Suspension of Disbelief, part six
Jun. 7th, 2007 12:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lizhanneTitle: Suspension of Disbelief, part six
Rating: PG13 for this part
Pairing: Frank/Gerard, Frank/Ray
Author’s notes Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
restriction for the wonderful beta job on this part, and to sourcream_onion and pettymoth for their invaluable help.
No altar boys were (or will ever be) harmed in the writing of this story.
Disclaimer: this is an AU; you can't get much faker than that, right?
- Part one
- Part two
- Part three
- Part four
- Part five
“Trr trr.”
“Trr trr.”
“Trr trr.”
The buzz of his cellphone, vibrating in the pocket of his jacket where it lays discarded on the floor since the previous night, finally penetrates the fog of Frank's sleeping brain and he fumbles blindly for it, blinking in the morning light that fills...an unknown room? Where is he?
He finally finds the damn noisy thing. Ray.
“Hrmph.”
“Hey man, is everything okay? I thought I'd hear from you last night, but you disappeared, and I didn't want to call just in case you were quarrelling with your parents or whatever.”
“Sorry Ray,” Frank mumbles, “things were shitty yesterday, and I had to leave home.”
“You mean they kicked you out?”
“No, they didn't kick me out, but they might as well have. I was fed up, so I left.”
“You left? Where the fuck are you now?”
“I am...” - where is he? Oh. He remembers. Gerard. “I slept at a friend's place.”
“Don't feed me bullshit, Frank, you have no friends but me. Now really, where are you? Do you need help?”
“Thanks for reminding me. And no, I'm okay, really. Listen, can I explain it to you later? I desperately have to pee.”
“Sure, but I'll want details. Meet me at the Dancing Goat in an hour?”
“Right. I'll see you there, then.”
“Take care, man.”
“Thanks Ray.”
He hangs up. Ray probably thinks he picked up some random guy the previous night, but he should really know better than that. Even if, in a way, he's right. Smiling, Frank gets up from the sofa, cracking his back and scratching his head on the way to the bathroom. Gerard's not around, of course; he probably got out very early for the first Mass. He remembers volunteering to serve that same mass, ages ago.
As he's finally relieving his bladder, he realizes he's feeling a little better. Sure, he is broke, he doesn't know where the fuck he's going to live and he owes Gerard a light bulb, but at least he doesn't have to put up with his parents' shit any more. He should have done it years ago; now he's free to be as much of a sad loser as he wants to be without having to explain himself to anyone. To celebrate his newfound freedom to lose at life in peace, he decides to take a shower, vaguely remembering Gerard's offers to make himself at home the previous night. He's almost sure the occasion would call for a wank too, but as he tries to slide a soapy hand on his penis, only uncomfortable images come to mind and he gets a less-than-enthusiastic reaction. He tries to think of Ray – safe territory – and of how he felt inside him the last time they had sex, but that only reminds Frank of his last attack, so he decides to give up for good. With a deep sigh, he lets the water pour over him, resting his back against the tiles, eyes closed, until his mind is clear again. Once he's dried himself and fished fresh underwear and a t-shirt out of his bag, he ventures into the kitchen, hoping to find at least some coffee.
Horrified, he stops by the door: the kitchen is a complete mess, with multiple layers of dirty dishes and assorted cutlery in the sink, a thick layer of grime everywhere and – when he finally finds the courage to go and check – the fridge is empty, apart from what Frank's sure are alien life forms. Unless Gerard's a successful mould-farmer, that is. He remembers Gerard saying something about old miss Jane dying, and this must be the result. It's remarkable, considering that Gerard must have been in town no more than two weeks according to what he told Frank the other night.
Maybe he could do the dishes before leaving at least; he owes that much to Gerard. But he's already running late to meet Ray, so he decides he'll do them later today, and then pass by later when his shift ends to say thanks. From what Frank's seen he's sure Gerard will be awake then.
Now that Frank thinks about it, he's not sure how he's going to get out of the place; surely Gerard hasn't left the door open, has he? He'll probably come back when his morning duties are over to let Frank out. Returning to the living room to call Ray, Frank notices a folded piece of paper pinned to the door. Sure enough there's a hurried 'Frank' scribbled on it. Inside, there are a few words in pleasantly messy writing: ”Won't be back until tonight, so I left you my spare keys on the coffee table. I'll come pick them up at the diner tonight. Don't set anything on fire! G.”
