To the end. (Frerard fanfiction)

Chapter One

Frank looks down the asile of various beers and liquors, trying to decide what would be his choice of poison for the night, and sighed softly. So many choices, so little fucking money to spend. What did he get last night? He honestly can't remember.He decides a six pack of beers and a bottle of Jack Daniels will work just fine for drowning out the world for tonight.He makes his way to the checkout, calculating all the shit that got him here today.

Actually, it was only one thing, he had forgotten to go over to his best friend Mikey's place for dinner to finally meet his brother that had moved back down to Jersey a few months ago.

Again.

Mikey yelled at him for an hour, he even called him a bad friend; that cracked Frank right down the middle. It hurt to know Mikey was almost done with his shit. Frank was a bad friend though, he'd bailed on him for months now, and he knew how much Mikey loved his big brother. It was important to Mikey to have the two people he loved most to meet, but apparently Frank didn't care, and continued to step all over their friendship like the cunt he was. And Frank really did feel bad, but he just couldn't bring himself to stumble out of his dark room and look presentable and meet the guy for the first time.

He huffed and set his items in front of the woman at the counter, with disgustingly white bleached hair and an orange spray tan that made Frank want to throw up. She glanced at the short man and wrinkled her nose in disgust when she saw the tatoos litering his arms, and scanned the items boredly. "Thirtytwo bucks." She said in a high pitched, annoying bitch voice and held out a manacured hand to take the cash he shoved in her direction. She put it in the register and handed him his bag which he grabbed, quickly going to the sliding doors and finding his car in the dark lot. Putting his bag in the passagers seat, sticking the key into the ignition, the engine roared to life and he leaned back in the old leather seat of his car, pulling out the parking lot.

The drive home consisted of Frank blasting The Misfits and smoking a cigarette, which sucked because he had kicked the habit for a bit then picked it back up recently. He felt horrible inside, knowing he was going to get drunk and end up hurting Mikey again, but he felt so fucking hopelessly sad he just couldn't help himself. He parked in the old, cracked driveway in front of his house, groaning inside when he saw Mikey's car in front the house. Mikey had a spare key, just as Frank did for Mikey's house, and was already inside, awaiting. Frank grabbed his Walmart bag and tried to be as slow as possible, not wanting to face his best friend. Finally he makes it to the door which is unlocked, and slams the door behind him. "Mikey?" he calls out, the tinge of worry clear in his voice. He's surprised to see not one, but two boys on his couch. Mikey looks pissed, the other one has dried paint all over his clothes and looks downright annoyed.

Everything gets silent, the tension in the air is thick, but Frank's eyes are glued to the black haired, paint covered boy he's never meet.

Gerard.

Frank is unable to move or speak correctly, his breath is caught in his throat because this is the most absolute beautiful man he has ever layed eyes on and is convinced he will never see anything or anyone better. His long, raven hair is falling into his hazel eyes, his pale skin, his rosy red plump lips that look perfect for kissing...he's so wrapped up in sinful thoughts about his best friends brother he doesn't notice Mikey has stood and grabbed his bag.

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" He yells when he sees the contents, eyes glittering with anger. Frank blushed and looked away in guilt; shoulders slumped.

"I just..sorry." Frank squeaks nervously, and suddenly starts crying. Mikey remembers he shouldn't yell at the fragile boy in his state and wraps his lanky arms around Frank, rubbing his back. Frank recovers as quickly as he's able to because he can feel his brother staring at them, watching them. Frank pulls away and sniffs one more time, looking back at Gerard, their eyes locking. Fuck.

"So, this is Frank?" The dark haired man says, raising an eyebrow. Frank wishes he hadn't spoken because his voice is like a fucking melody of perfection, its an angels voice and he has to remind himself that this is his brothers best friend, and he can't think about things like that.

"Yeah." Frank answers for himself, and sees a little smirk play at the opposite man's lips before he stands.

"Gerard." He says, extending a single hand for him to shake. The hand is covered in purple paint and Frank swallows because he doesn't want to touch him, he fears he will feel something that he shouldn't be.

Frank slowly places his tatooed hand into the paint smeared one of Gerard and shivers, offering a weak smile to the pale boy. "Nice to meet you, Gerard."