Take My Fucking Hand (Frerard Fanfiction)

Chapter Two: Gerard's POV

I grin as I shake his hand. I've been waiting for this for forever. He stares at me uneasily, like he doesn't trust me. I really can't blame him, but I have good intentions. 

I'm an observer. I watch everyone around me: evaluate them, see what makes them tick, get to know them without actually meeting them. Frank's always been my favourite since I moved to Belleville, New Jersey in ninth grade. He was more quiet, dark. He had more to him than his idiot friends who only cared about beer, football and cheerleaders in that order. When his friends made fun of me for being a "loner" he always just hung back instead of joining in, but at the end of ninth grade was where it got interesting. Joey Castello, Frank's former best friend and captain of the football team, found Frank making out with some dude behind a bar. So, of course, Joey just had to make Frank suffer for his sins. Frank went through what I went through. We're the same, even if he doesn't know it (let alone admit it). 

He pulled back his hand as quickly as possible and wiped in on the leg of his faded blue jeans. I rolled my eyes. "Yeah. I totally jerked some guy off with that hand like fifteen minutes ago."

He shot me a look, but this time it wasn't pure hatred or shock. Don't get me wrong. The hatred and shock was definitely there, but so was something else: curiosity. I could sense it as well as I could see it. He wanted to know more. Why I'd shot Joey, probably. That's probably the only thing going through-

"You're gay, right?" he cut me off mid-thought. 

What?  I shot his ex-best friend less than an hour ago and he's asking me if I'm gay, like all the rumours say. I can't help it, a peal of laughter escapes my lips. "You really believe everything you hear, don't you..? 'Gay Way'. It rhymes. I didn't take you with me because I have the hots for you or whatver the fuck you're thinking."

He shakes his head and blood rises to his ears. "I-I know.. I just wanted to know. Like you said, friends. Are we gonna get to know each other or not?"

I sigh deeply. "Frank, I already know you."

"Oh really?"

I nod. It's true. I'm not a stalker, I just watch him. People aren't that difficult to figure out. He chews on his lower lip (a habit for him) and looks at me with a sideways glare."What's my favourite colour?"

I laugh. That's the best he can do... "Red. Now give me a harder one." I smirked at him. 

"Movie?"

"Rocky Horror."

"Book?"

"Anything and everything written by the wonderous Stephen King."

His brow furrows as he thinks of more questions that I will unquestionably already know the answer to. "Face it.. I know you. But what do you know about me? What do you really know?"

His expression goes blank. He's still thinking, but he can't process the lack of information that he has unavailable to him. I'm a closed book. With a key. "I'm sorry.."

"For what?"

"Believing the rumours.. I of all people should've..." I cut him off.

"It's fine... Just c'mon. I'll show you where to go from here." I grinned as I saw the scenery change from dark woodland to open prairie fields. The midwest. We could walk from here. 

"Where are we..?"

I drag him up, lifting his tiny body easily. "Duck and roll!" I shout at him and dive out of the railcar. He has no choice but to follow and crash into the tall fields of wheat with me. 

"Frank?" I call out. 

He answers back with a moan. I laugh a little. "We're going to California."