Frank smiles; he doesn't know why Gerard trusts him, but it feels good to know he does.
***
Half an hour later Frank's sitting at the Dancing Goat with Ray, nursing an expensive coffee drink he wouldn't generally waste money on and still feeling oddly calm. It's not like his life is any better now, after all.
“It's not like I'm any better off now, you know,” he tells Ray in between blissful sips of coffee. “I'm still the same loser I was before, only now I don't have a place to sleep. Oh, and I don't have to go to Mass on Sundays any more.” He smiles.
In front of him Ray nods enthusiastically, gulping down his coffee before interrupting him. “Are you kidding me? This is great! Not the part where you don't have a place to stay, of course, but you finally managed to leave your parents! You should have done it long ago.” He looks hesitantly at Frank, his smile fading a little. “You know I would ask you to stay with me, no problem, it's just that...”
Frank stops him, nodding. Ray's place is barely bigger than a hole, and he already shares it with Bob who is the cook who works the day shift. And even if Ray and Frank share a bed at times, they're not in the kind of relationship that would allow them to live together and sleep in the same bed on a regular basis.
“Don't worry, Ray. I'll figure something out. I can always sleep in my car for a few days while I look for someone who's willing to share a cheap place, and maybe I could just use your shower now and then?”
They both smile. Crisis averted, and Frank remembers how glad he is that he has at least one friend he can count on.
“Of course you can, and really, you can stay at my place for one or two nights, no worries. But now, tell me all about the priest.” Ray's eyes glint with playful malice, and even if Frank knows that he is joking, Frank regrets for a minute telling Ray where he slept last night.
“There's nothing to tell, really. He found me moping on a bench near the church and he invited me in. He couldn't leave me alone out there, after all - charity is supposed to be his job. I crashed on the couch, and he wasn't there when I left this morning. He's coming by the diner tonight to pick up his keys.” Somehow he carefully avoids telling Ray that he saw Gerard getting out of the bathroom with only a towel on, a white flash in the dim light of the living room. If he hadn't looked so distinctly corporeal, Frank could have almost mistaken him for one of the shadows that always linger at the corners of his vision. No, Gerard was no vision, but it was only a moment, and it doesn't matter anyway.
His reverie is interrupted by Ray snickering into his coffee. “He left you his keys? I don't know where he's from, but he won't last long around here if he starts lending his house keys to strangers. You should give him a couple of hints.”
“I was thinking of simply washing the all of the dirty dishes he has in the kitchen to say thanks. Oh – and I owe him a light bulb.”
Ray freezes. Frank has made sure his friend doesn't know everything about his problems, but of course Ray has seen enough over the years to understand that strange accidents happen to light bulbs around Frank, and that it's never a good sign.
“Bad dreams?” he asks.
“Sort of,” Frank takes another sip of his coffee and stares out of the window.
***
It’s only just seven pm and Gerard is tired already. He walks into his flat and drops everything – shoes, coat, keys – right where he is. On second thoughts he picks up the coat at least, and leaves it on the sofa. Seeing the sofa reminds him of Frank and he notices that Frank's stuff isn’t there anymore. He has probably found another place to stay, Gerard thinks, and makes a mental note to ask him later. If he can manage to stay awake, that is. His bed looks inviting through the open door, very inviting, but he knows that giving in to sleep now would mean lying awake most of the night and he doesn’t want to do that. His mind needs some rest. Today’s been hard, the same old routine three times over, and an incredibly long and boring meeting about the crisis of the Sunday school.
Giving it up as a lost cause (and he had thought about Frank and his resigned comments about his mother there, with a sad smile that had earned him a puzzled look from Father O’Reilly) wasn’t one of the points up for discussion, so Gerard had actually roused himself enough to contribute with a couple of ideas. More involvement of music in the celebration, maybe inviting the kids to play and organizing a meeting and/or party with their parents...all his proposals were welcomed with enthusiasm. He is actually a bit proud of his performance. But he knows that if Belleville is anything like Newark, careless parents and bored kids can’t be bought so easily. Maybe he should ask Frank since he seemed to have both problems and a troubled past experience with the Church.
