I Drew You Once in Art Class

Ninety-Three

Gerard was feeling a lot better, honestly. Go, Pete.

He still didn't know what Pete had been on about but figured it wasn't really his problem. He'd had two days to recuperate, to bring himself back to society, during neither of which had Frank attempted to contact him.

So Gerard figured Frank was waiting for him to do it.

Which he was okay with. He was really starting to miss Frank and all the dumb things about him, like when he drew things on his shoes when he thought no one was looking or bit his nails even when he wasn't nervous.

Gerard was at Ray's, planning to pick up pizza for him and Mikey, and their mom.

"Yeah, I'll do a large cheese pizza, and um... Mikey'll want a Sprite... and..." Gerard looked at the soda fountain behind the man's afro. "And um, a grape soda, please."

"I thought you hated grape soda."

"You were listening to that?"

"You guys were loud. Hard not to listen."

"Sorry."

"It's no worries." Ray grabbed two soda cups and filled one with Sprite and one with grape soda. "Here you go. I'll have the pizza ready in a second."

Gerard set the drinks down on a table and sat in the booth attached to it. He pulled out his phone.

Gerard: I'm sorry

Gerard: i totally overreacted and said a lot of things i shouldn't have. And i should have reached out sooner, i went to bert for advice for some fucking reason and it went to my head, I think.
I miss you a lot.
Text me back if you can.

That seemed good, right? And Frank usually wrote back within five minutes.

Gerard took a sip of the grape soda and winced a little. He took another one. Less of a shock.

I guess it's not that bad, he thought.

His phone buzzed, and he snatched it faster than the speed of light.

Message failed to send.

Gerard's stomach dropped.

Had Frank blocked him?

Un-fucking-believable. Gerard picked up the drinks and stood, grabbing the pizza off the counter and pushing open the door, being sure to ditch the ugly purple soda in the trashcan on the way out. It was gross anyway.

God, had Frank really blocked his number? That felt extreme. And Frank wasn't entirely innocent, either; it's not like Gerard was COMPLETELY in the wrong.

It just made him mad.

Frank wasn't even willing to try to talk it out.

He pulled out his phone again and texted Bert.