Random Frerard Fluff [ONE SHOTS] [COMPLETED]

A Cumulonimbus of Emotions

TW - ABUSE, NEGLECT

AU FIC

Frank Iero hated storms. To be more exact, he was afraid of them. And the fearless Frank Iero felt highly disconcerted by anything which managed to put a tremor in his bones and a thumpthumpthump in his heart, because he was fearless... somewhat. He was fearless if one forgot to count his severe arachnophobia, which no one ever managed to forget, since at even the mere mention of a spider, he would immediately squeal and cower. But Gerard Way, his simply awful boyfriend, in all his disgusting attractiveness, just so happened to love both storms and spiders, and he just so happened to love making fun of Frank, because that was just how much of a horrible boyfriend he was.

But Frank's issues with storms were far more deep-seeded than Gerard had initially thought. The night began like this: a vein of lightning split the sky in two, and seconds later a crack of thunder shook the Earth, instigating a frightened jump on Frank's part, and an amused giggle on Gerard's part. All of that day and all of what had continued into dusk, heavy rain had seasoned the town of Belleville in unrelenting torrents, much to Gerard's liking – he had a certain fondness for natural ambience – and much to Frank's dismay. An abundance of rain in such patterns often indicated a storm might follow, which it did.

"Fuck you man, it's not funny," Frank groaned in response to his boyfriend's laughter, irritably rolling over in bed; abandoning his previous position of being curled into Gerard's side, instead tucking his knees to his chest, facing the opposite direction.

"It kind of is – I mean, only a little funny, I guess," Gerard snickered. He proceeded to poke Frank in the ribs, a tradition of his which would usually disperse any bitterness between them in a heartbeat. This time, it failed to do so. Frank flinched and swiped Gerard's hand away.

"Stop," he ordered in a measly voice. "That hurts."

"Sure it does."

"It fucking does, okay? Just leave me alone."

With the harshness of these words, Gerard finally came to realise that he had not only hit a sore spot in Frank's ribs, but in what lay caged beneath them; his heart. All Gerard could think was fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, I've fucked up. Nonetheless, he let the matter be – until another shock of thunder rolled overhead, causing their bedroom windows to rattle loudly. A howl of wind battered against them, accentuating the sound of the thick raindrops which blasted against the awnings. Frank had tried in vain to suppress his whimper this time, but was unsuccessful. Gerard heard it clear as day, and felt a stab of fear prick at him too. He was scared that he had hurt Frank for real this time.

"Frankie?" he questioned tentatively, testing the waters. When he received no reply, not even a grunt of annoyance, he figured it okay to continue: "What's up?"

Instead of saying anything, Frank simply rolled back over and mashed his face into Gerard's abdomen, flinging the bedspread slapdash over them both. Now shrouded in what might have been considered an intimate secrecy, Frank began to explain.

"Do you remember," he said, pausing to suck a big breath in, "when we first got together, and I told you I wasn't on good terms with my father?"

Gerard nodded in recollection, unsure of where they were going with the topic, but was interested to listen regardless.

"Well, I guess he never really liked being a father, see. He used to get drunk, and whenever he was drunk, he'd get angry at me for stupid things. This happened a lot when I was a little kid and knew no better than to do those little kid things that would, for some reason, make him so angry."

Frank looked up at Gerard from under the sheets, almost begging with his eyes for Gerard to stop him. He placed a hand on the nape of Frank's neck instead, tracing the baby hairs with his finger. Frank shivered, and closed his eyes, his face scrunched up in thought. To Gerard, it seemed as though it were painful to even remember whatever it was he was about to recount.

"And when I was little, I was afraid of storms, you know? Like most kids. Whenever I'd cry, my father would tell me to grow up, or something of the sort. It wasn't a problem, until..." He choked on his own words.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Gerard whispered lovingly. Frank ignored him.

"The problem began after he realised that the fear had never left me, even up until I was around ten or eleven. I didn't think it was anything to be worried about; some people even wet the bed up until that age. But one time, right, I was staying with him while it was storming. And I wouldn't stop crying. So he grabbed me by the arm, and took me into the night, into the fucking storm, the cold, wet, scary fucking storm, and he brought me out to the backyard shed. He told me that if I didn't shut up, he'd lock me in there all night. And of course, that only made me scream louder. So he shoved me in there, in this pitch-black shed, which was falling apart by the way, with spiders and who knows what else, in this howling storm, and I didn't sleep all night, and I was so wet from the storm and cold from the wind and I messed myself probably about five times in fright, and it's probably about the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I wasn't let out until lunch the next day when my Mom came over to pick me up and couldn't find me. My dad wasn't allowed to see me after that."

The raw silence which ensued following Frank's outburst gave way to a realisation of all the emotions that Gerard was feeling at that moment. Anger at Frank's father for being so evil, disgust at what had happened, empathy for how he must have felt (which was unimaginable), and regret for having teased him over something so personal. Gerard knew that Frank's childhood had been rocky, but this story was something else; a complete parallel to his own, and everything he knew. He felt a sudden lump thicken like hot soup coming to a boil in his throat, upon remembering that he hadn't said anything to comfort his boyfriend during this period of contemplation. But, despite all of his uncontainable emotions at that instant, he couldn't say anything.

"Frank, I, I didn't, oh my God, I'm so..." he tried desperately, staring deep into his lover's gorgeous hazel eyes, shining with tears which tracked silver beams down his cheeks.

"It's okay," Frank said solemnly, blinking a few times to release two more miniature floods from the dam of his eyelashes.

"No, it's not, I need to –"

"Gerard, shut up."

"Frank, will you let me apologise –"

"No Gerard, seriously, be quiet, listen."

"Frank –"

But Frank interrupted once again, with a loud hushing noise. Gerard stopped stumbling over his words, mouthing the word 'what'.

"Listen," Frank repeated, lifting the bedspread and sheets off their awkwardly entangled bodies.

"I can't hear anything," Gerard remarked after a minute.

"Exactly," Frank said. "The storm has gone." With that, he wiped away his last two tears, smiling weakly. "But more importantly, it's stopped raining."

A/N

THIS IS SO SHITTY BC ONCE AGAIN IT IS 3AM BUT THANK U LOTS moth013 FOR THE IDEA!! SORRY I;VE BEEN SO MIA LATELY GUYS ILY ALL