Actually, he’s not so sure Frank would be willing to help: his relationship with the Church seems to be strained, and he already has enough problems in his life without needing to be bothered with Gerard’s too. Thinking about Frank brings him around, again, to wondering exactly what his problems are and why he seems to be in so much trouble with his parents. Gerard has found himself thinking of Frank more than once during the day, making hypotheses and generally indulging in a newfound Florence Nightingale spirit he didn’t know he had.
It’s kind of pointless since he’s pretty sure he won’t be seeing much of Frank after tonight anyway, he thinks as he walks into the kitchen, pondering whether he feels up to the perilous task of finding a clean cup in that mess to make himself some coffee or if he should just give up and buy some.
Then he stops.
Either he's accidentally walked into a parallel dimension, or a cleaning fairy has been hard at work here. All evidence points to Frank: Father O’Reilly would have told him if a new cleaning lady had been appointed, and the rest of the house doesn’t seem to have been touched. He sits at the table, looks at the gleaming, empty sink and smiles, feeling genuinely touched.
Half an hour later he’s at the diner, figuring that if he has to eat and get coffee anywhere tonight, he might as well do it there. His kitchen might be clean now, but his fridge is still empty.
Gerard sees Frank right away, but he’s busy taking plates to a table towards the back of the place, so Gerard sits down at the same table near the window where he'd sat the previous night and waits for him. Frank looks slightly different tonight; he has his sunglasses on like last night, but as Gerard watches him exchanging a couple of words with the customers he looks more relaxed. His hood is pushed back and his shoulders look straighter. In general he looks more alive than the broody, troubled and clearly exhausted boy he was on their first meeting. He’s glad to see it, he thinks, but as soon as he formulates the thought he scolds himself for drawing rushed conclusions after looking at - and not even talking to - Frank for all of twenty seconds.
Frank turns and notices Gerard then, and different feelings flash quickly across his face, oscillating between welcome, embarrassment and – Gerard thinks – gladness to see him.
“Hi.”
“Hi. I saw the kitchen, thank you. You didn’t have to.”
“It was the least I could do, after invading your house last night without saying a word. You must have thought I was terribly rude.” Frank is fidgeting now, shifting his weight from one foot to the other nervously.
I thought you looked exhausted and desperate, Gerard thinks, but doesn’t say it. He doesn’t want to force Frank to talk about what happened if he doesn’t want to, and most of all he doesn’t want to upset him.
“It was no problem for me, and I was happy to help.” Gerard bites his lower lip, a question on the tip of his tongue. He would at least like to ask Frank if he has a place to sleep tonight but he’s blocked.
Probably noticing his discomfort, Frank rescues him.
“Don’t worry about me, I’ll manage,” he says, walking behind the counter to grab a clean mug, where he pours some black coffee. He hands it to Gerard, his eyes clearly telling him that he doesn’t want to talk about 'that' right now and can you just order, please? Gerard shrugs, hints at a smile and orders and Frank finally relaxes.
Either he's remembered exactly how Gerard takes his coffee - black, no sugar, as Gerard had asked on that first night - or he hasn’t bothered to ask.
Frank leaves Gerard's order to the bush-haired cook, and even though there are only two other occupied tables in the diner and no one is asking for anything right now, he doesn’t come back to talk with Gerard. He stays behind the counter and busies himself washing mugs.
Gerard leans back against his seat and looks at the traffic outside the windows, barely discernible through the thick fog that has enveloped the city once again. He feels silly for being disappointed; he hadn’t been expecting to be welcomed like a saviour, of course, and Frank hasn’t really been rude to him, but still... Silly. He lights up a cigarette, and waits for Frank to bring him his food, feeling tired and slow, arms and legs suddenly heavy in the warmth of the diner.
Seven
Rating: PG13 for this part
Pairing: Frank/Gerard, Frank/Ray
Author’s notes Thanks to
restriction for the wonderful beta job on this part, and to sourcream_onion and pettymoth for their invaluable help.No altar boys were (or will ever be) harmed in the writing of this story.
Disclaimer: this is an AU; you can't get much faker than that, right?
