost terrified eyes.
"Friends? Frank. No, that's... we get along well, I know. But we're not friends," he said softly, his voice barely audible. What killed Frank the most was the way his voice was soft, but his words were sharp and deadly.
"I just meant... I-
"I don't need your help anymore, Frank. You've been more trouble than help. You're late, you're lazy and...and you're a distraction." The last words were the only ones that Gerard felt were entirely honest. But hopefully, Frank believed every single one.
Luckily (or rather, unluckily) for Gerard, he did. Frank blinked fast to stop the tears from pooling in his eyes. He felt stupid and used.
"I...I'm sorry, Father. I never meant to-
"I know. God, Frank, I know you never meant for any of this to happen. Neither did I. But you have to go, okay? Just trust me. You have to leave. With that gig, we'll make enough money to repair the window, and we can leave it there," his voice seemed almost desperate. He looked up at Frank with wide, apologetic eyes.
Frank bit his bottom lip and looked down at his feet.
"If that's what you want, Father,"
"It is."
"Okay. I'll go. Thanks for...everything, I guess. Um. I'll see you Saturday," he said weakly, backing away from the Church.
He didn't look up as he turned around and walked away. Gerard never took his eyes off of him – not until he vanished over the hill. It was only then that he shut the Church door and, with a heavy heart, began the duties that had been Frank's.