Porcelain ♡ Frerard

Chapter 21

Sappy author's note at the end! We've reached the final chapter to the first book of this series. I hope with all my heart you enjoy it.

— 

"My heart is yours; it's you that I hold onto."

— Sparks, by Coldplay. 

"Are you planning on telling me where we're going or are you gonna drive me crazy first?"

Gerard's grin in the faint glow of the dashboard glinted like the beams of the sun reflecting across a blade, but instead of invoking fear, he captured the fascinating element all reflective surfaces harbored. "I have a reputation for dragging out your infuriation caused by my crypticness, do I not?"

"Your reputation precedes you." Frank mumbled, failing at pretending he wasn't affected by Gerard's mesmerizing grin or how it was paired with the fact that he'd never been so impeccably beautiful as he was tonight, dressed in a wine red waistcoat over a pristine white button-down, dashing black pants tailored to mold to every curve and edge. His hair, dark and silky, fell in waves just past his ears, void of any usual tangles and contrasting with the almost black red color of his waistcoat bringing out the pure glow in his pale skin. His jacket was slung over the back of the seat and his pinstriped tie was slightly askew, but if Frank reached forward to adjust it, he couldn't guarantee he'd be able to resist leaning up and pressing his lips somewhere, ultimately distracting Gerard as he drove to an unknown destination.

Frank shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Glancing at his own reflection in the side mirror, he couldn't help but feel like a groomed doll, polished to perfection and scrubbed down to the point where his skin gave a glow that he assumed would seem attractive to others, but the condition of it appeared obsessively clean to his eyes. His hair was just as soft, swept and cascading in small waves, curling around his neck in controlled twists Kristin fixed into a near perfect state. She'd fussed with the uncooperative curling ends of Frank's hair she insisted upon trimming before she went ahead in readying him for the evening, but Frank obstinately denied her pleas. He knew he was in dire need of a haircut, but he couldn't bear to part with his hair unless he was completely ready to, that was how he'd always functioned and he didn't see that changing in the near future.

If he hadn't had some control over the situation, Kristin would've gotten away with far more than plucking and trimming his eyebrows or applying several face masks before slathering on an expensive moisturizer that smelled of lavender and lemon. The only makeup he'd permitted her applying with only a tinge of reluctance was pencil eyeliner, an old familiar friend he hadn't revisited in months, and yet he still counted it as a new experience considering he couldn't ever apply it nearly as flawlessly as she had; smoking out the edges, smooth charcoal lines resting spotlessly on his waterline.

The suit had also been Kristin's decision. Frank almost immediately begged her to return it when she retrieved it encased in a zip-up showing off the emblem of a designer brand he automatically knew meant the suit had to have costed hundreds, if not more, but Kristin disregarded his urge to stay humble by saying he would need to get used to luxury if he was going to be part of the Way family— or, to be more specific, if he was going to be her new brother. She'd even tailored the suit herself after the fitting to adjust it to proper lengths since Frank's frame leaned towards the smaller side where the suit was clearly intended for lankier individuals— designers simply anticipated all men to exceed five feet and six inches, or so Frank mumbled under his breath.

The piece was jet black, sleek in all the right places and sculpting to his body in elegant dark lines making him appear like he was about to step foot on the bloodred carpet of a high-end event swarmed by flashing cameras and moon-eyed admirers shouting from the sidelines in hopes of grabbing his attention. Curls of black lace patterns were embroidered into the lower ends of the sleeves and the hem of the coat, curling up the torso and dissipating towards the chest. The silver of the button clasp keeping the jacket shut over Frank's dark button-down shirt caught the dashboard lighting of Gerard's car and glistened, as though winking cheekily at Frank who couldn't keep shifting in a mixture of sheepishness and discomfort due to the clunky weight of his leg cast. He'd been humiliated when he discovered the specific alterations Kristin had done to the suit in order to accommodate the cast that had become something of another physical attribute in the past months. His wrist had healed well enough to allow him a much lighter brace over time, but due to the complicated break of his leg, he'd undergone two surgeries prolonging the healing period.