- Part one
- Part two
- Part three
- Part four
- Part five
“Trr trr.”
“Trr trr.”
“Trr trr.”
The buzz of his cellphone, vibrating in the pocket of his jacket where it lays discarded on the floor since the previous night, finally penetrates the fog of Frank's sleeping brain and he fumbles blindly for it, blinking in the morning light that fills...an unknown room? Where is he?
He finally finds the damn noisy thing. Ray.
“Hrmph.”
“Hey man, is everything okay? I thought I'd hear from you last night, but you disappeared, and I didn't want to call just in case you were quarrelling with your parents or whatever.”
“Sorry Ray,” Frank mumbles, “things were shitty yesterday, and I had to leave home.”
“You mean they kicked you out?”
“No, they didn't kick me out, but they might as well have. I was fed up, so I left.”
“You left? Where the fuck are you now?”
“I am...” - where is he? Oh. He remembers. Gerard. “I slept at a friend's place.”
“Don't feed me bullshit, Frank, you have no friends but me. Now really, where are you? Do you need help?”
“Thanks for reminding me. And no, I'm okay, really. Listen, can I explain it to you later? I desperately have to pee.”
“Sure, but I'll want details. Meet me at the Dancing Goat in an hour?”
“Right. I'll see you there, then.”
“Take care, man.”
“Thanks Ray.”
He hangs up. Ray probably thinks he picked up some random guy the previous night, but he should really know better than that. Even if, in a way, he's right. Smiling, Frank gets up from the sofa, cracking his back and scratching his head on the way to the bathroom. Gerard's not around, of course; he probably got out very early for the first Mass. He remembers volunteering to serve that same mass, ages ago.
As he's finally relieving his bladder, he realizes he's feeling a little better. Sure, he is broke, he doesn't know where the fuck he's going to live and he owes Gerard a light bulb, but at least he doesn't have to put up with his parents' shit any more. He should have done it years ago; now he's free to be as much of a sad loser as he wants to be without having to explain himself to anyone. To celebrate his newfound freedom to lose at life in peace, he decides to take a shower, vaguely remembering Gerard's offers to make himself at home the previous night. He's almost sure the occasion would call for a wank too, but as he tries to slide a soapy hand on his penis, only uncomfortable images come to mind and he gets a less-than-enthusiastic reaction. He tries to think of Ray – safe territory – and of how he felt inside him the last time they had sex, but that only reminds Frank of his last attack, so he decides to give up for good. With a deep sigh, he lets the water pour over him, resting his back against the tiles, eyes closed, until his mind is clear again. Once he's dried himself and fished fresh underwear and a t-shirt out of his bag, he ventures into the kitchen, hoping to find at least some coffee.
Horrified, he stops by the door: the kitchen is a complete mess, with multiple layers of dirty dishes and assorted cutlery in the sink, a thick layer of grime everywhere and – when he finally finds the courage to go and check – the fridge is empty, apart from what Frank's sure are alien life forms. Unless Gerard's a successful mould-farmer, that is. He remembers Gerard saying something about old miss Jane dying, and this must be the result. It's remarkable, considering that Gerard must have been in town no more than two weeks according to what he told Frank the other night.
Maybe he could do the dishes before leaving at least; he owes that much to Gerard. But he's already running late to meet Ray, so he decides he'll do them later today, and then pass by later when his shift ends to say thanks. From what Frank's seen he's sure Gerard will be awake then.
Now that Frank thinks about it, he's not sure how he's going to get out of the place; surely Gerard hasn't left the door open, has he? He'll probably come back when his morning duties are over to let Frank out. Returning to the living room to call Ray, Frank notices a folded piece of paper pinned to the door. Sure enough there's a hurried 'Frank' scribbled on it. Inside, there are a few words in pleasantly messy writing: ”Won't be back until tonight, so I left you my spare keys on the coffee table. I'll come pick them up at the diner tonight. Don't set anything on fire! G.”
Frank smiles; he doesn't know why Gerard trusts him, but it feels good to know he does.
***
Half an hour later Frank's sitting at the Dancing Goat with Ray, nursing an expensive coffee drink he wouldn't generally waste money on and still feeling oddly calm. It's not like his life is any better now, after all.
