Escalators {Frerard}[COMPLETED]

➳ingratiate

This is sort of just a filler chapter (I made it fluffy though) because I didn't want it to end up too fast or anything, but big stuff is happening in the next few chapters. Muahahah ;)

❝Ingratiate- to gain favour or favourable acceptance through deliberate effort.❞

Despite the fact that I had told Gerard not to come to my house, simply to spare him the lecture that my mother would bawl at him, when I'd been walking for about ten minutes- still feeling sick and useless from what my mother had said to me, I turned a corner to see a tall, thin figure leaning against the gatepost of a house, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

He didn't ask, he didn't pry. I loved him for it. I would tell him eventually, but I was going to have to wait until the harsh sting of her words wore off a little. Though I doubted highly that they would ever fade completely. Once someone has said a thing like that to you, I don't think anything would ever be the same with them again, if they apologised or not. Not that I expected an apology- now or ever- though really.

When I was close enough to Gerard, my bag hit the floor and I held out my arms, asking for a hug in a remarkably childish fashion. Again, he didn't ask. His expression didn't change; one that wasn't sympathetic as such, not in a way that made me feel stupid, but one that told me he was bothered. His arms went around me, wrapping around my waist and pulling me closer to him as I buried my head in his shoulder. It hit me then, that apart from Gerard, and the occasional rare display of sibling affection with Ryan, I'd not hugged anyone for a long, long time. Not like this, with Gerard's grip on me showing me clearly that he didn't want to let me go, he wanted me to stop hurting. Something about the way Gerard hugged me told me that if he could hug me hard enough to pull all the broken pieces together again, he would. No matter how long it took.

As weak as I felt for admitting it, I had to fight back the tears that were stinging my eyes. Usually I didn't really care what my mother said about me, hell knew I was used to it, but this time was different. In one sweeping blow she had verified every single one of my crippling insecurities, the very same ones that constantly threatened my entire godamn sanity- I was constantly trying to stop myself cracking up. So much so that it had become almost second nature; but having someone spit them at you, what they really thought, it was all I could do to keep myself trying not to crack up.

The arms around my waist only slackened when I pulled away from him. He was still wearing the black outfit from earlier, and seeing as I'd finally changed out of the half-uniform that was left as a result of my temper, our clothes looked strikingly similar, although Gerard's were a slimmer, tighter version that looked better on him than it would have done on me. Holding me at arm's length, those devastating eyes landed on me, scrutinizing me, as though he was intent on making sure there was no visible reason that I should want to leave.

"You can stay with me as long as you want, Frank. My mom won't mind."

His implicit trust and understanding was like a jolt in my stomach. He was amazing, he really was. "Are you sure?"

His expression was completely unchanged as he nodded. There was not a hint that he wanted anything other than what he was doing; nothing that told me he was doing this just because he felt like he had to, or because he wanted to be nice. I knew just as much as Gerard did that he was doing this because he genuinely wanted to.

"Come on, baby," he said gently, holding out his hand. My heart seemed to stop for a moment at the name, although I don't think he meant it in the way it sounded. Then again, it was Gerard- he meant everything he said, exactly how he said it. Maybe he did mean it like that. I shook my head slightly, trying to stop overthinking everything, and took his hand. His skin was soft on my own, and he curled his fingers in mine, the way you might do if you were afraid of losing someone. The way Gerard held my hand told me one thing; that he never wanted to let me go as long as he could help it.