I Never Told You What I Do For A Living

Static Age

Franks P.O.V: After about 10 minutes of searching through what seemed to be a limitless range of Misfits, I finally made my choice and made my way towards the counter. The dark haired guy that caught my eye earlier spun around and smiled to himself once he had seen what I had chosen, "Static Age". "That's one of my favourites" he says cheerfully. I give a small smile and pay up.

'Not only is he extremely attractive, he also happens to have incredible taste in music, and a great choice in drinks'  I think to myself as he takes a slow sip from his coffee, seemingly oblivious to the gesture i had just made. "Hello?" i ask sarcastically, before he shakes his head and apologizes under his breath. "Sorry" he mutters again, "I was just remembering the first time i saw them". It takes every fiber of my being not to hug him and squeal right there and then, but thankfully i don't. Instead i squeak out "That's ok, cool beans man". 'Cool beans? what the actual fuck Frank? ' " Yeah, cool beans," he replies jokingly. I internally facepalm at my awkwardness, but smile bashfully as he takes my money. I think I must have been staring, because when he looked up, he had a sort of startled expression on his face, which soon relaxed. I had no idea what that was about, so i decide that now would probably be a good time to leave. I thank him before turning and walking out of the store. But I stop halfway realising that i hadn't even told him my name. "Its Frank" i say with no context. I turn around to see him looking at me quizzically, "my name..." i broke it down for him "my name is frank". He smiles as he realises my strange remark. His chapped lips pulling upwards, making him look ever so slightly adorable. "I'm Gerard" he says smoothly. "It was nice meeting you Gerard." I reply truthfully. "I hope I meet you again," he say smirking to himself before turning and vanishing behind the door to the back room. 

~

As i walk down the cracked pavement I smile and realise i wasn't even wearing any headphones. But I didn't need to, the words from the conversations I just had were music enough. The thought of that record store made me feel safe, comforted and warm, and the words in my head were there as a reminder. But every step i took away from the store i got colder and more numb. less safe, and any thought of comfort was gone. I focused on them for as long as I could, they were distracting me from where i was going. But then again, sometimes even words are more of a home, safer, and more welcoming than where I was going.

~

A/N: So, it seems like you weird gay ship crack lords actually enjoy my shitty writing. Well here you go! more crappy Frerard!. Merry Chrysler and all that jazz. xoBp.