“It's not like I'm any better off now, you know,” he tells Ray in between blissful sips of coffee. “I'm still the same loser I was before, only now I don't have a place to sleep. Oh, and I don't have to go to Mass on Sundays any more.” He smiles.
In front of him Ray nods enthusiastically, gulping down his coffee before interrupting him. “Are you kidding me? This is great! Not the part where you don't have a place to stay, of course, but you finally managed to leave your parents! You should have done it long ago.” He looks hesitantly at Frank, his smile fading a little. “You know I would ask you to stay with me, no problem, it's just that...”
Frank stops him, nodding. Ray's place is barely bigger than a hole, and he already shares it with Bob who is the cook who works the day shift. And even if Ray and Frank share a bed at times, they're not in the kind of relationship that would allow them to live together and sleep in the same bed on a regular basis.
“Don't worry, Ray. I'll figure something out. I can always sleep in my car for a few days while I look for someone who's willing to share a cheap place, and maybe I could just use your shower now and then?”
They both smile. Crisis averted, and Frank remembers how glad he is that he has at least one friend he can count on.
“Of course you can, and really, you can stay at my place for one or two nights, no worries. But now, tell me all about the priest.” Ray's eyes glint with playful malice, and even if Frank knows that he is joking, Frank regrets for a minute telling Ray where he slept last night.
“There's nothing to tell, really. He found me moping on a bench near the church and he invited me in. He couldn't leave me alone out there, after all - charity is supposed to be his job. I crashed on the couch, and he wasn't there when I left this morning. He's coming by the diner tonight to pick up his keys.” Somehow he carefully avoids telling Ray that he saw Gerard getting out of the bathroom with only a towel on, a white flash in the dim light of the living room. If he hadn't looked so distinctly corporeal, Frank could have almost mistaken him for one of the shadows that always linger at the corners of his vision. No, Gerard was no vision, but it was only a moment, and it doesn't matter anyway.
His reverie is interrupted by Ray snickering into his coffee. “He left you his keys? I don't know where he's from, but he won't last long around here if he starts lending his house keys to strangers. You should give him a couple of hints.”
“I was thinking of simply washing the all of the dirty dishes he has in the kitchen to say thanks. Oh – and I owe him a light bulb.”
Ray freezes. Frank has made sure his friend doesn't know everything about his problems, but of course Ray has seen enough over the years to understand that strange accidents happen to light bulbs around Frank, and that it's never a good sign.
“Bad dreams?” he asks.
“Sort of,” Frank takes another sip of his coffee and stares out of the window.
***
It’s only just seven pm and Gerard is tired already. He walks into his flat and drops everything – shoes, coat, keys – right where he is. On second thoughts he picks up the coat at least, and leaves it on the sofa. Seeing the sofa reminds him of Frank and he notices that Frank's stuff isn’t there anymore. He has probably found another place to stay, Gerard thinks, and makes a mental note to ask him later. If he can manage to stay awake, that is. His bed looks inviting through the open door, very inviting, but he knows that giving in to sleep now would mean lying awake most of the night and he doesn’t want to do that. His mind needs some rest. Today’s been hard, the same old routine three times over, and an incredibly long and boring meeting about the crisis of the Sunday school.
Giving it up as a lost cause (and he had thought about Frank and his resigned comments about his mother there, with a sad smile that had earned him a puzzled look from Father O’Reilly) wasn’t one of the points up for discussion, so Gerard had actually roused himself enough to contribute with a couple of ideas. More involvement of music in the celebration, maybe inviting the kids to play and organizing a meeting and/or party with their parents...all his proposals were welcomed with enthusiasm. He is actually a bit proud of his performance. But he knows that if Belleville is anything like Newark, careless parents and bored kids can’t be bought so easily. Maybe he should ask Frank since he seemed to have both problems and a troubled past experience with the Church.
Actually, he’s not so sure Frank would be willing to help: his relationship with the Church seems to be strained, and he already has enough problems in his life without needing to be bothered with Gerard’s too. Thinking about Frank brings him around, again, to wondering exactly what his problems are and why he seems to be in so much trouble with his parents. Gerard has found himself thinking of Frank more than once during the day, making hypotheses and generally indulging in a newfound Florence Nightingale spirit he didn’t know he had.
