The Chasing of Moons

To Brony Or Not To Brony

There is actually a part of him, a very small part of Frank, that feels kind of guilty about sitting in the tower part of the jungle gym, but the rest of him doesn't give that much of a shit. He knows it's a Saturday and that there are kids who want to be where he and the other two are, but he doesn't care enough to move. He likes it where he is, and he's going to stay here until someone forces him away.

"Do you think we're going to get yelled at by soccer moms who think we're being punks?" Brendon asks.

"They'll probably discourage of Pete the most, he's the one who looks like trouble," Frank says, because Pete, is in fact terrifying, but it's not his personality it's mostly his face. Or at least that's the way Frank sees things.

"We could just push him off," Brendon says, and Pete makes a spitting sound so presumably he just spit at Brendon. Frank watches his feet dangling off the edge, looking at his shoes and noticing all the scoffs on the sides and the dirt scattered across them. He looks down at the woodchips below, and then back up where he watches two siblings trying to swing higher than the other on the other side of the park.

"I don't see why you're ganging up on me, I'm perfect," Pete sighs.

"Perfectly idiotic."

"You're a dick."

"No, you're a dick," Brendon says.

"Shut up, you two. You're both dicks."

"Fair enough," Brendon says, and Frank looks over at him for a moment before he looks up, squinting at the sun that's directly in his eye. It's still only march so the air is still cool, and the snow has all washed away with the rain, but the overcast weather hasn't made the days get any warmer. Today is the first day since last week where the sun has had the nerve to rear its head up above the clouds, and Frank's honestly kind of missing the rain. It's too bright and happy while he's feeling all melancholic and gloomy.

"What's got you so blue?" Pete asks, nudging Frank with his elbow.

"What? Nothing. I'm just kind of down, I guess," Frank confesses.

"Ugh, is it about that guy at the bar again?" Pete asks.

"I mean, I guess it is."

"Is it about that chick you met?" Brendon questions.

"More so, yeah. More about that then the guy..."

"And then Gerard too," Pete adds. Frank wishes he could admit that it's all the same thing. All of the problems are the same problem. Gerard not liking him or giving him the time of day is directly related to the 'chick' at the bar who is actually the guy at the bar.

"Dude, you gotta let that one go, she was married," Brendon says.

Frank sighs, messing with his fingers and frowning at the dirt under his fingernails, "I know, it's, you wouldn't understand. Even if you would, I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"You wouldn't get it," Frank replies.

"You're not giving us a lot of faith, are you," Pete says, "Like, dude, we're here for you."

Frank shrugs and looks at Pete, remembering that he's probably going through a very similar situation as he is. Pete definitely doesn't have to try to figure out all this stupid time travelling stuff, but he's at least got something he's hiding if Gerard's note about him and Mikey was true. Then there's Brendon who probably couldn't give less of a shit about anyone's sexuality as long as they accept that he looks good without a shirt. To be fair, he doesn't look bad without a shirt.