This Is Our Second Skin (Frerard)

2: A Wink Is Worth A Thousand Words

Gerard felt his cheeks flame an alarming shade of red, and he was certain that the poor guy sitting next to him could feel the heat coming off his face - or maybe the air conditioning had been cut off - that would explain why Gerard was suddenly uncomfortably hot in his leather jacket, because a wink that probably meant nothing shouldn't have him this flustered.

But Gerard was just trying to make excuses for his body's reaction to Frankie, and he knew it. No wonder he couldn't manage to speak to her if just a simple wink had him swaying on his stool, trying to fight back a wave of dizziness - fuck - he would probably pass out if Frankie so much as said "hi" to him.

Frankie probably hadn't even meant to wink specifically at him, and it was most likely intended for the entire crowd, because why the fuck would she wink at Gerard anyway? Gerard's brain was just deluded, and even though her eyes had been focused on the back of the club, that didn't mean she was looking specifically at Gerard - right?

But even if the gesture wasn't meant for him, it had sure seemed that way. Frankie's eyes had locked with his for one second, Gerard was sure of it, which meant that maybe Frankie had noticed his steady attendance at her performances after all.

He had been coming here for almost a year now, and even though her shows were typically pretty crowded, it wasn't unheard of to think that Gerard had caught her attention, at least - he would like to think that he had.

Gerard was noticeable, or his hair was to be more precise. He had dyed it an obnoxious red color once he moved out, just because he could, and he had always wanted to see how he looked with something besides the boring brown hair he had been born with.

Most of the people who attended Frankie's show had brown or black hair, with a sprinkling of blonde thrown in, so maybe Frankie had noticed the shock of red hiding in the back, maybe she really had been winking at Gerard.

But no, Gerard was being ridiculous, and he needed to stop making a big deal out of something that was in all actuality nothing before he had a brain aneurism trying to decipher a stupid wink.

Gerard couldn't get it out of his head though, and he wasn't ready to leave just yet, so he ordered another drink to kill some time as he pondered over whether tonight would be the perfect time to talk to Frankie or not.

Gerard ached to speak with her, and he had seen some men head backstage and congratulate the performers before, so there was nothing stopping Gerard from just telling Frankie how much he had loved her set, besides his social anxiety that is.

Gerard had this same argument with himself every week, trying to force his body to actually move and take the few steps that would led him over to where Frankie was, but he didn't, he never did. Gerard knew he would only end up making a fool of himself, and even though Frankie would probably be kind enough not to laugh in Gerard's face, he was sure she wouldn't appreciate having to deal with another bumbling fan that thought he actually had a chance with her.

Gerard allowed himself to imagine what would happen if he wasn't such an awkward loser, instead, he would be someone attractive and interesting, someone Frankie would actually want to spend time with. He would make his way over to Frankie's dressing room, maybe they could strike up a conversation and Frankie would be just as intrigued with Gerard as he was with her, maybe he could learn her real name, and they could go on a date...maybe they would kiss - or more...

Gerard groaned softly as his mind wandered, and his dick took notice of the dirty route his thoughts had taken. Blushing furiously, Gerard shifted slightly in his seat, trying to move his newfound erection out of the path of his zipper.