It’s kind of pointless since he’s pretty sure he won’t be seeing much of Frank after tonight anyway, he thinks as he walks into the kitchen, pondering whether he feels up to the perilous task of finding a clean cup in that mess to make himself some coffee or if he should just give up and buy some.
Then he stops.
Either he's accidentally walked into a parallel dimension, or a cleaning fairy has been hard at work here. All evidence points to Frank: Father O’Reilly would have told him if a new cleaning lady had been appointed, and the rest of the house doesn’t seem to have been touched. He sits at the table, looks at the gleaming, empty sink and smiles, feeling genuinely touched.
Half an hour later he’s at the diner, figuring that if he has to eat and get coffee anywhere tonight, he might as well do it there. His kitchen might be clean now, but his fridge is still empty.
Gerard sees Frank right away, but he’s busy taking plates to a table towards the back of the place, so Gerard sits down at the same table near the window where he'd sat the previous night and waits for him. Frank looks slightly different tonight; he has his sunglasses on like last night, but as Gerard watches him exchanging a couple of words with the customers he looks more relaxed. His hood is pushed back and his shoulders look straighter. In general he looks more alive than the broody, troubled and clearly exhausted boy he was on their first meeting. He’s glad to see it, he thinks, but as soon as he formulates the thought he scolds himself for drawing rushed conclusions after looking at - and not even talking to - Frank for all of twenty seconds.
Frank turns and notices Gerard then, and different feelings flash quickly across his face, oscillating between welcome, embarrassment and – Gerard thinks – gladness to see him.
“Hi.”
“Hi. I saw the kitchen, thank you. You didn’t have to.”
“It was the least I could do, after invading your house last night without saying a word. You must have thought I was terribly rude.” Frank is fidgeting now, shifting his weight from one foot to the other nervously.
I thought you looked exhausted and desperate, Gerard thinks, but doesn’t say it. He doesn’t want to force Frank to talk about what happened if he doesn’t want to, and most of all he doesn’t want to upset him.
“It was no problem for me, and I was happy to help.” Gerard bites his lower lip, a question on the tip of his tongue. He would at least like to ask Frank if he has a place to sleep tonight but he’s blocked.
Probably noticing his discomfort, Frank rescues him.
“Don’t worry about me, I’ll manage,” he says, walking behind the counter to grab a clean mug, where he pours some black coffee. He hands it to Gerard, his eyes clearly telling him that he doesn’t want to talk about 'that' right now and can you just order, please? Gerard shrugs, hints at a smile and orders and Frank finally relaxes.
Either he's remembered exactly how Gerard takes his coffee - black, no sugar, as Gerard had asked on that first night - or he hasn’t bothered to ask.
Frank leaves Gerard's order to the bush-haired cook, and even though there are only two other occupied tables in the diner and no one is asking for anything right now, he doesn’t come back to talk with Gerard. He stays behind the counter and busies himself washing mugs.
Gerard leans back against his seat and looks at the traffic outside the windows, barely discernible through the thick fog that has enveloped the city once again. He feels silly for being disappointed; he hadn’t been expecting to be welcomed like a saviour, of course, and Frank hasn’t really been rude to him, but still... Silly. He lights up a cigarette, and waits for Frank to bring him his food, feeling tired and slow, arms and legs suddenly heavy in the warmth of the diner.
Seven
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-07 12:19 pm (UTC)Can I borrow Frank the Cleaning Fairy? :D
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-07 03:24 pm (UTC)Of course you can! I'll send him over with the first available flight!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-07 01:28 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-07 03:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-07 05:21 pm (UTC)And, oh, Frank. I just want to scoop him up and cuddle him and make him cookies or something. In this fic he brings out my mothering instinct like whoa. ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-12 10:28 pm (UTC)Again, thank you so much. It means a lot to me to know that you like it!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-07 11:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-12 10:28 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-09 02:37 am (UTC)More soon??
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-12 10:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-12 10:30 pm (UTC)YAY!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-09 07:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-12 10:17 am (UTC)Your icon is amazing!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-09 02:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-12 10:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-12 06:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-12 10:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-18 07:59 am (UTC)