Gerard Way had fallen asleep with his head buried face first into the sofa, and his legs curled up against his chest, and a half eaten packet of Doritos knocked off the table beside him and now residing in crumbs and mess all over the carpeted surface of the living room floor: his mum would kill him.

Thankfully, somehow, Mikey was the first to wake up, stumbling down stairs in boxers and the first shirt he'd pulled off his bedroom floor in a half asleep state; it was probably something to do with the fact that it was a Saturday and Mikey had found an absolutely wonderful 'gift from heaven' esque dealer, which he was not quite so inclined to share with his older brother.

The seventeen year old found himself rolling his eyes as he peered into the living room: the TV still on in the background at the lowest volume, displaying some sort of news show that he knew Gerard hadn't been originally watching; he grabbed the remote from the coffee table and switched it off as Gerard let out a loud sigh in his sleep, rolling over and burying his face deeper into the couch cushions.

Mikey thought it best just to leave his brother in peace like this, even if Mrs Way would not be quite as inclined to do the same when she noticed the Dorito crumbs all over the carpet; he eventually settled upon brushing the major crumbs under the sofa and pulling the coffee table closer to the sofa in an attempt to disguise the mess at all.

Mikey placed the packet back on the table, and in doing so, happened upon his brother's cellphone: the screen illuminating in a burst of unwelcome bright light as the device vibrated against the coffee table.  Mikey valued his brother's privacy, but his own curiosity was a demon he couldn't quite ever overcome, especially as he knew he'd receive no repercussions for the deed as long as he was careful. 

With a cautious glance in Gerard's direction, Mikey inhaled sharply and grabbed the device; Gerard's passcode was his date of birth and had been for years now, and Mikey wondered why he'd even insisted that Gerard change it in the first place. 

Mikey didn't exactly mean to go all super privacy invasion suspicious mum mode and like look through everything on there, but he did indeed settle upon opening the messages app, and in turn, Gerard's conversation with Bert.

He scanned the messages quickly, and didn't bother to scroll too far up, as he was rather satisfied to see that Bert had texted Gerard something about them being 'done' at about four in the morning, which Gerard had presumably fallen asleep before receiving; Mikey marked it as unread and moved onto the most recent conversation - the one that had alerted Mikey to the phone's presence in the first place.

This one took Mikey by surprise, to say the least.

The contact name didn't exactly give took much away: a simple 'F', but the messages said everything Mikey could ever want to know and more.

There was some serious flirting, but some fucking middleschooler flirting, and in fact it was awkward and painful to read, but then Mikey's eyes flickered across the most recent message: 'Meet me today?'.

Mikey didn't even quite know how to react as he marked the message as unread and put the phone back down on the table, letting out a deep sigh, before exiting the room and making his way into the kitchen.

So, his brother was getting laid, again? After the whole thing with Lindsey a few days ago, and after Bert breaking up with him at four in the morning- and fucking hell, he didn't even know that Bert had broken up with yet. Mikey could hope that the trauma of a break up would deter his brother from going and fucking another innocent victim, however, he knew Gerard well enough to say that that was most certainly not the case.

Eventually, he settled upon simply brushing all thoughts of Gerard out of his head, and making some coffee. 

He made his way back upstairs as the kettle boiled: putting some jeans on over his boxers, and grabbing a hoodie from the floor, and his phone from the side. 

He finished in the bathroom just as the kettle had finished boiling, and he made his way back downstairs just in time to see a very groggy looking Gerard emerge from the living room like some sort of coffee zombie.

"Morning." Mikey raised one eyebrow at his brother as he made a dash for the kettle, pouring the hot water into the mug he'd prepared earlier, because apparently Mikey's life was fucking Blue Peter. "This is my coffee." He added, with a stern glance in his brother's direction.

"I'm ill." Gerard announced, rubbing his eyes. "I need coffee."

"If you're ill then you need to go to the doctors." Mikey told his brother, taking a second to reminder himself that he was in fact the younger one here. "I'm not making you coffee: you can make it yourself."

