I don't love you like I did yesterday (Frerard)

Chapter 3: Discovering yourself - Gerard's P.O.V

It was a week after the kiss with Frank and Lindsey was still dwelling on it; it was just a kiss for crying out loud. She knew I’m straight. Yes, I have feelings for Frank, but in a boy way, if that makes sense? Frank called me and and he told me he was ill, and he wanted me to bring him round a flask of hot chocolate at five in the morning. Five fucking o'clock. Really, Frank?

I woke Lindsey up as I got up to go answer the phone and she got mad. Either because it was five in the morning or because it was Frank. Then again, it was probably both.

I knocked on his door and waited slightly impatiently until he opened it wrapped in a duvet, wearing only a shirt, boxers and socks. He looked cute, I’ll admit that. His hair was ruffled in a puppy dog way, and his deep but still sad brown eyes widened and gleamed at me.

“Did you bring it?” He smiled as wide as his lips would let him.

“Kinda sounds like a drug deal. Yes, I’ve got your drink,” I replied, harsher than I intended to. Well, it was five in the morning. Can you really blame me? Unless I've had at leasr two coffees, you cannot talk to me in the morning. 

But Frank obviously didn’t notice as he walked slowly backwards for me to walk into his musty apartment, eyeing the flask and licking his lips. I told him to go lay in bed whilst I warmed it up in his almost broken microwave. The only reason I even come into this old apartment is to see him. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else. I saw him quickly scramble into bed with a huge grin on his face, like a toddler waking up on Christmas.

When the microwave started making strange noises, I decided that the hot chocolate was hot enough. I picked it up and walked over to Frank, who was already fast asleep. I sighed, put the cup down and walked over to lie next to him.

I slowly pulled his head onto my chest and stroked his hair, and then his face with the side of my thumb. He seemed slightly warm, so I placed my hand firmly onto his forehead and realised he was burning up. Pulling his hair from his face, I unwrapped the duvet from around him, watching his legs twitched with the cold but soon enough relaxing. I lay there for God knows how long admiring his face, his hair, his everything.

Then, I had an idea. I pulled out my sketch book from my bag, and a penicl, and slowly began drawing the beginning of Frank sleeping so peacefully. He looked so damn cute. Once it was finished, I held it up to admire my masterpiece, placed it on the floor and settled back down with him, making a mental note to keep that out of Lindsey's reach.

I slowly drifted off, nuzzling my head into his hair. My breathing got slower and slower, until I was as relaxed as I could be and couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.