When We're Both Thirty

Shitdick and Fuckhead

Gerard ends up in front of an apartment in a fairly swanky building which he resents. In his own apartment, Gerard is constantly having to wipe dust off his furniture from the Subway disrupting the unstable roof above him, and Frank has an apartment that doesn't smell like the guy across the halls dirty socks.

He doesn't live in an overly fancy place, but anything is better than where Gerard lives.

Gerard has to literally slap himself to come to the grips that he is literally standing in front of this of all doors. His least favorite person in the world, besides of course from various dictators, is standing behind that door somewhere. Maybe. He might not even be home. Gerard almost hopes that's the truth.

He exhales, realizing that he forgot to breathe out of the revulsion of who might be on the other side.

"Fuck," he whispers to himself before knocking on the door. The moment his knuckles hit the wood he regrets it. He really wants to just run away and pretend this never happened, but he hears someone fucking walking around on the other side.

Gerard can feel his heart rate increasing and it's scaring the shit out of him that someone is stepping closer to the door.

Gerard really hopes Frank is ugly. He really hopes that Frank has a giant mole or botched plastic surgery.

When the door opens in front of him though, Gerard's hope that Frank became ugly is squashed. He got hotter. Like, way hotter. Like, if this weren't his least favorite person he's ever met, than he would totally want to get into this guy's pants.

Fucking hell, Gerard wanted to make this quick and tell the guy that he hates him, but now he's practically drooling over a guy he wants to chop the appendages off of.

"Yes?" the guy who Gerard is hoping isn't Frank, because he's way too attractive and that would be way too depressing if Frank got that hot.

"Are you Frank Iero?" Gerard asks, staggering slightly on the words. That's Frank's voice he's sure of it. He hasn't forgotten that voice in the slightest.

"Who's asking?" Frank replies, and then evaluates Gerard, "you don't live here, how'd you get in?"

"I grabbed the door while someone was leaving," Gerard replies.

"So much for safety if people can just come in and out as they please. Tell me who the hell you are then."

"I'm Gerard. Gerard Way."

Frank looks confused for a moment before a flash of understanding fills his eyes and he tries to slam the door as fast as he can. Gerard puts his foot out to stop himself from being blocked off, and he's fairly sure his toes are screaming out in agony. This doesn't look so painful when people do it in movies, but god damn, it's like his foot is being sawed off.

"Get out of my apartment, you son of a bitch!" Frank shrieks at him.

"We have to talk about things, fuckhead," Gerard says, using his old pet name for Frank.

"Calling me that isn't going to make me open the door on you," Frank says, still struggling for power in the war to get the door slammed in Gerard's face.

"It's about our moms, asshole!"

"I am not interested!" Frank says.

"This isn't high school you nimrod, we can be adults about this!" Gerard says. Frank pauses for a moment, not letting out on the door, just blanking his expression for a moment.

Gerard has a glimmer of hope that maybe that got through to him but then Frank spits, "you're a dick. I don't regret putting that cow shit in your locker."