Gerard groaned and pushed past Mikey to the kettle, leaving the seventeen year old to take a seat at the table, and sip his coffee elegantly like a classy fucking lady as browsed through his own text messages.

Mikey was significantly less popular than Gerard, with only one text from Frank that made very little sense and was probably sent to the wrong person anyway; he responded with the first emoji he saw, which just happened to be that fucking moon, but whatever, it was most definitely appropriate in consideration of just how early it was, like ten in the fucking morning? Early as fuck, for sure.

"You're going out?" Gerard finally noticed the fact that his brother was fully dressed, and met it with disbelief, because it wasn't like Mikey Way was the most sociable of beings, not that Gerard was either, but whatever.

"Yep." Mikey rolled his eyes, turning his phone screen off and putting the device back in his pocket, before looking up to face his brother.

"Why?" Gerard continued to look at him with a great deal of suspicion, which to say the least, was not a gesture that Mikey particularly appreciated, but whatever.

"Because I want to?" Mikey raised his eyebrows, actually rushing to finish his coffee now, and just so that he could get the fuck out of the house without Gerard performing some serious police investigation or something.

"Well, that's blown my mind- what the fuck is that?" Gerard groaned as a loud blaring sound resonated throughout the house.

"Your phone. Answer it before mum wakes the fuck up and slaps you for it." Mikey let out a sigh, finishing his coffee and trying his best not to think too hard about just who it could be calling Gerard right now - Bert, or the extremely mysterious and elusive 'F'.

-

Lindsey Ballato finished her cigarette in two minutes, stubbing it out against the tarmac of the play park with her heel, as she leaned back into the swing, casually moving a little, as she pulled her cellphone out to check the time, because yeah, she was right - that motherfucker was late.

'That motherfucker' being of course none other than Frank Iero, who was slightly dubious about Lindsey's extravagant matchmaking scheme, and was far more interested in the phone number that he'd acquired from her last night, well Jamia.

Jamia was turning out to be Frank's best friend at this rate, and mainly for the fact that she was super fucking observant, and well, they were sort of partners in homosexual crime right now: some sort of mission to split up whatever thing was going on between Lindsey and Gerard so that they could date them.

The mission wasn't exactly having a very high success rate, and mainly due to the fact that Lindsey was oblivious and stubborn as fuck, but Gerard was rather happy to receive a text from a slightly drunk Frank Iero late last night, and Frank would call that his greatest victory yet.

Of course, the asshole still hadn't replied to him about meeting him today, and Frank found himself stuck with Lindsey and her desperate attempts to find him a boyfriend. 

Maybe he should just shut the fuck up and let her do it, because Gerard liked Lindsey, and Gerard sort of already had a boyfriend, and Gerard was just fucking confusing, but also really hot, and way out of Frank's league, yet somehow Frank had landed himself some sort of friendship was Lindsey Ballato, which may or may not be on the premise of his sexuality, which was a particular straight person quirk that Frank didn't really care for, but whatever.

Frank arrived ten minutes late, and in that time, Lindsey was on her third cigarette, and was doing a wonderful job in ensuring that all mothers who actually wanted their children to play in the play park didn't actually go a ten metre radius of her.

Frank had to give her credit for that, because she did indeed look punk rock as fuck, and Frank couldn't even begin to imagine just how long those boots with the platforms and the buckles that went up to her knees had taken to get on this morning.

"Iero. Late, much?" Lindsey raised her eyebrows as Frank approached the play park. She gestured to the swing beside her as he closed the gate behind himself, and a mother scowled at the two of them from a distance, and Lindsey made a point not to give one single shit.

"Slept in or something." Frank mumbled, putting his hood down as he sat down beside her.

"Or something?" Lindsey rolled her eyes at the emo mess beside her.

"What?"

"Basically you're late because you woke up with an extreme case of morning wood and you had to get yourself off before leaving the house, because that would be awkward, but then you found some really great porn and got distracted- I would suggest some examples, but I don't actually tend to watch gay porn... lesbian porn, sometimes, but a dude sticking his dick in another dude's butt? Nah, sorry."

