We're Chasing The Sun (Frerard)

Chapter 14

(A/N: you might or might not have noticed, but I changed the title and the stupid cover. Oops. What do you think?)

Right when they were about to part, Gerard's 'what if's started buzzing and colliding with his deeds in his head. He finally caught on, he envisioned, and came to the realization; he couldn't just let Frank go. There had to be a way to get him to stay. Some way.

So, he held Frank's hands in his and began speaking whatever random gibberish popped up in his mind, puzzling the fuck out of Frank. 

"What are you doing?" he frowned at Gerard, unable to even approximate a smile right then.

Gerard interrupted his yapping to look innocently at Frank. "Reciting Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet? I had to learn this in tenth grade and I still remember it."

"Yeah, but," Frank shook his head in confusion, "why? I mean, I need to get home now, Gerard. You can recite Shakespeare at Monday in class, don't you think?"

"No, see, that's what I'm telling you," Gerard sighed and clutched Frank's hands tightly in his, "you can't go. I'm miserable. And after all, he isn't home anyway. Don't fucking leave, Frank, just come with me and whatever happens, we bear together."

"Gerard, what the hell are you talking about? Did you take anything?" Frank's eyebrows met, confusion dissolving into plain sadness. Gerard was playing games, he knew Frank couldn't come with him. Well, at least so Frank thought. "We talked about this, like, an hour ago. Don't you remember?"

"Yeah, exactly, and we agreed that you won't push me away no more," Gerard stated with a smile brimming with hope.

"When did we agree on that?!" Frank's upper lip curled, his eyes wide. He truly wished Gerard was joking; it would save them both a lot of discomfort. Gerard, on the other hand, wasn't of the same mind.

"Frank," he squinted and stared at Frank seriously, "are you okay? We talked about this, like, what, an hour ago? Don't you remember?"

"Now you're just fucking with me," Frank complained, looking away seemingly sullenly, but in reality, he was just plain heartsick. Gerard sank to his knees, not breaking the eye contact with him.

"Et tu, Brute?" he shouted dramatically, holding the back of his one hand to his forehead. 

"That's from Julius Caesar, you dork," Frank pointed out and finally managed to smile, though a crooked smile it was. "The last words are 'thus, with a kiss, I die,' you know."

Gerard stood up slowly, waving it off. "Whatever," he paused and eyed Frank, imploring him in a way. He couldn't go. Gerard fiercely refused to go back to his draining misery. He fiercely refused to go back to Ray's kitchen floor. Frank couldn't just go; he had to convince him.

In order to do so, and drawing in a deep breath, he said briskly, "Come with me?"

In despair, Frank's eyes darted around anxiously. On one hand, if anything happened to Gerard it would be his fault, and he would never be able to make peace with himself. That's partially why he never made many friends, but oh well, that had happened now. Good grief, Frank was so naive, and the fact that he knew it made it even worse. He wasn't trying to fix things, he'd made a botch of the only thing he was supposed to do. Stay away.

Now it was too late to make amends, and moreover, now it was too late to un-like Gerard. He simply liked him too much, for no apparent reason—or maybe for too many reasons he didn't want to go through right then; it would be a reminder of how much he'd messed things up.

Dammit, the best he could do right then was to preserve his sanity and maintain his friendship with Gerard, which, above all, mattered the most to him. He didn't care about being beaten to death, as long as he had Gerard. He kind of had this therapeutic effect on Frank, to be candid.