"Holy shit."
Those two words couldn't be halted when they fell from Frank's mouth. The shock was too much. This was his Gerard, the boy he had been so infatuated with years ago, the one who came into his mind every time it got that little bit harder to be around the kids he went to school with, the one he had almost forgotten about with all the sudden changes of entering adulthood. However, those words, even with such a miniscule volume quickly condemned him.
"Excuse me, who are you?" inquired the woman previously watching Gerard but whose eyes now were locked on a dumbstruck Frank.
Drowned in adrenaline, Frank only managed to stutter a few syllables to explain his presence. Luckily, the other set of eyes now on him was prepared to show mercy. Gerard saw Frank standing unarmed, and he was overwhelmed by a need to protect him. The word to describe Gerard's sexual history was definitely female, but as crazy as it may have been, he couldn't help but feel that part of his urge to help man in front of him was because the man was, well, handsome. Enormous hazel eyes equipped to draw in an entire room lay beneath dark, perfectly arched eyebrows. Gerard wasn't too perplexed. He had been attracted to men before; he just had never followed through on the instinct. The kind of face that was now in front of him, though, looking like a deer in headlights, had a special kind of beauty. In fact, he could only remember seeing one like it a few times at most. That was what compelled him to speak.
"He's with me," Gerard lied.
"Oh, I didn't know – obviously," explained the woman.
"Yeah, I told him to meet me here. We're getting lunch after you and I are done."
Frank was a little baffled as to what was happening, but he knew when he was being saved. He pulled himself together enough to make an introduction.
"I'm Frank," he said, moving forward to greet the woman and missing the flash of recognition in Gerard's eyes.
"Jill," she said. "Always nice to see a new face."
"So why not let my new band play?" interjected Gerard.
Jill sighed.
"I'll think about it," she offered, "but I think we're done here for today if you and Frank want to get going."
"Great, I look forward to our next meeting," Gerard added while walking the befuddled Frank out the door.
Once outside, Gerard kept walking at a brisk pace, keeping Frank at his side with a hand at the back of his shoulder.
"Where are we going?" Frank mused after a minute, though not at all displeased that they weren't dispersing.
"Lunch," Gerard answered. "I did say that, right?"
The two arrived at a small sandwich shop. Few words were exchanged as each bought themselves some food and took a seat, but Gerard moved to break the silence.
"So," Gerard began after finishing a bite of his sandwich, "why were you creeping into the black box with no name?"
"It doesn't have a name?" asked Frank.
"Nope. Thanks to years of lazy ownership that neglects to put up sign and acts like it's an artistic statement, that poor club has no name."
"Wow…" Frank said before he remembered Gerard's question. "I was just interested, I guess. I've messed around with the underground band scene, and places like that just do something for me."
"You sure have a knack for sneaking around clubs," Gerard commented. Frank gave him an inquisitive look before Gerard continued with, "Bands, huh? Are you in one?"
"I messed around with it in high school, but it was always hard to find willing participants."
"I had the same problem."
"You do have a band, though. How's that going for you?"
"Pretty well. I came out here for art school, but then last year with the Trade Center… It was so wild, terrifying that something like that could happen. It made me want to change paths completely."
There was silence for a few minutes before Frank hesitantly added, "I may be completely wrong,, but I think I know you."
Gerard made eye contact with a playful smirk. "Yes you do, Mr. Iero."
Upon hearing Gerard say his last name, Frank felt his jaw drop a little before his mouth was pulled into a grin.
"It's been a while," Gerard noted, still smiling.
"I know."
"You have a lot to tell me. How did you end up in New York?"
"I graduated high school. I needed to see a new place."
"How old are you, anyway? I don't remember."
"Twenty."
"So when we first met you were-"
"Thirteen."
It was Gerard's turn to be taken aback. He only uttered, "Christ… that's so young."
"Which is why I never told you," Frank said with a grin.
"Of course I knew you wereyoung. You never seemed like it when I talked to you, though. I went to high school with a lot of people who looked super young as freshman, so I figured you were just a really small guy."
"I am a really small guy," Frank laughed.
Gerard gazed down into his drink before being struck with an idea. "Frank, do you still play guitar?"
"Yeah, all the time."
"My band, we're recording in a little over a week, and we only have one guitarist. We could use a second one for a few tracks. Would you mind helping out with that?"
"That would be great," agreed Frank, not even coming close expressing his joy at the offer.
"Perfect! Here," Gerard said, searching in his jacket until he found a pen, "this is my number and the studio address." He handed Frank a napkin with the information scrawled across it and reached into his jacket once more. "Oh, and here's a demo. Get familiar with tracks two and five."
The rest of the lunch went smoothly, filled with stories, happy and sad, of each man's life during the seven years apart. Frank walked back to his shared apartment with a smile on his face, and as soon as he walked in the door, he flung open his guitar case to preserve inside it the napkin Gerard had given him. It would be safe there. Now the black, sticker-marked case held both of the best things Frank had with him in New York.