I find it hard to stay with the words you say (I don't love you sequel)

Chapter 3: Drunk.

Franks P.O.V.

I don't know what happened. I guess I drank too much and found myself playing a game of blindfolded spin the bottle. After a spin or two I was dragged away with some poor guy to make out in a cupboard. Well, that's not tacky at all. I wasn't sure what to do, so I sat there. I sat there for a while. It was extremely awkward.

Suddenly, I felt a pair of hands grab me around the shoulders. I gasped, but I was then pulled into a kiss; he was so passionate, and I found myself enjoying it quite a bit. I couldn't help but kiss back, wrapping my arms around his neck and moving in closer- it was a reflex. But it seemed as though- no, it couldn't be.

I froze solid, gasping once again, this time pulling away and ripping my blindfold off. The guy opposite me still had his on. He had red hair pulled from his face, away from the blindfold. His lips were a pinky colour, and very thin. He had a little stubble that didn't match the colour of his hair; it was more black. 

He sat, almost lifeless, as if someone had paralysed him. I tapped his leg with my foot a few times but he wouldn't move. I stared at him for some time, before finally deciding to stand up and leave. Just as I placed my hand on the door handle, I felt something grab my leg. I looked down and see a pair of beautiful, brown/green eyes, full of sadness staring up at me, holding back tears. As one managed to escape his eyes and slowly roll its way down his soft, pale skin, I dropped to my knees, head in hands.

Gerard. It was Gerard. I don't know how long I kneeled there, just staring, trying to read his expression. A few tears fell from my eyes and landed on his leg, but he sat, motionless. Neither of us spoke a word. The whole room was full of silence. Pure, heart breaking silence.

"You dyed your hair," I managed to choke out, clearly stating the obvious. He still doesn't move. His mouth opened slightly as if to say something, but then closed just as slowly. "I guess I better get going. Bye, Gerard." I couldn't figure out which emotion fitted me right. I felt bad for leaving him like that, but seeing him hurt too much. Anyway, he'd probably moved on.

**

Gerard's P.O.V

"I guess I better get going. Bye, Gerard."

I found myself paralized. My legs failed to move and my arms wouldn't listen. I tried to reach out for him, to call his name, but he'd already gone. He disappeared. I must have zoned out, deep in thought, because the only thing that brought me back to reality was being dragged out of that room by the hair.

"Ouch, hey! What's your problem, buddy?!" I slurred, a sure sign I was drunk out of my head.

"Get lost, fag, you ruined the game."

Fag? I hadn't been called that since I got beat outside of the hospital...when I discovered Frank and Jamia. I managed to balance myself up against the wall and swung for the guys face, but he ducked and laughed, lifting me against the wall by my collar with one hand, and punching me right in the nose with the other hand.

"Shit," I cried, my eyes stinging and watering.

"Hey, leave him alone!"  heard a familiar voice shouting from the other side of the room. Suddenly, I was dropped to the floor, my back sliding down the wall. A few punches and the guy was on the floor holding his face in his hands, blood pouring through the gaps between his fingers. The crowd turn their attention to him and the familiar voice pushed his way through and whispered in my ear.

"Gee, are you okay? C'mon, let's get you back to my place and get you cleaned up." It was Frank. He was actually looking out for me?

I didn't refuse. I thought about it, but I was too high to realize where I was going and who exactly was taking me there. I felt two hands slide underneath me, one supporting my back and the other supporting my legs. I was picked up and cradled into his chest.

As he carries me back to his place, things start talking to me. Trees, plants, houses, the moon. I tried to ignore them, but I figured it was a good time to catch up on some sleep, so I rested my head on his shoulder and slowly closed my weary eyes, drifting off into a drunken slumber.