Trust ~ Frerard MPreg

Chapter 5 | Mental Notes

Three months in...Three months in....Was all Gerard could think about. He started making mental notes about all the positives and negatives.

Some positives.
1) He wasn't throwing up every morning, which eventually made Frank's stop pestering him.

Some Negatives.
1) His bump was getting bigger, which could possibly make Frank suspect.
2) His anxiety rate has increased through the roof.
3) Every single thing made him a whole lot more emotional than the situation really was.
4) Fresh memories kept coming back to him.
5) Mikey is acting as if he can't stand his older brother.
6) He felt too scared to sleep on his side or stomach, so he is forced every night to sleep on his back.
7) He can't really cuddle with Frank anymore.

Scratch the "some positives," part. He only had one positive thought, and it made him feel depressed.

Wait, so that's number 8.

8) The thought of only one positive thought made him feel depressed.

Gerard kept that mental note in his head. He didn't want to write it down, in case of Frank possibly finding it.

As he slowly got out of his car for work - he worked at a little coffee shop, so he was pretty popular with the gales that came - he saw a man standing by the side of the road, a cigarette between his index and middle finger. He took a long drag, smoke curling around and dissolving in the air.

Gerard frowned. Doesn't he realize that he could kill people by inhaling his smoke? And also, he's killing himself.

There was something about nicotine.

Gerard remembered being addicted to the deadly stick.

He didn't want to remember it now.

He sighed and walked away and into the café, greeting a few elderly people and his coworkers.

He got dressed in the back room silently.

He looked at himself in the mirror. Thank God his apron that he was applied to wear didn't show his baby bump. He didn't want any awkward questions. He smoothed back his hair.

Oh yeah, didn't he mention he got a new haircut? Yeah, it was pretty neat, in Gerard's opinion. He didn't have his long hair anymore, but short, black hair with a fringe styled in the front. He rather liked it. And Frank adored it.

He fluffed it a bit before proceeding out to the cash register.

Bob Bryar, the man of the counter, gave him a small smile. His blue gaze pierced Gerard's hazel ones.

"What do ya say, Way?" He liked to say that a lot, but Gerard didn't necessarily mind.

Gerard gave him back a smile and tapped the counter. "Just forcing myself to attend a job so I can be paid." He sighed in mock-sadness.

Bob rolled his eyes and greeted a customer, then inserted a $5 bill in one of the little squares. He then took out 50 cents and handed it to the lady. Bob looked over to where the pastries were located and took out a french pastry.

"Enjoy," he dipped his head and smiled again, then turned his attention to Gerard, who was frowning. "What?"

"We're upping our game in the 21st century; why are we still using cash registers?"

Bob shrugged. "Less complications. And I rather like it. Now, get busy!" He then shooed Gerard away.

***

Gerard let himself fall on the couch, rubbing his face after. He was tired. Mentally and physically. He didn't want to deal with any anxiety ever again.