we each play the part written for us (frerard) || repost from maryangel on ao3

We Each Play The Part Written For Us (You Can't Change The Future)

***

Frank is minding his own fucking business chatting with this drunken girl who keeps swearing they've met before and nodding politely as she stumbles over her words, when a guy covered in tattoos pushes him for no reason at all.

Frank's beer splashes all over his pants, his Chucks and over the girl's tight tank top.

"Watch where you're going, you fucking cunt," the guy mumbles as he shoves Frank against the wall with a clammy hand, his stinky breath invading Frank's nostrils.

Frank might not be a short tempered asshole all the time (he admits he can be one, on occasion, especially when there's alcohol involved) but this, this kind of shitty behavior definitely brings this personality trait right out of him. The guy is obviously looking for trouble. He's obviously looking to get punched in his motherfucking rat face and Frank is more than happy to indulge him.

Frank shoves at the guy and watches him stagger back, his eyes widening as he almost trips on his own feet and grabs onto someone's arm to stay vertical.

"I'm gonna fuck you up, you midgety cunt," the guy shouts, his eyeballs ready to burst out of his skull, his face red and his hands clenched into fists.

What a fucking asshole, Frank thinks as he takes a step forward, dropping his now empty plastic cup on the floor.

The conversations in the room all stop and people start staring at Frank and at the guy like this is the most interesting thing to happen in their pathetic lives. Although, this is fucking Jersey and it's a Saturday night so they probably expected this to happen sooner or later.

"What did you just say, scum face?" Frank calls out just as a hand grasps at his t-shirt. He shrugs it off easily.

"You, midgety cunt. You are a midget and a cunt and you need to get the fuck out of my face before I break you in half."

"That's what I thought."

If there's one thing he hates more than people who talk at movies or that fucking pot hole in front of his mom's house that already cost him hundreds of dollars in repairs on his car, it's when someone calls him a midget.

Ok, so Frank is short. Very fucking funny.

He's been called a midget a lot in high school and it still gets him now. It always gets him. Being two feet tall doesn't make him less of a man. Actually, he's plenty capable of kicking someone's ass. When he lunges at the guy, Frank is ready to break his face and make him regret his words.

The asshole is faster than Frank had anticipated; or maybe less drunk that he seemed at first glance. He ducks and Frank's fist crashes against something hard that makes his knuckles crack.

He realizes that it's not a wall he hit, although it's just as hard, but a dude's face. A dude who obviously had no idea a fist was about to get up close and personal.

The dude lets out a tiny squeak and covers his face with both hands. Frank steps back, wondering what the fuck just happened, but the asshole uses the distraction to his advantage and clips Frank's jaw with a mean right hook.

Frank sees stars for a second. Then he shakes it off and rams into the asshole who is too busy gloating to see him coming. He shoves him against a wall and hits him in the guts and kicks him in his fucking balls until Frank can hear someone scream.

It takes Frank a little while to realize he's the one doing the screaming. Someone pulls Frank away from the bloodied motherfucker curled up on the floor. Well, they try to pull him away. He squirms and manages to drag whoever is holding him towards the asshole, who is now sobbing and glaring up at Frank, his breath noisy and labored.