Frank bemoans the fact that the Way brothers are motherfucking cockteases. Gerard is VERY VERY SINCERE. Mikey shrugs. Often. Pete just needs a profound deep dicking. Frank can maybe help him out with that.

Frank was sitting on his lopsided piano bench in front of the counter, legs crossed up on the seat underneath him, red-painted toenails barely showing from under his thigh. He was in one of his oversized shirts, the wide boat-cut neckline barely keeping it on, and Gerard could see the strap of his bra (black, this time) running over his shoulder.