"I was actually waiting for someone to reply to a text message-"

"Cellphones are portable, Frank, that's the point, you could have very easily received the message on your way here." Lindsey let out a sigh, and passed a cigarette in Frank's direction, which he took with question or concern for his lungs, because it was Lindsey fucking Ballato, okay?

"Still didn't get a response." Frank muttered, putting the cigarette between his lips and taking the lighter from Lindsey's palm, lighting his cigarette, and passing the lighter back to her.

"Tragic." She let out a sigh, gaze fixated upon the grey, cloudy skies. "I think it's gonna rain soon, and this isn't waterproof mascara, so you can hurry the fuck up with your cigarette, and we can go meet that guy."

"Oh- you've already- set me up... oh..." Frank's eyes widened as he did all in his power not to think about Gerard fucking Way, and well, failed tremendously.

"Gabe Saporta. His name sounds like Gay Supporter, and I thought you might appreciate that." Lindsey explained, grabbing her cellphone and sending a quick message to the gay supporter in question.

"Wait so is this guy actually gay, or are you just going off his name?" Frank asked, his eyes widening, as he took a moment to consider just what the fuck he'd gotten himself into, and why he was just so inclined to listen to every fucking word Lindsey Ballato said, and without question too.

"We'll find out soon, won't we?" She giggled, pocketing her cellphone and turning to Frank, who was very firmly shaking his head at her.

"Jamia is much more bearable than you." Frank rolled his eyes, taking a long drag of his cigarette: in no hurry to finish it, but he didn't question the fact that Lindsey would slap him if her make up started to run.

"Jamia's cute, she's just nice, she's funny, cute, amazing, but she's not the girl who kicked Brendon Urie in the balls last summer." Frank knew he most definitely going to repeat the first half of that sentence to Jamia when he got the chance.

"She could be the girl who kicks him in the balls this summer." Frank added with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Or it could be you: you could be the boy who kicks him in the balls." Lindsey glanced back up at the sky. "Anyone could make it here, you know: it's just luck, I'm honestly nothing special, Frank, I'm just a pretty face with a short temper and high standards. And you, you're two steps of the way there."

Lindsey stood up as Frank finished his cigarette, stubbing it out against the tarmac, before following suit.

"Which two?" Frank couldn’t help but ask and with an uncontrollable curiosity.

"How about you find that out for yourself, huh?"

-

Gabe Saporta seemed far more interested in Lindsey than Frank, but then again, Frank wasn't exactly surprised, because despite being a raging homosexual, he was still far more interested in Lindsey Ballato than he would ever be in himself.

Gabe had weed, though, and lots of it, so the situation kind of made up for itself, and well, Frank wasn't exactly a '420 enthusiast', but if Lindsey Ballato was telling him to do something, he found himself doing so regardless.

He smoked far more casually than the other two: disinterested and barely listening to their conversation, and his whole heart stopping at the text tone that they didn't even notice.

A fucking text from fucking Gerard Way was far more important than anything else in the world to Frank right then.

He glanced up at Lindsey and Gabe and noted just how close they were getting, and Frank wondered just how on earth he'd ended up third wheeling on what was supposed to be his own date, even if it was one he’d been set up in. He wondered if Lindsey would go as far as to kiss Gabe in front of him: Frank didn't particularly care, he was just curious - curious as to just how far Lindsey would go, and as to just how far he'd continue to put up with it.

Frank had low standards.

He was unaware, of course, but Lindsey was, and she knew that was what he was missing, and perhaps this was just some elaborate exercise in which to highlight it for him to see, or perhaps that would be the excuse Lindsey would stitch together in her head when she found herself in Gabe's bed the next morning.

Frank just genuinely didn't care about Gabe, though: he wasn't particularly good looking, and the message from Gerard still lay unread on his cellphone.

Frank glanced down at it and felt his heart skipping a beat as he did so.

He mumbled something about the bathroom, and Gabe pointed vaguely to his left, leaving Frank to wander off in that direction and lock himself in the bathroom, and then finally read the message, because it felt important, like a private ordeal: something special, and Frank was ridiculous, and he knew it.

