Author's note:
So a few things: 1. The editing sucks, this chapter suck. I literally only spent maybe three days on this when it normally takes at least a week to write and edit. 2. If you ever have ANY questions regarding the story, characters, settings, or even about me, feel free to ask! I love seeing your comments and I'm a total sucker for questions :) 3. If you ever spot any mistakes or if something confuses you PLEASE let me know so I can fix it or clarify! It'd be a big help as far as editing goes, haha. 4. Honestly, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU all so much for reading, if you've stuck around this long. You guys are all so wonderful and I'm glad that you like Folie a Deux so far!
So, enjoy chapter 15! (I've already started brainstorming 16, haha :))
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It wasn't that I didn't want Frank to stay over for the week, because I really did, but I couldn't help but notice the issues with the situation.
First of all, where does his mom think he is? Secondly, how am I going to get any sleep with him here? I can't risk having a nightmare while he's in the house... None of us really know how to cook- according to Frank, pasta was really the only thing he knew how to make without burning, so we're definitely going to have issues with food this week. And also, how the hell was I supposed to get any school work done during the day with the distracting knowledge that Frank would be home from school in just a few hours? I mean, it was still the weekend, but come Monday morning and he'd have to be at school, seeing as he's missed far too much already.
There were too many reasons why this wouldn't work out well, I realized, staring at the ceiling.
"Gerard?" Frank said, his voice barely audible. "Are you still awake?"
"Yes," I said quietly, startled. We'd been laying in silence for an hour and nineteen minutes- I'd assumed he was asleep. "You okay?"
"Yeah... I just can't sleep."
I sighed, swinging my legs off of my bed.
"No-" he said quickly. "Don't. Stay there, you get some sleep. I'll be fine..."
I fell to my knees next to him in the pile of blankets that he seems to have permanently formed on my floor. (When it's not there I always confuse myself, because I've gotten so used to stepping either over it or around it or through it.) "Too late," I told him. "I'm down here and I'm too lazy to stand back up." He looked up at me as I shuffled around in the massive pile of blankets. "Can I lay with you?" I asked.
"Sure."
I stretched out next to him on top of the blankets, trying not to get too close to him.
He stared at me through the dark. "Why are you so far away?"
I looked at him for a few seconds. "Didn't realize I was..."
"Well, I'm cold," he informed me quietly.
"You have like five million blankets," I chuckled. "What more do you want?"
"You," he said simply.
I raised and eyebrow at him, trying not to laugh. "Oh really, now?"
He rolled his eyes. "Not like that, dork..."
That time I laughed. "I can't tell because it's so dark, but I'm about ninety-nine percent positive that you're blushing right now."
He glared at me but failed to hide the smile on his lips. "Maybe I am... But you asked to lay with me, so stop acting like I have a disease and fucking lay close to me."
