I was slowly pushing the limits of our relationship. It wasn't that I wasn't content with the little touches and kisses on the cheek, it was just that as of today we had been together for a full four months. I had this nagging curiosity that was driving me insane, and my body was craving physical contact.
Four months, now. Four entire months.
That was a third of a year.
Frank was still always so nervous- he still trembled, sometimes, when we held hands. I wanted to kiss him but I didn't want to break the careful trust we had.
My room had become his, more or less.
He knocked before he came in, however, like always, and I sighed. "Frank, you don't have to knock anymore."
He came in and shut the door behind him, blinking at me. "Okay..."
I shifted slightly on my bed, to the side. "Come here. Lay with me."
He did as I asked, slipping off his shoes first, and then sitting next to me, curling up slightly.
"Gerard?"
"Yes?"
"Are you okay?"
I closed my eyes. "Yeah. I'm fine."
His fingers brushed my cheek. "Are you sure?"
I took a shaky breath. "I'm fine, Frank. I'm not wrong about my own emotions, that would just be stupid."
He sighed, resting his hand on my chest. "Okay. You just seem..."
"I don't 'seem' anything. I 'am.' I don't mask my emotions."
He stopped talking after that.
I felt momentary regret for being rude, but I didn't really care. I was angry. At what, I wasn't actually sure, but I was mad and that was enough. I was angry and I was upset and I was sad, and I hated everything and everyone and myself.
Ugh, how pitiful am I? I'm drowning in a sea of self-loath and I don't even have a reason for it.
Realizing that I didn't have a reason to be in such a foul mood just made it worse.
I felt like I wanted to throw up.
"Your mom and Mikey are out," Frank said suddenly, leaning forward. "Let's go sit in the living room. Smoke a cigarette. It'll help take your mind off of things."
I wanted to argue but I went with him, anyways.
We sat in silence for a long time, Frank curled up in my lap with his head on my shoulder and my arms looped loosely around him. We passed the cigarette back and forth. I wasn't in the mood for talking- I just wanted to touch and smoke.
I pressed my lips behind his ear, drowning in the feeling of our skin brushing, closing my eyes as I traced careful kisses down his jaw.
"Gerard," he said quietly, taking a drag from the cigarette.
"Yes?" I whispered, breathing in the second-hand smoke, touching my nose to his neck.
He looked embarrassed. "Can you not... Uh..."
I blinked up at him. "What?"
He ducked slightly, looking away. He put the cigarette between his lips, mumbling around it. "Can you just not... Do that?"
I felt the realization settle in my stomach. He didn't want me to touch him anymore than I had to. "Oh."
He looked down. "Sorry, I'm just..."
