ஜ Capricious & Evanescent ஜ Assorted and Mainly Frerard One-Shots ஜ

I Know This Hurts, It Was Meant To

Get Busy Living Or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part To Save The Scene And Stop Going To Shows)//Fall Out Boy

Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Sometimes it was hard to remember how to keep on going, but I guessed my feet could tell me something about that. Right foot, left foot, you just do it, and that's all you need to know. Questioning why we do things, how to do them better, but being unable to act upon it, that's just a waste of time, isn't it?

We think so much about our actions and what can go wrong, and that's not bad, but once you fuck things up you change. I changed. I was so scared of losing someone again, I was a different person. I was terrified every second. If I just did with no other thought, I'd accomplish something. I felt I needed to grow accustomed to this frame of belief.

But maybe just doing wasn't really the only thing I needed, because to a certain degree, everyone fucks up. That counterargument came about as I was suddenly jolted out of my thoughts. As I focused solely on my feet and not the things around me, I suddenly felt myself collide with someone else, making me lose my grip on my things, making me feel something hot spill against my hand. My documents fell to the floor, but after I looked up to see whom I bumped into I didn't care, I was still processing Him in front of me, now doused in burning coffee. The pot of burning liquid had shattered on the ground and He was making a noise that sounded like shrieking in my ears, a sound I'd never heard from Him before, sending waves of adrenaline through my body. I completely forgot my papers on the floor and I shoved Him towards the bathroom.

"Shh, sh, it's fine, it's—fuck—it'll be okay—" I slammed the door behind us and He stepped back, clawing at the buttons on his soaked shirt.

"I'm so sorry, I—fuck—" I paused mid-sentence, realizing it was pointless to apologize at the time and helped Him unbutton His shirt. As He shrugged it off, I got him a wet paper towel and pressed onto His chest, wiping away the burning coffee and just resting the cool paper against him. Slowly, His terrified shouts fell in volume and He was just breathing heavily now, His teeth clenched and the air being sucked unto His lungs painfully. I clenched His hand, which He didn't seem to happy about but He didn't protest either.

"I'm so sorry, I was totally out of it, I didn't see you, I..." I slowed down and altogether stopped as I saw His face. He had bags under the eyes that wouldn't meet my own. His skin was paler, like mine had grown to be, and He had the slightest scruff growing around His face, like me. "Tell me you're okay, please," I begged, "or what I can do to help, I'm sorry."

"For one you can stop saying you're so fucking sorry. It's both of our faults, I just got scalded, it's fine..." He said. "And, you can stop staring..." I looked down at His chest instead. The skin was shiny and red now, not just from the water, but the fading burn.

"S-sorry..." I mumbled. I missed that chest. I missed everything about Him, really, His skin, His smile, His art... "I mean, not sorry, I... Fuck."

"It's fine, it's not a problem, it's..." He whispered. "You just..." He stopped.

"I just?" I asked.

"Never mind. As you said to me, that chapter is done, isn't it?" He swallowed and choked on his breath, and I suddenly realized "You just" didn't just referred to the recent coffee incident, it referred to me, my character, and this was all such a painful topic, I didn't want to talk about this. But I had to, for His sake.

"What am I doing to hurt you?" I asked with difficulty, my breath catching. "Don't just... Do-on't just cut yourself off like that, I need to know." I turned over the paper towel, applying the cool side to his chest.

"You sound so fucking guilty." He exhaled, and placed his hand over mine, taking the towel from me so he could do it himself. "And it's not—" He gulped, sniffing and His choppy breathing coming back. I squeezed His hand. "It's not just your fault. This is my fault too, but you always put the blame on yourself, I just... I feel so guilty, and you make me feel like an asshole, and every time I see you, I just..." I lifted my gaze to His face, but He refused meet my eyes.

"Look at me." I whispered. He shook his head. "Look. At me." He shook His head profusely, then stopped this time, hanging His head in shame. He tapped his foot, squeezing his eyes shut and sucking in his lips. Then He lifted His face, and opened his watery eyes to see mine. I never found those to be His most attractive feature, the grayish-brown-green, but I found myself missing them the most sometimes. Like someone had taken the colors of the forest and poured them into His eyes.

"I can't." He said suddenly and looked away. "I can't, I can't..." He slowed down and I let go of him, walking away. I should have guessed, he wasn't ready for it. But He didn't stop there.

"Am I at all like her?" He suddenly yelped. "I just... I... I wanna know if I ever got close to being good enough for you."

"Things aren't like that between Jamia and I." I gulped and scratched at the scorpion on my neck. Jamia had it too. Soulmate marks. "You were the best person I'd ever been with."

"The mark on your neck says otherwise."

"Gerard, have you found anyone?"

"Do you see any marks on my skin?" He asked, and he suddenly sounded a little bit more like he was on the offense. I shook my head. "I check every day Frank, every inch of my body. If I found someone I'd fucking know." He sucked in a breath, then I noticed him furrow his brow and sneer. "My true love didn't show up to break my fucking relationship."

"SHE'S NOT LIKE THAT!" I shouted, and then turned around to look at Him. "I-if you had found someone, you might see that it's not fucking like that at all, it's not an automatic boner for me, it's not..." I paused, staring at HIM. HIM, the person who didn't believe I loved them anymore because I got a fucking mark on my neck that never meant anything other than the fact that I was compatible with Jamia, as a friend. "She's... Nothing... Like you..." I stepped towards HIM, with HIS eyes averted and HIS body shaking. I was mad, I was scared, I was lonely without HIM and I just didn't want to feel this way. I still felt so happy around HIM, I still wanted to touch HIM, I just wanted to let myself love HIM.

"Then was that all I was? An 'automatic boner?'" He snapped. That's not what I fucking meant at all.

"I'm sorry..." I whispered. "I really am, I just..."

"Get out." HE said firmly. I turned away, squeezing the wet paper towel in my hand. I just wanted to kiss Him and make it better, I didn't want to fight anymore, I just wanted to turn back time.

"I'm sorry I ever let you go." I said quietly, and then left the bathroom.