'Sure. I'm kinda sad but you can make me happy'

The text was in response to Frank's from several hours ago now: the one about hanging out today, and holy fuck, Frank's heart was exploding, and he was beginning to wonder just whether they’d ever look to see if he'd died in the toilet or something.

'When? Where?'

Frank wondered if his response was too eager, and in turn, Frank wondered if he cared, and well, he didn't quite get the time to fully figure it out before Gerard had responded, telling him to come over whenever, and just like that, Frank was unlocking the toilet door, and creeping through the kitchen, and then unlocking the backdoor with the key on the side, because face it, neither Lindsey nor Gabe would miss him, and even if Lindsey did actually happen to notice his absence, she'd text him, or she'd be preoccupied with something else, and it'd be forgotten.

But Frank didn't care, because Lindsey didn’t mean bad - that was just who she was, and that was alright, as long as Frank could be who he was, and it turned out that who Frank was, was the guy who sneaked out through the backdoor to avoid third wheeling and go 'comfort' the older brother of one of his very few friends.

God, Frank just hoped that Mikey wouldn't be in.

-

Thankfully, he wasn't, and Gerard didn't mention too much about, so Frank treated it with the same disregard as the two made their way upstairs and into Gerard's bedroom.

He muttered a quick apology about the state of the room, but Frank didn't care, and in turn, Frank muttered a quick apology about the state of his existence: Gerard didn't care.

Gerard didn't even seem to hear him, actually, and well, Gerard was like Lindsey in a lot of ways.

As the nineteen year old lit a cigarette, grabbing his ash tray from the windowsill, Frank stood there watching, and marking Gerard up to Lindsey's three step criteria for being worth people's time: three steps to becoming something, or whatever.

It was obvious that Gerard had the pretty face, and the high standards: high enough to ignore Frank's menial mutterings, but not high enough as to ignore Frank completely; Frank wondered if he was really just here to keep Gerard company when he was sad, but he'd ended up pushing the thought out of his head before it could really start to bother him.

Frank was unsure about Gerard having a short temper, though: he seemed pretty passive when the whole ordeal between him, Mikey, and Lindsey had occurred, and it puzzled Frank, because Gerard would definitely rank as high as Lindsey, or if not, higher, or the scale of importance, well in the mind of a highschooler, but Gerard was a strong nine, and Frank was a two at best.

Pete Wentz was a four.

Although, that had something to do with the amount of people he'd slept with, and Frank was well, a sad little virgin, and Gerard Way was probably the opposite of a virgin, and Frank wasn't listening to a single word the nineteen year old was saying at all.

"You're not listening." Gerard noted with something vaguely resembling a smirk: something that puzzled Frank. "That's funny."

"I- I'm- sorry-" Frank stuttered out, taking a seat beside Gerard: a seat on the bed, and perhaps he most awkward seat Frank had ever found himself in.

"Doesn't matter." Gerard gave a shrug, accompanied by a puff of nicotine. "Tell me what you were thinking about - it's probably far more interesting than my sob story anyway."

"I was thinking about you." Frank found the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop himself.

Gerard chuckled, raising his eyebrows, and turning to face Frank with a greater interest. "About fucking me? Or just how wonderful I am in general?"

"I-I-I-..." Frank's cheeks blushed such a deep scarlet that Gerard wondered if he'd pass out from it: thankfully, he didn't.

"I was talking about how my ex-boyfriend broke up with me last night, just so you know, because you weren't listening." Gerard finished his cigarette, stubbing it out in the ashtray, and then pushing the ashtray into the furthest corner of his bedside table.

"Oh- I'm sorry-"

"So you can fuck me if you want to, just saying." Gerard paused, moving closer to Frank. "Or I could fuck you? If you want."

"I-I-..."

"Anytime you want, Frank, just tell me: it's an offer, it's a thing - I'd say yes if you asked, nothing more, nothing less." Gerard stood up, and made his way across the room: getting another cigarette from the packet he'd left on the dresser. "Think about it?"

-

hey lmao look at the new cover it looks like tumblr shat it out i know but i tried ok smile smile hello hi look plot and things i love lynz votes and comments are things i also love, also you lot you're fucking great thank you very much for existing:))))<3